a matter of god;

when i think on the moments in my life that might be butterfly effect moments—those life-changing kind of decisions, you know the type—none stand out so clearly in my mind as the time i said no, when my mom asked if i wanted to go to church.

a little context: my family, we're not the god-fearing types. dad wouldn't know religion if it punched him in the face. sibling goes to catholic school only out of necessity; she grins and bears her classes, and then comes home and gives me a rundown with an ironic slant to the corner of her mouth, and a dry tone, as though to say, isn't this some bullshit.

no—our parents are people of science, and always have been. but my mother had a scare with a ghost during her undergrad years, and it was only put to rest by the church, so she wears a cross around her neck every day. right next to her wedding ring, which she keeps off her hands, because they've gotta be clean all the time for experiments.

it's that cross that i thought was a beautiful sort of pendant, back before i knew that god was even a thing. we were in the car, just leaving the garage, and she was explaining the faith to me: people go to a building on sunday, and they pray, and they abide by certain practices, and they believe in heaven. would i like to go to church one day.

i thought myself pretty smart for the time—still have old lanyards from where i crossed my dad's name out and put my own in his place, because i thought doctor was a cooler title than miss—so i said nope, and popped the p at the end. believing that some old man in the sky created the world, when we know scientifically it was the big bang? it sounded like a bunch of nothing to me.

and that was that. except it wasn't, because then i grew older, and i realized that faith is more than just gathering in a building and thinking of the mystical.

most days, see, there's nothing of me at all. i'm a formless, floating brain that makes stupid decisions. maybe in my hardheadedness, i missed an opportunity for purpose, and now it's passed me by completely.

i think about how i've kept the most damning aspects of christianity in my agnosticism; sinning, and eternal hell, like there'll be divine punishment once i'm through, finally telling me what i've always known all along: you're a terrible, terrible human being.

i think about how i suffer in this life like maybe somebody will give me an answer, or maybe peace, next time my eternal soul worms its way out of its chains.

i think about mary, and how it's possible to think of a saint i have no relation to with such fervent devotion.

guilt is a constant companion, as are loneliness and hunger. and sometimes i think maybe if i had god—but then i remember that god doesn't want someone like me to pass through the gates, and if i ever tried, i'd land right back where i started, with a hell that stretches into forever.

we exist in a purgatory on earth. faithful, faithless, godlike, and godless, all at once. i covet the cross but dare not touch it. i count my sins like cards, and wonder why i even bother, when the answer's all the same. for dust you are and to dust you shall return.

would it be different, had i said yes that day? maybe.

but maybe i'd be here, cursing the day i ever let my soul into another's hands, thinking if only i'd said no to the faith, i'd be free.

Tw: Religious themes/ talks of religious trauma (incase ^^!)

It's my favorite game n I get to ramble about how I think Woods basically went from believing God and viewing God as a Savior n helper then into someone to be fearful of scared that God is watching and judging his every move declaring whether or not he's a sinner or can be accepted. LITERALLY FROM YHE GTFO TWITTER "Woods had found God, but not redemption. He believes he must earn it while trapped in the complex. In his mind it's purgatory." Wtf is purgatory? "a place or state of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to heaven."

Idc if this sounds like I'm stretching shit far out smearing it across the walls I have ideas I need to get out even if I sound like a mad scientist explaining his very detailed plan

Within the audio tape we hear Woods:

"Chaos, is the power of the devil. I brought order.

"I reminded them of their oath to the Lord, but they could not hear me. They offended God! I found them to be lost and without hope. The godless are the slaves upon which Hell is built."

"I will no longer be the devil's slave. I will no longer watch silently as he feeds on the lost. I am compelled to do the duty as he commanded."

"You cannot kill me. It is not his plan."

(this is just based from my perspective n how I feel whether it's obvious or not yeah.)

I think being in the military can be as anyone would imagine extremely stress inducing and scary n I think for Woods just kinda snapped starting to believe that he received this message from God that he had a mission he was compelled to complete here (or as he says Hell) Despite not remembering the conversation within the audio log believes he must have his redemption earned whist in the complex.

And while I do NOT have religious trauma, I do know how trauma can affect u lmao. From my own thoughts n theories of sorts I believe that for Woods a once just thoughtful Christian man kinda had his mind break believing that there were all these deeper meanings n signals. Even tho he's stuck in the complex fighting for his life I think that in some form he has a mission he's been set to complete except now it's more of having to earn redemption (which I completely believe is linked up being "freed from his sins"

He knows in some form he's done wrong (or after hearing the tape knowing he did some shit) believes that maybe God is still watching judging waiting to see if he can really show if he's redeemable for God or not. Becoming paranoid and fearful if he DOES make it out what will happen to him.

I like to think if he was able to get out and live a normal life (tho I doubt they just let them out without some kind of plan absb) that his original thoughts and beliefs change and starts to wonder if he's truly safe from everything Including his own religion.

That was a lot sorry dgshiwhehe

𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗠𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥. 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬! DarkLit Press has been making a lot of noise in 2022 by releasing incredibly unique horror books. Beach Bodies is there latest and it's a buck cheaper on Godless. Just read the awesome description. And pick it up today! 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/products/beach-bodies-a-beach-vacation-anthology _______________ Beach Bodies by DarkLit Press DarkLit Press is back with another anthology of beach horror by authors from around the world. A family’s vacation is cut short when the dead begin to rise. A strange hotel will do anything to keep its guests from leaving. A series of murders leads a local reporter on the hunt for a werewolf. A distraught man discovers he’s on a vacation from hell. Friends on vacation come face to face with an ancient curse. Beach vacations are meant for relaxing and unwinding away from the drudgery of normal life. The sparkling sun, shimmering on cresting waves. A light breeze as you sit with toes in the sand, a cold drink in one hand. Utopia on an island. But what happens when that paradise suddenly becomes a purgatory of pain? What will you do when the beaches fill with bodies and the waters run red with blood? When creatures crawl the coastline and the jungle teems with terror. How will you survive when a tropical respite becomes an arena of peril? Beach Bodies features sixteen terrifying tales of beach vacation horror. For even more scares, check out the companion anthology Slice of Paradise out now from DarkLit Press. This anthology includes stories by Scott Cole, Jay Alexander, Kelly Brocklehurst, Damien Casey, Leeroy Cross James, Max Christmas, Ronaldo Katwaroo, Nicholas A. Battaglia, Fox Claret Hill, Nat Whiston, Chelsea Paravel, Wendy Dalrymple, John Durgin, Jena Brown, Danielle Ramaekers, and Julie Sevens. 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗪! https://godless.com/products/beach-bodies-a-beach-vacation-anthology ________________ #antichristmas #godless #godlessapp #godlesshorror #godlesshorrrors #horror #horrorbooks #horrorbookstagram #indiehorror #indiebooks #indiebookstagram #supportindie (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmor2SjLP8J/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Twenty-five

I.

My sleeping pattern has short circuited. Every day this week, I've jolted awake at some godless hour. There's no build-up , no nightmare catapulting me into the waking world. Just absolute darkness, and then ding, I'm wide awake. I think my TV takes a longer time to boot up.

The timespan between my insomnia and my alarm are the worst. It's just hours stuck in that no-man's land between real sleep and awakeness. Would it be too dramatic to call it a kind purgatory? Probably.

I need some fucking rest...and to lay off the caffiene.

II.

"I think I have an everything bagel growing inside of me."

Tag: Last Line XIX

This one was from you, @worldbuildng. Thanks for your patience.

The following is a line from part five of The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory.

Rules: Write the last sentence in your current WIP.

And—something is following me. I can feel it on the other side of the water.

Tagging: @worldbuildng back, @dotr-rose-love, @els-writes, @zmlorenz, @writingmyassoff.

D

JESSICA CHASTAIN, FEMALE, SHE/HER, VAMPIRE  /   deep in the pacific northwest lives LYRA ELIZABETH BLACKWOOD. i heard they’ve been living there for two years and last saw them hanging around the electric dusk drive in, i think they might’ve been enjoying a movie. at one hundred and thirty four, lyra doesn’t look a day over thirty eight. everyone around here always associates them with a southern drawl, vintage skirts, old letters. hope they enjoy their stay ! ( belle, gmt, she/her, 19 ) *tw: death, alcoholism, assault

have you ever told yourself that you’re not going to join any new rps for a few months while you get settled into college only for a good friend to send you an awesome rp? because that’s totally what happened to me. anyway hello lovelies my name is belle, i’m nineteen and this is the intro for my wonderful vampire daughter.

INFLUENCES: 

deadwood the tv show, the whole aesthetic of godless on netflix, esme cullen from twilight, lily potter from harry potter, beverly marsh from it.

STATS:

name: lyra elizabeth blackwood

age: 136

gender: cis!female

species: vampire

hometown: deadwood, north dakota.

personality: aloof, loving, morose, honest, protective, quiet

ORIGINS:

we begin our story in the 1860s it’s the ear of horses, stetsons, gunslingers and saloons. lyra grows up in a house with an overworked mother and an alcoholic father, not that really affected her too much too begin with. she was too busy adoring the horses down at the stable where her father worked and trying to focus on learning everything she could. she was really a bright child just not the most observant of her surroundings. her mother used to say that she lived in her own world, a fact that is still very true to this day.

as a teenager however her father’s problems became harder and harder too hide and it was not long until at fifteen she was at least attempting to plan her escape. there was only one problem. the only way she was going to become free from her father was if she fell into the control of another man.

so at sixteen lyra became engaged to a twenty four year old she didn’t love all in the hopes that she could move out of that small town, which of course they did. moving all the way too indiana by railroad.

the twenty years that followed were not totally unpleasant. lyra was trapped in a loveless marriage but did not have a hard life. her husband did not limit her freedom, did not take issue with her reading and she made good friends and roots in the community.

that night in 1903 was a completely random, lyra and her husband were on their way home when they were attacked by bandits wanting to take all that they had. lyra’s husband resisted, tried to fight off the attackers and was shot through the heart during a state of panic. then fearing what might happen too, the men tried to kill lyra too, but ran off before seeing that the job was finished.

lyra was left at the roadside, bleeding and barely clinging to life. despite everything there was really only one thought in her mind: she didn’t want to die.

that’s where lyra’s sire found her and really she must have been a pitiful sight. far from the woman her mother had raised her to be, but that didn’t matter. her life was saved just not in the way she wanted.

LIFE AS A VAMPIRE:

lyra certainly didn’t take to the change too easily. her first few years were ones of bloodlust and no self control. it’s unknown just how many people she killed.

following that came the years of isolation, despite everything she had done, lyra still cared and there is no force more powerful than self loathing. so she cute her self off from society for years, only feeding when she had to, her confinement feeling like some sort of self made purgatory.

eventually however lyra grew to have more control over her urges, began to feel a bit more like a person again after those years of being a monster. the result of which is a very odd individual. it would not be a surprise to think lyra was simply soft, but be careful she can be deadly when she wants to.

MISC:

she still has a bit of a southern accent and as a result of which she’s likely to call everyone a pet name.

lyra still has a tendency to feel like alone, and even though she may seem friendly with everyone she keeps most at arms length.

an old soul she tends to stay away from technology.

never had children which is a point of sensitivity, she’s a considerably young vampie in comparison to the others but that does not mean she won’t try and become the mom friend.

LINKS:

pinterest board (x) playlist (coming soon)

Scheming Minds 11/14

Lebeaux Desrosiers wandered through the rooms, admiring the décor. It was certainly nice, considering the Hingan style, rather like the rest of the club. It could do with a little more stained glass and a little less ‘clutter’ but that seemed to be the aesthetic. He continued until he found the other kneeling in front of an altar. “My, my.” He mused as he tapped the parchment against his chin, the flat smile growing somewhat. “Are you praying? How charming.”

Daijiro Satake lifts his head when he is addressed, but he does not yet turn it, as if making a point to finish something. "Hello, Ser Desrosiers", he says, then reaching for a small cup that stood on the altar and pouring some tea into another cup, doing so rather slowly and gracefully.

Lebeaux leaned a shoulder lightly against the nearby pillar, folding arms across his chest so he could continue tapping the parchment lightly against his chin as he observed the ritual. “As I said, good afternoon. How nice to find you well. And tending to your faith, if you can call it such. I was beginning to worry that for all your talk of kami you were a godless sort after all. Of course, it’s still the wrong god, but at least it shows some devotion.”

Daijiro hums. "I was communing with my families' ancestors", he remarks. He then turns around and takes on the same formal pose, gesturing to the pillows on the floor. "Please, do remove your shoes and headgear and sit?" he asks.

Lebeaux lifted a shoulder in a small shrug as he pushed himself upright and removed his hat, hanging on a nearby partition. He left the boots on, though. If he was going to sit on the ground he wasn’t going to bother with the effort of removing his shoes. “I don’t intend to stay long. While the club shows at least a touch of Ul’dahn influence here and there I see you have built a little piece of Kugane here for yourself.” He mused as he flicked his wrist, tossing the folded parchment to land in front of Daijiro on the altar’s steps like an offering.

Daijiro inclines his head. "These are my personal quarters, after all", he remarks. Eying the other. He then bows forward, picking up the paper and perusing its contents.

It was a bill, of course. An invoice that gave very few details other than the patient’s name was Rashk Geilt and he had undergone a medical examination with intent to begin treatment. There was also a fairly hefty sum listed as the cost for the visit. “Of course. And they certainly do reflect you well, don’t they.” He mused as he looked around the small corner the altar was tucked into.

Daijiro hums. "That is yet to be seen", he remarks. He then looks over the document and frowns, putting it down. "Ah. Is this just a financial matter? Surely such things are better handled by Kareem." He folded the piece of paper and tucked it into his pocket. "Congratulations, you finally are getting your hands on some of my gil." He offers a faint smile then. "Ah. I shall have Kareem look into the price and such. I was given to understand you needed to travel to Ul'dah to treat Rashk?"

Lebeaux smiled sweetly as he laid a hand on his own chest, gloved fingers sinking into the fur ruff as he adopted a look of theatrical surprise at the accusations. “You speak as though that’s been my goal all along.” The smile returned and he smoothed the lapel where he had grasped it briefly. “I did, indeed. To his private rooms, to ensure there would be no unwanted ears nor eyes about.” He noted, lifting his chin slightly to peer down his nose at the Hingan, despite Daijiro being seated higher than him. “Cozy little place, isn’t it. Quite intimate. Who would have known fortune telling paid so well.”

Daijiro hums. "I have never understood why a personage such as yourself would be so crassly obsessed with money, rather than simply accepting an exchange of favours graciously", the Hingan says, looking down the other with ease this time. "But then, it is tempting to reumburse you for travel expenses and pass the rest of the bill on to Gakunin Kasumi. Ah. But it would be crass to make a point when Rashk needs medical attention." He folds his hands into his lap. "I do desire for my hosts to be happy and healthy, and if such requires gil, so be it."

Lebeaux held out his hands, palm upwards as though the matter was out of his hands. “There is nothing you are able to exchange that would be of equal value to me as my time and talents. Your favors mean little and less, but the coin I can put to good use.” He explained calmly. “I suppose you could bring Lady Kasumi into the matter, yet I suspect she would refuse payment, and you would as well. And I would be force to leave Rashk untreated until someone picked up the tab.” Lebeaux exhaled a soft sigh. “It would be unfair to leave him in such a purgatory.”

Daijiro hums. "This is so", he remarks matter of factly. "Though I will overlook the insult provided by your crude words. You simply cannot help yourself. Is this not so?"

Lebeaux lifted a dark brow, still smiling calmly all the while. “Now, now. There was nothing crude about that. Honesty is a virtue, is it not.” He lowered his hands back to his lap, settling them comfortably on his thighs. “I was simply stating the truth of the matter. If you believe I’m wrong, you are welcome to change my mind.”

Daijiro hums. "Ah. That would be too much trouble. You are the sort of personage that judges quickly and changes his mind slowly, after all. If you believe my skills and contacts to be useless to you, then so be it."

Lebeaux nodded slightly. “Mm, and you’re the sort to never show a full hand. Even if you were hiding a potentially valuable ace, it certainly would be well-hidden up those ridiculous long sleeves.” He teased with a low chuckle. “Speaking of hands, have you had the opportunity to test the gift I gave you yet.”

Daijiro shakes his head. "I have not. And I have no desire to inflict such cruelties on another personage", he states simply. "It is a memento and a reminder. Nothing more."

Lebeaux clicked his tongue, tutting quietly. “I see, such a waste. Such beautiful craftsmanship left to rot away on a shelf.”

"Would you rather have it crushing bone and flesh? I was not aware that Halone was the sort of Kami that enjoys pain as much as you do." He showed a slight smile. "But then, she may be just as secretive about such things as you are. It is difficult for an Ijin like me to tell."

Lebeaux chuckled quietly at that. “You aren’t a heretic, Halone would gain nothing from your pain and suffering. That was a matter between us.” He explained calmly. “Though if you mean in its original use, yes. The thumbscrews were intended to inflict pain on those who had forsaken Her. Their screams and pleas for mercy would be as hymns to Her.” A shoulder lifted slightly. “Yours were merely satisfying for me.”

Daijiro hums. "I see. Such an unusual notion. Then, were they as hymns to you as well? Ah. I mean, those screams of your victims."

“I suppose there is some satisfaction in hearing the honest remorse of those who have wronged you.” He noted calmly before he looked around. “Even though I said it was only a short visit, you’ve yet to offer me tea.”

Daijiro raises his eyebrows slightly. "Ah. You did desire tea? I had the impression you merely wished to drop off a bill, as a loyal paid servant is wont to do." He smiles faintly and rises. "Then, you shall be a guest and we shall have tea. Will you join me?" He beckoned for the other to follow him.

Lebeaux sniffed haughtily as he rose to his feet and removed his hat from where he had rested it on the partition. “Do you often sit around and have discussions with paid servants as well. If so, you indulge them too much.” He declared as he followed after him. “We have decided to be friends, have we not. It would be for the best to continue to treat me as such.”

Daijiro hums. "Of course I do", he says. "But then, if you were truly my friend you would not bring me a bill. Is this not so? The matter becomes quite confusing when one mixes roles." He then moved over to the bedroom, where he kept his tea.

Lebeaux tilted his head. “Then perhaps I should hire a servant to attend to such matters for me as well. Give me that bill back, I shall adjust it accordingly.” He teased as he followed the smaller man through the rooms. The smile flattened slightly as looked around the decorations of the ‘bedroom’ area. A few familiar looking wooden cases caused him to fold his arms lightly across his chest again as he eyed the smoldering embers nearby.

Daijiro poured two cups of bitter green tea, adding no sugar or cream. The drink served was clear and yellowish-green in colour. As Daijiro held it with both hands, he looked up. "Will you sit on the bed? I'm afraid I have no chairs in this place. Do mind the hot pokers~.”

Lebeaux accepted the tea and lifted his chin up high. Banishing any indication that he was anything other than calm in the presence of such unusual tools. “And you would call my tools barbaric.” He noted calmly as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable as he held the tea between his hands. “Quite rich, coming from a man who keeps hot pokers within reach.”

Daijiro smiles faintly. "Ah. Then, is it troublesome to have such tools close?" he asks. "I am no torturer after all." He picks up his own cup and then joins Lebeaux, canting his head slightly as he takes him in. "You seemed on edge for a moment. I hope I have done nothing to trouble you? Would you like me to remove these tools from your sight?"

Lebeaux tilted his head thoughtfully. “That rather depends on just what it is you do with the tools. Do enlighten me.” He insisted, allowing the tea to cool. “There is no need for concern. I was simply taken aback to find such things around your bed after our little talk of cruelty.”

Daijiro hums. "Is it cruel to inflict pleasure upon a willing personage?" he asks. "Is it cruel to use such things to restore health?"

Lebeaux smiiiiled at Daijiro. “And which do you use the hot pokers for. I can’t imagine anyone enjoying third degree burns nor it having any health benefits.”

Daijiro smiles. "Then, that is simply because we have a different conception of health", he remarks. "Wounds must be cauterised some times. Whether they are wounds of the flesh or wounds of the spirit. You yourself have benefited from my fire treatment, have you not?"

[16:11]Lebeaux Desrosiers sniffed in distaste. “Cauterization is a last-ditch effort on a battlefield to save a life at any cost. Not for clinical application where other options may first be utilized.” He explained calmly. “And there is quite a difference between a needle and a poker. The burns from that treatment only took a spot of aether to soothe.”

Daijiro nods. "I do use the needle more often", he admits. "Ah. But it does add to the aesthetic of this place. It provides a certain energy. Is this not so?" He takes a sip from his tea. "You might enjoy my music box as well."

Lebeaux smiled flatly at Daijiro before he took a small sip of his tea. Immediately wrinkling his nose in distance. “This would do well with some sugar or honey.” He suggested. “If your energy aesthetic is that of a torture chamber, then yes. I would say it fits the bill quite neatly.” He stated calmly. “You seem to damn me for enjoying others’ pain, yet I suspect you savor it just as deeply. If not more so.” He held the cup out to Daijiro. Still expecting a sweetener. “Why, what tune does it play.”

Daijiro hums. "It is not considered a civilised custom to drink tea with sweeteners. Especially tea such as this, of the first harvest, which is especially favoured." He took another sip from his tea, seeming quite pleased by it. "It is healthier too." He smiles faintly. "As for the tune, ah, it is a rather haunting one. I suspect you might not have the bravery to face it. Though I admit that I am curious."

Lebeaux rolled his eyes, for both the tea and the music box. “It tastes a bit burnt.” He noted off-handedly as he took another sip. Yep. Still bitter. The laugh he exhaled was dry and humorless. “Bravery, to face a music box. What a curious turn of phrase. Is there supposedly a kami trapped within it or some such."

Daijiro looks faintly surprised. "Burnt? What a curious notion." He then smiles faintly. "Not exactly a Kami, and not exactly trapped", he remarks. "One is simply confronted with ones' own imaginings."

Lebeaux drank the tea anyways, for lack of anything else to wet his mouth with. Still not appreciating the finer nuances of a good green tea. “Then it is supposed to ensnare those who hear it.” He mused thoughtfully. “Or releases some sort of mind-altering magics. Have you tried it yourself, or only on others.”

Daijiro hums. "Something like that. The shade thus summoned can be a pleasurable or a fearful experience. Usually a bit of both", he remarks. He sips from his tea. "For complex reasons I cannot be affected by the music box. Lest you plan something along those lines. You do have a scheming mind~."

Lebeaux smiled sweetly enough over the rim of his cup to cancel out even the bitterest of teas. “All this time and you still mistrust me so.” He noted in a bemused sort of tone. Plainly enjoying that. “That must be frustrating. Having such an interesting toy in your collection and not even being able to enjoy it properly.”

Daijiro chuckles. "Ah. I derive plenty of enjoyment from it. Please do not be troubled on my behalf." He shakes his head slightly.

Lebeaux smiled thoughtfully for a moment, his icy pale gaze drifting down from Daijiro’s face to the other’s lap before it raised again. “Hm.” He noted with a small shrug. “So it creates illusions akin to nightmares, or sinful dreams. It sounds a touch dangerous. Possibly tainted.”

Daijiro smiles. "I can contain the dangers. To do so one simply stops playing the music. And then, it is only a shade." He hums. "Even so, it is best if the personage in question is constrained in movement."

Lebeaux allowed the smile to dim slightly, suddenly less than amused at the prospect. “A rather complex story you have woven for the sake of tying me up and humiliating me. Again.”

Daijiro shakes his head. "Not at all. I did not believe you would have the courage to surrender yourself to such a degree. Therefore you will not experience the pleasures of the box." He sips from his tea primly. "I would have mentioned it sooner if I thought you might."

“And yet you would mention it now.” He noted calmly as he took a sip of his own tea. “You are aware of how displeasing me does not end well for you.” Or your fingers. The medic explained calmly. “With that in mind, you may show me the box. You have certainly piqued my curiosity.”

@grey-lotus-ffxiv

September 21, 2020

we seek in god our jesus, and their side kick the holy spirit, a friend when we are down, where is god’s helping hand is it just a beautiful face with long hair nailed to a cross grinning at our despair, what a vicious ego, when we need your real appearance here on earth and not a picture of your saintly nature, where is your almighty power, do you lend your favor to the elites that just want supreme control over us nobodies

living in torment, guess what, there side is winning the battle over our souls by targeting our wallets, our homes, our bank accounts, as we fight to survive, you blame me for my waning faith, you jesus, invisible to our mind and our sight, they speak for you like puppets on a string, if we hurt you prove it with your true voice, not a middle man that mouths centuries of dull imperatives that never show us your true heart felt need for our salvation, can you hear the derisive mouths

that have no faith in your only performance and now seek not truth but lies to gain power over your flock with conditioned actions, the work place that take years away from the people, their own inner vision of freedom a turbulence in the foundation of truth we rise to the heights of ecstasy and then flounder at the feet of wealth, should we go all out and clean their dirty, aging feet where is your prophecy of salvation now as your flock waited for your return to give justice a meaning that long ago became

manipulation of the masses controlled by the wealthy to bring sorrow and fear into their lives keeping them caged with the words of a man seeking a purpose worthy of his death, yet a void of silence in his prophecy game, all the religious voices beat the same drum trying to side track the population into being placated by words not action, we have been abandoned, what is your almighty reason to mock us behind our backs in your heavenly paradise with all your risen dead crowded in front of your

holier-than-now vision watching us, laughing, talking behind our backs but that is not a heavenly purpose for we do that now on this earth talk about you in front of your omnipotence and your silent reply gives us no comfort but more despair, speak and the fruition of life will blossom in your presence have you been playing with us, your children, making them look like fools trying to make contact with their institutionalized savior, not of your

congregation but your orders given to obey the owners of our destruction here in this reality of hopeless evil permeating through the very essence of our sorrow why no contact with us for so long, what are you hiding our god, our savior could it be you don’t have a desire to be known for you are just a character from a book published centuries ago in our past as the coming Armageddon was brewing and your old and new testament presented as a real vision of a hope, long past but

aren’t you way overdue in separating the evil from the innocent, so put up or shut up, and we are only being flattered by incompetence before we are invisible to you and ourselves, do we pass you on the street not knowing your true form and as we make eye contact, does that surprise you or are you only a presence in someone else’s physical form, silent without a meaningful purpose of what to do with us sinners, these tramps of possessive wants, your sheep and your untruth, you know our

fears, our inner confusion, and yet you allow your prophetic, empty voice to be used by the hypocrites, godless frauds that use your apostles scriptures as their atms, would you prefer us to be paralyzed without the knowledge given directly from your mouth, just scream it! let us know your anger and not the actors, these charlatans of faith that see your silent voice as golden opportunity for profit, what is the purpose of suffering for an imagined power, our heart daily breaking apart and yet you have no sympathy for

the killing fields of poverty and wars could one of us, understanding the duplicity of words written by the apostles of a hope never to materialize, to undermine an evolution, to keep us so called sinners in a purgatory of institutionalized faith in a myth, a borrowed character from stories told for centuries in dreams and then worshiped as gods, aloof with concern not for their worshipers but for their prowess as mighty titans that ruled this world for their pleasure, I guess

we can all feel and understand our own struggles here on this earth while the criminal minds of wealth use us as cattle to be herded and abused as pawns in their game of profits, first low wages for the down trodden population, for they know not what they want, I linger in my knowing the heartbreaks you created oh lord, the passive ruler of his unruly congregation breaking apart we know the riches stolen through religion and the robbing of the poor to feed the egos of the charlatans are you our prophet of hope

dissatisfied with your position as the only means for our rescue from this evil perversion of our self-worship, are you really going to tout your love for us as morals rot away without any attempt to resurrect the gospels mistimed approach to controlling humans with glorious phrases of hope but not of sanity and a positive framework to break apart the wicked minds of power and this integrity of lazy gods all shams, a pretense of caring, a fiction invented

to dissemble any organized revolt against the elites of power, our history shows us that you, the people, are the problem, your self-centeredness is our liability, for every being of power imitates you, our hidden god, for they think our almighty is a man-god, his words are truth and their possessive demands are our holy fathers that all must kneel before his severity and isn’t it ironic that we were made in your image and haven’t carried your cross long enough, not the greedy

criminals of compulsion but us, your flock of discarded, dying hopes that wish that you could stand in our place and we could be you and you could see what a nasty piece of work you are to allow your children to suffer for your sins not ours through endless centuries of corruption and violence, an imitation of your existence

Fémjelzés – a hét újdonságai (2019. október 21-27.)

Fémjelzés – a hét újdonságai (2019. október 21-27.) - https://metalindex.hu/2019/10/27/femjelzes-a-het-ujdonsagai-2019-oktober-21-27/ -

Rengeteg új lemezzel áraszt el minket az október. Az e heti kínálatot egészen biztosan nem lehet figyelmen kívül hagyni.

Abkehr – In Feuer (black metal) Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell – Very Uncertain Times (pszich. hard rock/metal) Afflictive Nature – Palace of Pain (thrash metal/crossover) Airbourne – Boneshaker (hard rock) After the Storm – The Godless Hollow (melodikus death metal) Alcest – Spiritual Instinct (post-metal/shoegaze) Ancient Cosmos – Transcendental Evils from the… (szimfo./melodikus death metal) Anorimoi – Κώλαση (heavy/thrash metal) Arm the Valkyrie – Pyre (melodikus death metal) Asthenic Syn – Neuroleptic Strangulation (black metal) Autumn Grave – Etheral Autumn Effulgence (EP) (black metal) Avant Guardian – Insurgency (EP) (power/progresszív metal) Average Misanthropy – Panam Sacerdotem (EP) (black/funeral doom metal) Black Angels – Steamroller (melodikus heavy metal/hard rock) Black Rheno – Noise Smasher (stoner/sludge metal/hardcore) Blakylle – Wo uralte Wasser fließen (pogány metal) Blood Scry – Agios (black/death metal) Bloody Alchemy – Reign of Apathy (melodikus death/thrash/metalcore) Boltcrown – Darkness Calling (heavy/speed metal) Born for Burning – The Ritual (black metal) Carnifliate – Disgusting Festivities (death metal) Cathubodua – Continuum (epikus szimfonikus metal) Cauldron – Of Unknown Origin (doom/thrash metal) Celestial Crypt – Xenomonarch (heavy/thrash metal) Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean – Tell Me What You… (EP) (sludge/doom) Cleric – Serpent Psalms (death metal) Cloak – The Burning Dawn (black metal/rock) Colpolscopy – Gor-Fi Sci-Fi (brutális death metal) Controversial – Revelation (melodikus deathcore) Cromlech – A Deep Dark Dream (death metal) Crypticus – The Feast of Absurdities (death metal) Cthonica – Typhomanteia: Sacred Triarchy of… (black/death metal) Damnatus – Quando nessuno ti aspetta nel mondo… (depresszív black metal) Daven – Ghosts of the Forgotten Realm (EP) (szimfonikus black metal) Dawhn – Depravation (progresszív doom/death metal) Dawn Ray’d – Behold Sedition Plainsong (black metal) Defacement – Defacement (EP) (blackened death metal) Denial of God – The Hallow Mass (black metal) Dictated – Phobos (death metal) Dimholt – Epistēmē (black metal) Dissorted – The Final Divide (melodikus thrash metal) Donggripper – The Unholy Union of Man and Riff (stoner/doom metal) Double Horse – The Great Old Ones (stoner/doom metal) Dragonfly – Zeitgeist (heavy/power metal) Earth and Pillars – Earth II (atmoszferikus black metal) Edellom – Sirens (gótikus/doom metal) Edenbridge – Dynamind (szimfonikus power metal) Enemynside – Chaos Machine (thrash metal) Exmortus – Legions of the Undead (EP) (tech. melod. thrash/death metal) Feed the Corpses to the Pigs – Anthology (EP) (death/black/thrash metal) Fit For An Autopsy – The Sea of Tragic Beasts (deathcore) Flukt – Darkness Devour (black metal) Frostmoon Eclipse – Worse Weather to Come (black metal) Gabestok – Tre (black metal) Galneryus – Into the Purgatory (power metal) Golgotha – Erasing the Past (death/doom metal) Gothenbvrg – End of an Era (EP) (depresszív black metal) Great Cold Emptiness – Québec (EP) (atmoszferikus funeral doom metal) Greedy Capitalist – Radical Denunciations (death/thrash metal) Grim Comet – Afterlife (doom metal/rock) Haystack – The Sacrifice (stoner metal/punk) Hevisaurus – Bändikouluun! (heavy/power metal, hard rock) Hollow Corpse – Hella Intoxicated (sludge/doom metal) Horrocious – Depleted Light and the Death of Uniqueness (black metal) Hour of Penance – Misotheism (technikás/brutális death metal) Imber Luminis – Same Old Silences (atmoszferikus/post-black metal) Incantations of Cadaver Mutilation – Let the Crows Pick… (EP) (black metal) Insania.11 – L’orrore (death/thrash metal) Jinjer – Macro (groove metal/alternatív Karyn Crisis’ Gospel of the Witches – Covenant (gótikus/doom metal) King of Lazy – King of Lazy (doom/stoner metal) Krowak – Enslaved by Disease (EP) (brutális death metal) LadyAxe – Underground (heavy metal) Lepergod – Impvro (death/black metal) Leprous – Pitfalls (progresszív metal/rock) Lowcaster – Flames Arise (stoner metal) Macabre Goat – Septem Ostiis Macabre (death metal) Malediction – Monstrosity (EP) (death metal) Mano de Piedra – Today’s Ashes (stoner metal/rock) MantisMass – Succumb to Rust (EP) (sludge/doom metal) Meltdown – Deadringer (groove metal/deathcore) Metalite – Biomechanicals (melodikus power metal) Moanaa – Torches (EP) (post-metal) Monoscream – Aeon (thrash/groove/death metal) Morgue Walker – Forgotten in Hellfrost (EP) (blackened death/grind) Naked Machine – Turn On the Ignition (heavy metal) Narcolepsia – Anomalía Cerebral (EP) (death metal) Navajo Witch – Volume III: Season of the Witch (sludge/doom metal) Nevaria – Finally Free (szimfonikus metal) Nightglow – Rage of a Bleedin’ Society (heavy/thrash metal) Non Plus Ultra – Crashing Curses (death/black metal) Noveria – Aequilibrium (progresszív power metal) Obsolete Humanity – Obsolete Humanity (EP) (death/groove metal) Ogre – Thrice as Strong (doom metal/hard rock) Ontôs On – Ontological Reform (black metal) Orodruin – Ruins of Eternity (doom metal) Paganizer – The Tower of the Morbid (death metal) Parkcrest – And That Blue Will Turn To Red (thrash metal) Plateau Sigma – Symbols – The Sleeping Harmony… (funeral doom/death) Praise the Sun – Alchemical Omen: Slave… (EP) (stoner/doom metal) Profetus – The Sadness of Time Passing (funeral doom metal) Purifying Torture – Overthrown Divinity (brutális death metal) Retreat Neurosis – Into the Mist (depresszív black metal) Rings of Saturn – Gidim (technikás deathcore) Ritual Steel – V (heavy metal) Rumahoy – Time II: Party (folk metal) Runemagick – Into Desolate Realms (death/doom metal) Savage Master – Myth, Magic and Steel (heavy metal) Scarification – The Dawn of the Mystic (EP) (black metal) Selenite – Mahasamadhi (funeral doom metal) Sepsis – Interdimensional Decay (death metal) Seven Kingdoms – Empty Eyes (EP) (power/thrash metal) Shartten – Sound of Fate (heavy/thrash metal) Sinal de Ataque – Herdeiros (heavy/speed metal) Skinlab – Venomous (nu-metal) Sølvgråbein – Restaurering av Europeisk magi (EP) (nyers black metal) Spells of Misery – Wretched Doom Above (black metal) Steve Blower – Back in Hell (heavy metal) Straight to Pain – Cycles (metalcore/death/groove metal) Strays – Time | Death | Void | Dream (sludge/doom metal) Striborg – In Deep Contemplation (blackened coldwave/elektronika) Stygian Vacuity – Oblivescence (blackened death metal) Sunn O))) – Pyroclasts (drone/doom metal) Synchronical – Forevermore (progresszív metal) Taiwaz – The Uninvited Guest (heavy metal) Tankrust – Opposite Terror (thrash/death metal/hardcore) Tardus Mortem – Engulfed in Pestilent Darkness (death metal) Temple – The Last Pact (black metal) The Great Old Ones – Cosmicism (post-black metal) The Lone Madman – Let the Night Come (doom metal) The Revenge Project – Deceit-Demise (progresszív black/death metal) The Scourge – Warrant for Execution (thrash/heavy metal) The Warinsane – Caprinae Dominus (EP) (death/thrash metal) Throatsnapper – About the Dead (sludge/doom metal) Tragic Death – Born of Dying Embers (EP) (melodikus black metal) Tree of Riffs – The Seed (EP) (southern/groove metal) Turbokill – Vice World (heavy metal) Tyrant Goatgaldrakona – Marquis of Evil (EP) (death metal) Uriel – Multiverse (szimfonikus metal) Vacivus – Annihilism (death metal) Vastum – Orificial Purge (death metal) Velvet Viper – The Pale Man Is Holding a Broken Heart (power/heavy metal) Vestibulum Vacuüi – Wie leeft, zal de dood nooit… (black metal) Victim of Fate – Rot ‘Em Roll! (EP) (speed metal) Vision Divine – When All the Heroes Are Dead (power/progresszív metal) Wald Krypta – Where None Remain (black metal) Wargoatcult – Armada Invencible (black metal) Wolves’ Winter – Spell of Necromancy (EP) (black metal)

What Is the Wrath of God?

In Tuesday’s Mass there was a reference to the wrath of God: The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness (Romans 1:18).

What is God’s wrath? It is spoken of often in Scripture but is a concept with which we must be careful. On the one hand, we cannot simply dismiss it as contrary to the fact that God is love, but on the other, we cannot deny that God’s wrath is unfit in terms of His love.

Let’s consider some aspects of the complex reality of the wrath of God. There is not enough space to cover the topic fully in a single post, so I welcome your additions and subtractions in the comments section, as always.

The wrath of God is not merely an Old Testament concept. In fact, it is mentioned quite frequently in the New Testament as well. Here are a few of the many New Testament passages:

Jesus said, “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains upon him” (John 3:36).

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord (Rom 12:19).

Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things [e.g., immorality] God’s wrath comes on those who are disobedient (Ephesians 5:6).

For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Thessalonians 5:9).

The angel swung his sickle on the earth, gathered its grapes and threw them into the great winepress of God’s wrath (Revelation 14:19).

Clearly, the “wrath of God” is not some ancient or primitive concept with which the New Testament has dispensed. Notice also that the wrath of God is not something reserved for the end of the world; it is spoken of as already operative in certain people.

What is God’s wrath, and how can we reconcile it with His love? Consider these explanations. Taken together, they can lead us to an overall understanding.

God’s wrath is His passion to set things right. We see an example of this right at the beginning, in Genesis, when God cursed Satan and uttered the protoevangelium: I will make you and the woman enemies … one of her seed will crush your head while you strike at his heel (Genesis 3:15). God is clearly angered at what sin has done to Adam and Eve, and He continues to have anger whenever He beholds sin and injustice. He has a passion for our holiness. He wants what is best for us and is angered by what hinders this. All sins provoke His wrath, but there are five that especially cry out to Heaven for vengeance: willful murder (Gen 4:10), the sin of the Sodomites (Gen 18:20, 19:13), the cry of the oppressed (Exodus 3:7-10); the cry of the foreigner, the widow, and the orphan (Ex 20:20-22), and injustice to the wage earner (Deuteronomy 24:14-5, James 5:4, Catechism of the Catholic Church # 1867). In terms of sin, injustice, and anything that hinders the possibility of salvation, God has a wrathful indignation and a passion to set things right. This is part of His love for us. His wrath may be manifested through punishment, disturbance of our conscience, or simply by allowing us to experience the consequences of our sin.

God’s wrath is not like our anger. In saying that God is angry we ought to be careful to understand that however God experiences anger (or any passion), it is not tainted by sin. God is not angry in the way that we are. When we get angry, we often lose control, saying and doing things that are excessive if not downright sinful. It cannot pertain to God to have temper tantrums, fly off the handle, or lash out unreasonably. The way God does experience anger is not something we can fully understand but it is surely a sovereign and serene act of His will, not an out-of-control emotion.

God is not moody. It does not pertain to God to have good days and bad days, good moods and bad ones. Scripture seems clear enough that God does not change. Consider this from the Book of James: Every good and perfect gift comes from above, from the Father of lights, in whom there is no variableness or shadow of turning (James 1:17). Hence, God’s wrath does not represent Him suddenly getting fed up, or His temper flaring, or His mood souring. He does not change; He is not variable.

God’s wrath is our experience of the total incompatibility of our sinful state before the holiness of God. Sin and God’s holiness just don’t mix; they can’t keep company. Think of fire and water; they cannot coexist in the same place. Bring them together and you can hear the conflict. Think of a small amount of water poured into a large fire: the water droplets sizzle and pop; steam rises as the water boils away. If there is a lot of water, the fire is overwhelmed and extinguished. The point is that they cannot coexist; they will conflict, and one will win. This is God’s wrath: the complete incompatibility of two things, sin and His utter holiness. We must be purified before entering His presence, otherwise we could not tolerate His glory. We would wail and grind our teeth, turning away in horror. The wrath is the conflict between our sin and God’s holiness. God cannot and will not change, so we must be changed or else we will experience wrath.

The primary location of God’s wrath is not in Him; it is in us. God does not change; He is holy and serene; He is love. If we experience His wrath it is on account of us, not Him.

It is we who change, not God, and this causes wrath to be experienced or not.

Consider the following example. On the ceiling of my bedroom is a fixture with a 100-watt light bulb. Before bed at night, I delight in the light; I become accustomed to it. At bedtime, I turn off the light and go to sleep. When I awake it is still dark, and I turn on the light. Now now it seems too bright, and I curse it. Obviously, the light itself has not changed; it is just as bright in the early morning hours as it was the previous evening. The light is the same, but I have changed. Yet do you know what I do? I blame the light, saying, “That light is so harsh!” The light is not any harsher than it was the night before when I was perfectly happy with it. Now that I have changed, I experience its “wrath,” but the wrath is really in me.

Now consider the experience of the ancient family of man with God. Adam and Eve walked with God in the cool of the evening when the dew collected on the grass (cf Gen 3:8). They had a warm friendship with Him and did not fear His presence. After sinning, they hid. Had God changed? No, they had. They now experienced Him very differently.

Fast forward to another theophany. God had come to Mt Sinai, and as He descended the people were terrified, for there were peals of thunder, lightning, clouds, and the blast of a trumpet. The people told Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen, but let not God speak to us, else we will die” (Ex 20:19). God, too, warned Moses that the people could not get close lest His wrath be vented upon them (Ex 19:20-25). Had God changed? No, He was the same God who had walked with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening in a most intimate way. It was we who had changed. We had lost the holiness without which no one can see the Lord (Heb 12:14). The same God, unchanged though He was, now seemed frightening and wrathful.

What, then, shall we do? If we can allow the image of fire to remain before us, we may well find a hopeful sign in God’s providence. If God is a holy fire, a consuming fire (cf Heb 12:26; Is 33:14), how can we possibly come into His presence? How can we avoid the wrath that would destroy us? Well, what is the only thing that survives in the presence of fire? Fire! It looks as if we’d better become fire if we want to see God. He sent tongues of fire upon the apostles and upon us at our Confirmation. God wants to set us on fire with the Holy Spirit in holiness. He wants to bring us up to the temperature of glory so that we can stand in His presence.

See, I will send my messenger, who will prepare the way before me. Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant, whom you desire, will come, says the LORD Almighty. But who can endure the day of his coming? Who can stand when he appears? For he will be like a refiner’s fire or a launderer’s soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; he will purify the Levites and refine them like gold and silver. Then the LORD will have men who will bring offerings in righteousness, and the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem will be acceptable to the LORD, as in days gone by, as in former years (Mal 3:1-4).

Indeed, Jesus has now come: For you have turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead—Jesus, who rescues us from the coming wrath (1 Thess 1:10-11).

So, there is a “wrath of God,” and it is more in us than it is in Him. I will not claim that there is no wrath in God. Scripture seems clear that wrath does pertain to God’s inner life. What exactly it is and how He experiences it is a mystery to us. We can say to some extent what it is not, but we cannot really say what it is exactly. A far richer point to meditate is that the wrath of God is essentially in us. It is our experience of the incompatibility of sin before God. We must be washed clean in the Blood of the Lamb and purified. Most of us will need purification in Purgatory, too. However, if we let the Lord work His saving work, we will be saved from the wrath, for we are made holy and set on fire with His love—and fire doesn’t fear the presence of fire. God is love, but He will not change; His love must change us

Breaking !  Pope Francis Declares Jesus 3rd Rate, under Mary.  Blatant Blasphemy against GOD !

The Utter Audacity of this man, to claim such power to declare, JESUS, 3rd rate, Below Mary, When God's Holy Word, His Pure Truth says, that there is but one Hope and this is in JESUS His Beloved Son, the ONLY way to the Father is thru JESUS, Period.  And this Pope who declared just weeks ago, by his own power, that 'he' abolished Heaven, Purgatory and Hell, from the Vatican, He made this Declaration, total slap in the face of GOD..  Sorry my friends, but this is Total Blasphemy, this Pope just Demoted the Son of GOD,  when GOD says, when we see Jesus, we see HIM/FATHER< and when we see the FATHER, we see the SAVIOR< they are one in the same, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,,,They are ONE !   This 'man' just acting as 'christ' on earth as the Catholic  Faith declares, Just put GOD/JESUS, under the feet of a mortal woman, the mother of JESUS.... UTTERLY False and Despicable...  This 'man' has put himself Above God, changes the order of God and is totally deceiving the people of the world, Stabbing God in the Back, Stabbing Jesus in the back.  How much longer will God stand back and allow such blatant power grabs, such declarations from a leader of the largest organised faith of the world, this is truly a man who is Demonic and a Puppet of Satan...He's declaring things as of late that go against his own admonished catholic faith, which proves, He is not of GOD and is a FALSE PROPHET !    Just Incredible what's happening as of late in this world,  JESUS/GOD will not allow it and just another sign that JESUS is coming to take HIS TRUE Followers Home So Very Soon...Hang on guys, we are seeing the very things GOD warned us of in His Holy Word, False Prophets coming in His Name and Changing things that will make this world more godless all the time.  This Pope just STABBED Every Catholic followers with an Ultimate Lie and it could mean and it will mean, that many Catholic faith followers will never see Heaven,  don't take my word for it, TRUTH GOD'S WORD,,,, GOD IS VERY CLEAR AS I SAID< OUR HOPE IS IN CHRIST ALONE< to say other wise is the work of SATAN !  GOD says so !

Listen up, God commands US to be Watchmen and Watchwomen, in that, WE MUST KEEP OUR EYES OPEN TO HIS TRUTH OR OTHERWISE BE DECEIVED.... JESUS Said Many Times, Flee from the False, Beware of Wolves in Sheep's clothing, that many will come in HIS Name and declare themselves Christ on Earth and this is EXACTLY what this man, this pope is doing and he has Damned himself and all who follow him in his teachings, his false teachings in the catholic faith..  This is so terrible, the souls who will be and are misled by a False Christ on Earth and this man, this pope is considered by Catholic Doctrine, that he is ,,,,, I said, he IS Declared by Catholic Doctrine to BE  Christ on EARTH !     This is utterly deadly to every catholic and non-catholic who believes this man to be a true messenger of GOD Almighty,  HE IS NOT !     By the TRUTH that is the HOLY WORD OF GOD<   GOD is Very Clear, Anyone declaring themselves to be Jesus or God, on Earth is of Satan, Period !   We are to flee from these false prophets, have nothing to do with them, renounce their teachings, renounce their faith, it is NOT OF THE ONE TRUE GOD... Or God will judge all False Followers to the same fate as SATAN and we all know where Satan ends up... GOD SAYS SO... GOD will Not allow any follower of a false prophet or false faith to ever enter HIS Kingdom of Heaven, NEVER !     Please,  Don't FALL from God's grace by following this False Prophet, for it only leads to Hell.  Eternity in Hell, Period!  GOD says so, not me, but GOD.  Trust God !  Only JESUS SAVES !  

Pope Francis Demotes Jesus Christ to Third, and Claims Mary as the Source of Our Hope     (click here on this link )

Pope Francis, the Jesuit, now claims that mother mary is the source of our hope, and not Jesus Christ. The absolute blasphemy sustained in this statement should make every catholic repent and turn to the truth; The Bible, rather than the doctrine of lies, the catholic church.

Tag: Last Line XVIII

Thanks for the tag, @dotr-rose-love, even if it was a long time ago.

The following is from the next part of The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory.

Rules: Write the last sentence in your current WIP.

Whatever shred of sanity I cling to cannot endure the strain of reason.

Tagging: Anyone who wants to play. Also: @zmlorenz, @worldbuildng, @sassypandacandy, and @writingmyassoff.

D

The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory - Part 4

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Find me a woman who can speak to the spirit of Death. I'll go to her and find out what's going to happen.

I have done a foolish thing. The Call echoed too strongly through the rocks and the sea for me to resist its summons a moment longer. The night after the Other arrived it thrummed through the resonant stone and beckoned me follow.

Come. Come closer, it said.

I tried to snuff it out with mud, and resorted to pounding my skull against the cliff until my eyes went wet with blood, but still it would not quiet.

Follow me, it said. Do not tarry. I will bring you home.

And how could I resist? What right did I have to ignore it? If I was ever meant to leave; it was then, with the Other slumbering in the palm grove, and the wind low and swaying through the reeds beside Cassilda’s broken spine.

I visited my love for comfort, and wondered if she’d beg me to let the Call go unanswered, as she had a thousand times before. Not without her, she’d told me. Together, not before. That is what she used to say.

I may be back again, I said, and soon. But if I don’t return, do not worry. I will find you in the end. My heart will always come back to you.

She had no words for me. She’d had none since the island snapped her neck and mangled the song that once billowed in her sails. But still I knelt beside her and said goodbye.

On the other side of the bamboo forest, beneath the bending palms, the first discordant whiskers emerged above the Other’s lips, and I thought at once of my third morning on the island, when I yearned to shave the shadows off. But perhaps he had a razor with him, in what remained of his kit bag there at his feet.

Best slit his throat now, and be done with it.

But no. It was not my right to take his life. That choice was his only real possession anymore. Now that the island had taken him in. I let him sleep soundly one last time, before the Call started whispering to him at night and flooding his dreams with thoughts of home.

He rolled over so his back was to the smoldering remains of the fire he’d built.

Enjoy the warmth while you can, I whispered, before the cold turns your heart to ice.

Better we didn’t know each other. It would be hard, if we knew each other. I would not have liked to leave him how my fellows left me. But we didn’t know each other. I could find solace in that. Encouragement, even. Perhaps he would find Cassilda, and resurrect her—succeed where I had failed—and once she was ready they could leave together. I would like that for her.

When I started to climb the rocks, the sea rose, and the island began to quake as it grew suspicious of my intentions. It did not suffer traitors gladly. It has never done.

A flicker of a thought passed. Turn back. Wake him, it said.

And I nearly did.

We have always been opposed, you and I, I told the island. But if my destiny lies on your shores at least I can make you work for it.

It would not do to dwell now that my mind was made. Not now the island knew for truth that which my heart held dear. The Call—and my drive to answer it—was always my purpose, not to rot here for eternity.

And so I climbed. And the island got mean.

The beast was where the Other left it, sloppily moored adrift in the rain-swept firth beyond the Devil’s Backbone—a spine of razor rock spires, always slick with brine—and the beast was scared, for it shrieked in a pained iron voice that cut through the din as the island tried to trap it in the shallows.

Thunder rent the sky in half.

The wind hollowed me out.

Shuddering went the waves that crashed.

I was not going to stop. Not for tremoring earth, nor sky. So I ventured out onto the crest of a crag a hundred feet above the bank—where the Backbone below broke the surf into an eddied, vicious place—and poised myself to leap, but the lightning must have shattered the ridge because I went tumbling end-over-end at the sound of a blast and a light so bright it burned my eyes. Shrapnel sliced straight through my clothes. I caught a whiff of singed hair. Then I slapped into the surf with a force I’d not known, and choked on a lungful of fear and salt.

A swell dragged me back and under before rolling me over and out into a sharp, slick rock which punctured bone. I screamed, but no one heard, as my blood mingled with the fire of brine.

Emerging from the sea like the trident of Poseidon, a rock came forth and pierced the iron beast, and so its scream joined mine.

But I was not done.

I kicked off the rock and water flooded my wound, and I winced, but I would not surrender to the cold and the heat and the malevolent tones of the island’s maddening squalor. Come back, it demanded. Come back at once.

I chewed back a curse, and spake out its name, and whispered to it between coughs and sputters, But I am a traitor now. And in your heart you will always know that is true.

Twice my legs failed to propel me through the chaotic shallows. They came undone beneath me and drifted apart like a boiled frog’s legs, and in my heart burned an incorrigible fear—that I would wake up on the sand as I had always done. And I hated that fear. I’d been weak. Foolish. I allowed the Call of the World to give me hope when there was none to be had.

I stole away still, and climbed a black netting left dangling from the beast’s scratched nose. The wind bucked, the rocks pierced, and the beast screamed, and I would have fallen if not for the grace of my own quickness. I tangled my legs in knots when the swells brought the beast yawing and dipped me beneath the water again. When finally I reached the top, I scraped myself over the taffrail like a knife with too much butter and dropped in a heap of softened muscle upon the iron deck, where the beastly groans beneath popped and strained against the island’s unrelenting scorn.

Lightning arced through the upper atmosphere as dark and terrible clouds gathered there, as if conjured. And I dragged myself moaning to a crooked stand on the bow, which seemed ever so much higher than it did from below. Waves broke the deck, and sent me into a shambling run for the cabin door, which was heavy, and metal, and grey. It groaned at the joints when I leaned on it, and here I now sit, in a pile at the wheel of the ship.

The controls I don’t know.

The manuals and books are penned in a dialect I do not recognize or try to decipher. With each pull of a lever and press of a button, the island responds in kind, as if on a lark I dared out to the beast, and expects me to come slinking back.

And now a mighty boon comes—a light in the shape of a star. And the gauges react and an engine ignites, and the wheel is responding too.

But its pace is a crawl, and the island is sick, and it sends onto me its force undiluted, and rolling now, iron into stone, as the nose points out to see. And a shriek of hatred bellows behind as I find what throttles the beast.

Behind us, water frothing, the island cannot pursue, but I hear its curses as I speed onward and over the swells near the reef. And when the beast and I crest, I hear it croon in apprehension, and we plummet and carve a path down and away, and for a moment there’s no island in sight, and I cannot believe my fortune.

But then we come back up, and its there again, and usually not where I left it. First aft, then abeam starboard and port, and then before us, waiting again.

And to my displeasure it seems no further away. But then I hear something on the edge of the wind, and come out of the cabin to spy it. Some distance on, below a shrouded blood moon, is the edge, the end, the great line before the horizon.

Over the Edge the waves thunder, down and beyond forever. And what first is fear becomes snarling cheers, as I push the beast on to meet her. The Edge of the World. The End. The Plummet.

I know not what to name it. But beyond that barrier, I hear the Call of the World, and I know now I can escape this place, just as the others before me left me behind, so would I leave the island, and the Other to be its companion.

The firelight on the southern shores has been doused by the island’s torrential frenzy. The Other can be its keeper now. I have no more desire to waste away in that wretched place. It can suffer with him, as I did with it.

The beast groans, and yields to waves taller than I’ve ever seen. I plow through them with a tooth-baring grin, and bellow at the top of my lungs, I’ve heard your plight, island, and I feel for you not. Surely this cannot be all you can muster!

Then the island shrieks its horrid gales, and sends rain down like bullets to welt and dent, and splatter. The waves rise higher than the peak of the island, and lightning spiderwebs across the bow like a furious gossamer trap, but we slide right through; it must be desperate now, it’s trying harder than ever before.

But the Call is just beyond the Edge of the World, past the Plummet, and it rumbles up through my feet. And here now, at the penultimate peak, I gaze down upon the thundering roar of water falling forever, down and away, and my heart opens to it.

We float atop this crest, the beast and I, for an age onto another. A bright age so beautiful my eyes fill with tears, as finally we start to tip over.

A mighty roar breaks the vessel in two, and the World twists ninety degrees. I come to the Plummet, and I cry and I shake at the joy of the moon hanging in a void of black emptiness.

A starless black sea before me.

The roar of the Edge, behind.

The Call of the World echoes with it, through the bones of the beast, left churning above, and I nosedive into oblivion.

Tag: Last Line IX

Thanks for your patience, @zmlorenz​. This is from part four of my short story The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory.

Rules: Write the last sentence in your current WIP.

Enjoy the warmth while you can, I whispered, before the cold turns your heart to ice.

Tagging: @writingmyassoff, @erinisawriter, @sassypandacandy, @kibberswrites, @chivalin, @leofailsatwriting, @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz. More to come. A lot to catch up on while I was on vacation.

Feel free to participate, if you’d like.

D

Tag: Last Line VI

Thanks for tagging me @majesticduckie!

Took longer than I wanted to put this out there because I’ve been heavily outlining the second draft of Coldwater Sound, but here it is!

This is from the next part of my short story, The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory. If you want to read the first two parts, you can find them here, and here.

Rules: Write the last sentence in your current WIP and tag as many people as there are words.

Bodies came in with the tides today.

I’ll tag @hopelessheavens, @inferno-of-fantasy-writing, @thewritingwarrior, @d4devine, @leave-her-a-tome, @hilunawrites, @writingmyassoff if you all wanna do it.

D

Tag: Word Hunt II

Thanks for the tag @bethwrotethis​, I’ve been keen try this one since I first saw it floating around. You gave me the words: forever, sorry, aftermath, and empty.

DISCLAIMER: No appearance of the word aftermath in my WIPs, so I used a random word generator and received the word wretched.

Rules: Find where you have the words in your WIP, and share passages you like that include them.

From The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory:

The days begin with my sinking heart. Despite myself, I cannot outrun the hope that the Call will make good on the promises it whispers to me in the dead of night, that it will deliver me from these shores, back to the World, where I belong. My bitterness toward its inaction borders on loathing. In my waking hours, I curse its presence as the machinations of a malevolent spirit hell-bent on prolonging my suffering. But always, I crawl back to it, and weep and beg for it to hear me.

Take me home, I tell it. Take me home, and I will love you forever.

From Coldwater Sound:

“Whichever God you fear lass,” he rasped, “I don’t think you fear him enough.”

The world went deep blue. Dawn was coming.

“I thought going to the sound was the right thing to do,” I said. “I’m sorry I almost got us killed.”

“Almost?” He shook in a coughing fit. “Right thing to do would have been to return to—” His face pinched in pain.

I took my bag off, and retrieved the laudanum. “For the pain.”

His fingers fumbled around the bottle, too weak to grip it. I uncapped it, and tipped it to his lips. He pursed them out, and hungrily drank from the bottle. I eased off after two sips, and he lurched, wrapping his hand around my arm. He locked his stare with mine, until he downed the entire bottle.

A tear streaked down my face.

“Don’t cry for me,” he said. “Fever wouldn’t be the worst to come from tonight. Pneumonia, these...sodding logs,” he said, trying to raise his mangled legs. He tried to smile, but his eyes were fogging.

From The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory:

I have tried to leave this

wretched

place more times than I can bear to remember. But no matter how far I fling myself from the cliffs, I wake up on the shore—dehydrated and weary—with the waves licking my ankles, and the scorching sun blazing overhead. Some days, the stretches of sand make me scream, but this only serves to tear up my throat, and makes swallowing what little water I have an irritating ritual. I have tried to go without it, but the headaches are maddening, and all efforts to desiccate myself only make my lips crack and bleed. Instead of crying away the delirium, I often lie on my back, and pray for the tides to sweep me out to sea with the rest of them.

From Coldwater Sound:

I told him what I knew. How her room had been found empty—before a get-together at the family homestead last Thursday evening. Her window, left open, just slightly. A stain—deep lavender—across her linens. The meadowlark amulet missing from her mother’s lockbox. The cottier, who heard screams through the wood on Friday last, and found a child-sized shoe dislodged in the muck, beside a set of wide, bare footprints—that led straight into Coldwater Sound.

I’ll tag @leofailsatwriting, @erinisawriter, @doux-ciel, and @ghost-possum for this. If you so choose, your words are: please, breath, loose, and burn.

D