I am sitting on the floor, next to a candle that burns away precious, precious wick, the wax collecting in the metal bowl underneath it. My family is asleep. I should be asleep too. I don't have work tomorrow, thank the Mother, but I shouldn't mess up my sleep schedule anyways. But I can't put this book down right now.

I can't put this book down, not because there's anything profound in this book, not because the contents I am reading are so great, but rather because there are so many parallels. This book is leaving so much out, so much out. But it is telling stories that my people have been telling each other for centuries. It doesn't cover all the stories. It doesn't cover nearly all the stories that we have. It's a drop in the ocean. But still. It's clearly some sort of bastardization of an ancient source. 

The story that I am reading right now is about a woman who got enslaved by an evil emperor. She learned magic over the years, and used that magic to curse the emperor. The emperor got very sick. That is when she went to the emperor and declared that she would only lift the curse if he gave her all of his wealth and all of his slaves. Fearing for his life, the emperor obliged. The woman then gained great wealth and a great many slaves, and she lived a life of luxury. 

This is obviously a very disturbing story. It is horrific how someone who has been enslaved themselves can just turn around and own slaves. It's horrific, and it's not realistic. I know what it's like to be exploited. I know that so very well. And because I know what it's like to be exploited, I want so very much to make sure that no-one is exploited ever again. And besides not being realistic, it's not inspiring. Like, what are we learning here? That if you break free from abuse you'll just turn around and become an abuser. That's horrible. 

But despite the disturbingness of this story, it calls my mind to a different story, a better story, one that my community has been telling each other for many years. There was a woman who got enslaved by the Emperoress, and she was very abused, along with the other slaves. But she received visions from the Great Mother, who taught her how to do magic. She used this magic to curse the Emperoress. She proclaimed that she would only lift the curse if the Emperoress freed all her slaves and handed over her wealth to the freed slaves. Fearing for her life, the powerful figure did this. All the slaves travelled away from the Emperoress together, and they became a community, who all helped each other and thrived in prosperity from then on. 

It is easy to see how the two stories are similar, and I think that their story might have come from our stories. 

The next story in the book is about a teenaged boy who got kicked out of his home. He was living in the streets for many months, begging people for money since he was too young to legally have a job - which sounds like a great law to me, I'd love to have some semblance of a childhood. But anyways, he was going around asking people for food one day. Most people denied him, but one kind woman gave him food and took him in to be her son. He was very grateful for her help. They decided together to burn down the houses of everyone who denied the boy help.

This story is a lot better, a lot kinder, a lot more satisfying. I like the message that it sends. And yet, I don't think it does enough to clarify what exactly that message is. The text is worded as if the problem in this story, the main antagonist, is the child labour laws and not the inhospitality of the people. It makes it seem that if this child was allowed to work, everything would be okay. Which is not true at all. Children should not work, they should have childhoods. 

But once again, it brings up a story that I remember from my community. This is the story of two children, who were thirteen, they were kicked out by their parents and had to make their own way in the world. Their parents had abused them, so it was almost a blessing that they got kicked out. They tried very hard to find a job, but they could not find one. They also tried to find a place to stay, asking everyone if they could stay with them. Everyone said no, but one kind lady said yes and took the siblings in. The new family discussed how cruel the other citizens had been. The mother was so disturbed that she burned the houses down of everyone who had denied her children shelter. This caused the family to have to flee the city, but they made a new life out in the countryside. 

The next story is about a handsome young man, who was chosen by the Great Ruler to carry His message and teach the new generations the rules they were meant to follow. The Great Ruler gave him a special box, and told him that great treasures lay within the box but he was only to open it when the Ruler said. The man waited by the side of the road with his box for many hours, but then he saw a very beautiful woman walking down the road. He was so charmed by her beauty that he just had to impress her. He just had to impress her, so he went up to her and opened the box, showing her the treasures that lay within. The two then got married and lived a happy, wealthy life. 

What? So, the man literally just disobeyed the Great Ruler, the being who these stories hold as so special and so treasured, and this act was not condemned? This doesn't even make sense within the context of the stories in this book. 

Well, anyways, the version of the story that my people tell makes more sense. There once was a lecherous and self-important man, who was held up by the community as a great figure. The Great Mother wanted to knock him down a peg, so she gave him a promise. She told him that she would give him great knowledge, but only if he waited for her to tell him when to open the box. She gave him a golden box which was very heavy, and told him to wait. So he did wait. That was, until he saw a beautiful woman coming down the street. He wanted to impress the woman, so he could lay with her. He thought there must be treasure within the box, and opened the box to show the woman the treasure inside. She did lay with him, and he was happy. But then the Great Mother came to him and told him that he was not worthy of receiving the ultimate knowledge. 

This story at least saw the man get what was coming to him. 

Then, there is another story in the book. This one reminds me of one of the first stories I ever heard. The book details how there was once a golden age where all people listened to the Great Ruler and consulted him before making any decisions. But there was one man who decided that he could make decisions for himself, and didn't need to rely on the Great Ruler. He convinced the other people of this, and they started making decisions without consulting the Great Ruler. He got wind of this, and got very enraged indeed. He cursed the people to suffer for many generations. 

And this story is immensely horrible. Why is their Great Ruler - who is a clear parallel to our Great Mother - such a tyrant? 

But still, there's a parallel story for this one too.

As we all know, all people are part of the Great Mother and all people can feel the Great Mother in their hearts. For the good people of this world, they always feel the Great Mother in their hearts, and they realize that everything they do should be guided by the Mother, guided by their hearts, guided by their community of all the people, and guided by all that is good and right. But there was one man, who saw the wealth of the land and wanted to have it for himself. He knew that this was not good and right, he knew that the Mother would not want this, but he didn't care. So he made a devious plan. He convinced the people that they did not have to listen to the voice of the Mother in their hearts, they didn't have to listen to the sense of justice in their souls. The people eventually became convinced of this, and allowed the man to take the wealth of the land, and the man grew very happy indeed. But the people were cursed, because far too many people had let evil forces into their souls. That is why there are so many evil people in the world to this day. 

------

It is a Sunday. I am reading, by the window. I am immersed in this book. Because, it proves that the overclass once knew of our stories. Well, a few of them at least. If they once knew of our stories, that means that maybe, just maybe they can be reminded and maybe, just maybe they can be saved. I know, I know this is most likely a useless dream. But still, one can hope after all. And this is giving me a strange sense of hope. 

I am by the window because I need light in order to read. But I make sure that I do not get too close to the window, as that would be incredibly dangerous. We don't want any guards coming upon me while I am doing this. But still, I need the light and I trust myself to stay careful. 

My mind is whirring fast, whirring gloriously, trying to find every single word and line that ties these stories into our stories, that hints at something more. And there are many hints. All over this whole book, there are many hints. They are just hidden, somewhat. You just have to know what to look for in order to bring them to the light. 

"What are you doing?!" A rough voice barks at me. I startle, my heart skipping two beats. I look up, and am met with the hard eyes of a guard in his distinguished uniform. This is not good. This is not good at all. 

"I'm just ... I'm just looking at these strange symbols in this thing," I lie, hoping he buys it. 

"Nonsense. I've watched you for a while now. You're reading." Oh Mother. I guess I was being more careless than I thought. What do I do to get out of this now?

"So what if I am reading?" I look him square in the eyes, hiding my absolute terror. "Who does that hurt?"

"Where did you learn how to read?" he asks me. 

"I won't tell you." I have to keep my Mama a secret. I have to make sure they don't hurt her. 

"People like you shouldn't be reading. You have work to do." His voice is rock hard and filled with hatred and disgust. 

"It's Sunday. I don't have to work today," I riposte back at him. "It's my day off and I can do what I want."

"That doesn't mean you can read," he barks back at me, hatred in his eyes. Talking back to him is truly wonderful, in a strange way. Yes, I know I'm probably digging my grave. And yes, I am scared, so very scared. But at the same time this is incredibly intoxicating, incredibly empowering, to stand in front of a guard, a member of the overclass, who could easily kill me, and pretend that I have no fear. 

"Why not?" I demand to him, my voice hard with determination and full with a sense of love that never leaves me. 

"Because, you beast, you won't understand what's written. Books are complicated. They are hard to understand. And, if you don't understand them, that's very dangerous, because you will come to all the wrong conclusions."

"It seems that you guys are the ones who don't understand these stories," I counter back at him, putting on a brave face. "It's clear that this book is completely wasted on the likes of you."

"What do you mean by that, you vermin!" the guard demands. "You better rein in your tongue before it gets you into more trouble!"

"These stories," I begin calmly, "the stories in this book, most of them would teach people to be kind towards other people. But your people are not kind. Your people are exploitative and greedy and cruel. And if you understood this book, you would not be." I let my voice flow smooth and clear. 

"You absolute vermin!" The guard shouts. "You have a lot of nerve. You have a lot of nerve! What? What's in this book that you are so entranced by?"

"Just stories," I reply, "stories that you and your people clearly don't understand at all."

"Give me the book. I have to look at it."

"I won't hand it over. It's mine."

"It's yours?!" His voice is incredulous. "Like hell it's yours. You probably stole it. Who in their right mind would give you a book?!"

"I found it on a pile of garbage," I lie. "Clearly it had been thrown out by whoever had it last. And so I took it with me. And now it's mine."

"What book is it?" He is growing more and more frustrated by the second, I can tell. He's definitely not used to a person from the underclass talking back to him. I don't know why I'm talking back to him, but there is this strange sense of bravery that has overcome me. I still feel fear, I definitely do. I still know that I'm digging my own grave. But at the moment, for some strange reason, I don't care.

"It's called the compendium of life," I tell him, "and I understand it perfectly fine."

"Like hell you do. Who could have thrown away a copy of the Compedium of Life? You've got your hands on a very powerful book, you brat. You've got your hands on a book the likes of which you and your people will never understand."

"You're wrong."

"I'll prove it to you. Come to the House of Life and you can talk to the great scholars. When you talk to them, you'll see how little you understand and how much they understand."

"Bring it on."

I clutch the book hard in my hands as I follow him, of my own accord, out the door and down the broken, dusty street. We get into his car and the door locks, keeping me in. I'm in the back of the car, where there are no seats, just a metal floor that I have to sit on. It's dirty, and there is tough plastic separating the back where I'm sitting from the front where the guard is sitting. The seat he is on looks very soft. I hold my anger inside. 

The car speeds to life. And I feel as though I am leaving everything in my life behind. But I also feel as though I am taking a stand for my people. I pray to the Great Mother for her strength and her guidance, and she envelops me in her soft embrace, filling me up with a sense of war-addled peace. Whatever is coming next, I can take it. I have to take it, even if I can't.