Knotweed grew through the asphalt. Duck weed choked the fish tank. The snails in the aquarium glided through the filter hole. They worshiped the woman that cared for them. They watched her from across the room, at the desk in the blurred shades of her tears, but she was long gone and they sought revenge for their caretaker. They needed to find their God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They crawled along the shelves. They absorbed the stories of ages through their slime. They wept over tales of kitchens and boiling pots of water. Venom formed in their veins and vessels, cursing the absence of their Lord. They sensed shadows with their bodies. Skylights speckled their coiled shells in periwinkle and anomiidae hues.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Their God used to sing to them. The vibrations transported them to other dimensions. Their spirits surfed the soundwaves into nebulae. There was no time for them, just air bubbles and algae, the feel of aquarium gravel beneath their feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ivy grew along the walls and mold blanketed the carpets of the great room. Rocks had broken through the windows. The snails crawled over a waterlogged couch, over panes of glass, and through the open wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They asked the birds at the feeder if they had seen their God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe gave us seed,\u201d a junco said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere did she go?\u201d the snails asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t know,\u201d the junco replied. \u201cClimb on our backs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The juncos ascended into the clouds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As they flew over canopies and rivers, the snails and birds talked about life before their God disappeared. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There were other deities that worked alongside their God. The snails were entertainment to the deities, but not loved by them. They didn\u2019t care if they were hungry or too cold. They didn\u2019t know about the nitrogen in the water. The other deities shunned God.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe expressed too many colors,\u201d the birds said. The others didn\u2019t like that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat is color?\u201d the snails asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The birds tried to explain colors to the snails. They talked about feelings being like different vibrations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The snails said no one seemed to be aware of their feelings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The juncos described the landscape to the snails, the saltmarshes and lakes, the abandoned roads and rooftops.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWill we ever find her?\u201d they asked, until the birds saw their God standing alone in a field.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The murmuration descended around her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy friends,\u201d God said, staring at the flock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGod!\u201d the snails exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey banished me,\u201d God replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe know,\u201d the juncos said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey can do that?!\u201d the snails asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
God nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat have you been doing?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDreaming,\u201d God said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe wanted revenge,\u201d the snails exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey\u2019re all gone,\u201d God replied, explaining the earthquake that destroyed the town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that why it\u2019s been so cold?\u201d the snails asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
God nodded. \u201cEverything goes away,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut not us?\u201d the snails asked, their tentacles expectant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, not us,\u201d God said. \u201cYou can\u2019t die if you don\u2019t throw others away. We might become something else, but we will always be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
________
Gabrielle Griffis is a musician, writer, and multimedia artist. Her fiction has been published in\u00a0<\/em>Wigleaf,\u00a0<\/em>Split Lip,<\/em>\u00a0The Rumpus,<\/em>\u00a0Monkeybicycle,\u00a0<\/em>CHEAP POP,\u00a0<\/em>XRAY,<\/em>\u00a0Okay Donkey,\u00a0matchbook\u00a0and elsewhere. Her work has been selected for\u00a0<\/em>Best Microfiction 2022\u00a0and has been nominated for Best Small Fictions<\/em>\u00a0and the Pushcart Prize. Read more at\u00a0http:\/\/gabriellegriffis.com<\/a>\u00a0or follow at @ggriffiss.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"