Deviation Actions
What Is It Like
A child is born. When a child is born life is created and possibilities collide into another string of consciousness in the rope of reality. When a child is born my people are remade, and recycled into another messenger and decider for this child. We must make sure it follows the rules of this universe and that their time ends when scheduled.
My second child was born and I’ve already missed two decades of its life. Nonetheless I am overwhelmed with what some call joy. There is no need to feel sorrow for the events I was not there for. I suppose I can watch those later once her time is up.
I take a gaze into the present and fly through the empty space that separated me and my child. Clouds, atmosphere and entities pass me by as I finally am able to see her. A million questions pop into my mind. What do they call her? What type of human is she? What does she look like? I peer into the vision of a stranger of the same species. Oh my! My child is wonderful, humans all look so wonderful! His mind is so clear and determined on “Natalias birthday” I get curious and peer into my sunmade child. “OH GOD” I jump back with what would be wide eyes if I had them. Her mind a mess of stress and screaming.
“Oh my is she okay?” I say as if anyone could hear me. I watch her talk to another female of her spices. Why is her mind screaming? Why she so stressed? Is everyone in her generation like this? I clearly see a blush form on her cheeks, possibly from the cold. A man, old and filled with hatred but good intentions comes up to them. From the point of view of another passer by he is holding a sign. The word hell is in big bold red letters and it reads “Homosexuals go to HELL” The passers by disgust fills me but my own curiosity leads up to fly over to him. This sign has so many memories and emotions. Hate and fear being the most prominent ones. Why would he cause these emotions? I look into his memories, through his eyes.
F A clock reads three AM in red letters, the red pulsing with light and becoming a blur. Looking down slowly with a muted mind he sees cans on top of cans. The air smelt of hopps and sweat. “Three AM, a pack down and I still can’t forget you Mariah.” the unshaved man grimaced at the thought of her. “She would be ashamed to see me like this. Drinking liquid joy, and falling deeper and deeper into my own self deprecation…” Picking up his half full can he took another gulp of his liquid dependency. This familiarity reminds him of his childhood. A small lemonade stand and and a box with a cross stand in front of him.
The church was there when he was at his lowest point. It picked him up and helped him get better and do amazing things. He got the news that the government and the church are now mixing sides deciding the love of others. It feels wrong but how could he go against the thing that his life depends on. “Sin is sin, no matter what it is right?” He would say. “Jeremy, god forgives all sins. Jesus died for us to be forgiven” another male would point out. A woman started to argue with him in a high pitched creaky voice “God as spoken through Leviticus ‘ you shall not lie with a male as you would with a female; it is an abomination.” “As christians we must carry out the word of the lord.” With that a group was made. The group he joined would protest and petition against homosexual marriage.
You snap out of his memories, guilt and hatred weigh you down. With his contact to your child you are put in her place. Her mind isn’t as scrambled as before but now scared. Her memories flood her mind with order about those who have been lost or hurt from people who hate their love and being. She swallows and puts all knowledge she has to defend herself in argument or fight to the front of her mind. I take a backseat to her thoughts, being only a spectator. Through her eyes I see the man raise his sign, looking as if he is going to scream. The Goddess she was talking to is long gone. “Please don’t yell. Don’t say I’m going to hell. I know, I know.” Fear radiates off her, I can tell she not only fears him but also fears what he represents. Her memories of being told not to be whatever slur they chose fit at the time, that she is going to hell for loving someone, that she doesn’t deserve to be treated equal. I see that she is truly scared of death, of what comes after and what may happen. Her emotions sting me, prick me with the unknown. I must go. I have to go.
Water wells in her eyes as she stands oddly frozen. Why isn’t she doing anything? How can her mind be so vivid and yet she won't speak.
“You people disgust me! Do you know that you are just adding to the se-” He stops and slightly furrows his eyebrows. The man looked up in confusion, staring at the rain that somehow pours from my sunchild.
“I have seen you so many times.” Her voice wavered but she spoke like these are the lines of a old ode. This is The Ode to Lana.
“I don’t think I know you.” The way he said it seemed more like a question than a response. His body is stiffened as if to show superiority over the conversation. It could also be because he doesn’t know how to react and he resumes a awkward stance naturally.
“Yes but you seem to act as if you do. As if you and your people have the right to kill, harass, assault, rape and tell us what is right!” She lists her words off with a count of her fingers. She inhales some of the cold Portland air. “I haven’t met you before but I have met what you stand for. Thank god I wasn’t the ones who found the wrong people and ended up dead, beaten and left on the street. We know what you are saying. Trust me we can’t stop hearing it with the amount of control you have over our system.” Her words spoken like slap to the face. Hurtful, surprising, lasting and with reason.
“We are trying to help! God has struck the homosexuals with HIV as a sign. This is to help you change your ways for the better-”
He gets cut off by the lion who has found her roar. “Don’t you dare even try to say the murder and rape of hundreds to thousands is helping.” Her voice was loud yet serious. She loomed over the male with a strong stance. Her power and his emotions radiate off them enough for me to feel them even while I’m beside them.
“I-I didn’t...” He stopped speaking at a loss for words and nervousness. He took a step back while holding the sign loosely.
“Just. Try to empathise.” I can feel the tension slowly fading as the argument grows quiet. The man looks lost in thought. What is he thinking? Out of curiousity I gazed into his thoughts. It seems that he did try to do what she said and this brought the human need to want to know more. His limited information he has been told is blocking him from being able to understand fully. This need to know more brings more thoughts of being a traitor. How could he go back on what saved him? “It’s best not to understand or get close to them, that’s what Linda said. That’s what the whole church agreed on. Yet..” He spoke up “What is it like?” His inner conflict shown in one question was just let out. With this being let out I left him to see how she would react. She rose her eyebrows in surprise.
“It’s…” She took a moment to sort out her words. “Have you ever been in love? Not just the romantic kind. I’m talking about any kind of love.” Love, it’s such a confusing feeling. Have I felt it? Can I feel anything? Aren’t we all just preprogrammed with instincts which bring us to today and the next. Emotions just words that one uses to describe a set of events and how one reacts to it. Yet for them, these two, it’s different. It’s heat and ice, it’s memories past and ones to come. It’s the unknown that I don’t remember ever having. These two show so conflicts and personalities and have to many different outcomes and emotions, yet remain so sure and oblivious.
He cuts my thoughts off with a quiet “Yes…” Which sounded more like a question than an answer. The name Mariah, and dad radiate off him and seep into my thoughts.
“Then... Then imagine everyone pulling you away from them. Loved ones separated from you for one reason you can’t change. While this happens people torment you while you are living, abuse you in one way or another until everything in life seems hopeless. They lead you into looking for an afterlife but once you get hope for that all you are told is if you attempt anything you are just going to be in the same hell you are living. So then you’re left living in this endless limbo of anger, hatred and depression. All because you had the audacity to love someone.” She looks down at the mans sign. “You can’t expect a stranger to persuade you or tell you the answer in one sitting, but that’s the best I can do for now.”
“That sounds… Complicated to say the least but thank you for showing me the other side of things. My perspective may not agree with how you live your life but I don’t want to be the person who leads someone to that dark place.” The memories of his nights spent on self deprecation and various forms of self harm linger on his words. “As a stranger in which was yelling at your ways a few minutes ago I don’t expect you to care about anything I’ve said or wonder what my thought process is as I did for you.” His thoughts filled look sparks my curiosity so I float over to him. I’m greeted with thoughts of what to say and the arguments people have made towards him and those who supported people like her. “Just so you know, not everyone is like me or the people you spoke about… There are people who used to say that all sins are forgiven if you just make peace with god. If you are speaking from experience I recommend talking to them. I usually pushed them away but they now seem to have good ideals.” I moved away and sensed the two getting calmer. The people around the two seemed to speed up and get colder. Rain was the main thoughts of most of the passers by. It seemed almost as if this cold Oregon rain washed away my two childrens conflicts. Their two pasts seemed to line up perfectly for this one moment.
“Here, take this. I really have to go, but I’m looking forward to knowing what you really mean.” My sun child hands him a small ripped piece of paper. Then I see her leave, with the boy staring down on the paper in the rain with a red lettered homemade sign left in the puddle forming on the curb. One thought left in his mind “I guess we all really are just imperfect humans.”
It hasn’t even been an hour with my two children but I’ve witnessed emotions beyond what I’ve known. It leaves me with one thought. What is it like?