Thoughts and Random Things

No One

No one likes this idea. I don't like this idea either. But this was my idea, and I have all the people already here. They're reluctant but compliant. They'll do what I say. At least, I think. Most of them will.

No one likes this idea, but everyone is here because everyone has agreed to do it. And we're about to go through with it. Too late for doubt. Too late for regret. Block out your peripheral vision and bound straight toward the future. This is it.

I don't even realize my eyes are closed until my other senses take over for it. Frantic voices. Hard concrete under my feet. The unmistakable, undeniable stench of rotting human flesh.

There is no god. Why are we doing this?

I'm in charge, and I don't want to be. I never want to open my eyes, because I know that the first thing I'll see is the body.

Just like all the other people here, I give in and do the thing I really don't want to. I open my eyes.

The body is not nearly as sickening as I thought it would be. I expected a bloody, horrifying mess, but this corpse just looks... pacified. No blood. No mess. Blue eyes, still open. This child is dead. And the scary thing is, I don't mind.

The harshness of the situation hits me once again, along with a flash of brilliance. "Guys," I yell, and it takes a couple of seconds before everyone calms down. "Let's move this into a deeper part of the woods."

There's a brief moment of silence during which people take the time to process what I have just proposed. They start to murmur, then buzz, and soon everything is in an uproar. People shout and weep and shift. A mother tells her son he's "not her son anymore". A man demands his engagement ring back from his lovely girlfriend. Everyone screams and moves around, except for one little girl, who is very still and very quiet and very dead.

I thought most of them would listen. I didn't expect them to tear each other apart.

No one goes past a certain point in the woods. That point is a large oak with lighter bark than all the others. Legend has it that some guy named Leaf Ponsley hanged himself on that tree in 1844. Apparently, Leaf could talk to God, and no one believed that he could, so he hanged himself to prove that God would bring him back. That was the last anyone ever saw of Leaf. Now, according to the story, Leaf is an angel, and whoever walks past his tree will be tortured by God until death.

I turn my attention back to the feuding people. Only some are brave enough to go deeper into the woods. The others-- the ones who are scared-- are the ones who believe in God.

As they all bumble about, their actions punctuated by sobs and shouts, I realize that the people are beginning to form two groups. The group on the left is composed mainly of youth and men. They are wearing determined and victorious faces. The group on the right is mainly women and elderly people. Their faces vary a lot more than the other group's: some show defeat, some show anger, and some are streaked with tears.

Just because teams are forming, though, doesn't mean that the situation is any more orderly. There are still cries and hollers, and people pacing in the middle.

No one is paying attention to me.
Of the hundreds of candles we'd prepared, I grab four, and a lighter. In my other arm, I grab the little girl's peaceful body. No one is looking at me. No one suspects a thing.

I run off. No one notices.

Leaf's tree still has a noose hanging from it, but no body. I run past it, but stop myself and walk back so I'm face-to-face with the so-fabled Tree of Divine Communication. I set the little girl's body down by the foot of the tree, along with the four candles.

I kneel down in front of the candles and flick the lighter on.

"This is for all those people out there, the ones who are arguing. Lord, what fools these mortals be." I light the first candle. I turn the lighter off to say the next prayer.

"This is for Emily Garcia, this dead little girl right here. She's beautiful, isn't she? Nine years old. So full of hope and potential and life." I chuckle. "Not anymore, little Emily. Not anymore." I light the second candle.

"This is for Leaf Ponsley. Was he an idiot? It's all in perspective. You ask the the group on the left, they say absolutely. You ask the group on the right and they say no, because he was led by God. You know what I think? All those people arguing out there are idiots. Leaf wasn't one. He just didn't know what to believe in." I light the third candle.

"And this one is for you, God. If you really exist, if you're really up there, then you'll do something. You'll do something about all those upset people and this dead little girl and this tree. You'll help them because you love them and want them to be happy." I flick the lighter on. "The moment I light this fourth candle, that's it. It's confirmed that you don't exist." I lower the flame down, just inches from the wick. "Any day now, God. I still hear all the voices from out there, from the two groups. They're still upset. And you know what the real truth is, God?" I light the fourth candle. "You don't care because you don't exist."

I pick up Emily's body by the ankles. She was always lightweight, even before death. Using her body as a golf club, I hit all four candles straight into Leaf's tree in one swing. Flames spread fast and rise high, and that's when everyone-- believers and nonbelievers-- shuts up and turns their attention to one thing, the burning tree. Tongues of fire pass from tree to tree. I stay in the woods. There's nothing anyone can do.

There is no god. That's why I did this.