The strange gods are gods of the in-betweens and the unnoticed things, but they are still gods.
Gods of lost socks and orphaned foxes and 3:52pm.
And they will answer your prayers, if they are in the mood.
Say hello and wish them well and hold out your hands.
They might send you feathers or fountain pens or illustrations ripped from children’s books.
Bits of broken neon signs or rotary telephones or roller skates.
Or they might ignore you entirely.
Or they might respond in ways that are not as tangible as skeleton keys and candy hearts.
And the strange gods don’t particularly care if you believe in them or not.
They don’t particularly believe in you, either.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.