The Lake God

My mama loved to tell me stories about the old world and the gods when I was a little girl. She would sit me down in front of the fireplace and hand me a steaming cup of reishi tea and tell me to pay attention. The light from the fire would flicker across the room, creating dynamic shadows which would chase each other across the walls and furniture. She loved these storytelling sessions, I could tell by the way her eyes would soften as she spoke. She would start by telling me how she would sit by the fire with my grandmother when she was a little girl, and how much she loved the stories my gran would weave. I felt guilty about my lack of similar interest. There was always something else I wanted to do at the time, and my little toes would start tapping right after she began.

"In the old times," she would start with, "there were dozens of gods."

She would always pause for dramatic effect here, probably hoping I would imagine gods for everything. I guess it would spark my imagination a little, because my mind would always immediately jump to whatever exciting book I was reading. Now, looking back, I can see all the gods that she might have seen. I can imagine the god of the forests - a long, snaking caterpillar with thousands of emerald segments, winding it's way through the undergrowth. The god of the wind is a long, leaf-feathered bird, razor sharp beak stretching forward and trailing fluttering leaves behind its beating wings.

Mama said that these beings were powerful creators. That they created our trees and foods. The mushrooms that extrude from the walls of the caves were created by the black bear of the mountains, to light her subterranean chambers with a gentle glow. Our mosses, that we use to feed the livestock, are a gift from the mist god to thank the animals for making the mist swirl and spin with their movements.

"But always remember the most important god," she said, "the lake god."

I thought it was funny, this lake god. He wasn't to be confused with the god of lakes. It seemed silly because she would sometimes point to him in the lake during the day, her finger directing my eyes to the small, peaked island near the western edge of the water.

"That's his nose," she said, pulling at my own nose. Then, moving her finger to the eastern bank of the lake, "and those are his feet!" She would point to the two rocky spires between the lake and our house.

She would tell this story the most, when we were sitting by the fire.

"The lake god was a very controlling creature. He didn't like the gods new, dynamic creations and he preferred the world in a primitive state of simple rock and water. He was insidious and cunning, and he tricked the gods into fighting each other." She stared into the fire, idly stirring her tea. "That's why we try our best to keep the gods happy, even though they've retreated from the world. Their battles were disastrous for us, and even their small squabbles could destroy whole cultures."

"The first targets of the lake god's wrath were the green bird of the wind and the ocean serpent. He met with the great serpent, luring him to the surface of the ocean with a long discussion about glacial meltwater. The long serpent, glowing brightly with his bioluminescent coating and slowly undulating, grew too warm at the surface of the water. Heated, moist air radiated upwards from the enormous serpent - hot air mixing with the cold, swirling faster and faster. It grew so fast that it pulled the green bird off his desired path and he tumbled into the vortex. Furious, the bird beat it's great wings angrily, so that the great storm swept across the world. We barely survived the gales that ripped apart buildings and waves that could drown a whole town. Many places were completely destroyed, but fortunately we live in the mountains where the waves cant reach us," she said, winking at me.

I had liked the thrill of the fear that these stories brought out from me, but I needed her to soften it if I was to sleep at night. I was prone to nightmares when I was young, especially when the wind was howling and the rain was pattering on the walls. It made me imagine the gods battling outside, the enormous bird shrieking overhead, ready to swoop down and rip my home apart with his slashing talons. Then the cold would seep from the outside, settling in my gut and making my mind swirl with all my fears and anxieties.

"The cloud hare and the earth mole didn't fare any better, when the lake god was involved. They are such different creatures that it was easy to turn them against each other," she said. "He released fleas that infested the cloud hare. She was so itchy that she couldn't stop moving - thumping her legs like thunder as she scratched and bounding between the clouds in irritation, releasing the rain which would pour for days at a time. The gentle mole is slow to anger, but she couldn't tolerate the constant chill of the water seeping through to her gravel skin as she burrowed. She sealed the surface of her domain, causing the rainwater to pool above the ground to flood our fields and homes. That's also why we live on top of the mountains! Even if the god of clouds is hopping angry, the mountain bear allows the water to flow downhill into the ocean. The ocean god can never have enough water, so he wont mind."

She would always pause here to remind me to avoid rivers after heavy rainfall though. "The god of rivers loves riding on fast water and will allow the deluge, even if his banks can't hold it. If we get in his way, we might end up on the ride as well - but we might not survive it!" Mama would lose her wistful demeanour when she spoke of the river god. He had taken her brother in an overbank flood when he was a child. The mountain was a safer place than the low-country, but it was not without it's own challenges.

"The last fight that the lake god initiated was terrible. No one could avoid it, not even us mountain folk. It was between our own mountain bear and the green bird. The lake god convinced the coal bear to disallow passage of the wind, telling her that the green bird was intentionally keeping her awake with his cries. She was so furious that she patrolled the top of the peaks, and would snap down at the bird with her fiery maw whenever he tried to fly over. Without the wind climbing over the peaks and moving the clouds over land, the white hare was trapped in the sky, unmoving on a single cloud until she was diminished and isolated, furious. The coal bear didn't realised what she had caused. No rain would fall without the beating of the cloud hare's powerful legs, and life on the ground withered and died. We only survived thanks to moss, mushrooms, and luck."

"The destruction he wrought on the world was too great for the rest of the gods. It was after this that all of them banded together to trap him beneath the lake," she said. "A few of them retained only very small patches of territory, and the losses affected the whole pantheon." This is what I remember the most. I didn't understand grief as a child, being sheltered and loved by my mother. I am so lucky, blessed with a childhood full of affection, work, and adventure. The two of us on top of the mountain, watching the frozen lake to make sure the enemy never wakes up, letting the other gods sleep and heal.