Life can be cruel. Think about it. Think of all the things that have to die every day for you to live. From cows to chicken, even plants. Many people think that plants are okay to eat. Vegans pride themselves on the fact that they don't kill innocent animals. Yet, plants are alive; and they think.
This is just one act of cruelty; another example of how humans can so pride themselves on cruelty. Thinking that in sparing one life for another, they maintain their own innocence.
Everything dies. It is the very nature of life. Sustenance can not occur without exchange. Someone has to die so you can live. The sun dies to feed the plants. The plants die to feed the other animals. The plants and other animals die to feed humans.
Life, an endless carousal of pain and suffering. The maddening cacophony of creatures continuously killing and feasting on the fetters of others. Intelligence, a glimmer of hope; used instead to produce systems of control to make efficient the aforementioned turmoil. A great serpent mindlessly and pointlessly gnashing its teeth into its own tail.
Oh, and morality is relative. All morality is a code of conduct; systems of social regulations that we place on ourselves and others. When they're placed on others, they are called laws. Justice, the seeking of fairness in an unfair world; punishing the guilty while doing nothing to restore balance. A life rotting in prison can not bring the rotting buried up from the dirt. The guilty hung high can not loose the hold of death on a soul.
As day turns to night, and night to day; life, death, generation, decay. The wheel of Tao spins round. Days, seasons, all cycles in a parade.
It's a game, don't you see? It's all just one big game. Like a video game really. The mystics knew this long ago; and scientists today are rediscovering this. Samsara, the great illusion. Einstein declaring that, "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." Lila; the act of Brahman, the universe, putting on plays for itself. Playing, yes; God does play. So do I.
Every one of us is connected to everyone else; and to the universe. We are all Tao, everyone and everything, even nothing; the entire spectrum. We live in a matrix, a web. And guess what? I Am the spider.
You see, there is no difference between the object and the observer. The line we draw between the two, splitting Tao into Yin and Yang, is a line we draw only in our minds. Understanding that there is no difference, we can at last understand Magick; which Crowley defines as, “The science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with will."
The line between this gentleman bound to the forest floor, and myself, does not exist. I Am him and he is me. Whatever I do to him, I do also to myself. We are all of the body of God. Yet, cancer does metastasize. Even so, it too has a purpose.
I don't really have anything against this man. I drugged him one night and dragged him out into these woods. I proceeded to strip him naked, using cinder blocks to fasten him to the earth. We live in but one universe in the multiverse. Every action, every non-action, all by logical necessity spawns more universes to deal with these outcomes. So, don't worry, it won't matter if I kill him. It's like Schrodinger's Cat, really.
If I choose to kill him, such as stabbing him with a knife, there will be another universe created in which I didn't. If I choose non-action, and simply let him starve to death, gasping for air under the stench of his own feces; there will be created another universe where I fed him strawberries instead of neglecting him.
It's all about what I do, and don't do. It's all a fun game. Sure, there may be screaming now and again. But those are just the screams of joy. The elation of a soul being rent from its corporeal puppet. He might hate me now; but he'll be happier for it. Or maybe not, I don't know. I'm spinning the wheel. He could go to one of the many dimensional planes. Perhaps he'll wake up in a heaven, having young naked women caress him eternally. Or, perhaps he'll awaken in a hell; having imps rape him repeatedly. He might incarnate here again. Will he be human, a chimp, a roach, a rat? Will he have a better life? A better job? Or will he awaken as a crack baby? See, that's all part of the fun of spinning the wheel. His screams would just be, pre-flight jitters is all.
I have every right to do with him as I please. I Am God. I make morality. He's part of my body, and I can treat him like a foot or a hand. But it's important to let not one hand know well the other. After all, where would the fun of the game be if he could see what's coming? For that matter, what fun would there be for me if I knew what I'd think or do next? I don't want to know how I'll feel about a situation until I'm in the moment, you know?
I snatch the tape off his mouth. I did it hard and fast to set the tone. You know, like in movies; to hear his scream. But, instead, he lay mute. “Fine, have it your way,” I say.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
He hesitates a moment.
I smile at him, wondering if he is beginning to understand my game. I'm not going to explain it to him. That would take all the fun out of it. Also, the explanation would be far too wordy and likely go over his little mind anyway.
I stare into his eyes, midnight black pupils echoing the dark abyss his soul would soon enter. I fantasize about what life he might have had. I didn't study him long before abducting him. I know, I could just ask. But, that's all just mushy stuff anyway. 'Please don't kill me. I have a wife and kids.' Blah, blah, blah; sentimental crap. All meaning comes from value judgments, relative to the eye of the beholder. All I need to know is that he is the player in my game. His life before this most important moment was better left as fantasy. I got him from outside a night club. I'd probably dream up a better life for him than he really had anyway.
“Do you believe in the afterlife, Donny? I'll call you Donny. Or do you prefer Dan?”
“My name is Chris.”
“Oh, God no, that's not a good name for you at all. We'll go with Steve. Everyone loves a Steve.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing, or everything. Take your pick, doesn't matter. Any way the wind blows, right?”
Steve calms himself.
“Please, just let me go.”
“I don't feel like it.”
“I'll pay you money.”
“Have sex with you, whatever you want.”
“Well, I already got your wallet; finder's fee. And we might do that sex thing later. Before or after. I'm still deciding.”
“Oh good, you're getting it. Thank God, I thought I picked up another dumb one.”
Steve's eyes widen. How I love that look when they first realize how helpless they are. No, not when they first wake up and find out they're bound. Rather, when they first realize that there is no way to win this game but to finish it.
“You know, Steven, this is God's game, not mine. Don't blame me, old boy. I'm just the host. This was going to happen to you anyway. I'm just, putting on a good show.”
“I know, isn't it?”
“You're out of your fucking mind!”
Steve thrashes with all his might against the blocks. I left just enough space between the stacked blocks for this, but not enough to escape from; of course. What do you think I am, an amateur?
“Now, now Steven; do you really want the hood again?”
Steve winces. Clearly he remembers at least some of the fun we had with the hood. It was funny.
“You know Steven, if you're a good boy, I might just let you go.”
A wave of disbelief washes over Steve's face. Disbelief that I thought he was so stupid as to even try that line with him.
“Oh well, you're smarter than you look aren’t you?”
I take out a hammer from my backpack. I smash it, again and again, on Steve's ankles. He squirms. I take out some duct tape and use it to fix his cheeks open and his tongue out. I had gotten bored with Steve's talking. I make sure the last blow is to his crotch; that way he'd have no choice but to bite down. Though, he doesn't bite down hard enough. Oh well, you can't have everything go as planned. I take out some garden sheers and finish the job.
I think for a good three minutes on where to go from here. I could go into my many options here for you; but, instead, I'll let your imagination try to keep up with mine. The many, many possibilities.
I kneel down, and kiss Steve on the lips. I pat his head as I pull away.
“Thank you for the wonderful night. You've been so fun, and all. But, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit this, I'm just plain out of creativity right now. I know, I should have planned better. But ideas are so hard to come up with. After watching so many horror films, listening to so many Creepy Pastas, I just can't think of anything to do with you now that would be original. I mean, Hell, even walking away and leaving you to die would be cliché at this point.”
Steve squirms more, and tries to mutter something from his bloody mouth.
“I could let you go, but that's been done to death. Think of what an awful life you'd have if I did. That's part of why I cut your tongue out. You know, motivation; to push me into thinking of something horrific to do to you next. Plus, I really do care about people.”
I run my fingers through Steve's hair.
“You have such pretty black hair.”
Tears keep streaming from Steve's face. At first they were from the physical pain, but now they are wholly from the emotional pain of his facing his own mortality.
“If I let you live now, I'd be cheating you out of your prize. You get a whole new life. What kind of life? I don't know. Whatever your karma has in store for you.”
Then, in an instant, I knew.
“I got it!”
I shoot up to my feet and pull out an I-Ching coin from my pocket.
“We'll let Tao decide. Yin; you die, quickly; a simple dagger to your heart. Yang, I drug you, untie you, and you live.”
I flip the coin.