Hell: A Planned Community
Chapter One: Screaming Gods
Fuck the Midwest! Maybe it was just one of those days but I found myself musing over the absolute rural shit-heap I lived in today. Freaks, losers, freakish losers and a metric-fuck load of bitter, sheltered white people all lived together in this polluted lake bordering town called Greensburg; the great American dream found right here.
Nary a gas-station I’ve walked past in my years living out here without seeing at least one homeless man being sneered at by someone barely above the poverty line himself. They hid their hate well though; turn on any local news station and you’ll realize that if they put in as much effort into making this slum better rather than just making it look better for a camera crew than I’d be living in a new Athens over night. They seemed to buy their own lie pretty easily; a sort of communal pride in nothing in particular and a perfect sense of nationalism to help people take credit for things they’ve never done and hate people they’ve never met.
These people would smile with hollow grins over almost every aspect of their lives, be it a shitty job, shitty family or a shitty country. I’ve always had this theory of being happy with shit and soon it’ll stop smelling. ‘Stockholm shit’ I call it, and I’ve smelled a lot of that over the years, never quite worked on me though, I still find myself gagging when nobody’s looking.
There are ways of escaping all this though; my preferred method is surrounding myself with so much smoke that my body physically adjusts to needing THC to survive rather than oxygen. It helps, not in necessarily numbing my own lot in life but rather letting me see those little hard to spot positives sobriety renders invisible.
It’s probably just a lie though, no, scratch that, it’s definitely a lie but it’s still a pleasant one. If only for a night I might be able to bear living in this hell, because I no longer see hell, only what my own head thinks will make me happy. I’m more than willing to listen to it’s empty platitudes, growing fat off the simple, cheap complacently some douchebag named Mo sells me every weekend.
Honestly I’m surprised I’ve never gotten caught; dad had the nose of a bloodhound and the hypocritical temper that only a deluded Midwestern divorcee could posses yet to him my biggest flaw was the occasional smart-ass remark about Jesus that he’d inevitably smack out of me. Mom, well… as long as I made it to church every Sunday she could care less if I was jabbing used needles into my arm, so as long as God forgave me in the end. That little white lie of eternal forgiveness was really the only thing that made those two agree on anything anymore, or even to see each other once a week.
Never bought into the lies, and you’d think that I would. Eighteen years of force-fed bible bullshit and you’d think I’d grow up a regular Ned Flanders but there you go. Religion, faith, all that crap, never really paid it much mind. I’ve always thought it was just a little much asking someone to believe in a bearded man who lives in the sky and grants wishes if you kiss his ass enough; it’s just a touch too much to swallow.
Part of me always wanted to believe though, a small part. Maybe in another life I really did grow up ‘proper’ and I wasn’t a constant anger inducing disappointment to my parents. There’s an appeal in believing in something greater than yourself, knowing that whatever failings you’ve accumulated in your life they could all be wiped away in the next and you’ll end up sitting on a fluffy cloud next to a benevolent, super powered daddy without a care in the world, but I stopped believing in magic a long time ago.
Regardless of my own feelings I was still dragged to church every weekend, dad wouldn’t spend his court appointed allotted time with me any other way. This building I stood before now, the ‘Church of the True Grand Followers’, even on my birthday I’d have to endure another one of these people’s mind-numbing attempts to gently pacify me.
We entered, dad didn’t say a word, he rarely did. Inside the church were benches lined up, all varnished with golden wood. The songs were throaty with words I still didn’t understand and the air was so heavy I could practically feel it beating me down with its incense.
We looked around, didn’t take long with the fairly small, rural crowd to spot my mom and my friend Hidy. My mom’s bitchy church friends were in the front as well, like they always were. Thank fuck I didn’t have to sit by them today, I’ll consider that my birthday present. My dad pulled me towards my family with a forceful tug and soon sat me down at the far end of the bench between Hidy and himself.
My mom greeted my dad with only a begrudging, silent nod before leaning over past him. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Sweetie” she smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back, albeit slightly forcing myself. There wasn’t really much ceremony, just a smile and dinner later, though most of the time I never felt compelled to really pick a place so it usually got dropped. Hidy was really the only person I did celebrate my birthday with and my parents never really found out, and I was damn lucky they didn’t.
Mom and dad bowed their heads as the hymns and choirs began to churn out their usual tunes, myself practically fading into the background for them afterwards.
I sighed and looked over to my side. “Hey, Hidy” I whispered. Hidy was dressed only in whatever clothes the orphanage provided her. I’m still not quite sure how it worked over there, but she always managed to get something similar every time. Grey shirt, blue jeans and a blue baseball cap with her long black hair pressed against the edges in a messy fashion. She was pale too, the kind of ‘the sun doesn’t like to visit this part of the world very often’ pale.
“Things going well?” I awkwardly made quiet small-talk as I killed time between pre-sermon music and the inevitable. “Not really, Greensburg’s child care council’s still making me come to this fucking place” she complained. “That music…” she muttered angrily. “I swear, I’m this close from killing those fucking choir cunts and blasting some Ozzy at their wake”.
I laughed and Hidy smirked at me. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing” she said.
It’s true, the music did blow several kinds of unpleasant chunks but not sure murder was really the appropriate way to fix the problem, I’m squeamish enough around blood as it is. Even imagining violent retribution made me feel a little uneasy; I just wanted all this gone, not dead.
The hymns echoing in the church spun their dull wheels. It was almost stomach churning the more I listened. I slowly began to hear faint whispers in the echoes. Different voices, not the usual choir boys but something a bit more bass-ey. There was a faint hum in the words I didn’t understand, but I felt like I should understand.
“Well, got my old CDs taken away for playing them too loud in my room” Hidy said. “You still own CDs?” I chuckled. “Like I can afford a dollar per song, I play what I can steal from the library… or, well, I guess I used to”. “Oh well, at least these are my last days at that unwanted child prison”.
“Counselor’s already picking out a few dead-end state colleges so I can maybe get a good dead-end career and finally contribute to this dead-end society in this dead-end country” Hidy let out a bitter, longwinded grumble.
“Oh come on, can’t be that bad” I said. “I was told I’d make a great secretary because I’m ‘really good with a keyboard’” Hidy responded. “I’ve got my career aptitude tests to prove it”. “Ten minutes they gave me before booting me out of the room, just kept cranking that machine, who fucking cares if it even works anymore”. “That’s what happens though, too dumb for anyone to need and too smart to be happy with failure”.
“Whatever, at least I’ll finally be able to get away from that inspirational poster plastered puss-hole and maybe the world will finally beat me down into a fine enough paste where I just won’t care anymore” Hidy rambled.
“I uh… sorry…” I shook my head and responded only with the briefest of a sideways glance. “What about you?” Hidy asked. “Any plans for college after the summer?” “Not really, the way my grades turned out after graduation… well, let’s just say I’m not exactly getting into Harvard any time soon” I explained. “Dad wants me to…” “Go to the Greensburg catholic university by the lake…” Hidy finished my sentence for me much to my nonsurprise.
“Yeah, and you know how my mom is, ‘follow your dreams’ and not much else…” I started to ramble but then swiftly stopped myself. Hidy gave me only the slightest of acknowledgments and instead kept her head buried in the bible she was holding. “Since when do you…?” I was about to ask only to notice another book hidden on top of the open pages.
“Wait, what are you reading?” I quietly asked. “Something I got from the library” Hidy answered. “It’s kinda weird, found it wedged under one of the bookshelves in the back”. “Weird shit, no stamp or marker or anything”. “I think some guy must’ve dropped it or something”. “Did you put it in the lost and found?” I asked. “If I did I wouldn’t be holding it right now, now would I?” she shook her head sarcastically. “Besides, I’ve already gone cover to cover on this thing, and I’m still not done reading it”.
“What’s it about?” I asked. “No clue” Hidy responded. “Wait, I thought you said you’ve already read it?” I pointed out, confused. “I have” she answered, stopping silently afterwards, infuriatingly.
“ …It’s uh… it’s a little hard to explain…” Hidy said before briefly catching a glance at my father turning his gaze towards her. She quickly hid the book close to her chest, my dad simply nodding and turning back towards my mom.
“…I think it’s some occult shit…” Hidy simply mumbled as she returned to reading the hidden book. I peered over to Hidy’s side, still taking cautious glances back and forth all the while. The words were in a different language with many strange symbols. Stars, goats, little circles, some in black, some in red; I couldn’t make much sense out of any of it. It really was the kind of foreign language that deconstructs your basic ideas of the written word to its core, like trying to learn hieroglyphics in Hindi backwards on brail.
“It just… I don’t know, I keep reading it over and over again but it never makes any sense” Hidy continued. “I think this one means goats…” she pointed to a picture of a weird looking goat’s head. “And this one means whispers” she pointed to a picture of some wavy lines.
“Why would a goat whisper?” I asked. Hidy didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know, how much do you think this shit’s worth?” Hidy asked. “How should I know?” I asked back. “I mean, it looks pretty old, it’s weird, written in a foreign language, but honestly I wouldn’t even begin to know where I’d even sell this”. “Ebay?” I half-heartedly suggested. “Book store?” “I don’t know”. Hidy shrugged. “Whatever, maybe I’ll give it to you when I’m done, see if you can make heads or tails about it” she remarked.
“Oh, happy birthday by the way” Hidy suddenly held out a cookie in front of my face, still wrapped in semi-clear plastic. “Choco-green…” I read the label out loud as I looked at the little picture of a smiling chocolate-chip cookie with faded red eyes hugging a cannabis leaf.
“I helped cook the butter myself with Mo, even printed out my first logo” Hidy said. “I know you’re probably gonna be a little busy tonight with your dad’s after-church shit but if you want…” “Yeah, I do, thank you so much, really…” I gave a subdued but nonetheless sincere smile. “Whatever, it’s not a big deal” Hidy said. I put the cookie in my pocket.
Just as I put my future 3 A.M. desert away a man dressed in a white robe approached the podium as the choirs stopped. The man at the podium was tall, clean-shaven, and very old. He was a true product of this neighborhood; the whitest white guy to ever whitewash his own overwhelming whiteness. My dad knew him very well. It was Father Dennis, the head priest of the Church of the True Grand Followers of Greensburg.
“Good morning brothers and sisters of God” Father Dennis addressed the church. “Good morning Father Dennis” everybody said though I could still hear Hidy call him ‘Father Jack-off’ in the cluttered voices, inviting a tiny smile to help quell my own boredom and anger.
“What a lovely day to give thanks, another beautiful early morning under the light of Jesus” I still grumbled at the ‘early morning’ part. “Let us bow our heads and give thanks” the entire church began to do just that. I looked over to my side as I bowed, seeing Hidy fidgeting in her seat, still staring down at her feet where the hidden book was. “What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Nothing…” she simply muttered. “But of course…” the silence was broken as the priest held up his hand. “Before we begin today’s sermon we have a special issue to address”. “Yes, like last week I speak of course about the growing menace of liberal politics threatening our freedoms” I swear I just heard someone in the audience actually gasp.
“Oh no…” Hidy sighed quietly. “Every fucking week with this clown…” she turned to me and whispered. “Election years, even people who aren’t running for office feel the need to annoy us” I commented. “Isn’t there a law against doing this stuff in church?” “Yeah, doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to be enforced though” I responded. “I’ve listened to this dick all my life and only now I feel a pressing urge to scalp him with a plastic spork” Hidy said. “Hey, at least you’re not the one who has to pass out his stupid pamphlets later” I pointed out.
“The Democrats, they are allowed to threaten our way of life, our freedom” Father Dennis continued. “It’s amazing how little I’ve heard about Jesus these past few weeks in church” Hidy commented as I snickered as quietly as I could.
“The suits in Washington coddle the men of Satan, of sin, of perversion” Father Dennis speechified. “They come together and indulge themselves in the forbidden arts, flagrantly disregarding the lessons and laws of the lord”. “Homosexual marriage, legalizing a dangerous drugs, encouraging deviants and corrupting our children, they will not stop unless we stop them”.
Father Dennis reached under his podium and pulled out a white paper folder. “And that’s why we, the Church of the True Grand Followers need your help” he rallied. “We are prayer warriors, each and every one of us, children of God, and the pen is far mightier than the sword, as Jesus once said”.
“I have here a petition to stop any and all actions by the Democrats regarding our sacred church, to free ourselves from their shackles of ‘law’ and finally allow us to worship how we so desire, pure tax exemption, political rights and government funding”. “…By our holy rights we will keep our neighborhood clean, and Greensburg will truly be a place where God and community unite as one!”
I looked over at Hidy for a second as she started pressing her finger-nails into the wooden bench. “Nothing he just said meant anything” I commented but Hidy simply stayed silent. “With the Lord as our witness we will finally be allowed to worship as we see fit and truly embrace the sovereign rights of this great nation”. “Not only that but men of holy greatness and charity will be finally given a voice in politics, not just on our own local level but Lord willing on a national podium as well!”
“And you can all make this wonderful dream a reality, to save our country and aid this great community of ours…” a couple of similarly robed men began to walk along the halls of the church. “…If you’re willing to only sign your name for the cause” Father Dennis dramatically clicked a ball-point pen as loudly as he could.
“Now, if you could all pass the pens to the person next to you and sign…” Father Dennis said as one of the priests handed Hidy the paper and pen. There was a bustle and happy glow consuming the church as I could hear almost every elderly white American signing away with unbridled glee.
“And as we take action let us give thanks once more to God for allowing us this glorious opportunity to defend his glorious great name of glory” Father Dennis continued.
“…Come on, take it” one of the Priests said right next to me. I noticed Hidy at the end of the bench refusing to hold the pen and paper. “… I uh… I don’t think I’m registered to vote, so…” she said. “Doesn’t matter, it’s what Jesus would want” the priest argued.
Hidy stalled for a moment, her eyes glancing down at the hidden book and then back at the priest. “How do you know that?” Hidy came dangerously close to gauging my father’s attention with that kind of talk. “Hidy, it’s just a stupid petition, sign it” I quietly urged her. “No, how do I know that Jesus would want me to do this?” she stubbornly stuck to her question.
“Because I speak for him, child” I could tell the priest was holding back some serious ‘child-smacky’ rage. “Just sign this and…” “Why?” Hidy interrupted the priest. “Because you’ve read his stupid book means you somehow know what he would want?”
“Okay, look you little shit…” the priest lunged forward only for his foot to suddenly slip over the hidden book near Hidy’s feet. I gripped my skull in pain as a sudden headache assaulted me, and then disappeared just as swiftly as it arrived. “No, don’t!” Hidy panicked and quickly pushed the priest back, bending down and picking up the book.
In a panic the priest suddenly grabbed the book from Hidy in order to stop his own stumbling. “You little…” he was about to say only to stop himself upon tearing away the hidden book from the inside of the bible. One of the pages ripped from the sides and that weird fleeting headache returned. My attention however was focused on Hidy as the priest suddenly grabbed her by the arm and shot her one of the scariest death gazes I’ve ever seen inside a church.
“Blasphemer!” the priest shouted, silencing the entire church with a single echo. “Brother?” Father Dennis asked. The priest dragged Hidy over towards the podium near Father Dennis while still holding the book. “Get your fucking hands off me!” Hidy demanded.
The priest handed the book over to Father Dennis. He looked over the cover, closed his eyes and sighed. “How old are you, child?” he asked Hidy in a pitying voice as he placed his palm upon her skull. “Old enough to get your dumbass jailed if you don’t stop touching me!” Hidy responded.
Father Dennis simply chuckled. Everyone in the church watched nervously only for Father Dennis to soon snag a fistful of Hidy’s hair and knock off her hat.
He dragged Hidy in front of the podium like an abusive dog owner. “Let me go you fucking psycho!” Hidy struggled. She winced in pain and kicked, but it did little to stop the priest. “Would you care to explain yourself to the church?” Father Dennis asked as he threw my friend violently to the ground and held the book to her face. “Hey!” I attempted to shout only for my dad to suddenly grab me and cover my mouth.
“Sweetie, what are you doing?” my mom asked. “Son, don’t” he muttered in my ear. Hidy stared up at Father Dennis with a furious glare, tears in her eyes. “Would you care to explain why you brought this unholy text into God’s house?” Father Dennis asked.
Hidy looked up and with little hesitation spit in Father Dennis’s eye. He barely even flinched, only shutting his eye for a moment and standing up. The second priest grabbed Hidy and stood her up as well. Father Dennis wiped his face with a handkerchief.
He swiftly held up the book for the entire church to see. The cover was pure black with a large, upside-down red star and circle in the center. “Forbidden text within the house of God, this cannot go unpunished!” Father Dennis spoke.
“A pentagram, the symbol of the devil, of unholy magic, of heresy and witchcraft!” he shouted. “It’s read only by the misguided and evil, the Democrats and the followers of the Dark One!” “The symbol of pure evil, the Anti-Christ!” Father Dennis continued. “Would this girl’s parents care to stand up and explain this to me!?” Father Dennis asked. The entire church remained quiet. “…I’m sure they’ll show up eventually…” Hidy snarked.
Father Dennis paused for a moment. “Ah, I think I know who you are!” he said. “You’re that little dope-fiend from the Greensburg Morgan county orphanage…” “Hidy Cumberson”.
“You do realize that it is by our generous donations your home is able to still feed you, clothe you and educate you, right?” he asked, Hidy stayed quiet. “You would think that we’d deserve just a little more respect from someone like you” Father Dennis ended with a smack.
“Stop it!” I finally broke free from my dad’s grip and pushed him away. I ran into the halls and suddenly froze as Father Dennis stared angrily at me. “It’s not her book, I brought it in”. “Hidy was just trying to hide it for me …” I lied.
Father Dennis sighed. “What has become of this country” he shook his head. I looked back towards my mom and dad nervously. My dad stood up and walked over to my side.
“Forgive me, Father” my dad said. “He’s still just a boy, he doesn’t understand”. “Mr. Goodhill, I hope you understand the implications of your son bringing such a book into my church” Father Dennis said. “I do Father, it will not happen again and he will be punished accordingly”.
Father Dennis smiled. “I would hope so”. He said before my dad dragged me back to our seats; slinking away like a dog that just got yelled at by his owner. “As for you though…” Father Dennis went over to Hidy and gripped her arm so tight as to nearly turn it blue. “Escort this heathen out of my church!” he commanded. “And get me in contact with this county’s state care officials!”
“This is why we must take action against congress!” he once again addressed the crowd. “They allow this to happen, they corrupt our children…” Father Dennis held the book high above his head as a priest began dragging Hidy out of the church.
He opened the book as I attempted to follow my friend, my dad still holding me in place. “Dad, let me go!” I demanded. I could see Hidy in tears as she reached the door, her messy hair shuttering her eyes as she held her arm in, shaking. “What were you thinking!?” my dad asked in a quiet but nonetheless furious manner.
“Fuck off, let me go!” I responded, still struggling. “Let me go and…” my dad interrupted me with a violent smack. It was subtle enough that no one else saw him, though really I doubt any of them would care. My mom saw though and watched in silent disappointment as the rest of the church was still fixated on Father Dennis’s ramblings.
“This…” he ripped a page out from the book and a sudden blinding pain cracked my skull. “No son of mine will get away with being so disrespectful!” my dad said, another quiet smack.
“Is…” Father Dennis ripped out another page, the pain growing stronger and my vision blurring. “When we get home we are going to pray for forgiveness!” my dad hit me again. “You are forbidden from seeing that girl ever again too, do you hear me!?” another violent smack, another headache. “How could you embarrass me in front of the church!?” he asked. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out of my house tonight!”
I began to hear voices as my sight darkened. “Our…” Father Dennis ripped out another page, the pain growing, my vision escaping and the voices assaulting my ears as a result. What was happening!? Was I going insane!? I couldn’t tell, everything started slipping away.
‘Ear Sto Kell. There was chanting in my head, it was getting louder. I could hear cries, songs, just a veritable assault of noise banging against the sides of my skull. I couldn’t understand any of it, but that didn’t keep it from getting louder. I started to lose control over almost everything. My sight was now completely gone, my nerves were dulled and my mouth was moving on its own.
“…Enemy!” was the last word I heard from Father Dennis before my vision went red. My mind wandered and it all felt like a dream, a horrible dream. There was silence now, and then numbness… and then I heard the sound of Screaming Gods.