Hate to Apathy

Church

     I hate churches. I hate them and most religious buildings. They all give me a sense of unease. Of insecurity. I feel as if even my thoughts are being watched, akin to a famous book set in the twentieth century. I've never gotten used to that feeling of not belonging in those places. It has gotten to the point where I am reluctant to go anywhere near them. The idea of a building full of pious believers of a religion, who would gladly execute me if they could read my mind. This was a very, very good example of those times.

     The moment I was through the door, all eyes fell on me. I made sure to look down and look a bit rugged. Luckily for me, I had rubbed a bit of dirt on me and my clothes here and there. Otherwise, they might not think me fit to stay with them. The room was typical of a small religious building. There were the usual four benches, tucked up against the wall to make way for a dining table in the middle. At the end of the rectangular one-room building was an altar, with a large cross above it. However, there was no dead Jesus on the cross. There was nothing on the cross except for banisters of flowers and trees. At the aforementioned dining table were a dozen or so children of varying ages, going from a young three year old to a rough looking eighteen year old. Around the dining table, watching the children with smiles were three nuns and a female priest figure. I don't like it.

     Now, you must understand that I have never lied. Ever. I don't bother myself with white lies and have always managed to twist the truth to avoid simple lies. I guess it's one of my few morals. To not lie. It can be quite tricky, but I hate the idea of lying. Of giving someone a false truth. I am, however, entirely for having secrets and causing misunderstandings. Blatant lying, though, is another story. It's not fair. It's not fair game. You can't give someone a riddle that has nothing to do with the answer. An impossible puzzle is boring to watch people try to solve. A near impossible puzzle however, is very amusing because there is the slightest chance to get it right, and it is fair.

     Once the door shut behind me, all eyes turned to me. I lowered my head and looked at the floor, looking a bit sheepish.

"U-umm..." I said. Despite how my inner monologues sound (they don't sound of anything), I am still a shy person at heard, and have no clue how to start a conversation. A downside to my size, strength, and personality. It can't be helped however...

"Yes, my child?" Asked the head nun. She looked curious as to why this small boy, covered in filth, had walked into her establishment, no doubt.

"A-a-a gu-guard told m-me you r-ra-ran an or-orphanage he-he-here... I-I-I w-was w-w-wondering i-if I c-could... n-never mind... i-it w-w-was a-a stupid idea a-anyway..." I said, mumbling the last part to myself. I blushed, looked down, and started to walk out of the orphanage. There were two scenarios. Either they felt bad and let me in, or I had an excuse to start some anti-religion. In other words, this was one of the best ways to proceed.

"Come here, my child. Do not be frightened." She said in a soothing voice. I did as I was told. I walked up to her and stood before her, head bowed in shyness and hands gripping the bottom of my t-shirt, fidgeting. "Why have you come here, my child?"

"I-I-I d-don't have anywhere e-else t-to go..." that was a half truth. While I did have the school to go to to learn, and I had the town to explore, and the clothes to pick up, I had no particular home. No place to stay. And thus, nowhere else to go.

"What do you mean?" She was looking slightly concerned now.

"I-I-I have n-no one and n-no h-ho-home..." I shrunk even further. At this point, I was practically whispering.

"Well why don't you stay here. We'll look after you, don't you worry." She petted my head. My skin was crawling, but I didn't let it show. I looked at her, smiling happily. I was glaring and ripping her arteries out with my teeth in my mind, don't worry. She smiled back at me and nodded to one of the other nuns.