creation of evil

“Let’s draw monsters!” cries a girl in the center of the crisply, pale room. All in the workshop simultaneously nods their heads as though there could never be a suggestion more brilliant than that. You would think that creating creatures in heaven would be more organized or more sophisticated, but no. Simple ideas from simple creators.

Fifteen of the sixteen tasked creators construct a picture of beasts with three, maybe four eyes, they have great gaping maws, filled edge to edge with long thin teeth designed to instill terror. Bones misshapen under its terrible, mud coloured leathery skin. Eyes filled with disaster, destruction and pure unhinged rage, on top of towering bodies as tall as mountains, but only half as wise. Their evil is built upon their ignorance, their slow minds. For they will never understand as to why they destroy, and why the feeling of life crumbling from its crushing hands, simply feels so good. It is wrath, pain and fear drawn out by fifteen creators, with sparks of excitement in their hollow eyes and silky smiles curling on their thin lips. For the very creation of such a monster leaves its mark upon those who create it. Our creations come from pieces of ourselves. These monsters were built upon the slivers of evil hidden deep within those fifteen slow minded creatures.

So feverishly working on their beast, the creators did not notice that one of their own was creating a different breed of monsters. Monsters that could not only destroy worlds, but also crumble souls, hearts and spirits with a few simple actions, a few simple words. A type of monster so horrible that it could turn immortal love into a fearful, aching memory. So cunning that it could start wars not only of the bodies but also of the minds, of the souls, of the beliefs. So deceiving that it could trick those most close to it, so that it could trick itself, over and over again, creating its own delusions, which the world could never fulfill. So full of the slowly burning embers of hatred and true disgust with its own creation, its own life, that it will believe that the destruction of others, will ease this pain.

Of course anyone who could formulate such a beast would have to have a cruel sense of humor. Because not only would these beings be born in spite, they may live their lives surrounded by such love and peace, which many may never achieve, never grasp with their shaking hands and hope that this will help the ache of their tired souls.

For if it is in fate for me to burn, why should the others not burn with me? If it is said for me to never know love, how should anyone ever have the right to do so? If I have to wake up tomorrow without direction, how is it just or fair for the sun to rise and continue on its everlasting course?

These monsters will see the beauty of their world and believe with their whole being that they are entitled to it. Hungry. God they are so hungry and nothing not, food, jewels, companionship, may ever leave them satisfied for long. And the worst part, the most evil part about these monsters, is that they truly believe without a shred of doubt, that they are good. Some may not act on such feelings, but all will feel it, right below their lungs, the hollow cage where a horrible beast lays dormant, where embers are slowly smoldering waiting for the right person, the right time or situation. And then they will burn. They will burn so furiously and with such a ferocity that it will not only incinerate its cage but either explode or ignite the similar embers, in those around them.

“I will call these sick creatures humans,” announced the corner creator, to the others. The other creators shivered, hair sticking up on their arms as though they had just been told the scariest ghost story, which evidently they had.

“What will they look like?” questioned one of the dull fifteen.

A sinister smile sculpted the lone creator’s face into a thing of pure venom. To answer this obvious question, the black hearted creator held up a thin piece of shiny metal, and turned it to face the idiotic creators. All gasped with shock, some even had the nerve to shed a few pitiful tears. Years from now, the dull creators would name this shiny metal, this wicked object, and they would unanimously agree to call it a mirror.

Inspiration:

“Evil is knowing better but choosing to do worse.”

Philip Zimbardo

“The line between good and evil is permeable and almost anyone can be induced to cross it when pressured by situational forces.”

Philip Zimbardo

“Draw me a monster. Why is it a monster?”

Janice Lee

The 15 creators:

They could have chosen to have made anything and they made a destructive monster. They could have chosen good but they intentionally made evil. In creating the beasts they revealed their own within. Even if they would not have sent such a monster to earth, they still have the ability, the excitement and the willingness to make it and to believe it. They become evil by being bystanders to the lone creator when it sends the humans down to earth. Ignorantly evil, similar to their creation.

The lone creator:

Is a different type of evil. Intentional. It symbolizes how little we know those in the very rooms with us. How easily some can be overtaken by such horrible thoughts and how some may even run to such opportunities. The lone creator also represents those who have the ‘genetics for evil.’ The right combination of social and genetic aspects that create something sinister.

Why?:

I believe I am a good person, who likes to surround myself with good people. Obviously I have selfish, narcissistic, and just lazy tendencies, and lucky for me I am pretty self aware of these and I can stop it before it starts. In this story I indulged those feelings. The feelings of burning, of self loathing, of narcissism and selfish entitlement. When I was writing this I felt it. I felt that cage. When I wrote the part ‘For if it is in fate for me to burn, why should the others not burn with me?’ I felt that. It's a part of me that I am certainly not proud of and obviously do not talk about. Do I have a destiny of evil? No, I don’t believe I do. But given the right situation, that beast of hate, well I can’t speak for it. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe whoever reads this will be made uncomfortable by the accusations. Maybe they will feel that cage too.