Dear Diary

Today I caught a little god and put it in a jar before it can become a big god and hurt little people.

Mom says I'm a brave girl for ridding all those worlds of their gods. She also says to be careful but I don't see what's so dangerous about the little gods.

Mom wants to take my jars of little gods to the swindler's market to sell, but I hide them from her and feed them scraps of magic. Sometimes I steal souls for them from Aunt Rue's cookie jar. The gods grow and grow until their faces are smash up against the glass of their tiny jars and then they grow until their spines are all twisted and then they keep growing until they die.

I have 117 jars, so there are 117 godless worlds.

Today I dropped a dead god into a little world. The little people scurried around like ants, trying to grab pieces of the dead god. They fought for the toes and for the Word and for the Book and they carried away the chunks of godmeat and killed anyone who came close. I felt bad and tried to tell them it was only a stupid dead god but they didn't listen to me. If Mom finds out she's gonna kill me. I hid that world where she won't look.

Sue said she'll teach me to hunt angels. Angels make good earrings. If you're careful and don't kill them when you grab 'em, they keep wriggling their little wings when they're hung from your ears and last like forever.

Dear Diary: please forgive me for not writing more, but I'm running off to hunt angels with Sue.