My story is not about cats, but I think it fits the basic feel of the original. If you read my first publication, The Raving Ones, you will find the world familiar. It is in my world of Unknown Gods. Do you want to read some? Check it out below!
Pothos listened to his brothers from the next room. As usual, they were loud enough to hear through the walls. Nothing he tried could block out their voices. He was tired of living with all of them. He had to get out.
“Anteros, can you keep it down?” he asked.
“No, I can’t. Why do you insist on calling me that? It’s Ant now. All of us have taken human names except you. What’s the problem?” Anteros asked.
“I’m sure you realize that none of us are human,” Pothos said. “This is my name, and so it shall remain.”
“We’re Erotes, jerk. We can be little different. How can we affect human lives if they can’t even pronounce our names?” Himeros, or Mere as he likes to be called, said.
“It doesn’t matter. Humans don’t even know about all of us,” Pothos said.
“My love knows about me,” Anteros said, with a dreamy look on his face.
Pothos rolled his eyes. Lately, all Anteros seemed to talk about was his new human woman, Serena. She might know that he existed, but things were not going well. Based on the talk around the house, Anteros was infatuated. The human could barely stand to be in the same room with him. Pothos felt like Anteros was acting like a stalker, and he didn’t go to any effort to hide it.
As everyone knew from Zeus’s example, whenever a god fell for a human, they were relentless. Pothos would never do such a thing. For a god of love, he had no interest in it. He always wanted more from life. He was never satisfied. Perhaps that’s why he was the god of yearning and longing.
“With all of our gifts, you would think you boys would have more to talk about than mortal women.”
“Mortal women like our gifts just fine.”
The brothers all laughed at that, all except for Pothos. He just moaned in displeasure and headed out the door. He heard his brothers calling after him. They thought a woman would loosen him up. As if he needed a woman to fix anything, he was a god. There was nothing a mortal could offer him. What he wanted was more power.
What was the use in making someone long for something? Most times, it didn’t even pay off. The payoff wasn’t his department. He made them want things, his brothers either made it happen or punished the ones who didn’t love them back. What a life. Pothos had magic at his fingertips and no good use for it.
Pothos had mixed feelings about his gift. Most of the time, he felt like the yearning only hurt the mortals more. Mortals had such short lifespans that it was hard to feel bad for them. They would be sad for the time, and then they would die. Humans weren’t doomed to a long empty life as Pothos was.
He decided to travel the world and look at the effects that his gift had. He had wings so that he could have flown solo. Instead, he chose to ride on the airships. He appreciated the inventiveness. Humans were nothing if not creative. He ended up in a country that had arranged marriages. He almost wasn’t needed there. A lot of the people were yearning for something more. Some were just longing for acceptance in society, and some for their parents’ approval. It only took a touch on a shoulder, or a whisper in an ear to change their lives.
He stepped out of his comfort zone a little bit to deal with the older and the infirmed. He found an old man near death. The man had a mechanical apparatus with a fireplace bellow attached. The combination of wood, leather, pipes, and rivets seemed to be doing the man’s breathing for him. While it was an impressive site, Pothos didn’t think that it was much of a life.
Pothos knew that he could make him yearn for life. Even with all of his gifts, Pothos knew he couldn’t give this man back his life. No one could. He would be gone soon. Pothos leaned down and whispered in the man’s ear that death would be a new beginning.
He stayed with the man for his last days, watching him. The nurses at the hospice commented that the man seemed to long for death. The man began to talk about as if it was a welcome friend. This longing for death seemed to give the man a strange hope. Soon, he would move on hopefully to a better place. At least the place without pain.
It was a relief to make someone long for something that would come quickly. Pothos enjoyed this so much more than making people want things they couldn’t have. This man wished for death, and he was going to get what he desired. Sooner than he thought.
On the night that he was due to die, a calmness settled in. The old man was sweet to all his nurses. They all talked about what a turnaround he had made. The man had become a model patient. The man spent his final day filled with peace. When the man finally died, he had a small smile on his face. Pothos was smiling too.
He was still smiling when he felt a chill down his spine. Pothos turned and saw that Charon, the god of death, had arrived.
Pothos took a step back. He hadn’t seen the god of death in person before. He was much more formidable than Pothos had imagined. He was dressed all in black. From his black leather gloves to his black embroidered vest, he was quite a remarkable sight.
He was tall and pale. Pothos he could see why humans referred to Charon as the Pale Rider. With his eyes hidden from sight by the shadow of his hat, only his mouth and chin were showing. It could’ve been anyone standing there. Pothos knew he had no reason to fear because he was immortal, but he was wary just the same.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be making someone fall in love?” Charon asked.
“It seems that you have me confused with one of my brothers. That’s not my skill set.”
Charon looked Pothos up and down before leaning down to smell the human. He stood up with a look of surprise on his face.
“I can smell your influence on this man. What is your business here?” Charon asked.
Pothos said nothing for a minute.
Then, replied, “I’m the god of desiring and yearning. I can make them desire whatever I choose. This man desired death.”
Charon seemed to ponder that idea. He ran his hand on the man’s arm, and a small smile came to his face. Pothos had to withhold the shudder. Death shouldn’t smile.
“I like that. Longing for death. It makes my job a little easier. I’d wager it makes yours easier too.”
“Making people want things they can’t have is easy. Making them want things that are there is easier still.”
Charon gave Pothos a small nod, and leaned down pressed his hand against the man’s chest and pulled his soul from his body. When his soul pulled free, the man seemed happy to see him, even embraced him. His suffering had ended.
Pothos stood in the shadows so the dead man would not see him. It wouldn’t do to have to answer any questions. Charon and the man departed.
Pothos spent the rest of the week with the dying. It consumed him. Although this approach gave him a new purpose, he still wanted more. Pothos just couldn’t shake this feeling that this wasn’t the life that was meant for him. There had to be something more. He was influencing people in record numbers. He knew he should be satisfied. His brothers did a third of the work and were perfectly happy in their roles. He wished he was content. Gods weren’t put here to be satisfied.
Since Pothos was making people long for death, he decided not to stick around and watch them pass from this life to the next. He didn’t want to see Charon too often. It wouldn’t do for him to think that Pothos was encroaching on his territory. He kept his distance. Whenever he felt that shiver, he would leave.
His brothers never asked where he was or what he was doing. gods typically didn’t involve themselves in each other’s business or responsibilities. Technically, Pothos was still doing his job.
Pothos felt guilty for abandoning his love missions. He was a god of love after all. He would cross paths with his brothers from time to time and influence people to be interested in each other so they could work their magic, but it bored him. His heart wasn’t in it. The people were still falling in love, and some were wanting a lover they couldn’t have. Pothos barely payed attention. Sometimes he would trigger the wrong people. It didn’t make a difference to him either way. It aggravated his brothers to no end, but they were always annoyed with Pothos anyway.
After weeks of this, Pothos decided to return home. As usual, all his brothers were there. Pothos couldn’t remember a time when he ever was home by himself. He realized that it never occurred to him to move out and get his own place. Whenever he had gone to a new city, his brothers had always come with him. They had been together their whole lives. It didn’t make sense to separate now, centuries later. His brothers didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Which wasn’t unusual. He was a middle child, so it was easy for them to escape unnoticed.
They were all in a flurry with some news. There were literally wings fluttering all about the house. Pothos made it a point to keep his wings under control at all times. When the boys got into arguments, their wings would spring out, knocking things over, and break dishware. It was a mess. He went about his business, only catching snippets of the conversation.
“Everyone’s talking about it,” one said.
“Who will replace him?” Another asked.
“They never even prepared for this.” Yet another said.
After about ten minutes of listening to this, Pothos decided he should find out what was going on.
“What are you guys so worked up about.”
Anteros looked at him and rolled his eyes. No one replied.
“All of you are flipping out. Obviously, something happened.”
“Seriously Pothos, you’re the only one who would miss all of this. I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Heard what?”
Antiheroes let out an exasperated sigh.
Himeros finally said, “Haven’t you heard? Charon is dead.”
Pothos froze. Who could kill a god of death? No wonder they were flipping out. With no one to take his place, people would stop dying. Mortals would notice. If they thought overpopulation was an issue before, wait until they got a load of a world where no one ever died. Something had to be done. There was no backup plan for this. A tiny voice in the back of Pothos’ mind whispered to him.
You could be the god of death.
Will Pothos take the job? Find out in King of Cats (Primed Fairy Tales Book 10)
If you want to find out more about this world, keep an eye out for Unknown Gods!
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