The God Next Door by William R. Doede (rosie project txt) 📖

tires and lets winter come back again. He is the loneliest God in the universe."

"What makes you think he's lonely?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just know. But he's an angry God now. See those clouds piling in the East? Soon they will hide the sun. Then he will make them churn and boil, like river whirlpools in spring. At least he does this when he plays. Who knows what he will do when he's angry?"

"The Sand God isn't doing this," Stinson said. "It's only a storm."

She covered his lips with her fingers. "Don't say that. He may hear you and be more angry."

"But it is, don't you see? You give him powers he does not possess."

Sybtl shook her head and stroked his face with her long, slim fingers. "Poor little God-with-fingers-on-his-feet," she said. "You do not understand. The Sand God is terrible, even when he plays. See the lightning? It is blue. The lightning of a storm that comes by itself is not blue. He is running around the world on feet like the rockets of space ships, and when he strikes the clouds, blue fire shoots away."

The clouds continued to build on one another. Soon the blue flashes of lightning extended across the sky from horizon to horizon. The earth trembled. Sybtl moved closer, trembling also.

"He never did this before," she said. "He never made the earth shake before."

Great boulders crashed down the canyon walls and dropped into the creek. They dared not move from the cave, although death seemed certain if they stayed.

"I'll leave for a moment," he said. "I'll be back soon."

"You're leaving?" There was panic in her voice.

"Only for a moment."

"And you won't come back. You will go to your world."

"No. I'll be back."

"Promise? No, don't promise. The promises of Gods often are forgotten before the sounds die away."

"I'll be back."

He disappeared at once, giving her no chance to object again, and went to the desert of sand, where he had first arrived on the planet. He wanted to see if the storm were world-wide.

Stinson had never been in a sand storm before, even on Earth. He could not breathe. He could not see. Bullets of sand stung his skin. Bullets of sand shot into his eyes. Clouds of sand howled around him. He fell, and the wind rolled him over and over in the sand like a tumbleweed. The skirt flew up around his face. He could not get up again.

He returned to the cave.

Soon after, while they sat huddled together, watching the chaos of tumbling rocks, lightning, and driving rain, the high-pitched keening came again. A sphere of blue fire appeared in the east. Its brilliance put the lightning to shame. It bore down on the cave swiftly, purposefully. Stinson prepared himself to leave. In spite of his desire to protect Sybtl, it was useless to get himself killed when he was powerless to help her. But at the last moment it veered off.

"Fiend!" Stinson screamed the word, vaguely marvelling at his own fury.

The blue sphere turned and came back.

"Monster!"

Again.

"Murderer!"

"Adolescent!"

This time it kept going. The rain and wind ceased. Lightning stopped. Thunder rumbled distantly. Clouds disappeared. Stinson and Sybtl emerged from the cave.

There was no longer a question of attack from the webfoots, the storm had taken care of that. The fierce sun began its work of drying rocks and throwing shadows and coaxing life out into the open again. Down in the canyon a bird sang, a lonely, cheerful twitter.

"The Sand God is tired," Sybtl said. "He is not angry now. I'm glad. Perhaps he will let you stay."

"No. Even if he allowed it, I couldn't stay. My people could never live here with a God who is half devil."

The cone of sand suddenly appeared. It stood in the canyon, its base on a level with the cave. It was quiet. It was dull gray in color. It exuded impressions of death, of hopeful words solemnly spoken over lowered coffins, of cold earth and cold space, of dank, wet catacombs, of creeping, crawling nether things.

The bird's twitter stopped abruptly.

"Earthman," the Sand God said, as if he were about to make a statement.

Stinson ignored him. He glanced down at Sybtl, who sensed that this was a time for good-bys. He thought, perhaps I can stay here alone with her. The webfoots might find us, or the Sand God might destroy us in one of his fits, but it might be worth it.

"Don't go," she said. "Not yet."

"Earthman, hear me."

"I hear you."

"Why does your mind shrink backward?"

"I've decided not to bring my people here."

"You decided?"

"Certainly," Stinson said boldly. "Call it rationalization, if you wish. You ordered us away; and I have several good reasons for not coming here if the door was open."

"I've changed my mind. You will be welcomed."

"Listen to that, will you?" Stinson said angrily. "Just listen! You set yourself up as a God for the webfoots. You get them eating out of your hand. Then what do you do? You throw a fit. Yes, a fit! Like an adolescent. Worse."

"Earthman, wait...."

"No!" Stinson shot back. "You've owned this planet for a million years. You have brooded here alone since before my people discovered fire, and in all those ages you never learned self-control. I can't subject my people to the whims of an entity who throws a planetary fit when it pleases him."

Stinson relaxed. He'd had his say. Sybtl trembled beside him. A small mammal, round, furry, hopped by, sniffing inquisitively.

Sybtl said, "Is the Sand God happy?" She shook her head. "No, he is not happy. He is old, old, old. I can feel it. My people say that when one gets too old it is well to die. But Gods never die, do they? I would not like to be a God."

"Stinson," the Sand God said. "You said I was adolescent. You are correct. Do you remember I told you how my people, the entire race, left their bodies at the same time? Do you imagine all of us were adults?"

"I suppose not. Sounds reasonable. How old were you?"

"Chronologically, by our standards, I was nine years old."

"But you continued to develop after...."

"No."

Stinson tried to imagine it. At first there must have been a single voice crying into a monstrous emptiness, "Mother, where are you? MOTHER! Where is everyone?" A frenzied searching of the planet, the solar system, the galaxy. Then a returning to the planet. Empty.... Change. Buildings, roads, bridges weathering slowly. Such a race would have built of durable metal. Durable? Centuries, eons passed. Buildings crumbled to dust, dust blew away. Bridges eroded, fell, decomposed into basic elements. The shape of constellations changed. All trace of civilization passed except in the cavern of the heated pool. Constellations disappeared, new patterns formed in the night sky. The unutterably total void of time—FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS!

And a nine-year-old child brooding over an empty world.

"I don't understand why your development stopped," Stinson said.

"Nor do I. But perhaps ... well, I sense that I would continue, if you brought your people here. You have already taught me the value of life. There is a oneness, a bond that ties each living thing to every other living thing. It is a lesson my people never knew. Select any portion of this planet that suits you. Take the web-footed woman for your wife. Have children. I promise never to harm you in any way."

"The webfoots?"

"You and they shall share the planet."

The Sand God disappeared. Sybtl said; "Is the Sand God angry again?"

"No, he is not angry."

"I'm glad. You will leave now?"

"No. This is my home."

She laughed softly. "You are a strange God."

"Listen," he said, "I am not a God. Get that through your head."

She drew him into the cave. Her lips were cool and sweet. The cave was pleasantly warm.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The God Next Door, by Bill Doede