A Lesson In Hate

A Lesson in Hate

Winter that cold season of ice and short days. Days when the Earth
seems to sleep and hibernation sets in for most mammals and reptiles.
At times it is the season of introverted analytical self reflection.
Especially for Michael, who was feeling the madness again. That rage of
volcanic chaos that spewed its lava inside his head; clouding his
vision with its dark piles of ash. He walked the city streets, eyes
gleaming with internal anguish. He hated the city, he hated pretty much
everything really. He was a pessimistic fellow.

He despised the people all dressed in their fashion vanity. He hated
the business suits who never had change to spare for the blanket
covered shivering homeless. He hated the shops and their commercial
consumer vibe. He hated the busy rush of the traffic and the people.
More than anything though he hated himself. He despised himself
intensely, but he didn't want to commit suicide, oh no that was too
good for him. No he wanted to punish himself by making himself live
through the pain of hatred. He walked like this staring at the ground,
shoulders weighed down with the cares of the world it seemed. His mind
like a maze of emotions which never made any sense. People despised him
too, it was a two way communication of hatred. He hated them, they
hated him, a fair deal.

A man in a hurry brushed passed his shoulder quite hard. This
infuriated Micheal he turned round and pushed the man in the back
making him lose his balance and fall over. "You fucking cunt.." Micheal
said.

The man lay on the ground for some time before standing up. He was red
with shock and anger. Adrenaline of the fight or flight syndrome
pulsing through his veins.
"Right mate I'am gonna have you for that." The man said shakily and
angrily, he had cut his lower lip and blood was on his shirt.

"Come on then," Micheal said. The man ran to him but before he knew
what had happened Micheal had jump kicked him into a bin, and he and
the bin fell to the ground in a heap. "That's what you are rubbish."
Micheal laughed. He felt the power again that came from the hatred, he
hated that too, but it needed release from time to time. The pressure
of irrational fury that built up within him.

People all around were gasping; shocked out of their everyday
illusions by a disturbing event. "What you all looking at - you want
some as well!" he shouted. Noone would go near him, for fear of his
wide gleaming eyes, which seemed to be filled with some kind of
supernatural light. He kicked the man who was on the floor hard, the
man groaned in pain. He looked at the crowd in a fiendish way and paced
up and down. Then with supernatural strength that came from his hate he
picked the man up and threw him at the crowd; knocking down a few of
them like skittles in a bowling alley. He picked up the bin, and threw
it at a shop window. It hit the window smack bang in the centre causing
it to shatter and set off the alarm. People began screaming and Micheal
didn't care he was beyond caring all he felt was pure hate, hate for
everything. The chaos fed him, he looked up to the sky and laughed
maniacally, eyes gleaming.

Some police were coming his way, quite a few of them. Their truncheons
out, and their new stungun weapons poised.

" Fuck off pigs," he yelled. " Your nothing but corrupt bastards
anyhow, how many people have you killed huh. Fuck you!" Micheal punched
his way maniacally through the crowds, knocking a few of them to the
ground as he did and began to run; the police and a mob of angry people
chased him, but he was a good runner and knew the citycentre like the
back of his hand, after a lot of weaving in and out of the streets, he
had lost them. Flashing his pass at a driver he got onto a bus, and sat
at the back, putting his hood over his head to cover his face. The bus
drove off and the police didn't even know he was on it, they probably
thought he was still running around the city centre somewhere. Micheal
had lost his pursuers, but he would probably be on CCTV. It wouldn't be
long before they found him. Bollux he wasn't going back home anyway, he
had decided. He was going to leave the city for good, he'd had
enough.

He got off the bus on the outskirts of Chinatown. The coach station was
somewhere nearby. He hadn't really been in Chinatown before and felt a
compulsion to have a walk round there before he bought his coach
ticket. But it wasn't like any Chinatown he had seen before. In fact,
come to think of it, he couldn't really remember it been there at
all.

He walked the unfamiliar streets, everything felt strange and
semi-transparent like it does in a dream. He had no bearings at all,
Chinese calligraphy everywhere and the streets kept twisting and
turning. He continued to walk down unfamiliar street after unfamiliar
street until he was completely lost. But something within him compelled
him to keep stumbling on.

There wasn't a soul in sight; the streets were empty. It felt creepy.
So quiet it was, eerily quiet. The streets grew narrower and narrower,
till eventually they led to a dead end, and outside an antique shop an
old Chinese man with a long clay pipe watched him with
fascination.

"What you looking at?" Micheal said as he walked passed. The old man
said nothing and just smiled at him calmly whilst tooting on his
pipe.

" I said what you looking at?"

The old man gestured for Micheal to follow him. " You think I'am
fucking stupid, you probably got some of your pals back there waiting
to do me."

"No no Micheal, I have something for you, you see my boy I've been
waiting for you."

Micheal felt goosepimples on the back of his neck. " How come you know
my name?"

" Well it's a long story, lets just say I saw you in a vision and have
something to give to you."

The old man glowed with complete calmness and his face shone like gold.
He walked into the shop turning once to beckon Micheal to follow.
Micheal didn't know what it was, but he felt he had to follow.

The shop was full of all sorts of things. Junk mainly and old bits of
furniture, but there were one or two interesting objects for sale. The
man stood behind the counter and lifted his hand calmly. As he did, a
strange wind blew through the shop and the door closed. Micheal spun
round, he wasn't one to feel fear, but he did feel it now. Did he just
imagine that?

"Now Micheal please take a seat," Micheal felt something behind him
nudging against the backs of his knees. He turned round to see a chair.
"What the.."

"Just sit down.."

Micheal sat in the chair which was very uncomfortable.

"I know all about you Micheal. So full of venom are you, such a huge
chip on your shoulder. You and your miserable dark aura of cold hatred.
You nearly got arrested today."

"How can you know all this..?"

"Well Micheal I know many things. But still I can't blame you. Your
hatred and violence isn't all your fault. Your stepfather used to beat
you up didn't he. Used to come home drunk at night in a foul temper. He
would give you a right kicking wouldn't he.."

Micheal felt tears well up in his eyes and great anger. "Fuck off.." he
said

"You really have a lot of hatred in you. Anger fills you with
supernatural strength but you need to know I won't be spoken to in that
manner. I shall give you a warning, one more foul dis-respectful word
like that and you will see how un-pleasant I can be, and believe me you
don't want to experience my un-pleasantness; you want me to stay the
calm way I am now. Do I make myself clear? You have no idea who I am,
and if you knew who I was, you would be very afraid."

"Yeah, well I don't give a shit, you can fuck off whoever you are. I'am
off.." Micheal got up to leave but found he couldn't move, he was
paralysed from the waist down. "Hey I can't move, whats happened to
me?"

"I warned you Micheal, now I am willing to give you one last chance.
Don't blow it this time or I will be forced to push your nose right in
your own stuff, do you understand?"

" Go fuck yourself prick."

" Oh Micheal you poor ignorant fool. You should be grateful that I even
took interest in you. That I even bothered to try and help you. You
really should have more respect my boy. That's no way to speak to the
devil now is it?"

"What?"

Strange laughter filled the shop and the walls seemed to breathe
suddenly. "What the fuck.." The shop began to change its appearance,
"Illusions my dear boy, illusions. All your world is really just
illusions."

The old man changed his appearance suddenly as did the shop transform
around him; like liquid mercury changing from one thing to another. The
old man metamorphosized into a dark beautiful angel with magnificent
wings; he was seated on a dark throne that gave off an aura of pale
light. All around them were flames.

Micheal felt intense fear and loathing: there were no visible means of
escape, just walls of flames. He stayed in the chair. He found he was
no longer paralysed, but didn't want to move now because the floor was
composed entirely of rotting skin. Then he got a whiff of something
truly grotesque: the smell of burning flesh, he covered his nose with
his hand.

"You like the smell of burning corpses? Don't worry, it isn't always
like this mate. I conjured up this image of hell just for you."

" What you want with me..?"

" Well what I want to do is give you a lesson."

" A lesson, what kind of lesson?"

"A lesson in hate."

"Fuck off I already know that.. been taught it pretty well."

"Micheal from now on every time you swear, that chair is going to
become even more unbearably un-comfortable. And from now on you will
call me Lucifer."

"Fuck off.." The back of the chair began to dip a little, making his
body bow forward. Micheal felt the hatred well within him." Fuck off.."
he yelled. The chair back dipped even more. Micheal felt that if it
dipped much further he would fall onto the maggotridden rotting flesh
of the floor, it was disgusting. He tried to look away but it was
always in some angle of his vision, so that he couldn't escape it. He
tried to close his eyes, but found he could no longer close them.

"Ever wondered who your father is?"

" No, I don't give a fuck who my father is."

"Your mother never told you about me did she? Still I can't really
blame her, I mean who wants to find out that their father is the devil.
Could really screw someones head up that could."

"You're.. you're? my father?"

" Adolescence was not something I was prepared for; your a bit too raw
for my liking? and rather foolish?" Lucifer looked at Micheal with
stern admonishment. " We need to refine those rough edges a bit, get
you in shape. Today you were far too careless. Hopefully when you leave
these walls, you'll have a bit more sense."

He got off his throne and walked slowly over to Micheal. His golden
eyes shining brightly. His hooved feet squelching on the flesh floor
making little pools of blood come to the surface. He paced around
Micheal looking closely into his face, scrutinising him. "Now if you
promise to be polite. I will give you a nice comfy armchair to sit
in."

Micheal looked up into Lucifers' eyes. Barely managing it, his neck
aching from the strain. He tried to resist, but the hate within him was
too powerful, before he could stop them, the words had left his mouth.
"Go fuck yourself cunt.." he hissed. The back of the chair bent right
forward, so that Micheal had his head way past his knees. He was
hideously doubled up. The smell of the flesh floor permeating his
nostrils. "Aaarrrggggghh!" he howled in bent up pain.
"aaaaarrrggggghhh!!"

Lucifer walked away slowly and sat back on his throne. He observed
Micheal for a moment with detached interest.

" Well son, now that we've introduced ourselves, shall we begin our
first lesson?" he said.