Where gods went

Weird flatmates, we came gradually, from every place of the world.
Some came enraged, others in complete sorrow, and the most of us came resigned.
I walk around the house, with it’s countless number of rooms which not even me can count.
In the main room, some people watch one of the many chess games between Zeus and Odin. Suddenly, Zeus stands up enraged, the chair flying backwards, Odin´s crows help him to decide his moves. Odin, with his face hidden behind his wide brim hat, doesn’t argue with the offended Greek, because he likes cheating every now and then, like the rest of us, even if he would never admit it. He waits silently until the lightning ends shaking the board, he could cast lightning to, if he pleases, his eye and his disdainful smile says it.
Beside the fireplace, Bastet purrs half asleep while Morpheus scratch her behind the eras. Her sister Sekhmet, who never goes too far away from her, combs her fiery mane, lazily, unwillingly. These feline goddesses, always loafing around... Sekhmet stares at me with predatory eyes, I better go before she starts playing cat and mouse with me.
In the next room, Shiva dances his cosmic dance, entranced, beyond to the conversation that goes between his son Ghanesa, Toth y Tou-Mou, keen all of them to books, history and writing. Beside them, Lugh listen in silence while carving something in a piece of wood. He enjoys such conversations, but he is incapable of being idle. I won’t find company here either, it’s not that I don’t like stories... I just prefer another kind of them.
There are plenty of people in the garden. Morrigan and Kali play some kind of bloody sport, their swords dripping with blood and their eyes flaming, while Durga, Svantovit and Tiamat give their opinions about some war or another and Kuan-Yin covers her face with her alabaster hands, the compassion essence feeding piercingly with violence’s cruelty.
I stroll towards the pond, amused by the absolute certainty of knowing that there I will find the same faces, as usual. Vishnu, Minerva, Amaterasu, Imhotep... they like to seat here, all contemplative, these peace fanatics, they get on my nerves with all their mysticism and their glances lost in the void of their own serenity.
There, in that corner, you can hear the endless chitchat of Ceres, Brigit, Gaia, Ama-no-Uzume, Flora, Tlacoc, with their hands immersed elbow deep in the fertile ground that born whenever they step on, harvesting, nurturing, sowing the fruits that they kindly offer to us every day and which we all feed of. Above them Ra, Balder, Dagda, Mitra, Huitzilopochtli, shinning gods of the sun, offer their warmth in a distant mating between earth and sky. I would like to say something about he many advantages of the flesh mating, but they are not especially gifted in what humor sense is concerned about, these harvest gods who only want growth without thinking too much about origins in themselves. I better go to the kitchen, you always have a good time there, basically because of the fuss that kick Dionisos, I-Ti and Heracles, who, for being a semi god, uses to got a hell of a drunk.
They always turn their alcoholic habits in tremendous parties which never are missed by
T´ien- Khuan, Hathor and Dazshbog, glad all of them to irradiate a little bit of that happiness that oozes through their pores. The roaring laughs and the intoxication ultimately appeals the musicians, Apolo, Pan, Taliesin, their melodies attracting the dancers at the same time, Talia, Bes, and even Shiva, who, if tends to prefer dancing by his own, doesn’t object to join others from time to time. Tezcatlipoca undresses his white Quetzalcoatl clothes and dresses in black, elegant, for joining the dancing.
One thing leads to another and almost all of us gather together, we are gods, you know, and we like to have a little fun, haven’t you noticed? And we don’t give a damn about neighbors, those poor misers whom still have to work every day, they live too much rejoiced in their own predominance as to bother in knocking the door of this house in which us, unfortunate overthrown gods, waste our time in our own wishful thinking.
Some of us tend to stay always a bit isolated, dark underworld creatures, serious and responsible, whom talks with and about dead.. Anubis, Hades, Hécate, Zernobog, Kartikeya, Osiris, Ba´al. They compound quite a gloomy gang, and they don’t tend to be in the mood for jokes. Death it’s quite a serious business, or at least that’s what they think.
The spree’s murmur floats through the unending corridors. Vesta, Neith, Audhumla and Chih-nii roll their eyes, such a miserable life the one of those order and home guardians, condemned to live among chaos and debauchery. From the rooms you can hear muffled noises, the lords of love devoting to their own hungry ecstasies, Afrodita, Freyja, Astarte, Lakshmi, Eros, Adonis, Dumuzi, Kama, messed up in an orgy that makes the house rumble to it’s foundations, disproportionate passions that feeds up with themselves devastating everything that crosses their path. I better move away, one could never know what kind of effect can pure wild passion make on you.
Here I see a gang to join. My friends and equals, Anansi, Hermes, Coyote, Maui and Sicksa snickers of one or another evil practical joke. I’m among my people, I’m Loki Skywalker, and I laugh to myself thinking in all that time that I passed planning Ragnarok for, at the end, the humans being the ones whom, forgetting about us, induced our decline. I’m sure my fellows would like this story, we’re old and forgotten gods, and the only thing we have left it’s laughing of one another.