“Anubis at the Crosswalk”
The streets are empty at 3 a.m., except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the soft whirr of drones overhead. Out of the mist steps Anubis, tall and impossibly thin, his jackal head tipped slightly like he’s examining a glitch in reality. He’s wearing a thrifted hoodie and ripped jeans, but the golden ankhs dangle from his fingers, catching the flickering streetlights. Pedestrians pass without noticing him—like he’s a lag in the simulation.
“Bastet on the Subway”
In a tiled station, Bastet lounges on a bench, multiple black cats orbiting her like tiny satellites. Her eyes are neon green, glowing through the darkened tunnel, reflecting the LED ads for things that don’t exist. Someone drops a coffee cup—it floats, hovers, then lands neatly back in their hand. She purrs, and the vibrations travel through the concrete, unsettling pigeons on the tracks.
“Ra in the Office”
Ra sips a takeaway latte under fluorescent flicker, the sun crown floating above his head like a malfunctioning neon sign. He scrolls through emails, unread messages glowing like miniature suns, each marked “urgent” but meaningless. The air feels heavier around him, like gravity has decided to play favorites, pulling papers and pens toward his desk while coworkers shuffle past, blind.
“Isis at the 24/7 Diner”
Isis sits in a corner booth, wings folded behind her, watching a loop of security cameras on her tablet. She murmurs incantations to the jukebox, and the songs glitch between genres: lo-fi trap meets Gregorian chant. Every glass of water shimmers with her reflection, yet no one else notices. She smiles softly, a small tremor in reality bending around her presence.
“Notes”
The gods are here, but not as we remember them. They wear thrifted hoodies, sip lattes, scroll TikTok, and glitch the mundane world. Their power is still there, humming just beneath the flickering lights, but it doesn’t announce itself with thunder—only with the tiny, unnerving moments you can’t explain. A shadow out of place, a hum in the neon, a cat staring too long.
The past and present have fused, and the gods are casually, bizarrely, almost politely among us.
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Wow, I love this—your neon city gods feel so alive, yet eerily just out of reach. The way you blend the ordinary with the uncanny makes the world feel simultaneously familiar and strange. I especially loved the little glitches, like the floating coffee cup and Bastet’s cats orbiting her—it gives the scenes such a vivid, unsettling energy. The note at the end is beautifully phrased too; it ties everything together and leaves a lingering sense of mystery. Really looking forward to seeing where you take this style next!
Thank you so much—this really means a lot to me. I’m glad the city felt alive in that almost-there, slightly off way; that tension between familiar and uncanny is exactly what I was hoping would come through. Those little glitches are my favorite places to play, so hearing that the coffee cup and Bastet’s cats landed the way I imagined is incredibly affirming. And I’m especially grateful you connected with the closing note—that lingering mystery is the feeling I wanted to leave behind. I’m excited (and a little nervous) to keep pushing this style, and your words definitely encourage me to do just that.
I’m really glad you’re pushing it. That nervous edge is where the style feels most alive — you can feel the risk and the play at the same time. The uncanny works because you’re not over-explaining it; you trust the reader to sit in the glitch with you. That’s a hard balance, and you’re landing it. I hope you keep leaning into those strange little moments — they’re doing a lot of quiet magic.
Excellent. I really enjoyed this piece. The Gods most certainly are among us.
Thank you for your kind words.