In The Beginning

The original sceptic; perched lightly on the edge of the sofa
plucking a humanity-hating song on the guitar. Every now and then he
would raise his drawn-out face to the light to reveal his transparent
eyes reflecting the world he resented. His slender fingers played the
wistful tune still, leaving little white lines along the tips. One
wrong note brings a grimace to his face and he reluctantly starts
again.

Bored with listening to his guitar moan he placed it down lovingly upon
its stand and stood in a painful motion. The T-shirt hung from his
shoulders directly parallel to the wall; the combats just as pristine.
He turned his back to the window, his elegant frame silhouetted and
surrounded by his misanthropy, and reluctantly walked towards the door.
Glancing sideways he stopped and gazed unseeingly at the mirror.
Mechanically his body followed his eyes until he stood squarely to the
wall. He let his glacial eyes caress the faded gold frame for a moment
until his gaze met his empty reflection. I can see you&;#8230;

I see you struggle; I see you cry; I see you rise; I see you crash and
burn and I see you die. Yet you still don't get it, do you? You're no
further down the line than when you started.

His thoughts echoed around the room as a spark ignited in his
pupils.

You worship Him because He made you. He gave life to 'your' world and
everything in it and you are grateful - as you should be. You give up
chocolate for Him then gorge yourselves with novelty eggs in His name.
You celebrate His son's birthday by giving lots and eating
plenty.

You love Him so much; you know Him so well; you understand so little.
You view Him as good and me&;#8230;me as evil. Define your terms,
evil? Bringer of bad things: disease, injury, death, destruction, was,
famine and flood. You personify bad and give it a face but even that is
wrong. I'm not red; I don't have horns or a tail. To look at me is to
see a mirror; I'm no more evil than you. But no, you're not evil Dear -
it was I. You blame ME for your mass genocide; it was I who dropped the
bomb; I pulled the trigger; I sunk the ship, crashed the car and killed
the dog. It was me, all me.

To look at me it to see a mirror. Are you getting it yet? I am not your
hell-fire demonic stereotype; I don't even exist. Do you believe
that?

His eyebrows twitched as his eyes narrowed on his opposite.

For the God-fearing innocent I exist - I exist in eternal damnation. In
films I exist as the baddie trying to overthrow the almighty. In
reality? I exist all right, in no form, no body, no soul. He is Me. And
I?

I am you.