Velli

“And we know why the Rain fell. We sent a rocket up to heaven, mankind’s last hope, with a prayer to God in every known language, and he answered because he is faithful. Praise the Rainbringer.

“The rain that day soaked into the genes of everyday men and women, and now, their ancestors are either born with Blessings or Curses. And this rain was targeted too. We have reports of zigzagging raindrops that landed on the skin of individuals. God is a selective God.

“Can I ask an honest question?” he asks the audience, breaking his cadence and authority.

Of course, the audience gives him a variety of yeses.

“Does anyone else think God missed? I heard someone gasp. Who gasped? That’s fine. That’s fine. Who in here feels like God missed them? That the worst person you know in life just got blessed. The thief, the cheater, the adulterer, or the molester. Do you ever feel they live a better life than you do? Why were they blessed with powers while you weren’t? Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. You can say amen to that. We’ve all felt like that.” The pastor gives a knowing grin.

“That’s how I know y’all aren’t reading this book enough, because about half of it is someone feeling like God missed. Read Psalms. Psalms 94:3. ‘How long, Lord, how long will the wicked be jubilant?’”

That tugs at my heart. How many more funerals do I have to go to while the worst people alive throw buffets? I find my hand scratching anxiously at my thigh as I wait for an answer.

“‘My God, my God,’” the pastor says. “‘Why have you forsaken me?’ That’s not in Psalms. That’s in the gospels spoken by his own Son. There are some days where I don’t struggle to walk, I struggle for a reason to walk.” He lets the audience reflect on that line. “And I know I’m not the only one in here that does.

“I hear. I hear the words people say about me when they think I can’t hear them. Like I know you all hear how people talk about you. And if it’s not their words, it’s a voice inside your head. It hits you the moment you get out of bed or when you’re happy with your friends!” the pastor yells. “It says, ‘What are you doing? You should give up. Accept your lot in life—you’re a fool if you try anything else.’ And you might look around and believe him because Rainbringer!” He screams the name of God in such a way it feels sacrilegious for a pastor. The sound itself shakes the auditorium. “Rainbringer,” he repeats, “it looks like you missed me. It looks like the Rainbringer missed Amelia. Why did she have to go? We needed her. She could silence the voice. And I know we need that noise silenced. I know we need something to hold onto.

“Here, I’m going to tell you why the Rain was sent and why God never misses. After the Rain, the world had to be reorganized. It was chaos, and chaos has a cost. I know a lot of us may get upset at the Heirs, but having a ruler is better than what we did have. Evil thrives in chaos.

“In those days, if you were unlucky enough to let him smell you, you found yourself serving Shabaq, the Black-and-White Man, a tall, terrible, seven-foot monster made of muscle with the body of a man and the soul of a demon. Every evil inch of him was pure gloss white with black horizontal stripes across his body. His black lips never spoke a word, and his eyes, encircled by black ovals, could read minds like you or I read books. No hair grew on his body, and he never let clothes touch his skin unless he was ripping them off one of his slaves because he hated to allow them any comfort. Two hooves instead of feet announced his presence. They always clattered. They mimicked a stampeding sound, no matter how soft the surface beneath them.

“And once you heard them, nothing could stop him. That was one of his many powers. He was a destroyer. A tent flap to keep him away at night, he could burn with a pinky. A door to sleep in peace, he could slice with an index finger. A safe to keep anything meaningful away from his hands, he could disintegrate with his thumb. Even the dirt, even earth!” The preacher squats and slams the floor beneath him, resulting in a momentous echo. “It wasn’t sacred to him! With one hand, he would destroy the earth beneath him and pull out whatever was hidden, whatever he wanted.

“And that’s how so many of us”—he waves a sad, shaky hand over the crowd—“had to live. Even some with powers, if he was stronger than they were. Slaves to a nude, mute man because God ‘missed them.’

“But how many know God doesn’t make mistakes?” he asks as the organ plays in the background. “How many know that, while they say we are the Cursed and they are the Blessed”—he takes a massive breath—“breath makes you blessed!”

Certain sections of the crowd scream in agreement. The organ player recreates a similar tune.

The pastor shakes his head twice at the lackluster response. “That’s fine. Y’all aren’t hearing me yet. Y’all aren’t believing me yet.

“A certain man lived in this castle. They called him Heavy because he was so skinny, a gust of wind could blow him away.” The pastor shrugs. “You gotta laugh, even in misery sometimes.”

Again, a lackluster response. The pastor adjusts his tie, and he goes on with his story. “Now, Heavy’s duty was to clean the toilets. He was a smart young man, so he invented some makeshift gloves and plungers out of tools in the castle. The Black-and-White Man destroyed them because he enjoyed seeing his captives grovel. He loved to see a face full of tears. Only Heavy didn’t cry or beg or grovel or howl. He went on with his work with a smile. Hands covered in filth, nostrils attacked by the stench of his job, and a mouth full of songs. He sang as he worked because he was happy.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Heavy planned to kill the Black-and-White Man and free all the slaves. Every night, as everyone slept, Heavy trained. Push-ups, sit-ups, running, anything he could do without making a noise, Heavy did. And in the morning, at work, he would sing his songs of joy because he believed it would only be a matter of time before he was strong enough.

“Shabaq did not like his joy. Frankly, it sounded like no one else liked his joy, either, because they called him a fool, mocked him, and belittled him every chance they got. Except for one. A young woman they called Miracle because they said she talked so much that she could make a statue get up and walk to get away from her. Nicknames aren’t always nice.

“And of course, as things often go, Heavy fell in love with Miracle.”

A couple of cheers come from the crowd.

The pastor grins. “Now, how come you’re screaming about love, but when it’s time to talk about faith, some of y’all are quiet?”

The room roars with laughter.

“Uh-hm. Anyway, Shabaq saw their love, and he plotted. The obvious choice would be to kill her, kidnap her, or let her move far away, but he wanted something eviler. Shabaq let their love bloom for three months after their first kiss, then he called them both up to his room one night. They entered, and that night, Heavy was prepared to fight for his woman. Shabaq’s room was large with a simple white mattress, a slim blanket of sheepskin on top, and a blanket made from a bear’s hide. The room was devoid of art and windows, and a small candle was lit in the corner. It probably felt like entering a grizzly’s cave.

“For a whole minute, Shabaq made no attempt to communicate with either of them. He stared and smiled at them. Heavy’s nerves grew in anticipation of a fight, and an impending sense of danger grew around Miracle. He shook and screamed at his master by the end of the minute, demanding to know what he wanted, why they had been brought there.

“It was too much. Heavy attacked Shabaq. The fight isn’t worth describing. The unfortunate truth of the matter is that, in part, Heavy was so fun to torment because his efforts weren’t working. For all of his discipline and training, Heavy hadn’t gained a pound of muscle or gotten any stronger. Even if he did, what harm could he do to Shabaq, the Black-and-White Man?

“Shabaq grabbed Heavy—who was covered in bruises and unable to stand—by his swollen cheeks and made him look at Miracle. Shabaq motioned for Miracle to spin around. She did a spin and transformed into who she really was. A shape-shifter, an obese man with a hanging gut and hair in every crevice. The shape-shifting man laughed at Heavy and recited every poem and every sweet thing Heavy had ever told ‘Miracle’ in private. On bruised legs, Heavy crawled out of the room, trailed by the fat man’s laughter.

“At some point, Shabaq had traded Miracle for a shape-shifter. Heavy knew there was no point in asking when, why, or where Miracle was now. He would get no answer.

“Heavy trained the next morning. This time, he collected the feces he cleaned, put it in the sun to harden, and stored it in bags to use as weights. And his body did begin to change. His stomach hardened into abs. His arms and shoulders grew, and every task became easier for him with his newfound strength. Oh, and you know—he sang through it all.

“Heavy took two years, and on the anniversary of his last great embarrassment, he called Shabaq. In the middle of the field where the slaves would sleep, he screamed and cursed the name of Shabaq and demanded he come down to fight.

“They heard the clatter of Shabaq’s goatlike feet from the top of the castle, coming all the way down the steps. The other slaves feared for their lives at first, then a strange thing came over them. They looked at Heavy’s new form, looked at how he’d changed, how Heavy had become heavy, and they cheered his name. Even in front of the tormentor as they stood in the middle of the field, waiting for a battle to ensue.

“As usual, Shabaq said nothing. But not per usual, Shabaq was struck—with a wicked right cross. Heavy drew first blood, and the crowd erupted! The rest of the fight isn’t worth mentioning. That was the last hit Heavy got in. He failed. Slowly, everyone returned to their tents, unable to sleep, but they tried. We have records that say Heavy was beaten for a literal hour.

“The next day, he woke up and trained in the morning. When Shabaq rose, he decided he wanted to kill Heavy. The whole thing was getting old, so Shabaq decided to kill them all. He ran into three different slaves on his way to kill Heavy, who was cleaning the toilets and singing his heart out, full of joy because he still believed. The three slaves were hung on the bare wall like pictures, their dried blood serving as glue.

“Shabaq came up behind the bruised and battered Heavy and slammed his head into the filth, hoping to drown him. And he did. He drowned Heavy in the worst way possible. Heavy died.

“But the Rainbringer said no! And this is our inheritance!” the pastor yells. “Heavy was brought back to life. A new strength filled his muscles, a strength he had not earned through his biology but his spirit. And this fight is worth mentioning.

“Heavy grabbed Shabaq’s wrist and removed his hand from Heavy’s shoulder. Shabaq stared on in shock. And with more power than he knew he could wield, Heavy crushed his tormentor’s wrist. Shabaq spoke then. The Black-and-White Man dropped his monstrous visage of muteness and spoke! He begged for mercy. Now, how many know our God is merciful, but we aren’t?”

The crowd cheers.

“See, no, no, y’all not reading all three testaments of your Bibles. We’re supposed to be merciful.” He laughs. “But hey, I don’t know if Heavy extended mercy that day. I do know Shabaq’s land became Heavy’s. Shabaq’s slaves became Heavy’s, and Heavy freed them without question. Why? Because he knew the tragedy of being a slave.

“Heavy had to suffer so that when he got power, he could be a better man. And of course, we all know Heavy would later become the father of the greatest man of our age—Division. Division brought us a rough time but a much better time. And that is why the Rain fell, to give us, me, you, and everyone in this room world-changing power, power we can access if we don’t quit.

“Heavy earned his powers because he did not complain. He did not quit. And that is your inheritance. If you keep fighting, if you keep working and do it with a smile, that is your inheritance. I don’t know why God decided to take Amelia, but we have hope! On that day when we need him most, He will come if we stay faithful! And as Heavy set his people free, so will you! Keep. The. Faith! We suffer now so we can ease the suffering of others when our redemption comes.”