Heaven Isn't Real
by SabrinaTVBand
The main character's dad is a massive asshole, and there are bunch of other transphobic characters in it. So, major content warning for that stuff.
2013
Uriel sat in the back of Kyle’s car with Adrien. Chet sat in the front with the car’s owner, and the sound of the air conditioner was almost as loud as the bro-country music Chet was playing through the aux.
“Why is the bitch taking so long to bring us our food?” Kyle asked.
Chet spoke. “You sure she was a bitch? She kind of looked like a tranny to me.”
Kyle and Chet chuckled lightly together. Adrien stared out the window, and Uriel sank in his seat slightly. The waitress arrived at the car with the food each of the guys had ordered.
“You took forever”, Chet said, as the food was being passed through the car window.
“Whatever”, the waitress said.
Adrien spoke up. “Uriel, you have any plans for this summer?”
“Well, I’m thinking of starting a band.”
Kyle laughed. “A fucking band? Dude, nobody plays in bands anymore. You gotta buy some beats and make a Soundcloud.”
Adrien replied. “Why would you start a band now? You’re going to college in, like, three months.”
Uriel shrugged. “I’m doing two years at community college first. So it’s not like I’m moving away.”
Chet spoke up. “Shut up Adrien, making a band is the only way wimpy Wuriel is ever going to get his dick wet.”
Kyle and Adiren laughed, before the former spoke. “Have you even held hands with a girl before?”
“y-yeah.”
Chet laughed so hard he spit part of his hamburger on Kyle’s dashboard. “Holy fuck dude he’s lying! He’s fucking lying!”
_____
Uriel sat at his computer and went onto a local classifieds website. After a moment of hesitation, he began to start typing.
Guitarist in Clearwater looking to make a rock band. Favorite bands include-
"What're you doin’?"
Uriel, startled, turned around. His dad had snuck into his room, and he didn't even have the benefit of hearing a door open, considering his door had been removed from its frame years ago, after his mom had died.
"I'm, uh, putting out an ad. I'm trying to start a band."
His father grinned. "Startin’ a band? Son, I was worried you was gay. But, you start a band, hyuck, you're gonna be drownin' in pussy boy. I guess it makes sense, considering you're one of those fruity art kids . . . better not be one of those gay bands."
Uriel sighed. "It won't be, dad."
"Back when I was in school, me and my pals beat the shit out of every fucking faggot who listened to Culture Club. Anyways, I'm goin’ down to the 'ol waterin' hole. See ya later bub."
_____
Late at night, Uriel got a message on his phone, which he’d forgotten to silence. Dragged from the edge of sleep, he groggily picked up the phone and read the message.
I’m a keyboardist who lives nearby you, assuming you live within Clearwater. Would you like to meet up soon and jam a little?
Uriel hesitated. Now that he’d actually received a response, he suddenly felt a little nervous. Sure. Can we meet at your place?
Of course. Here’s my address.
Uriel entered the address into his phone’s GPS, and realized that this person lived only twenty minutes away on foot. It would be quite a walk, especially considering he’d have to hold his guitar and maybe an amplifier. But it’s not like his dad was going to drive him. Do you own a guitar amp I can use?
You can plug into my mixer and play out of my monitors. Just make sure you bring a distortion pedal or something.
They messaged a little more, agreed on a date, and then Uriel began to go to sleep, feeling nervous but hopeful about the meeting.
_____
As expected, the walk to the potential bandmate’s apartment was difficult. Uriel struggled to carry his guitar in its case for the entire 20~ minute walk, and each of his shoulders would start to burn after only a minute or two of holding the guitar. By the time he made it, both of his arms were aching from the weight of the guitar, and he was glad he hadn’t brought his amplifier with him.
The apartment complex consisted of three buildings and a pool. Uriel found the building, and the ground-level room in which the person he’d spoken to lived. After a moment of hesitance, he knocked.
Uriel heard a TV pause, and after a brief moment, the door was opened by a goth woman, wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt with a pentagram on it. Her eyes were surrounded by purple eyeshadow, and her lips were colored black. Her hair was a little past shoulder length, and black.
After a moment, the woman spoke. “You’re the guitarist from the classified.”
“y-yeah. uh, how old are you?”
The woman lowered her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes a little. “Excuse me?”
“um, i . . . i thought i was meeting someone my own age. i, i probably should’ve said something about that in the ad.” Uriel was also a little nervous about talking to a woman, but it would’ve been too embarrassing to admit that.
The woman’s face relaxed a little. “Sorry. I was thirty-nine . . . a few weeks ago.”
“I’m nineteen.”
The woman stepped back, and further opened her door. “Come inside. You came all the way here . . . we might as well do something.”
Uriel entered the apartment, and placed his guitar case on the floor. He began to put the guitar’s strap around him as the host walked towards her keyboard, which was placed next to a computer.
“My name is Valda. What’s yours?”
“Uriel.”
“Like the archangel?”
Uriel looked up at Valda, and smiled slightly. “yeah. are you into bible stuff?”
The goth broadly motioned around her apartment, which was covered in pentagrams, posters depicting leather and latex-clad figures, and other kinds of un-christian imagery. “No. I worship Lilith.”
“. . . oh.”
Valda sat down at her chair, and turned on her keyboard, an old ROMpler. She quickly played a few chords, and then turned around to Uriel. “Did you bring your distortion pedal?”
The boy sighed. “i forgot.”
Valda moved some of her hair away from her eyes. “Ok. You can go into my closet and get what you need; I have some old gear in there. Just go through my bedroom.”
Uriel entered the bedroom, and then began to look in the closet for a distortion pedal and extra cable. It was quite cluttered; between the massive amount of clothes, the abundance of shoes and boots, and the giant stack of DVDs and VHS tapes . . .
Uriel began to look at the spines of the DVDs and VHS tapes. Shemale Sluts in Heat VII. Needy Tranny Faggots I, II, and III. Girly Faggot Boys Take Mistress Satina's Strap. My Cheerleader Girlfriend has a Secret. My Goth Sister has a BIG Secret.
"Are you having trouble finding the stuff?", Valda asked, as she peered into the closet. She froze as she noticed Uriel looking at her very large and extensive collection of trans girl porn.
Uriel slowly turned around, his face red, and his entire body feeling weak. "i, uh, i-i don't know if i . . . want to . . . play music anymore."
Valda moved onto her knees, and looked down at her guest. "I'm so sorry, it's . . . awkward you saw my porn. Does it bother you that much?" She expected to hear some kind of religious objection from the boy.
"i- those titles, are, uh, t-transphobic . . ."
Valda gulped. "Are . . . you trans?"
"w-what?" There was a long pause. "h-how did you know?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly expect a straight guy to care about something like transphobia."
Uriel watched as the goth woman began to move deeper into the cramped closet towards him. He could've sworn she was trying to suppress a smile. "i guess that makes sense."
Valda was eventually right next to him, and she slowly initiated a weak side-hug. "I don't like those titles either, but back in the day, that was the only way to buy porn with trans girls in it. And how was I going to support them otherwise?"
"i guess that also makes sense."
Valda's hug intensified, as she sensed no real resistance in Uriel to speak of. "Do you need help transitioning? Are you closeted? Is it because of your parents?"
Uriel felt a lot of different emotions, and he also felt like he was going to cry. "can, uh, we just work on music today?"
. . .
Valda turned on a sample-based drum machine, and a slow rhythm began to play. She started to play some chords on her keyboard.
“I’m just going to play some stuff in A minor. Show me what you can do.”
Valda started to run through the same four chords, occasionally messing with her synthesizer’s patch or changing the voicings of the chords. After feeling out what the progression was, Uriel began to join in, playing some slow and melodic lead lines on his guitar.
The two sat in her living room playing for about fifteen minutes, until eventually Valda began to stop playing.
“You’re a decent player. I’d definitely be interested in working on some stuff with you.”
“t-thanks. did you used to be in a band before this one?”
Valda leant back in her chair. “Yeah. In the 90s I was in a band called Decimation of Light. We got a few of our songs into a couple of movies, and I still get a few hundred dollars in the mail every month from that.”
“wow, really?”
Valda smiled. “Yeah. I’ve been semi-retired since I left the band.”
“why do you want to be in a band with me?”
“Well . . . I just have a feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun together.” Valda got up from her chair, and knelt in front of Uriel. She gently stroked his hair. “I know you’re struggling with your trans stuff . . . let me know if you want me to help you out somehow during our next practice, ok?”
_____
Uriel put on his headphones in bed and started playing a Decimation of Light album. The album opened with twenty seconds of silence, but then, he began to hear Valda’s low contralto voice. She didn’t speak so much as she cried, so much as she bellowed angrily and with the intensity of a dark priestess.
Lilith, cleanse the light from my soul! Give me the strength to kill the god who cursed me with life! Turn me into one of your children of darkness!
The “spoken” opening kept continuing, and Uriel hesitated to skip it because he kept thinking it was almost over. Fifteen minutes had passed, so far the only accompaniment was a dissonant synthesizer drone.
Valda’s angry words made him feel scared. He thought he was an atheist, but . . . maybe a part of him was still frightened by stuff sometimes.
Eventually, Valda let out a blood curdling scream, and the rest of the band finally joined in. The music was incredibly heavy and dissonant, and loud. The kind of bone-crushingly loud that still felt loud even if you listened to it at a low volume.
Uriel turned off the music, and stared at the ceiling for a moment in the dark. He felt shaken, and scared. He almost wanted to cry. He turned on some soft-rock music his mom used to like to try and calm himself down before going to sleep.
I'm only going to continue this story if it gets some kind of a response. So let me know if you want to see more.