Eventually, he came to a beautiful village slumbering at the foot of a mountain surrounded on all sides by green hills where gentle winds blew intermittently, delighting the mind and refreshing the heart. In this beautiful place, he was shocked to see that the inhabitants of this village were sad. They moved sluggishly, dragging their feet. To him they appeared no more than phantoms, without body or soul. The sight of these phantoms terrified him. He was determined to discover what made them so and set off to see a fabled wise man that lived alone in a hut, cut off from the village and its inhabitants.
“Who are you?” the young man asked. “I am Fear,” the ogre replied. “Fear of what?” the young man asked. “That depends on who you are. How each person sees me depends on how he imagines me. Some people fear illness, and they see me as disease. Others see me as poverty, so they see me as poverty. Others fear authority, so they see authority in me. Some fear injustice, others fear wild beasts or storms, that’s how I appear to them. He who fears water sees me as a torrent, he who fears war perceives in me an army, ammunition, and suchlike.” “But why do they see you as bigger than you really are?” asked the young man. “To each person I appear as big as his fear. And as long as they refuse to approach and confront me they will never know my true size.” replied the ogre.
Exerpt from "A God Who Hates" by Wafa Sultan