The Black Bile Part 2

The disease spread...consuming the minds of the clergy and the nobility. The disease dissolved their minds and made them one with itself. The Black Bile moved from person to person until the entire ruling caste were consumed by it. Deep in his cell, Former Bishop Gelasius laid down a feverish account of a vision he had had when he gave the Black Bile to the now deceased Emperor:

"It moves...moves ceaslessly. I should have known that this infernal substance would be the death of me. I hadnt realized the significance of what I'd found until the visions came to me. They came so quick but they were clear and concise and they showed me everything i needed to know. I was a fool to bring that Bile back home. I shouldnt have ever gone to the village of Kobalt. I cant explain how these visions came to me, perhaps I've gone insane, but I dont think so. Something in my gut tells me I'm in the right. The Bile is an insidious creature, It corrupts the minds of those around it and makes them act on their dark thoughts. It can take complete control of a person by beign consumed. That was how Kobalt met its end, that was how. I dont yet know how the Bile managed to wipe out all traces of the village's inhabitants. Kobalt's elite were corrupted by the Bile and built a massive labyrinth beneath the village where they could study and worship it. To hide this from the villagers, they constructed a well above the labyrinth in order to make it seem like a mundane sight. They would sneak out in the night and go down there to consume and to bathe in the Black Bile until their souls were irrevocably corrupted and their minds were under the influence of the substance. They then began to sacrifice the villagers to Bile and it must have consumed them. This would explain the fact that there were no cadaver's in the village. Eventually those who worshipped the Bile were consumed as well, and the last survivor of the village, before himself being consumed, managed to cover key areas of the village with pagan idols which apparently kept the Black Bile at bay. Now the tragedy at Kobalt is being played out again. Now the Bile has corrupted the rulers and will turn them against the ruled. With the Emperor dead, there will be no one to check the excesses of the Bile. God have mercy on us. God forgive me! I never should have gone down there....Why God Why......

Gelasius was not far off. The ruling class made a most unusual tour of the kingdom, going from house to house and asking to "investigate a distrubance of the peace". People would know what the corrupted aristocrats had left in their homes. Soon reports were coming in of people disappearing. At first the disappearances were minor, a few homeless people. But soon, men women and children from all sections of society were vanishing without a trace. One man reported that he had been walking down an alley when he heard a scream. He investigated only to find to his horror that the individual in question was covered in an ichorous black substance of "acidic properties". The substance wore him down, burning away flesh and bone, eating him. The man's body was consumed in a matter of minutes leaving not the slightest bit of residue. The black substance slithered like a snake down the street and literally melted away under the cracks. The man's story was discounted as lunacy. But when more and more people began to report similar sights, the authorities became increasingly nervous. The rulers were consulted. Their answer: Mass Hysteria. The cases were dropped but they couldnt be ignored. More and more people began to come forward and became frustrated with the inaction that was taking place. There were riots in the streets. The ruling class tried to appease the population with empty promises and this lead to further upheaval. Eventually, in their single minded insanity, the ruling class ordered the mass execution of anyone who opposed them or complained of conditions. This did not deter the citizens and hundreds were executed for "malcontent behaviour". Their bodies were removed to the palace basement and fed to the Black Bile. The foul substance grew. No longer did it need to move out into the city as people were being killed and fed to it. Soon, people were abducted off the streets and arbitrarily murdered. The army was sent in to take people from their homes. The streets at night were a desolate sight. But despite all of this vile corruption and excessive brutality, there was a flicker of light. The mass executions and abductions took its toll on the men who conducted them. More and more they began to question the logic behind their work and they received less and less satisfactory explanations. Seeing the clear distortion which had taken place in the rulers and the helplessness of the citizenry caused a rebellion to rise up within the ranks of the army. The dissidents marched on the palace and a great battle ensued. Aided by the citizens, they stormed the palace walls and broke in. But something was wrong, they found the palace surrounded not by soldiers waiting to put them down but by a foul black substance which clung to the walls like an overgrown vine. The thing spread across the courtyard and consumed all within its path until everyone who had taken up arms was dead. The aristocrats, pleased that the Bile was so strong, continued to order the few loyal to them to bring in fresh victims. It was then that the Bile turned on them. You can imagine their utter surprise when they saw the Black Bile surrounding their feet and moving up their bodies, consuming them quickly and with demonic efficiency. With the whole ruling class destroyed, the Black Bile proceeded to fan out into the city itself. Despite this however, the Black Bile would not be allowed to survive. Nature had seen the vile entity that Gelasius had brought onto her soil, and now, when the people couldnt fight back, she did. The Bile would not be allowed to leave this city, it must not be allowed to leave. It is fortuitous that the Frankish Empire had constituted large tracts of Italy at the time and that this city lay at the foot of the great volcano: Vesuvius. It was at the height of the terror that the great volcano erupted and sent out a wave of fire and ash which spread quickly down to the city, consuming it. The Black Bile and everyone else was buried under rubble. And so the defilement of the Black Bile had been stopped...or had it. In 1934 an archeological expedition discovered the city and unearthed large tracts of it. They were in awe at the site, as they found priceless artifacts and thousands of bodies preserved in their last moments. They also found a mysterious residue which was taken back to their camp and studied. History it seemed, was not finished repeating itself.

The Black Bile Part 1

An account of the "Event" as written by the Arch-Bishop Gelasius, Ambassador to the Emperor Charlemagne in the Village of Kobalt, Year 812.

Day 1
The horses ground to a halt outside the Village of Kobalt, they would go no further and were yelping. The withered man who drove my chariot asked for his pay and quickly moved out, as he leaved I saw him cross himself. The village was certainly deserted, coming up I hadnt seen anyone for miles around, as the locals tend to stay away from this place, they beleive it to be cursed. I shall begin by writing down what I know of this place, the Village of Kobalt is located on the borders of Asia in a harsh, mountainous region. The village was a centre of culture and economic prosperity and the population is estimated to have been around 4,000. The village served as a valuable pass for merchants seeking to repose after long treks through the mountains and the treacherous passes that lie around them. The village prospered and yet some tragic fate has befallen it, some horrible event has happened and now every man, woman and child has disappeared without a trace. An entire village wiped out without a trace, how could this happen? The Emperor's associates suspected that perhaps the people had been forced out by a Barbarian tribe. While this is certainly a possibility, there is no evidence to suggest this. No buldings were looted, no mangled bodies are spewn on the ground, and perhaps most strangely, nowehere is there any sign of a battle having taken place. This village is indeed cursed, I can feel it, there's some kind of cancer here which has sucked the village dry. Some kind of plague beyond my comprehending. I will set up my camp here and stay the night, then perhaps I shall find some answers.

Day 2
I was awoken from my sleep last night. A nightmare I'm afraid, perhaps the perculiarity of what happened here has affected me in some way. In any case, I have done a thorough search of the village and have found nothing. This place is an enigma to me. I found a massive well in the centre of the village. Why would a place perpetually covered in snow have a well? Why? In any case, this is a most perculiar well indeed. It appears to have a vast subteranean structure to it. I havent yet decided to explore its depths, but I beleive it is something to look into. My exploration of the village has led to some interesting discoveries. There are many religious artifacts here. Various Gods and Goddesses. It seems the people of Kobalt hadnt yet found the light of the Lord Jesus Christ and were worshipping false idols. Perhaps these Gods are of Islamic origin?

Day 3
The well is indeed fascinating, it appears to have a vast labrynthine structure to it. Perhaps the people of Kobalt ventured in here? However that seems highly unlikely as I have done a considerable amount of exploration down there and have found nothing...except, there was something down there. A mysterious fount which from which flowed an ichorous black substance. I have never seen anything like it. It flowed with an intensity that was almost life-like, as though it were a living organism. I have taken a sample of this Black Bile from the spring beneath the well. I shall be returning to the Frankish court with it. Although I will also be taking the false idols, I'm hoping to find out what kind of relgious significance they possess. Although I am unable to provide any answers as to what happened in this village, I hope that somehow the Lord will shed light on it. I have never felt such a cold presence surrounding a place before.

When Bishop Gelasius returned to the court of Charlemagne, he brought with him his findings. His entourage was indeed confused. The mystery of Kobalt was a vexing one indeed. They had been puzzling over it since Gelasius left for that wretched place. Their thoughts on Kobalt were temporarily diverted by the sight of the Black Bile which Gelasius showed them. They too were fascinated by it. It was something that writhed and seethed with what seemed to be a mind of its own. They were disturbed when Gelasius told them that Kobalt had been littered with false idols. They could have sworn that Kobalt had been converted to the Light of God 20 years ago. The missionaries must have mis-filed that fact. The flask containing the Black Bile was taken into the custody of the Royal Guards who employed some of the finest minds in the Frankish Court to study it. Everyone was amazed by Gelasius's account of how he found the mysterious substance. What kind of village keeps such a thing under a well? What kind of village builds a labyrinth in which such a thing resides? These questions plagued the court and the Emperor was consulted about what should be done. By now, Charlemagne was an old man, barely able to carry the weight of his own sceptre. He declared that the substance would remain locked away until its secrets could be divined. It was after this decree that Gelasius suddenly had a dramatic about-face. He became hysteric and began to demand that the substance should in fact be destroyed. The Court was not amused. Who did this man think he was? He had brought them a most remarkable wonder of the natural world and now he was suddenly suggesting that they destroy it? His long journey's had obviously abraded his mind. The Court ordered him to return to his monastery where he was to remain in prayer, when he continued to lash out, he was taken by force and imprisoned. By now the study of the substance was well underway. The plight of Kobalt was all but forgotten. The nobles of the court, seeing that this Black Bile was becoming all the rave, invested considerable wealth into the right hands politically, to ensure that they would have a say in the future course of the substance. In spite of this, Gelasius would not be ignored. From his monastic cell, he wrote dozens of letters to the Emperor and the court claiming that they were tampering with a most unholy entity. He claimed that he had been struck with the realization that this "Bile of the Devil" had in fact been the cause of the Kobalt debacle. He claimed that the court was digging their own grave and that all would be lost. He raved with the intensity of a madman. And he was taken as such. Gelasius's letters were ignored and his writing priveleges where revoked. The study of the Black Bile continued unabated. Over the course of a few weeks, those studying the substance became increasingly isolated and withdrawn. They became obsessed with their work. The nobles too, began to take a delight in the substance and regularly joined the researchers in its examination for hours at a time. The Emperor was becoming alarmed that his court was no longer in the courtroom but in the basement, joining in the enthusiasm. By now the idols discovered in Kobalt were found to be little more than pagan idols and were put to the flames. It was after this happened that something disturbing occured. One of the court members claimed that after drinking from a cup, he found residue of what appeared to be the Black Bile. He claime that someone as part of a malicious game, had placed it there. This sent shockwaves throught the court as only someone within it could have done such a thing. Suspicion reigned as everyone began to look at everyone else. The man who drank the cup experienced no side effects from drinking the Bile, and indeed he claimed later that it wasnt such a big deal and the matter should be dropped altogether. When the Emperor passed away suddenly, leaving no apparent heir, the court took over his office. By now everyone in the court had become completely enthralled with the Black Bile. Indeed some of the citizens couldnt figure out why the ruling class had disappeared from the public eye. It wouldnt be until the mass disappearances, the confusion and the madness that everyone would see that the court and the nobles had become the twisted puppets of a shadowy hand.

The Boy and the Demon Part 3

Bobby saw terrible things down there, things that he never thought he could ever imagine. A child being raped, a group of soldiers killing and mutilating the innocents of a village, an entire population reduced to waste by starvation and disease, a maggot filled corpse, and always, the smiling face of the demon. Bobby fell and fell through this nightmare, screaming and sceaming, knowing and at the same time, not knowing. He fell through reality into the dark cracks, the abyss where all things morbid and malicious are confined, the demon's realm. A place of perpetual night, of eternal pain, and endless torment, some might call it Hell, but it isnt Hell in the biblical sense, it is something far more terrible than what is written in any religious text, it can only be called the Black Place. Other people, like Bobby, had come into contact with Beelzebub, and they, like him, had been charmed and seduced by the demon's dark power. Every one of them had fallen into this place, like him. Now, he saw their frozen faces pass by him, each one locked in a look of perennial horror, each one reaching out to him, begging him to save them, begging and at the same time knowing that rescue was impossible. Their's was the plight of person stranded at sea knowing they would never be rescued, but swimming with a hope borne of desperation. Their screams mingled with his. If any person in the world above could percieve the sounds of this realm, even for an instant, they would driven completely insane by the listless screams within it. Sometimes the Black Place seeps over into the material realm, it seeps like poison seeps into a lake. When this happens, the land is influenced in horrible ways. Animals become vicious predators, people become cold blooded killers. Ice however, is the entrance to the Black Place. The cold, hard ice which covers a lake or a river sometimes serves as an opening where the malefic beings of the Black Place can physically pass over into our world. Some say that if you go out to a frozen lake in the middle of the night and put your ears down to the ice, you can hear muffled screams coming from deep within. Bobby fell and fell until he finally landed, landed on something. He didnt know where he was, as all was still black. Through the din he heard the voice of Beelzebub "Mmmmmm...Bobbbbyyy, myyy Bobbyyy...Whaaat ssshall we dooo wiitth youu." Bobby tried to make himself small, insignificant, tried to hide himself from the demon. "Wee are goinggg to haave fffun withh you Bobbyy...We arrre goinngg to plaaay...alll daaay, everydayyyy...foreeverr and eveerrr." Bobby held himself tight, he prayed hard, he prayed futilely, he tried to focus but felt his mind shattered and broken, his body useless, surrounded by the black. The demon's mellifluous voice pulled him, pulled him further and further into the dark. It was then that the pain began. How long he was down here he didnt know, seconds seemed like hours, hours like days, time however, has no sway over this place. He suffered horribly. He felt constant pain. He felt waves of fire flowing through him. He felt himself beaten, whipped, castrated, bound, raped, tortured in horrible ways. He died again and again. Most times he never realized what was going on around him, most times he simply spent every second begging for death, begging and not getting it. Bobby was being prepared, he was being broken, he was being furnished for the collection of other helpless souls which had fallen into this place. Very soon he would join the pantheon of faces he had seen before, very soon he would be stuck here forever. But until that happened, although Bobby didnt know, he still had a chance. Beelzebub was destroying his soul, but it still remained. But what were the odds that he would escape from this place? What were the odds that he would ever see the light again? For Bobby, unlike the others, the odds were good. What Bobby didnt know was that he had been in the Black Place for a span of 58 years. The demon had taken him in the winter of 1886, the year was now 1944. In 1940, the Black Place had seeped out into the world once again. Like always, the psyches of many people were unconsciously affected by this incursion. However times had changed, methods of killing had become far more efficient. This efficiency, combined with the baleful influence of the Black Place triggered a scale of murder unprecedented in history: The Holocaust. The influx of negative energy triggered by the mass murder of innocents was so enormous that the Black Place swelled like a tumor. It swelled and swelled and finally collapsed in on itself releasing a massive shockwave throughout space and time. The demon's iron grip on Bobby was suddenly released as the entire realm flew into chaos. Huge gaps in reality appeared and Bobby was sucked through one of these, away from the furious clutches of the demon. He soared through the cosmos, through space and floated there. Bobby was free from the Black Place, but he was now gliding aimlessly through time, however he didnt care, anything was better than what he had suffered. He had gone through so much that he couldnt comprehend anything anymore. The thought that he would never see his family or his home again never even entered his mind. All that mattered was that the terrible pain had stopped and at last he had found some kind of peace. It was then that he heard the horrible sound, the sound of screams, the sound of the Black Place. He saw, to his horror, that the infernal realm was closing in on him, tentacles outstretched, trying to consume him again. No one had ever escaped from the Black Place before, and Bobby was not going to be allowed the privelege of being the first. The Black Place moved like a putrescent tide and it was then that he saw the face of the demon, leering out, smiling hellishly at him. He tried to move, to glide away, but he couldnt. It was closing in on him, and soon he would be back in there, back in that stygian pit. The demon would have him, have its way with him until it broke him and then he would be trapped there forever. Without strength, without hope, he awaited the inevitable with a kind of despondent defiance. It was then that he heard a barking sound. It was then that he saw Baxter. The dog flew to his aid. Running fast, faster and faster. Bobby looked on in amazement, he thought Baxter had been sucked into the Black Place as well...He didnt know why Baxter was now standing before him, but he didnt have time to think, he grabbed the dog's fur and Baxter ran, pulling him along across the stars, away from the Black Place. Oh how he ran, he ran with grace and dexterity, he wouldnt lose Bobby again, he wouldnt let the demon have him, and Bobby knew it. Baxter seemed to run forever. Bobby's time in this cosmic space could be equated to an extra 60 years on Earth. By now, the 20th century or the 'Age of Infamy' was coming to an end. genocide in Rwanda, Cambodia, Yugoslavia and others. The Black Place was being swelled by the Epicurean delights of these events. Bobby could see it growing as it chased them, growing and growing as it reached out for him, a hundred billion screams echoing from within, weeping pustules and bloated corpses flowing like a river from within, the Black Place collapsing for second time from within. The second time was much more cataclysmic. The entire structure of the Black Place buckled in on itself and was utterly destroyed. Like a great tidal wave reaching its limit, the Black Place faded and faded, and finally subsided. It had been stretched to the very limits. pulled across space and time and filled beyong capacity with nourishment from the atrocities committed on Earth. But not completely destroyed. It remained as a fixture in space and a shadow of its former self. Bobby could hear the enraged cry of the demon as he clutched on to Baxter and rode off into the stars. Bobby and Baxter moved across the crystal skies, moved endlessly off into eternity. Baxter was taking Bobby away from his terrible memories, away from evil and harm. they moved endlessly and still move endlessly across space, gliding together. Some say that on clear nights, when you look up at the stars, you can sometimes, for just a moment, see Bobby and Baxter gliding as one shape. Some call this a shooting star, others call it good luck, but many beleive that seeing it is a warning, a warning that the Black Place has its sights on you. Although it was very nearly destroyed, the Black Place still remains and can still seep out into the world. It's only a matter of time before the Black Place can return to its former strength. Its only a matter of time before another atrocity is committed. Its only a matter of time before little Beelzebub comes for you and invites you to join him under the ice...

The Boy and the Demon Part 2

Three days later Bobby took Baxter into town and visited his favorite shop: Hart's Cheese. Bobby was a huge fan of cheese and Mr. Hart adored the boy so much that he always spoiled him with some free samples of the latest produce. Bobby walked into the store and was determined to enjoy his day, he had Baxter back, nothing else mattered. The demon hadnt appeared for three days and Bobby was beginning to lighten up. While the feelings of unease remained, they were lessening by the hour. Mr. Hart smiled his characteristically large smile when Bobby came in and made his usual inquiries about the boy's family and how things were at home. But as Mr. Hart and Bobby talked, something strange happened. Bobby heard a voice in his head. "Is everything alright son?" asked Mr. Hart with a look of concern on his face "You just looked as though you were troubled by something." Bobby immediatly returned to the situation and explained that he was just overwhelmed at having his dog back, whome he thought he had lost forever. Mr Hart smiled and decided to let the lad have a tour of the cheese samples, as he knew that Bobby was very fond of this. He took him into the back of the store and told him to select whatever he wanted free of charge. "Just come to the front when you have what you need son." he said with a smile. Bobby was enthusiastic. He took Baxter into the back and started to select the various cheeses. While he enjoyed the taste of chedder, he preferred mazorella cheeses to most others, and acquired a large handful of them. It was during this time that the boy heard the voice again. The cold, unforgettable voice of the demon. "Booobbbyyy" He was so startled by this that he dropped all the parcels of cheese and immediatly looked around, only to find that he was alone with Baxter. "Boobbbyyy....It issss time." Bobby was perplexed and afraid. He didnt know what kind of influence the demon had over him but he wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. He moved quickly around the counter and headed for the door, ushering Baxter along. "BOOOBBBYYYY!!!!" He collapsed on the floor, grasping his ears, the sound of the voice pearcing what seemed to be the very fabric of reality. Baxter was barking frantically. The amulet on his chest burned and seethed. Mr. Hart immediatly rushed over to the boy's aid. He held him, comforted him, trying and at the same time not knowing how to help. "Bobby, Bobby are you okay son? Common Bobby answer me please!" Bobby could only clasp his head. "Lisssten Bobbyy Lisssten...Do whaaat I sssaaayyy you mussst." Bobby let go of his head and stared on blankly at Mr. Hart. "I gaave youu Baxxxter Boobyy, Noww youuu giive me Haaaarrtt, giivee him tooo meee, GIIVEEE HIMM TOO MEEE!!!" Bobby moaned and coughed, tears streaming down his face. He wanted to get up and run and yet his legs seemed to have failed him. Mr. Hart was on the verge of panic and Baxter was making an aweful ruckus. "Doo itt Bobbyy, kill hiiim, kiill hiimm, KIIILL HIIIM!!!" Bobby couldnt beleive what he was hearing, he couldnt beleive what was being asked of him. He reached up his hands to cover his ears again but what he found grasped in them was a jagged, razor sharp knife. The weapon had simply appeared out of nowhere and now he held it in his hands. Mr. Hart was on the phone calling someone, speaking quickly and frantically, Bobby couldnt hear what he was saying, all he could hear was the voice of the demon. "Dooo ittt Boobby, Dooo iittt!" He tried to say something, anything but he couldnt. Mr. Hart came off the phone and comforted Bobby, trying to calm him down. "It's alright Bobby, your parents are coming, just try and relax." Did he not see the instrument of butchery Bobby held? Was the knife, like the demon, visible only to Bobby? The voice was so overhwelming, so loud, so horrible, it engulfed the world. Bobby stared helplessly at Mr. Hart's face and saw that face change into a leering grin, hideous and discoloured, the demon's face. It laughed at him and laughed until Bobby couldnt take it anymore, and in an act of desperation, plunged the knife into the demon's horrible face, impaling it right throught the skull. The demon collapsed on the ground and convulsed. The voice finally stopped and the momentary relief Bobby felt instantly turned to terror. Before him lay the body of Mr. Hart, cold and lifeless, and perhaps strangest of all, there wasnt a mark on him. The knife had vanished. The demon had deceived him, and now he had killed a man he had loved almost as a father. Bobby was siezed by panic, his parents would be here shortly and how would he explain this them? He looked down at the infernal amulet. The sight of it filled him with loathing and he ripped it from his neck. He sat down in the corner and sobbed. He cried until he felt that he would die crying. He felt as though life had lost its meaning and all was hopelessly and irretrievably lost. He suddenly noticed that Baxter was gone. He felt surge of panic until he realized that he had taken the amulet off. The demon had told him that only the amulet would allow him to see his beloved dog, but somehow he instinctively felt that this very amulet was the demon's tool for control over him. This feeling however, didnt take precedence over seeing Baxter, so he immediatly replaced the amulet. And suddenly, before his eyes, there was Baxter again as plainly visible as anything else. Bobby wasnt going to stay around to find out what was going to happen. He ran out of the store with Baxter close behind. He ran and ran. He ran until his knees felt as though they would give in under him. He ran until he saw where his feet had taken him. He had run right to the hole in the ice. He glared down at it, tears dry on his face. Hatred filled him, hatred he had never felt. That hatred was short lived though, as he glared into the dark hole and saw the eyes glaring back at him. The sinister glow of the demon's eyes made him feel queezy. He heard a soft laugh echo out of the hole, and with that laugh came the little demon. Baxter merely lay down on the snow and stared at the creature, but wouldnt go near it. "Boobbyy...Myyy Bobbyy" chuckled the spawn of Satan. Bobby tried to work up the courage to speak, his words were marked by fumbling hesitancy "You...You k-killed Mr. Hart." The demon cocked its head slightly and smiled "Noooo...YOU killed Mrrr. Haaart....youuu pieeercced his feeeble heeaddd." The demon laughed again, Bobby was speechless. "Nooww they will cooome forr you Boobbyy, Theyy willl commme and take you awaayyyy." Bobby tried to sound brave "No they wont! No..." But he felt his conviction fading, his strength was leaving him. The demon saw his weakness and took advantage of it "Buttt...It doesssnt have to eendd like thisss...You willl be safffe, youu and Baxxter...underr the iiicee." The demon licked it's lips. Bobby felt weak, he felt unsure. Once again, the demon seemed to working an unnatural charm on him. He felt taken in by the deep eyes. He shook himself out of it. "No! I'm not going under the ice...You killed Mr. Hart...just like...just like you killed Baxter!" The demon put on a perplexed look "Youuu are misstaken..." Bobby saw that the creature was hiding something. He knew in his heart that he was right. He knew in his heart that what he had thought was Baxter wasnt Baxter at all, simply another illusion. The amulet. Bobby grasped it in his hands and ripped it from his neck. Baxter disappeared. The demon stared fixedly at him. Bobby tossed the amulet into the hole in the ice and watched sink into blackness. The demon only smiled. "Sooo be iitt...They willl coome foorrr youu jusst the ssssame, youurr a killerr Bobbbyy." Bobby could only stare at the ice. He had thrown away the amulet, but he hadnt won. The demon's words were affecting him deeply. What if he was wrong, what if the demon hadnt killed Baxter? What if he really was a murderer and an insane one at that? What if his only salvation lay in the hole in the ice, in the demon. "Yesss Bobbbyy, Yessss." The demon purred. Bobby walked closer and closer to the hole and prepared to go inside, when something caught his eyes. A black shape under the ice. He quickly ran towards it despite the rebuke of the demon, he bent down to look at it. The shape looked almost like an animal, almost like a dog...Baxter. It was Baxter's corpse under the ice. Bobby looked back at the demon only to see a hideous smile on its face. It was then that he heard a cracking sound. The ice broke and he went in. He was pulled down into the blackness. In this moment of blind terror he lost sight of the light as it disapeared and the blackness consumed him. He struggled to breathe, struggled to get back to the surface but little hands were pulling him down, little voices were whispering to him "Nowww Bobby, Nowww you shalll seeee, nooww you shalll knowww, noww you shalll screaaammm..screaam liike Baaxxter diidd, scream like the oothherrss diidd, scream Bobbbyy SCREAAAMM!!" Bobby screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed but no one could hear him. Part 3 coming

The Boy and the Demon Part 1

Bobby was a good child, he always did his chores and he always did what his momma told him. Bobby liked baseball, he wanted to follow in the footsteps of the greats, he wanted to make his parents proud, he wanted to be something in life. Unfortunatly, Bobby had no freinds, as he lived on an isolated farm and his next door neighbors were at least a mile away. Bobby was fine though, he made his own freinds. The dog, Baxter, was one of these. Bobby and Baxter used to go out into the field and play for hours on end, until they were both exhausted. Baxter loved Bobby and alwasy slept beside his bed at night to keep the boy company. Bobby's parents earned a modest living working their trade. They devoted themselves entirely to the farm and the earning of what they could. They lived off of what they made, and they worked hard all year round as they had 5 children to support. While the children enjoyed doing things together, such as playing hide and seek and tag, Bobby preferred to play with Baxter. Occaisonally Bobby would join in on the fun with the others, but such things were seldom as he never really felt any connection to his siblings and often felt that they were different from him. When winter came around, the family had to work hard to keep things moving. The parents went into town and sold what they could and then came home with the winter supplies. It was during this winter of 1886, the worst in many years, that Bobby lost Baxter. The boy had been playing with his dog on a frozen river when the ice had cracked. The poor animal lost its footing and was unable to get out in time and drowned, Bobby was lucky to escape. The dog's death created a profound change over the boy. He became incredibly depressed and withdrawn. His family tried to console him, but he prefered to lock himself away in his room for hours at a time. Bobby had lost his only true freind, the only one he had shared his childhood dreams with and his thoughts with, now he had no one...or so he thought. It was during one his many trips to the frozen lake where Baxter died that Bobby met Beelzebub. He was looking into the ice when he swore that he could see a pair of dark eyes looking back at him. Every time he went back to the lake he would see these eyes, constantly staring, unblinking. Bobby beleived that he was just seeing things, that somehow his imagination had taken a hold of him. But the sight of these eyes never left him. He would wake up in the night screaming and sweaty. His parents beleived that he was deeply affected by the poor dog's death, and at least they hoped that his nightmares would only be temporary. They werent. Night after night he continued to wake the whole house up with his screaming. Night after night his parents had to console him. One night however, the nightmares stopped. His parents lay awake in bed just waiting for the screaming to start up, and felt a deep releif when all was silent. At last they could sleep peacefully. What they didnt know was that Bobby wasnt even in the house. He had gone to lake. Something had called to him in his dreams, something had brought him back here. Whatever it was, it knew Bobby well, and Bobby was getting to know it. When Bobby and Beelzebub met for the first time, it was a most unusual experience. Bobby stood looking at the hole in the ice (which had never covered up) and watched as Beelzebub crawled out, like a snake coming out of hiding. The little demon was a light blue, with tiny horns protruding from its head. Bobby never once questioned his sanity when he saw little Beelzebub, who was only a few inches tall. Beelzebub introduced himself and told Bobby that he had been living under the ice with Bobby's dog, Baxter. Bobby was amazed to hear this and the demon assured him that Baxter was perfectly alright. Beelzebub asked if Bobby might like to go visit Baxter under the ice, to this question, Bobby showed hesitancy. Despite the small size of the demon and the seemingly innocuous demeanor which it adopted, Bobby could never stop feeling a deep seated sense of dread. The demon's eyes had never lost their sinister look, a look which spoke of malice and abominable lust that the young boy couldnt even begin to fathom. And yet, for all this, the demon seemed so pleasant, so charming, and the thought of seeing Baxter again warmed Bobby's heart and took away his fear. Seeing Bobby's unease, the demon once again reassured him. It was then that Bobby heard a barking come from the hole in the ice, a barking that was unmistakeably Baxter's. This settled it. Bobby reached out and took the demon's little hands, which closed around his in an icy grip. The demon let Bobby down, down, down, into the ice, into the pits of hell. He couldnt breathe down there, he couldnt see, he could only feel the little demon's hands and hear his laugh. He wanted to get out, he wanted to get back to the surface, back to safety. It was in this moment of blind panic that a light finally shone through the darkness and Bobby eyes were opened. When he woke up, it was in his own bed in the early hours of the morning. At first he felt confused but then a flood of relief flowed through him and he realized that it had all been a dream after all. Surely none of it was real, surely the demon now standing on his bed wasnt real either and he would wake up from this second dream he was having. The demon seemed to read his thoughts and slapped him across the face, causing him to yelp. The creature looked at him with those eyes and wouldnt go away. He felt the side of his mouth and saw the blood on his fingers. The demon only smiled at him. Bobby pushed the little beast out of his way and ran downstairs to get his father. He told his father everything that happened in a frenzy of mixed words and hysteria. The father only frowned and looked down at this son of his who had cost him many a nights sleep with his rampant imagination. The boy was turned away, but he didnt want to go back to his room, back where the demon was. How could this happen? What had happened? His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice on the stairs, he spun around and there stood the demon. He looked to his father, but the old man hadnt budged, it was as if he hadnt heard the noise in the first place. The demon just stared with eyes that looked almost sad, but still sinister "Bobby, Bobbyyyy....I thouughhttt weee were going to bee freeindssss... You promisseed Bobby." Bobby now realized that he had some kind of connection to this creature. Slowly, but steadily, he began to lighten up. He became taken in by the sad look in the little demon's eyes. Then, for some reason, he apologised the the creature. "Whats that?" his father said, looking up from his paper. Bobby realized that speaking to the creature was tantamount to speaking to himself. "Nothing" he said. The father turned back to his paper, slightly annoyed. Bobby once again took the demon's hands and went back into the room. He asked the demon what had happened to Baxter. The demon merely shook his head "Not nooow Not nooow, coome, I will ssshow you sssomething." The demon took his hands and dropped a small amulet into them. The thing glowed with a kind of unholy taint. "Weaarrr thiisss and Baxter you will seee, But only when you weaaar thisss." Bobby put the amulet around his neck and did as the demon instructed. He closed his eyes and said Baxter's name three times. On the third he opened his eyes and the demon was gone. Outside he heard a barking sound. Where his ears deceiving him? The sound came again, then he heard a voice outside, filled with joy "Bobby! Bobby! Come and see! Baxter! He's come home!" Bobby ran downstairs, almost tripping head over heels. He slammed the door open and was greeted by the matted fur of his dog. He was overwhelmed. He laughed, he cried, he felt a happiness he thought he'd never feel again. Baxter had come back, the demon had brought him back. "Bobby I thought you said Baxter drowned." Said his mother. Bobby only looked at her with confusion. How could he explain to her that a small demon had brought Baxter back from the dead. "Guess I was wrong momma...I only thought he drowned, he musta sruvived somehow." The mother accepted this explanation as enough and went back inside to finsh cooking lunch. While the family members one by one went back inside after they were satisfied that Bobby was happy, Bobby was left with Baxter. He couldnt believe what had happened, before his very eyes he had watched the dog go under the ice. Before his very eyes. And now here was Baxter alive and healthy. After his euphoria died down, Bobby began to realize that something was very wrong. The demon was gone and Baxter was here, but still he was once again consumed by dread. He didnt know what kind of infernal pact he'd made with Beelzebub. He looked down at the amulet and frowned. Had Baxter's death been natural? Hadnt the demon been living under the very ice through which Baxter fell? While these questions gnawed at his mind, they were drowned out by the feeling that he would be seeing that little creature again...very soon. Part 2 will come

The Preacher 2

The first explosion happened almost unrealistically, witnesses who survived the attack stated that what appeared to be a 'delusional teenager' walked into the convenient store and blew himself as well as 5 others into oblivion. The body was identified as Jason Mersky, a boy who was well known in the community for his devoted service to it. He was a handsome, nice kid who never complained about anything...and now this. The community was shocked, never before had they experienced anyhting like this. When the second disaster happened, there would be rioting in the streets. 18 year old Jonathan Bailey went into a retirement home with a pistol and unloaded on the residents, killing 12 people before killing himself. There was a frantic movement throughout the community to try and get to the root of these killings. What was corrupting the minds of their children? Was it television? Was it peer pressure? Was it the parents themselves? The answer lay in the chapel on the horizon. In this chapel, soldiers were being trained, the soldiers of God. The Preacher had used his time well, and now he was preparing to unleash a wave of terror on the residents of the town. He equipped his brainwashed soldiers with several pounds of explosive and told them to go to the Town Hall and initiate phase 3. They diligently obeyed his orders. The Preacher had served God well these past few days. He had been destroying the plague of sin which had encroached upon this town, just as he had done before in other, similar places. Now was the hour of his greatest triumph, the hour where he would be finally thrust into the limelight. The communiy was having a meeting tonight in the Town Hall and all of its most prominent figures would be there. The Preacher had no doubt that he was about to make history. While his soldiers worked frantically to connect the charges and rig the timers, convinced that they would be able to sit back and watch the glowing fires of the Hall with their Preacher, he had other plans. None of them would be going home tonight, because once everything was reader, he would make sure that they went up in flames with the rest. Then he'd be off to another town to recruit, cleanse, and destroy. While the community mustered itself together in the Town Hall, Donnie Barker, one of the Preacher's latest recruits, was beginning to have doubt. He couldnt deny that he was doing a wonderful thing for the world as the Preacher had told him, but his mom and dad would be here tonight, and so would others he had known since childhood. The Preacher had told him that it must be done but his parents werent guilty of sinning...were they? Donnie wasnt one to be considered strong of will but what happened next was truly astounding. Donnie pulled the fire alarm, causing the Hall to evacuate, then, in spite of the others, he activated the detonators and blew himself, the Hall, and the others to pieces. The Preacher, who had been standing on the hills eagerly awaiting the event, was enraged. How could his children betray him like that, then again he was planning to blow them up anyway. However now the sin of the town would take months to purge. As the people stared in awe at what had just happened, Law Enforcement was staking out the Preacher's home. Based on witnesses and connections between the dead boys who had carried out the previous killings, the police were able to pin down the man responsible: The Preacher, their psych profile was as follows: paranoid, authoritarian, control freak, megalomaniac, charismatic, fanatic. When they staked out his home, they found countless papers and articles about not only the killings in town, but others as well. They found plastic explosives and gasoline cannisters. They found several books on religious subjects. But they didnt find the Preacher, indeed no one was able to find him. It was as though he had simply disappeared from the face of the earth. There was a public outcry about the events. People were awe struck that a man could have such power over the minds of their children. No one ever found out about the heroism of Donnie Barker, many beleived him to be just as fanatical as his brethren. The story went that as they were setting the explosives, they mislit a fuse and a chain reaction was set off. The community would never recover. Now no one trusted anyone else, as anyone was beleived capable of doing anything. The police shut down the old chapel, but it was burned down a week later by an angry mob. The Preacher's house remained, and some say that it became a site of cult worship. As for the Preacher himself, he was never found. Some say that killed himself after the explosion. Others say that everything was covered up. Others beleive that a cult had taken over the towns administration and was protecting him. Several homeless people have stated that the Preacher appeared before them and ordered them to attack the society that had wronged them. No one beleives these people, but there have been reports of vagrants attacking people with knives and crowbars. While these reports are viewed as nothing more than a mild hysteria which will eventually die down, no one can deny that the Preacher still has influence in the town, and that he will someday appear again.

The Preacher

In the hills of Alabama just beyond the horizon they say, lives an old preacher who leads the local church in prayer and liturgical studies. No one knows what the preacher's name is and fewer still know anything about him. Some say he's the Son of God reborn on Earth, some say he's just a pious old man who merely wants to spread the word of God, others say he's God's avenger on Earth. In truth, he's a little bit of each or at least he thinks he is. The preacher doesnt do much else nowadays other than preach, if you went to the busy suburbs, every day you'd find him there preaching at exactly 10:00 and he'd go on like that for the whole day. This man is no native of Alabama however...He comes from another place, some say New York, others say Heaven. The preacher (when not preaching) spends his time reading the Bible and studying the works of Ambrose, Augustine, and St. Gregory. He lives the most frugal lifestyle and beleives marriage to be for inferiors. In the chapel, he rules with an iron fist, no one dares to question him and those who do will find themselves against arguments they can seldom withstand. His subjects in the chapel diligently attend every Sunday, for they know that not to would mean to face the wrath of God. The preacher rails against sin and gives blistering tirades to his audience about confessing their sins before it's too late. Those that repent are beaten with an iron cane in front of the others and not one person protests this. They merely see that justice is being done and the individual is now making themselves worthy of God's grace. Every Thursday as well, the preacher's subjects are expected to attend an evening where study and discipline are their lot. Here they have their minds filled with the words of God during reading sessions and what many on the outside view as merely indoctrination. The few who have actually read the Bible will find in the preacher's words subtle nuances which differ from the original text. The preacher claims that Jesus ordered his followers, after the last supper, to kill all those who refused to convert to Christianity. Some were perplexed by this statement, wasn't one of the ten commandments "Thou shalt no kill"? Those who argue this point are quickly subdued by the younger group who never read the Bible and who cling to the preacher's every word as though it were divine truth. The preacher pays special attention to these young people and sees in them a substance which he could mold into the instrument of justice. And so this group of young people must attend another mandatory session on Saturday in which all those who had previously questioned the preacher were not present. The average age of this class is 18-19 years of age and many of them admire the strong personality of the preacher. This class would cause a change in these young adults. Where once they had been outgoing and freindly they now became reclusive and paranoid. They stayed away from their families as they spent more and more time at the chapel. Some came home looking bruised and beaten while others came home in what appeared to be a drug induced state. Despite this however, they keep going back again and again to see their God. Yes, they began to call the preacher God, as though he himself were the arbiter of divine retribution. More and more their thoughts became mingled with his and their actions mirrored his. This caused considerable alarm within the community but once again, few spoke out as they feared the heavens might take notice. And so it was that years went by and the young men and women became the very models of discipline and religious fanatacism. It wasnt until the bombings and the massacres that the true nature of God's representative would be revealed. Part 2 coming soon...

Hmmmm...I was reading a little of Denise's post about life and the degeneracy of the world. Why do we think this is? Why has sex become a tool of exploitation and social pressure? Why has education been slowly declining in importance among people? Why does the world today seem to be so corrupt and seething with the filth that civilization has to offer? The answer: Advancement. These things are all the inevitable result of an advancing, technological, centralized culture. Surely the cultural debauchery and decline of North America can once again be compared to that of Ancient Rome. Well, this is my answer to this whole problem: will power. How do you survive when you are being constantly pressured to have sex and to do drugs and view a world which is seemingly less than freindly: will power. You just have to look past it and realize the stupididy of it all. Sex isnt as magnificent as its made out to be on the television. Several people I've talked to who have had sex say that it didnt really feel like much at all because the first time was awkward. If you ask me, sex is merely a temporary pleasure which doesnt need to be done if you dont want to do it. Drugs are the same way. Drugs are for weaklings, people who cant handle life or who need to take drugs to feel important or to enhance this worldly experience. Trying it a few times is no big deal, I'm talking about chronic drug users, and the same goes for alchohol. Why is will power so important? Because you can choose to be as strong as you want to be. Every human has the potential, and it can be tapped. Let me give you an example: during a protest against the Vietnam war, demonstrators were drawn to a group of Buddhist monks who entered the square, one of them sat down in a meditative postition as his fellows dowsed him with gasoline and lit him on fire. He didnt flinch or cry out, he just shrivelled and burned to death.

http://www.geocities.com/culexous/DJ/monk01.jpeg
Surely this is the perfect example of human will power, sacrificing oneself so selflessly and bravely in the face of excruciating pain. Yes he was a monk and probably had a special training, but still, no training can adequatly prepare a person for such an experience who doesnt accept it willingly. This person is no more a superhuman than any of us, and if he can acheive something like this, then surely we can achieve what we truly wish to. Ultimatly, we have to find that power within ourselves. In this world, we need to be strong emotionally. Fortitude is a virtue not to be overlooked and I dont doubt that the people who read this blog have that quality. But personally, I think Fortitude and Resliliance go nicely hand in hand. Being able to come back after many blows and many disapointments and truly feel alive. I hope that everyone who reads this will realize how lucky they are to be alive, because being born into the privileges you have is in itself, a miracle. Thinking of this fact has made me realize how foolish we all are to have taken so much for granted in this world.

My Lai

Interesting thing...We're reading a book in class about the 'My Lai Massacre' in Vietnam. American soldiers basically went in and killed everything that moved: men, women, children, animals, and completely obliterated the village. This kind of behaviour from men who were described as normal and the kind of people who would put their lives on the line for you. So, America is not all righteousness and noble knights coming to save the day after all. In one incident in the village, two American soldiers were eating a meal and saw a fellow that looked suspicious to them, so they beat the shit out of him and shot him and then went back to eating. It's only fair that we take into account the signicance of the paranoia and fear at the time. For an American soldier, not only were the Vietnamese seemingly alien and misunderstood, but they were also viewed as an insidious enemy. Soldiers were trained that anyone could be an enemy, even a small child holding out a lolly pop was only thinking about killing you. Eventually, after so many of their comrades were killed, to the Americans, the Vietnamese were no longer human, they were sub-humans. American commanders were now using words like 'sterilize' and 'sanitize' to describe operations involving the destruction of entire villages. In their minds they were cleansing the land of a disease. Now there was no attempt to win over the civilian population, no attempt to take villages in one piece, no attempt to show any mercy. Why did the Americans lose the war in Vietnam? Because they were using the wrong tactics. Blowing up entire villages and killing thousands of innocents only strengthened the will of the people to resist defeat and only swelled the ranks of the Vietcong. Violence can never solve problems, it only creates problems. The massacre at My Lai was the culmination of all the attitudes the Americans had which were unwilling, indeed, unable to understand a culture and a people which were so different from them. The Vietnam war seems to have an echo of Iraq in it. There too Americans are fighting a hard battle against a determined enemy, but how long before they give in and 'pull out'? America has an image of itself as a knight in shining armor and those who stand against that knight represent all that is evil and wrong with the world. While that knight may indeed be shining, there are chinks in his armour, and these chinks run deep. While he may appear to do good, his logic is twisted and sometimes the refusal of others to follow along with his ideals causes him to snap.

Thinking Like a Nihilist

This post is going to be a terrible, offensive post. I'm putting myself into the most extreme form of thought possible so I caution those who wish to read on:

Is there a point to anything we do? Does it matter if we strive for anything at all? There is one irrefutable fact in life: One day, we're all going to die. No matter what you do, no matter where you go, you cant defeat or outrun death. Death is the greatest unknown any of us will have to face and not only will we all have to face it, we all have to face it alone. Confronted with this grim reality, we must consider some things. What does it matter if someone dies earlier than expected? Suppose a murder occures, we will all feel sorry for the individual in question who was murdered, but does it really matter? This person was bound to die eventually and cutting their life short may seem like a tragedy but is it really? All creatures can die horribly at one time or another and animals have it far worse than humans. Whereas a human may get off relatively easy by being shot, a Wildabeast has the honour being savaged to death by a pack of lions, and this kind of death is commonplace. Humans can suffer terrible deaths but most of this is at the hands of our own kind. It is a tragic irony that in a world where Man can prosper and grow to undreamed of heights, he has no greater enemy than his own kind. If the world is a cruel and brutal place, then humans have made it that way out of their own choices. Seeing as to how we're all animals, what is the big deal in killing a few of us. Is killing a human being any different from killing a Quail or a Deer, No, the only thing that prohibits this is fear of punishment from our own kind. Killing a human is abhorred because WE are humans and are able to relate to the creature being killed. Now for the really big point: murder and rape are natural things. They may not be natural in the human world, but they are natural in the world of nature. These things occur all the time and because humans are also animals, they occur among our kind. These things cannot be denied as they are inevitably part of our psyche. How many of us have had fantasies of killing one of our fellows who we either envy or hate? If you said yes to this question, you have nothing to be ashamed of, if anything, you can be considered a normal person. You cannot deny your animal instinct. It is this instinct that drives us to further our own causes instead of anothers, it is this instinct that gives us sexual and lust fantasies, it is this instinct that drives us to pick up a gun and 'go postal'. Morality is something created by man, and as such, it can be destroyed by man. Human history is a history mainly of oppression and war, involving the strong crushing the weak into submission. Weakness is looked upon with contempt and if anyone truly beleives that these attitudes have deserted us, then you are naive in the extreme. The fact is, we're all going to be dead some day, so what does it matter if we kill someone? In the end we'll be dead, and the person we killed's family will be dead and then our entire generation will be dead and then no one will give a damn about the petty murder which we committed. If anything, doing an 'evil' act will ensure that your name lives on longer than those who perform acts of good. More books have been written about Jack the Ripper than all the American President's combined. People in Mongolia still revere the name of Genghis Khan, who murdered thousands upon thousands in cold blood. Evil acts are more enduring because they strike a chord with our perverse natures. Anyone who has a bird feeder, sit back and watch as the birds eat the food. You'll see them greedily consuming everything and chasing away the other birds that try to eat with them: competition, it drives them. Human beings are very similar.

Well that was nice and depressing wasnt it?