Worship A Dead God

On top of the cold, dark coloured countertop was a piece of white paper – a note – next to a glass of what seemed to be water. The air felt suffocating. Soon the world would start collapsing once again. I don't like drinking water from a glass. It reminds me of that one night. That's wrong.

That night it was like Alex's whole body was drained from its fluids. Only a dry crisp left to perish in the silence of death. He tried. The glass of water almost completely downed. Almost. The evidence of yet another failed experiment were to be erased.

Alex went up to the countertop to read whatever had been written on the letter. 'Remember to take your medicine - mother'. A squiggly heart was drawn next to the message. Mother always gave me these pills yet I never knew what they did. 

Supposedly, this wasn't water. No pills were in sight. It must have been one of those dissolvable kinds. The ones that reminded Alex of molden strawberries. One time when he was really sick, mother made him drink this weird thick liquid that tasted like molden strawberries. In a good way of course. 

He picked the glass up with one hand, the other still being occupied by the letter. Perhaps Alex just didn't like the taste of glass but he was sure this wouldn't be an enjoyable experience. At first he gulped the liquid in small bits but turned to the realization that drinking it quickly would be the easiest way out of this. The liquid tasted like metal in a bad way. It looked foggy with tiny white particle's consuming most of the liquid. White little particles in water reminded him of that night. Except then it didn't dissolve anywhere near this well into the water. Nights are the best.

A nasty bitter taste was left in Alex's mouth. His tongue felt like one of a cat's. Hoarse and prickly. He could already feel the side effects. His own bedroom was the next best destination. No amount of medication could heal me.

The bed was always of comfort. It never left you and you could show your true self to it. There was no use in hiding. The bedcovers hid me anyway. The truth was always too scary to face afterall. 

Alex looked at himself. He was rotting. It was yellow. Alex liked the color yellow, just not in his body. Everything needed for a completely legal surgery was in his reach. Sure it will be messy but whatever makes him less disgusted works. He would rather drink dried pus off of his fingers than whatever was currently in his mouth. 

'Ah wait, it was wednesday, I'll need to go to church' Alex thought, almost jumping out of his bed. Looking back at it he saw the blue covers that were covered in a brownish red substance. Who knows what has gotten onto these. It's been a week since he last cleaned them after all. Such a long time already. 

The air outside was fresh. The multiple kinds of gasses and questionable fog-like substances made the experience of walking to church even more wonderful. Church was one of those places Alex could go with no distractions at all. The only thing between him and the god he worshiped was this damn long walk there. 'Good thing cars aren't a thing' he thought, knowing that they were and that he was just too lazy to actually get himself one. 

Alex had almost completely forgotten his earlier behavior that was now overridden by this new thrilling feeling of delight. Soon he could finally be at home once again. At a place where he was understood. Sure they didn't know him but what did that matter when all that was needed could be seen by just a simple observation of one's appearance. 

After a good couple of minutes the white building that reminded Alex of a castle emerged from the horizon. The church could be seen from Alex's front lawn, he just liked being dramatic. 

How are you supposed to get anyone to listen to you if not for making everything horribly overexaggerated. People aren't interested in your walk to the church unless something tragically gut wrenching happened on said trip. Like how you tripped over a deformed rock that grew 6 dog legs and ran away making the whizzing sound that comes when you open a can of soda. He looked like a Frank.

The heavenly gates to the church almost drew Alex in before he could realize it himself. Soon he was already sitting on one of the uncomfortable curvy wooden chairs that took most of the space in the main hall of the cathedral. Bright bulb-like lights scattered all over the posh roof that stood so high he could barely see it. This place being the biggest building in town wasn't an overexaggeration. The town itself is also really big. One of the biggest in the country. Yet here he sat waiting for the event to start – the part that made his whole week. 

A young looking person walked onto the stage and over to the microphone. This was our church's main priest. Their face was gloomy and filled with sadness – something you don't often see from the always cheerful and happy priest. They cleared their throat and started the speech. 

"Today is not the ordinary day you were all expecting it to be. A special member of our community has passed away after a tragic murder", their speech started differently than usual. 

Curiosity filled Alex, wondering who this freshly dead person could be. The screen that usually only lyrics to songs were projected on slowly opened. Curious whispers filled the surrounding area. A picture appeared on the screen. 

"Our god is dead'', the priest said dramatically, their voice completely breaking after it. They themselves tried to not breakdown completely as well.

The picture was dark and blurry with rain. It was taken from last night. In it the white furred Worm god lay dead with its head completely gone like it had been exploded or something. What was left in its place was just a gory mess of dirty fur. A puddle of blood surrounding the god's lifeless body. In the corner of the picture was someone. 

The body of a fish, cartoony stick legs, ears of a cat and big cyan fins almost the size of its body on its sides. Those big white eyes that shined in the shades of purple looked so brainless. Like an idiot if one could say. Yet there was something else in its figure that yelled murderer. Could this have been the evil criminal behind such a tragic event? 

"NOOOO, HOW COULD THIS BE", Thatgaydude screamed out, crying his heart out at this sorrowful news. Alex didn't know he was that religious to go to church.

Desperate sobs of people now filled the air. How could this have happened? How can a magical god just die like that suddenly? Who was Alex now supposed to worship? You can't worship someone dead after all, can you? He didn't sink into the sudden sorrowness most others were though. He was gonna do something about the problem later. 

Alex's attention was caught by something. The same cartoony and brainless vibe was almost radiating from somewhere here. It jumped off the chair and waddled out of the church. The thing from the picture was here all along and Alex was gonna follow them. 

Out of the church and onto the roads. It waddled with that same brainless look on its face. It infuriated Alex. Now what was he thinking about doing to the evil villain? Truthfully, he had no idea. Something else was controlling his body at this point for he didn't know what he was doing. He ran the last few meters that were in between him and the criminal before picking it up like some little piece of furniture and stuffing it into his bag. That was gonna be basement Alex's problem. 

It squirmed for a couple minutes but to no avail. It was trapped in the confines of Alex's bag. Such a tragic fate for an evil murderer. If only it knew what was yet to come. Now only a walk home was left for this guy to do. An exhausting walk home. Did he remember to take his meds? What about that weird juice his doctor ordered him to drink every morning. Either way, he felt weak. Fainting right now would be quite bothersome. 

Distant yells could be heard from a distance. A group of people, ganged up around one person who seemed to be a bit younger than the others. The bullies were laughing, spouting all kinds of insults while others were doing the physical stuff. What a wonderful place this country called Fishdom is. Though doubtfully the others are that much different. 

The scene reminded Alex of his youth. He didn't understand why people made such a fuss about pain. Pain was fun and so were the marks left behind by it. No wonder he was usually the target for such acts. Sometimes he even asked for it. He was always so confused when others would cry from being hurt. It was a different thing when caused violence had a deeper meaning though. Then it would have been okay to cry. 

After closer inspection, Alex found the assumable reason for the child's beating. He wasn't from this country. It was obvious from the style of clothes and body shapes. As someone who's specified in this subject, it should have been easy for Alex to deduct this. The ongoing war didn't make the situation for the child any better. We were in this mess due to his kind after all.