The Obscure

There is that upswelling of emotion, despite what those skeptics may claim. It does indeed exist; that overpowering overflow which overwhelms even the stoutest of hearts. There are some, like my Dead God, who have claimed to exist without that dread condition, the beautiful curse that is love. There are some, again like my Dead God, who have until they themselves were at Death's Door proclaimed that it did not have a hold on them. I have dabbled in these ideals, I myself have vowed never again to taste of that forbidden fruit. But in truth, both the Dead God and myself alike cannot avoid it, the Dead God and myself alike have to recieve our penance; have to pay our dues.
Who is the Dead God? Or to be precise, who was the Dead God? It's a rare lot who knows who the Dead God was, and of them I am the least most knowledgable, yet I am all that remains. It was he who brought the plagues down from the mountain, it was he who caught the thunder in the palm of his hand. I once sat to have lunch with the Dead God and I asked him, "Death, why do we feel pain?" and he answered me in such a way as to imply that I was an imbecile, yet somehow wiser for having made the query.
"Pain is a gift from Heaven." He said, "Pain is that thin ribbon between our feeble minds and madness. It is a gift from above, a gift we were given so that our weak and tremulous grip on life would not be shattered; that our souls would not sink into the abyss unrestrained. You see, without Pain, we do not know we are alive, if we do not know we are alive, then we cannot be sentient, if we are not sentient we cannot commune with the Spirit, and without communion with the Spirit our souls would descend into Hell. Pain is our worldly Messiah, the pain we feel and so zealously loathe is actually all that maintains our sanity. We must treasure it, savor every taste of it; for it is divine."
No one knew quite where the Dead God came from, as far as all of us knew we had just awoken to his presence one find day and it was declared unanimous that he was a Prophet. A prophet from Heaven or Hell we did not know, we still don't, though I have begun to favor the latter. The Dead God brought with him disease, he brought with him cancer, pneumonia, emphysema. He brought with him locusts, dystentary, malaria. He brought with him Death to rain upon the heads of the unbelievers; but above all he brought with him exemption for those who followed him. He brought Life in a time of chaos for those who listened to his teachings.
"Praise Be to the Dead God!" They would cry, in droves, "All Praise his Mighty Name!" It was so sacriligious I could have shit blood, were I not caught up in his worship at the time.
The Dead God brought to the world a new order, the Dead God brought to the world a strain of corrupt justice mingled with pain and unusual tortures given to whomever broke the Iron Arm of the Law. The Law of the Dead God was, simply put, a barbaric rendition of the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, under pain of a slow death. Over a third of the Earth's population was roasted within a month, but we were all happy with the result, crime was at an alltime low; and tax situation was suprisingly likeable, despite all the executions that required funding.
I was the Dead God's accountant, if there was such a thing. To be more in-depth as towards my job description, I was hired to carry around a portfolio that said what the Dead God owned, and occasionally show it to him. One day after going through the books I asked him, "Death, what is love?" and he replied with a sneer and a scoff.
"Love? You think your mortal mind can possibly comprehend Love?" He laughed, his laugh dripping with contempt, " How is it that humans can get so high and mighty of these aesthetic wonders they barely taste, yet when the slightest hint of Diety shows it's face, the fall down to the ground in awe? Do they not understand that in Diety lies the comprehension of such gifts as Love? Such curses as Hate? Do they understand the weight of this knowledge, and the horror one must go through to get it?"
I pulled out a small dagger I had had concealed in my sleeve and I stabbed the Dead God once quickly in the heart. He bled, his blood was black. He stared at me for a moment before saying, "You worshipped... me.." and then he fell to the floor and shook as Death took him. Death had taken him, taken the one with the audacity to call himself by the Reapers name.
It was then that I realized what the Dead God had missed, that Love wasn't a hidden part of the universe, Love was the universe itself. We live in love, we thrive inside love, we are constantly floating in a beautiful ocean of love. The Dead God tried to touch our love with pain but he failed, he failed because we love life, and we had to fight back.

Only a God can truly comprehend the awesome machine of the Universe, but only Man can make this great and beautiful machine run.