** Writers note: I promised the internet and myself long ago that I would post some Sci-fi “flash fiction” short stories on this eclectic blog of mine. Well it has taken way longer than it should have for me to get anything up. This small piece should hopefully start a trend of more stories to come. 

This specific piece is just an idea that came out of the ether as I tapped away in a coffee shop earlier this year, when I write it’s usually not planned – not at first anyway. I tend to come up with my best stuff when I stop thinking and planning and just let my fingers go on the rapatap rhythm of the keyboard. A stream-of-consciencness sort of process. I get the same feeling when I do this as that when I’m rocking a set of drums and when I’m blazing an electric guitar – the tactile rhythm, the unthinking reactions relying on a consciousness deeper than what is placed on the surface for observation at other times – such as in conversation.

Take this for what it is, an idea – with no pretense. And if you are able – enjoy it and let it inspire ideas in you. You also may not understand what I’m getting at with it. That’s ok, I’m not sure yet either . **

Meta-gods

Agromorphus awoke to the sounds of anarchy. Nothing new here. his father was releasing his rage in the form of targeted psychological mass hysterias in the people of the Araes. Agromorphus could guess what had triggered this rage – some illogical meandering of some misfortunate fool down on the planet surface. Who was it this time? Probably Pheminon, the top of the Araestic food chain and the bottom of the planetary cesspool as far as anyone with any concept of dignity could possibly be concerned.

“What is it”, Agromorphus heard his father musing, “that makes it possible for these types to reach such heights of political prosperity when riding on such whimsy life-boat principles? Their very words the holes which sink their platforms of thought in the ocean of all that makes real sense. Springing leaks like a sieve out at sea. This man is an intellectual sieve – empty for 95% of his life. Only able to hold onto something worth anything for a few moments. Then empty again.”

Arepergus ended his rant with one last poke at the Araens with his long, crooked index finger – the people in Araes responding in madness. Arepergus had power over sanity – a cruel joke initiated by his father before him. Arepergus had the gift of understanding, the ability to know truth fully, he sailed it’s expanses as an old captain does the ocean, his curse was to ever guard the gates to the sea of sense from “those who would piss in it with their blunt ideas”, as he was apt to say to Agromorphus, his son and heir.

Agromorphus was a younger being. Having only sythesised into being a few decades ago. What his role in this hyper-world he and the other gods resided in was still uncertain to him, though his father seemed to know where sense would take him…

**writer’s note, I am pleased and proud to call you, dear-reader’s attention to my friend TUE once again with regard to Science fiction. His first published sci-fi short story is soon to be available for public scrutiny in an anthology of African Science Fiction called AfroSF– check out his blog and the fb page for information.**