Miles found himself sitting at a table at Back 2 Good. Just like the house on Abes drive, everything and everyone there was frozen in the middle of doing something.
Hades sat across from Miles with a cup in his hand. “I love the decorations in this place. I will have to come by more often and visit.”
Miles just stared at him, “Why?”
Hades just shrugged, “I like the atmosphere. It has an almost Cheers like atmosphere. I expect Norm to come in at any moment. Though I never understood why he was on the show. He wasn’t really funny.”
Miles just shook his head, “No. I mean back there.”
Hades took a sip, “You mean back at the house. Don’t know, you tell me.”
“What do you mean.”
Hades slowly put his drink down, “let me tell you a story.”
“Eons ago, I was born, a son of Cronos. To preserve his rule, he swallowed me whole with my brothers and sisters. The youngest, Zeus hidden away and later led a revolt of us siblings to overthrow the Titans.
After they were vanquished, Myself, Poseidon, and Zeus drew straws for the realms that we would govern. Zeus, became King of Olympus, Poseidon the sea and me the underworld. Being the eldest, I should have been King of the Gods, but it was not how it was written.”
“Sure, think of every holy book that is out there. Every fable, every myth. There is a story written from a specific point of view.”
Hades paused long enough to take another drink, “Have you ever wondered if it was the work of a God or a writer?”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me ask you a question, what is the difference between a God and a writer?”
Miles thought for a second, ‘One writes, the other has immense powers and abilities.”
“Let me put it another way. A God can create entire universes and set people and objects in motion, right?”
Miles nodded, confused.
“Doesn’t a writer do basically the same thing?”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.