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Summary: We are all but pawns in God’s chessboard, moving of his own accord. My people are condemned for being what they really are, antagonized to the very core of their existence. And I will no longer have of it—no more.
Author: Hana Rui
Genre(s): an autobiography of sorts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,093
Note: Again, for thebwg challenge (it’s a writing community at livejournal-dot-com). This time we are asked to write an autobiography, but not just any autobiography. It’s got to be a fake one. The shittier it is, the better. :)
The cleansing had begun. Men and women alike parted with their mundane breaths as God’s punishment came down upon them, their fruitless attempt at escape adding more pleasure to the game.
Gunshots were playing out the requiem to a supposedly holy cause. Bullets hitting flesh with terrifying succession. Flesh tearing apart to make way for blood. Blood staining the curb surrounding the Church of God.
This was the recurring vision that haunted the nights I lay in bed as a young child, unsullied mind hardly able to comprehend, to give meaning to what I had just seen and whether or not it had any implications to my future. To my life. The images stuck on me like a second consciousness, leeching out on what little faith I had for the world. For God.
They just kept coming, kept stirring my unconscious until I could no longer feel the strain of sleep. I can hardly remember the last time I closed my eyes. Fear deftly overcame weariness and rest has become nothing but an illusion—one which I choose not to indulge in.
Still, even as I struggled to keep awake at all times, the vision would not leave. It has kept close pace of my waning years, corrupting my mind, impairing my sanity, until I felt I could no longer escape. Gradually, I indulged. Eventually, I delighted. The sight of blood no longer repulsed me. The merciless carnage seemed to enliven this part of me I never thought I had.
Perhaps this was the reason why I grew up to be so morose, so dark. So cynical and untrusting. Vengeful and violent. The images of those people, running for their lives and eventually shedding blood upon the holy ground had always triggered this yearning, this blood-thirsty desire to live out the dream, to avenge the injustice done on the helpless. And it would not stop biting until I give in.
After all, this is supposed to be my life, my calling. I might have denied so at the beginning, but God has made sure I came back to the roots of my existence. Those dreams, and the fear they had initially induced in me, the resolute haunting that led me to acceptance, to the realization that I could never really escape my fate—all these things have served their preordained purpose well.
God has done a good job in laying out the milestones of his plans, it seems. Everything went by his blueprint just as it should. I have become who I should be, and can hardly fight off the urge to do what I am supposed to do.
Now, I know what the vision is all about—
The Church of God looming in the background of the cruelest carnage done on my people. The gunshots filling up the quietude, bullets borrowing through flesh, the crimson testimony of lives nabbed without warning staining the curb…
My people would be punished for a fault that is never theirs—never ours. The cleansing would come upon us through the hands of Providence moving his holiest pawns on the chessboard of life. We are doomed to be extinguished, right down to the littlest brood. Death in the hands of God’s people is our inevitable destiny. After all, we are the mortal sins in human form. The infamous devils so often maligned in the scriptures. Heaven does not have a place for us, nor does this world. Nor does any other spot in the celestine universe. And yet, we are just too proud to take refuge in hell.
We belong nowhere. We belong to no one but ourselves. We are worthy of nobody’s mercy, pushed deeper into the crevasses of evil by the iniquities of the world.
I can clearly remember that night I lay awake in bed thinking this over, and how I eventually came upon a purpose. The mission I have been ordained to do right from the very start.
This world gives its own reasons for killing us, and would stop at nothing until our breaths are abated—completely. And I cannot just sit around and watch this happen. We may be a little corrupted, but we are humans too. Cursed with a sickness that is not our own choice. We struggle to accept ourselves, only to loathe the creature that we become. We fight off the urge to do our bidding, but there is really just so much that we can do.
We are but pawns to our own needs. Our own desires. There is just no way we can live without giving in. This is the way we are designed to be.
We are the evils of the world, and God’s holy pawns are out to get us, just as he willed. A noble act to shroud the arcane barbarism. A game of mutilation and death to satisfy the homicidal inclinations of the host.
We did not choose to be bad. And yet, we are persecuted for what we are.
No more.
I will no longer have of it. I will act upon my dreams—the vision, and reverse it to favor my roots. I will put a bug on God’s blueprint and stir every coordinate, every corner and every line of it to destruction.
I will avenge my people.
Tonight, I went out and had my first taste of blood. I just upped and grabbed the first thing I saw. A beautiful young woman. Sweet-tasting treat. I made sure she screamed loud enough to call forth her kind. And right before their very eyes, I drained her of life and mutilated her flesh to my satisfaction—just as they would to my kind.
It felt bliss seeing those terror-stricken faces. Now they know how it feels to fear for their own lives, just as my people did in my dreams. Somehow, just by seeing them like that, I feel I have redeemed the greater part of our dignity. That I have avenged our condemned existence. And it is the most satisfying thing to feel. Like a fresh new gush of air. A new life. A new purpose.
I will get them. I will get them before they get us.
The cleansing has just begun. And tomorrow will be another day.
I am Lee, werewolf. And this is my life.
