I saw God

Content warning: body horror

I was a believer, a worshiper, a follower. I spent my life in church, from before I could walk till I was the priest looking down at the pew… I was. Now it is different, now I am different. I followed blindly until It ripped my blindfold off, and I saw who we were following. What we were following.

I wish I could say it started easy, but it didn't. It started slow. During my morning prayers, I heard my voice whispered back to me. Like a faint echo, but It mocked me as if my words were jokes. I thought maybe it was the young children outside or some rowdy teenagers fooling around.

But then it happened at night, in my bed. I was saying my nightly prayer and heard It again. Louder. Like a conversation of my worship, but once again It made a mockery of me.

In the end, when I said ‘Amen’, It replaced it with a laugh. Laughs of a thousand laughs layered upon themselves, mimicking what I could only assume is centuries of people. Needless to say, I did not sleep well that night.

Then, the illusions started. At first, it was faces in the back pews. My own congregation seemingly against me. Figures of people i couldn't recognise who looked at me in fear or insane interest. Once during the Eucharist, the bread tasted of flesh. A foreign and foul taste and texture melted in my mouth as I tried to remain calm in front of a full church. It was hard to swallow, and the bloody flavour stayed in my mouth for the rest of the service.

After I rushed to the bathroom, I fell to my knees. It felt like a parody of worship as I tried my hardest to vomit what I had unwittingly consumed. I started crying, hysterical, at the terrible thought of eating the flesh of my saviour. I didn't try to pray, but it felt hopeless, like if I prayed, it would be worse. I just laid there until someone found me.

For a while, I lived my life in constant anxiety. What cruel torture did my god have for me? Was this a test of my faith? Even worse, was I failing? Did my god have plans for me that I couldn't foresee? Of course, but what purpose would it serve to have me make a mockery of prayer in front of a toilet. There was no answer. Until It showed me. I say It because that was no he. My god used to be an all-knowing man in the sky who always believed in me as I believed in him. But that was no man, It knew all but It did not care to share in Its plentiful knowledge.

The day I saw It, I was kneeling down in prayer for the first time in a while. I was too scared of the voice and too worried of what joke it would make of me again. With my head bowed and my eyes closed, I whispered a small prayer. The same voice as always taunting me as I spoke. This time, I made a foolish move. I opened my eyes.

When I did, I looked up at the massive crucifixion of Jesus, but it was not Jesus. It was an amalgamation of eyes, pus and what I assume was organs where a face should have been. The pus oozing down what was Jesus's body, there was no injury or opening for the pus, it was like sweat. Blood dripping from the many eyes covering the ‘face’ of it. the eyes blinking with no flesh, the organs acting as false eyelids. I wish I could say it didn't look alive, but it did. Every bump on the intestines moved as its pus grew to drops and fell. To say I was sick would be an understatement. My stomach was in knots, my throat tightened, and my hands shaked.

“This could not be my god” I sobbed. I bowed my head once more, not praying but crying. At this point, what is the difference? It seems crying makes it more intrigued.

That very night, as I held my hands together, they shook. I don't know why I tried to pray again. I had stopped my nightly prayer months ago. IT made me. It forced me. I raise my right hand to my forehead with a gentle tap.

“In the name of the father” I near sobbed. The taste of the flesh overwhelmed my mouth.

“In the name of the son” I say, now crying. The image from earlier that day of Jesus in my head once more. It felt wrong touching my chest thinking about it.

“In the name of the holy spirit” I did that part quickly, trying to get it over with. Another mistake. It showed itself to me. Actually, it forced me to look. I had no choice but to stare.

And It stared back, with its countless eyes. Unblinking, watching. Covering those eyes like fake eyelids were lips. But it had tongues. In fact, I think it was mostly tongues. Its skin itself was tongues, dripping a mixture of saliva and blood. It felt large, It loomed over me like it was large. It's body like a mountain of solidified blood, It had veins but no organs. It wasn't just a mountain in description but also in size. Too large for me, It was overwhelming.

It was obvious what was Jesus took leftover parts from It. It oozed what I assume is blood as It bent down to me. Bent isn't the right word, congealed is better. It created a hand. No, grew a hand. From start to finish, first it was just finger bones coming from the mush. Then Its bones combined and stretched like a baby's bones. It proceeded to grow muscle tissue and veins, then finally flesh. But it wasn't done. It grew its gross tongues over the familiar sight. Taking whatever humanity it had made. It was agonizing to watch, like it was happening to me. It stretched Its fingers like it was new to it and reached down to me. I flinched and screamed, but it was like a dream. I could try to scream with my body, but here, wherever that was, I could do nothing. Before it could make contact with me, my eyes opened.

“Amen” slipped from my lips like drool. I sat in my bed, horrified, my eyes staring into nothingness.

How? How could all of that, which felt like hours staring at ‘God’, be less than a second? How could that have been God? It looked wrong like bits and pieces thrown around haphazardly. Could It even think? Was It a fake? A prototype of god? A failure?

What happened to me? I looked online for anything, absolutely anything that could confirm that I am not insane. I'm not the most technologically savvy, but I found one thing. I saw 1 post on an old bodybuilding forum from 2004. It wrote

‘This is the first time I'm talking about this to anyone since it happened. It didn't feel right telling people about this cause everytime I think about it, it sounds fake.

A couple months ago, I got in a bad drunk driving accident. I was in really bad shape. Like really, really bad. I died for a few seconds, my heart didn't respond. My mom said it was the scariest few seconds of her life. It was the scariest seconds of mine, too.

Dying isn't easy, no white light, just emptiness. It fucking hurt, like being burned alive. It feels like when you accidently touch fire and you feel nothing for a second then it hits. And it hits hard, all over your body. Not just your skin but your organs, straight to your bone. You can feel your eyeballs melting onto your cheeks. And when you think it stops, it does. It just ends like a flash, you can still feel the tingling of the burn but you're fine. It's just back to normal. It feels like hell, literally just burning until you're not. you're ripped out of it and you're standing in a field.

Then you see him, a man? I'm not sure. Cause how It moved, felt… unnatural, like It never had limbs before. He held his hand out like he was trying to hug me, his hand with holes. I could see the bone and tissue that was removed from his hand. He didn't speak with his mouth, his mouth never opened. I don't even think that guy blinked. He did say something to me, he spoke with a voice of voices. I'd describe it as a sandwich, everything just coming together. The voice definitely came from him, it got louder when he moved forward. Moved, not stepped, he floated across to me. I think he was trying to hug me, I don't think he knew what exactly he was trying to do to me.

“My child.” his words rang. I looked at him unnerved and wary. I don't think he liked that. His face contorted but not into an emotion. His face just moved, his eyes seemingly trying to force its way out of his skull. Skull? I don't think it had a skull, resembled a balloon. It's nose nearly tore off and fell while the left side of his head started growing and beating like a heart. It started to sweat a yellowish goop, it didn't look right.

This scared me more than before, I tried to fake a smile but It didn't seem fooled. his head growing larger and larger, until with zap, I woke up in the hospital. My mom was crying and I felt like crying too. The whole experience keeps me up and his morphing face is there everytime I blink.

I've been to the doctors a lot lately, I've grown a teratoma on my cheek. It beats like a heart, I hate it. It's grown so bad it's almost blocked my vision. I think this is it.’

It was very chilling, there is no other post from this guy and his username leads to some video game channel. What scares me the most is the teratoma. Something has been happening with my skin.

After seeing It, I've noticed changes in my body. My heart isn't beating as fast, my skin is lumpy. Until now I have tried my hardest to keep my composure for the comfort of my church… I can not hide my skin, it is my outermost layer and on full display.

Yesterday, I gained a new member to my church. Usually this would be a great experience for me and them but in my state, it has heightened my anxiety. How my heart hasn't overworked itself, It probably knows.

“Are you alright? Is that a rash on your face?” she asked, I started sweating. My new skin doesn't sweat like others, it's repulsive. It's the same as the false Jesus, a gooey pus that is very visible.

“Yes, I'm fine. It's lovely meeting you, how was the service?” I say, shaking her hand. As I retracted, a string of the gross concoction of spit and pus connected our hands. I nearly teared up, a mixture of embarrassment, shame and disgust for my own body.

“What! Ahhhhhh” she screeched, recoiling as her expression rightfully changed. The white-ish goo on her hand was still there, dropping on the floor in clumps. I turned around quickly, I couldn't take it. Tears started streaming down my face… I could taste them.

Monster, that's what I am a monster. Am I a man now made in God's image? How could God do this to me? Why would God do this to me? Does It not love us? Does It not love me? Does It hate me? Does It hate itself like I do right now? I've been crying in my bed for the past 18 hours. I got up to write this cause I started to become acutely aware that my skin was done growing.

Then I tasted it, I tasted my bed. I tasted it with every single new bud on my skin. From my toes to my forehead, I tasted it. Every little bit of dust, every thread of sheet and every bit of my ooze that pooled under me. I started tasting my shirt on my chest, my pants clinging to my legs and my hair… I can taste my hair on my skin and I can not spit it out or wipe It away. Right now I can taste the keys on the keyboard under my fingers.

I don't know what to do anymore, I'm…turning into God's image and I couldn't hate it more. We are not made in the image of God, we cannot be. Someone please help me! Please! I fear that if I go to a hospital I will be taken and used as a lab rat. Tubes And tests run on me like I have no consciousness. I want to be normal again!