[Original Novel] Pariah of the Little People, Part 15

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“You see, this terrible, bleak world of sin and cruelty is on the way out. It will be destroyed very soon, Jesus was clear about that! Every nasty unbeliever who picks on innocent, sweet Christians will suddenly discover we were right all along, then they’ll experience richly deserved suffering.

First at the hands of the antichrist and demons set loose upon the Earth during the Tribulation, then again in Hell. For they will appear in front of Christ, and as they denied him on Earth, he will deny them before the Father. Then they’ll be cast into the lake of fire where the worm that eats them does not die, and the fire is never quenched, just as it says in Mark 9:48”.

It stunned me. Not because I found any of it persuasive, but because it sounded so familiar. He was once again describing monster world, and the same sort of bitter revenge fantasy I’d often harbored during my loneliest, darkest moments.

The “me against the world” perspective. That everything outside of the self, or the in-group, is miserable horrid garbage. That every outsider is a vicious monster deserving of torture. “Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature” I once read, though I cannot recall where.

If he told me this a week ago I might’ve embraced it. Hearing him describe it was like looking in a mirror. And with that mirror held up, I could for the first time see the true ugliness of it. Every little stubborn, frightened, angry, wounded, hateful flaw laid within me bare and magnified for easy recognition.

It would’ve been such a natural fit for me until today. But having rejected monster world as a delusion born out of pain, fear and loneliness I could hardly adopt a worldview effectively identical to it, if much older. I found it somewhat comforting that I was not the first person to see the world that way, but it only reinforced my conviction that I’ve always been wrong to.

The world isn’t evil. It isn’t a dark place, not even mostly. Being hurt narrowed my vision. I saw only the bad in the world, in society and the human race. Blinded to the beauty all around me, blinded to the kindness in others, only begrudgingly allowing one or two people at a time into my heart.

It’s a sickness. A sick view of things I couldn’t see for what it is until I stepped out of the bubble I was in and looked at it from the outside. Only an illusion all these years. One I built around myself, to insulate me from humanity so nobody could hurt me that badly ever again. Just as countless have done before me, and will continue to after I’m gone.

That isolation is what made me sick. Being cut off from the rest of humanity warps the way you look at things. Makes you suspicious, exclusionary, disdainful of outsiders. The fear which comes to rule your heart soon invents monsters in every shadow, murderers behind every tree and assumes the worst of everybody.

I did this to myself by pushing people away. By keeping my guard up all the time. Nobody can hurt me if I don’t let anyone in, I’d reasoned. But deeper than that, because I was hurt, on some level I believed it was because I’m a bad person.

I let them convince me that I’m dirty, that there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. So I pushed people away, even good people, not wanting them to waste their time getting tangled up with such a wounded, tarnished fuckup.

That’s why I always make it bad. Why I assume the worst, why I deal with everybody at arm’s length and otherwise self-sabotage. Because someone treated me like trash, and I believed them. The exact moment my perspective began to distort.

That’s when the world around me went from a place of light, color, sound, wonder and the endless delight of exploration and learning to a grey, frozen wasteland devoid of life, beauty and any other reason to continue. The moment monster world was born.

“But even the best of us are tainted” Tyler continued as I emerged from my inner world and returned my attention to his speech. “Original sin, the first disobedience to God, left a mark on our souls. We’re dirty, and only the blood of Christ can wash us clean.

Until then, we are too dirty, inferior and unworthy to be in God’s presence. The only way we can become good enough is if we devote our lives to worshiping his son, Jesus Christ. Then God forgives our many severe flaws and is gracious enough to-”

I broke in here, having heard quite enough. “The flaws he made us with? Gracious enough to what? To spare us the torture pit he built himself?” Tyler looked shocked, but when he recovered, went about rationalizing it the same way as the school shrink.

Namely that we’re all worthless garbage who inherently deserve to be tortured forever, but that by joining a particular religion and believing what they want me to, my inferiority can be overlooked and I’ll be spared.

The global flood notwithstanding, I’d been able to struggle with and work past a great many Biblical teachings that didn’t sit right with me before this, but now finally arrived at a brick wall. Tyler had done for me what nobody else could.

By holding up that mirror, he showed me how ugly I’ve let them make me. How severely I’ve deluded myself in a desperate bid to protect my heart. It took Tyler to show me that monster world isn’t real, and never was. I desperately wanted to do the same for him.

“No.” I muttered to myself. Tyler cupped a hand to his ear and asked me to speak up. “No! I’m not dirty. I’m not tainted or inherently bad. Neither are you, neither is anybody. I used to think that way, because bad things were done to me. But that’s the perspective of a scared, wounded child.

I’ve grown too much in the last year to go on looking at the world like that. There’s beauty everywhere! In the forests, in little spiders, even in other people. Sure, some of them are just nasty for the fun of it. But assuming they’re all like that almost made me miss out on meeting Jennifer. On meeting you. Who knows what other nourishing human connections I’ve passed up because of fear?

Yes, I’ve been damaged. Maybe I’ll never finish fixing myself. But I’m also not just gonna collapse in a pathetic, tearful heap of wreckage, shaking my bitter little fist at the world in condemnation. Lashing out, looking at every new person as a threat instead of a potential new friend. I’m sick, Tyler. Or I was until now. It really is a sickness too, I finally see that.

The irony is, you think the monster world perspective is the only healthy way to be, and that liking boys is the real sickness. You’re the one that’s lost. In a deep pit of misguided self hatred they’ve stuck you in. Even if it kills me, I’ll one day pull you out.”

We sat there for another few minutes in silence, each digesting what the other had said. Finally, he found what he wanted to say. “Even if you really believe all that, at the end of the day, God demands certain things from us. You can say those things are wrong, but you’re only human. Is it not written, “The wisdom of man is foolishness to God”? And that “There is a way that looks right to a man, but leads to death”? We’re to walk by faith, not by sight. Which are you doing now?

It’s like I told you before. You rely too much on your own flawed, human reasoning. God can’t be wrong! If God’s word says it’s an affront for a man to lie with another man, then it is. Right is whatever God wants, wrong is whatever He doesn’t. There’s no arguing with it.”

I couldn’t abide it. Slavery and mass murder become virtuous because a book says so? Because the authors claimed a supernatural being told them it’s okay? The creator of the universe really descended to just the Middle East and just a particular time period to inform humanity that he despises homosexuality, that women and slaves should be subservient?

“If that’s who God is” I responded, “no wonder the other kids behave the way they do. They’re just being as much like him as they can. I don’t believe an actual supreme being could really be like that. The way he’s depicted in the Bible just seems like a magnified tribal warlord from that era, with all the same psychological qualities. The same exact prejudices and desires.

The notion that an actual supreme being would tell slaves to obey their masters, that two men or women who love each other must be executed, or that women should never hold a position of authority over a man is laughable.

But it makes perfect sense if it was instead written by men from that culture and time period, primarily concerned with using the fear of an absolutely powerful, invisible tyrant to keep women subservient, to keep slaves in line, and to suppress stuff that grossed them out or made them feel insecure.

Why is the supreme being male to begin with? How could it be gendered? Does it have huge magical genitals out in space somewhere? Why does it want everything ancient man wanted? Why does it hate everything ancient man hated?

If we’re its children and it’s our father, how could it drown millions of us? How could it command one group of us to exterminate another right down to the women, children and livestock as in Joshua and Numbers? What sort of human father would ever do that to his kids? How could he bear to sacrifice even one of them, whatever the reason?

Why, then, should we hold a greater being to a lower standard of parenting? You might say it’s because God is unknowable to us, but then how is it that ancient man knew enough about him to fill a book?

I can’t believe that. I won’t. The fitful, capricious, jealous, vengeful character in scripture cannot be the true supreme being. It’s far too human for one thing, embodying all of our worst qualities and few of our best. If it were real, I would dedicate myself to destroying it at any cost.

If I have to, I’ll climb the tallest mountain, yank it down from the clouds by the beard and cut its throat open. Then I’ll root out and burn away every one of its churches, temples and mosques from the surface of the Earth.”

Tyler scoffed. “Listen to yourself, that’s foolishness. If you oppose God, I guarantee you’ll lose.” It seemed to me an appeal to give up, to quietly accept tyranny just because the tyrant is irresistibly powerful. But does might make right? I’ve never believed that, and still don’t.

“Maybe so” I conceded. “But someone important once told me something that’s been stuck in my heart ever since: Real strength is fighting for what you care about, even when you know you can’t win.

If I were to devote my life to dismantling something monstrously larger, older and more powerful, with armies upon armies of devoted followers ready to defend it, no doubt they’d easily crush me. But I say that’s a life well spent, and not at all a bad way to die.”

He told me I was crazy, and I agreed there was probably something to that. But I also didn’t much see what it had to do with anything. We argued a little while longer until he grew tired of it and decided we should leave that topic alone for a while.

Tyler was somber after that, as we picked our way through the foliage in search of nothing in particular. I worried I’d upset him. When I asked if we were still friends, he smiled and told me there were never any conditions. That friends are friends, and at least now he knew me better.

“I didn’t expect it to go that way” Tyler said. “In the textbooks and my comics, it happens very differently. They are always eager to hear about Jesus and give their life over to him at the end.” I realized it was the first time he’d testified to anyone and briefly regretted pushing back so hard.

“I just don’t want you to burn in Hell.” I processed that for a bit. It dawned on me that he’d been fundamentally well intentioned. In his mind I’ll suffer eternal torment if I can’t be persuaded to revere Jesus. None of that seemed creepy to him, it’s what he was raised with.

“Supposing”, I offered, “that they made Hell up. So people like you would be strongly motivated to convert everybody you care about in order to save them from going there. So you’d be afraid to leave the church, or even to entertain doubts too seriously.

Heaven too, as the incentive. Who doesn’t want to be reunited with their dead loved ones? Who doesn’t want to live forever? If you promise people they can have those things if they believe what you want, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of takers. It hooks into some really deep seated primal fears and desires.”

He gave me a funny look, like I was talking nonsense. “Nobody designed it that way. That’s just how it is. God told them, then they wrote it down. Anyway I thought we weren’t gonna talk about this. It’s not exactly how I envisioned spending the day.”

I told him I never envisioned winding up in such a school either. That I didn’t want any of it in my life but it kinda forced its way in anyhow. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could do it. You’re the diamond in that dungheap. The brightest ray of sun piercing through the darkest clouds.”

He fidgeted and blushed. I wondered if I’d said something offensive or confusing until he told me I’m sweet, but still lost. A foreigner in a land the customs of which mystify me, so that I’m always making enemies I don’t mean to.

“You already understand the importance of being physically gentle to smaller, weaker creatures. But there is another kind of gentleness I fear you haven’t yet learned. I do like you though” he confessed. “I think we’re always gonna be friends no matter what. Maybe I could show you, and it would be okay.”

Show me? I badgered him about what he meant. He beckoned for me to follow him deeper into the woods, so I did. We soon came upon a small quarry he explained had been dug out by the construction crew that built the house. “Saved us some money to get the stones for the first floor from our own land.”

Nothing inherently remarkable about a quarry, if not for the sprawling civilization carpeting the sandy floor which I immediately recognized as the work of the Homunculi. I staggered backwards in shock. Faint signs of hustle and bustle confirmed they weren’t even bothering to hide themselves from us. Impossible! What could it mean?

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 16!}