The God Contest Regina

“Change is inevitable. Growth is optional.”

John Maxwell

Bethany was standing in an open field filled with long prairie grasses blowing in a gentle wind. The sky above was unnaturally blue, not a single cloud marring its visage. The smell of summer, floral and dry, lay heavy on the world around her.

The child in front of her was no more than ten years old. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders, tied back in a simple ponytail. Her eyes were pupilless and bright white, and she wore blue jeans and a frilled pink shirt. She felt familiar to Bethany.

“Diana?” Bethany asked, finally recognizing the child. It was her friend from elementary school, from days long forgotten. Diana had gone missing one day and the town rallied to search for her. She was never found.

Diana smiled, then gestured to her right. Beside her was a casino table, its semi-circle green felted top resting comfortably in the middle of the field, as if it were always meant to be there. Diana jumped into the dealer’s chair, spinning in a complete circle before suddenly coming to a stop and waving for Bethany to join her.

“Hurry up,” Diana said, her soft voice beckoning Bethany forward. “Let’s play. Or do you want to be like her?”

She pointed to her left with an outstretched index finger. Beside them, about twenty paces away, an identical Diana was seated at an identical table and beckoned a middle-aged woman in a yellow dress forward. The woman was shaking her head in refusal, and the other Diana simply sat there and waited impatiently.

“They all must make a choice,” said her Diana, spinning in her chair with outstretched finger.

Bethany looked across the field. There were thousands of tables, thousands of Dianas, and thousands of people like the middle-aged woman, wondering why they were here. A few sat at the casino table, smiling and ready to play. Others paced about, uncertain, as if waiting for the decision to be made for them. But most were like the middle-aged woman in the yellow dress, steady in her emphatic refusal to accept the game.

“What shall it be?” asked her Diana, patiently. “Do you deny it? Do you wait? Or do you embrace it?”

Be brave little Bee.

Bethany sat down, leaned forward, and stared at Diana. “Let’s play,” Bethany said, and Diana smiled.

Diana flicked her wrist and a deck of cards appeared in her hands. She dealt five cards to each of them, face down. The back of the cards were deep black, with tiny points of light resembling stars in the night sky. The stars moved on the surface of the cards, and Bethany watched as a shooting star cascaded across one card and over to another, until it had crossed all five cards and fell into the darkness beyond.

Bethany picked up her five cards and looked at the hyper-realistic images on each one. An old man. A tattered book. A plate of spaghetti. A hanged man. A watermelon seed. She thought she could smell the plate of spaghetti, and it made her mouth water.

“What game are we playing?” asked Bethany, curious.

“The only game that matters,” answered Diana, setting one of her cards face up on the table. “I play the liar.”

Diana’s card showed a skinny man with a handlebar moustache, wringing his hands together as a wicked grin spread across his face.

“But what are the rules?”

“There is only one rule. Survive. Play your card.”

Bethany stared at her hand. She played the book card on the table.

“Liars are defeated by knowledge,” she declared, not really knowing why.

Diana gave Bethany a sly smile. She played another card. “The child, who has no knowledge to offer.”

Bethany frowned. “The old man. Who knows children are wise beyond their years.”

Diana laughed and flipped her child card upside down. “Well played.”

Diana thought for a moment. “The Abuser. Who diminishes both the child and the elder.”

Bethany’s breath caught in her throat. It was her father’s image embedded in that card. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She could feel his touch and hear the rage in his voice.

She slapped her next card on the table in a fury. “The hanged man. So he gets what is coming to him.”

“Is that so?” asked Diana, sounding disappointed. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Bethany said confidently, “It’s what he deserves.”

Diana sighed, laying down her next card. “War. Destroyer of all when forgiveness is but a distant notion. I believe that is the game, decided in my favour. Disappointing. I had high hopes for you.”

Bethany stared at her cards for a long time, her mind whirling as Diana rose from her chair. She felt herself fading away. Waking from the dream.

She thrust out one final card. The watermelon seed.

“When everything is gone, life begins anew. A fresh start,” she said with the last of her strength.

Diana stopped, turning towards Bethany in surprise. Suddenly, Bethany felt her grip on the dream returning.

“Perhaps. Perhaps,” whispered Diana, returning to her seat. The other casino tables in the field vanished, and they were alone in the open field that stretched on, empty and endless.

Diana looked her in the eyes, and Bethany felt like she was weighing her soul. This no longer felt like a dream.

Diana made her decision. “The Contest shall begin soon.” Diana began, her voice laced with conspiratorial tones. “We are all pawns in the game of Eternity. You must embrace it, little pawn, or you will fall, as so many have before you.”

Her white eyes scanned the fields. A storm was building on the horizon, dark clouds billowing outwards and covering the distant sky. She turned back to Bethany, an urgency in her voice.

“Knowledge is dangerous. Foreknowledge, even more so. And to provide talents in advance? Perhaps that is the most dangerous of all. It goes against his holy law. Shall I take the chance? I must, if we are to succeed."

Diana waved her hands over the casino table. The cards vanished, and in their place rested three golden discs, each the size of her palm and engraved with an image in silver. The first was an ivory eye, as white as Diana’s. The second, a running woman. The third, an anvil.

Diana sat up straight. Her body began to stretch, until she towered over Bethany. Her voice boomed across the plains.

“Bethany Fox. You have emerged victorious in the challenge of the Moirai. Select your reward.”

Diana’s image shrank back to normal. She gave a heavy sigh, then leaned over the table with a kind smile. “I give you this, young one, at great risk. It is forbidden by the highest authorities of Eternity to interfere in the Contest. Yet I fear it may be the only chance we have. Keep this gift to yourself, lest you face the same consequences I will. Now choose, before the storm reaches us.”

Bethany stared at the golden discs hovering ever so slightly above the table. The storm clouds were moving quickly towards them, like a herd of stampeding buffalo.

She looked up at Diana. Without knowing why, Bethany suddenly felt like she owed a great debt to the child.

Bethany touched the golden disc with the ivory eye.

Diana smiled, the storm clouds only seconds away.

“Good choice. Good luck Bethany. May my gift help keep you safe in the chaos that is to come.”

And then Bethany felt herself falling, as if a great hole in the world had opened beneath her. The last thing she saw, as she plummeted into its depths, were the storm clouds violently crashing over Diana’s fragile form and carrying her away in their fury.

* * *

Bethany awoke with a start, breathless and sweating. The morning sun had not yet crested the horizon, and the depth of night reigned around her. There was a coolness to the air, and she wrapped her blanket around her chest tightly, trying to stop the chill within her.

“It felt so real,” Bethany breathed. “Was it? It couldn’t have been. No, of course not, Bethany. You’re just exhausted. It’s totally normal that you would be having messed up dreams.”

She sat up with a yawn, reaching out to turn her Civic’s ceiling light. She felt her left eye throbbing.

“Great,” she said sarcastically. “I must have poked it when I was sleeping. I really need to find a more comfortable place to sleep.”

She pulled down the visor mirror, leaning forward to inspect her eye.

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She must still be dreaming.

Her left eye had turned ivory white.

“No,” she cried, “No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening.”

She felt herself starting to panic. Her breath quickened and her chest grew tight. She wanted to run but felt rooted to the ground.

“It must be a disease. A virus. Or something I ate. That caused the dream, not the other way around. Just my mind telling me I’m sick and filling in the rest with fantastical nonsense. Like when you cramp your leg in your sleep and you can feel it in your dream. Yes, that must be it,” she rambled, desperately trying to find a rational explanation. Then she fell silent, staring in the mirror.

“But what if it is not an illness?” she whispered to herself. “What if the dream was real?”

She sat in her car in a daze, unmoving, until the morning sun was fully visible in the east and the sounds of the park began to fill her ears. The clammer of the ducks and geese on the water, the squirrels jumping between branches, and the footsteps of the occasional early morning jogger. Bethany sat through it all, not knowing where to start. Not knowing what was real. She felt like her world was turning upside down.

“Okay, Bethany, be brave. You cannot sit in this car forever,” Bethany instructed herself when she felt her heart start to settle. She tilted her head up to look into the mirror.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” she told herself, trying to stay optimistic. “And it doesn’t hurt. If it is still like this tomorrow, I’ll go to the emergency room. But otherwise, I have a new life to build.” With that, she thrust open the car door, grabbed her toiletries, and headed for the washroom to try to have a normal day.

And then she saw something skuttle off the roof of the washroom, around the back and out of sight. It looked like a dog that was standing on two legs, covered in knotted brown fur with a long-pointed nose. She rushed around the building, trying to spot it, but it was gone.

“I must be seeing things,” Bethany told herself. She tried to put it out of her mind as she headed towards the washroom entrance. Then she abruptly stopped.

Had that been there yesterday?

There was a plaque mounted to the door. It was the size and shape of a stop sign, carved from heavy oak and engraved with golden lettering. Bethany had to lean in close to make out the writing, as it seemed to shift in and out of focus as if it were trying to avoid her scrutiny.

“G.A. 1-32, Dolos,” Bethany read aloud. “What the heck does that mean?”

“Excuse me, can I get through?” came a voice from behind her.

Bethany jumped and spun around. A young woman in pink running clothes was standing behind her, covered in sweat and uncomfortably shifting her weight between her feet. She had shoulder-length blond hair with a strip of black that ran down the right side. She had the well-toned legs of a runner, and recently painted red sparkled fingernails. She carried herself with a self-righteous confidence that made Bethany feel uneasy.

“I’m so sorry,” apologized Bethany, moving out of the doorway, “I was reading this new plaque. It’s curious.”

The woman leaned over to where Bethany was pointing, then frowned. She looked up at Bethany, and her face shifted from annoyed to worried as she saw her bruised cheek and pupilless white eye. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“I’m fine,” said Bethany, waving her hands to dissuade her concern. “Just reading.” She pointed again to the plaque.

The woman staring at the wall. “Umm…reading what?”

“Here,” said Bethany, pointing at the plaque. “This. It’s hard to miss.”

“There isn’t anything there. Are you sure you don’t need me to call an ambulance? Or the police?”

Bethany was startled. How could the woman not see it? “I’m fine. I guess I’m just having a strange morning,” she said, trying to deflect the woman’s concerns.

“It’s noon,” said the woman abruptly, and she entered the washroom before Bethany could say another word.

Bethany stared at the plaque. She wasn’t imagining it. It was right there. Was the woman lying?

Bethany heard mumbling from inside the washroom and cracked open the door. The woman was on her phone.

“…. I think she is on something Daniel. No, I don’t know what. I don’t think she is dangerous, but she’s seeing things that are not there. Look can you…no, not that I…. Daniel, you’re a paramedic. Just call one of your friends who are working today. I think she’s living out of her car, and it looked like she’s being abused. Can you just…I’m fine, just, can you…”

Bethany shut the door carefully and backed away. Was that how she came across? Crazy and helpless? She rushed over to her car, threw her toiletries in the back, and started the engine. She didn’t want to be there when Daniel’s friends showed up.