Flash Fiction: The Gluemn In God’s Eye

For years I’ve been fascinated by the idea that life may exist under the icy crust of Jupiter’s moon, Europa. In particular I wondered how an intelligent species might mythologise their landscape when the limit of their universe is a miles thick ceiling of ice. This is a glimpse in to life beneath a frozen ocean.

The vault of heaven broke open and a beam of divine light surged through the crack, bringing with it colours, the like of which the Gluemn had never seen before.

Heaven had not been glimpsed like this for many generations. A rumour had even started amongst the Gluemn that it didn’t exist, but as the bravest amongst them ventured closer to the light, the doubters began to proclaim their faith renewed. Some even denied having lost it in the first place.

“See! God is watching over us!” They chanted, lifting their tentacles towards the light.

And God was indeed watching. His single, great eye peered down though the crack in the vault of Heaven.

“God is scary.” One young Gluemn murmered, scurrying for cover amongst his father’s many arms.

“God loves us.” His father said, petting him gently with his suckers. “He plucked out his other eye for us. To give us the Deep Fires that keep us warm, and bring the food from below.”

“I don’t know.” The little Gluemn replied, letting one, tentative tentacle drift into the light.

God’s remaining eye glared down at him, red and boiling.

“If you ask me.” He said, as the vault of Heaven shifted once more, and the light began to fade. “God looks mean.”


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