Woman in Red: Magdalene Speaks

by Krishna Rose

  “What can be done for them?” I cried.

  “Their judgements are fixed, Mary. It is too late. There is nothing that can be done here. If you knew of the atrocities which they were party to, you would not weep for them. Their punishment is just. But know this, the Lord’s hand is not behind what you see here. This is a justice system without error. Each man hath his own penalties invoked. Hence, from here go forth and teach the world these lessons, so that they shall choose goodness and godliness to avoid certain peril.”

  As the High-Priest spoke these words, emaciated souls grasped at my heels, shouting blasphemy at me. Shocked, I screamed out, kicking them away. Immediately, the sinister winged serpents swooped down on them, driving the wayward prisoners back into the fires below.

  I couldn’t help but feel so sorry for them, for my eyes and ears could not shut out the truthful laments of the damned.

  “Come Mary, there is still more to see,” he said persuasively. It was only by his willingness and strength that I continued on.

  In the air above us, great whirling tunnels hurled thousands of lost souls into Hell’s chambers of misery. ‘How had humanity come to this? That so many would cleave themselves knowingly from decency and honor,’ I wondered. The infernal regions, as well as souls being unloaded here, seemed to me, to be never-ending.

  “How long must they suffer here?” I asked spellbound.

  “It depends on their crime,” the High-Priest shouted over the din. “Those who drink the blood of Satan’s sacrifice, are deservedly imprisoned here for banqueting on blood for the sake of long life, power, or fame. Their crimes are here repaid in due course of time, and most are quite contrite when they are returned to life. That I can assure you.

  “Needless to say, some fools return here again and again of their own volition. For upon returning to life, they repeat the punishments they suffered in Hell, scouting for victims with whom they forcefully reenact their vile attraction to pain. Such stupidity hath no end. Tempted by Molek and Satan, it is for their followers that this place exists at all—and rightly so.

  “Our only shelter is the throne of God, which is a place of refuge for the pious and holy. Teach the people to throw themselves upon the pyre of faith, beseeching the Lord to have mercy on them. Do not be hopeless Mary, for the Seven Veils will in due course endow you with the keys of deliverance by which you may unchain those who are bound.”

  “But how can I advise people to relinquish their pleasure-seeking for an everlasting happiness promised in the future? What hope is there for the weak-minded and weak-willed?”

  “People are like trees with their roots turned up and their branches turned down. They know not where true nourishment is to be found. First unbind your own self Mary, and then with the conquering axe of detachment, you may liberate others from their hardship.”

  Gargoyle beasts with human-like faces came to lay eyes on us, curious of who these travelers in their lands were. Perched on the edge of the arcane thorn trees, they were taking note of all the goings on with their eager eyes. They were shape-shifters—horned creatures, ugly to behold, with sharp teeth, bony wings and long snouts.

  Falling to my knees, I pleaded the Lord for mercy, not knowing how else to come to terms with such evil. My imploring prayers climbed the smoky winds, hovering over the faithless souls suggestively. And as I did so, a mighty desire ignited in my heart, and a cooling stream of solemn petitioning flowed from my lips unto the Lord’s ears. ‘He must hear me.’

  A light came from the center of my stomach and spread throughout my body via the medium of my veins, carrying waves of healing to my limbs. Slowly lifting my head up and then my body, the darkness was suddenly not so dark and thousands upon thousands of souls rose up with me, cheering joyfully—for beside me stood Jesu!

  Addressing the sea of criminals, raising his arms authoritatively, he spoke to their pain.

  “You are not free,” he told them, “because the demon of prideful wrath has held you in illusive vanity.” Everything was suddenly silent. Even the winds and fires stilled.

  “You have made it to the path of remorse by your just punishment” he called to them, his thunderous voice echoing through the pits. “Be now confronted with the truth of your own true nature, and thus be freed and mourn no more.”

  Souls came forward, weeping bitterly, thanking him over and again for his mercy. “Satan, be gone from these penitent souls!” Jesu commanded. And as they raised their hands into the air to receive his blessing, his words struck the reptiles living within them.

  Rods of lightning shot out of his raised hands and the slimy black bodies of serpents writhed in the pits, unravelling from their limbs, falling to the ground—rejected by he who has more authority than their master. Some of the beasts, having two heads, hissed and growled, whimpering off into the dark landscape to seek shelter from the grace which now vibrated throughout this hellish kingdom. My body shook. A flood of relief overcame me and I collapsed to the ground. Jesu’s arms caught me.

  “It is done, Mary. All here are born anew by your willingness to bear witness. By your compassionate pleadings, the Lord hath called me here to set them free by the exhortations of your will. You have seen things that shall forever set you apart. You are cleansed, and now you too hold the fount of infinite healing balm by which to quench the thirst of the world,” he said clutching me in his arms.

  A radiance reflected in his face and I reeled in gratitude—for after such darkness came such a light.

  “Now you can fathom the urgency in me to reach far and wide with the message of salvation. I use my life force for the benefit of others, else I would cry at the waste—for millions of souls scream out for my help. Perhaps you do not hear them, but I hear them constantly!” Jesu cried.

  “I understand you so much more than before, husband. I was selfish in my youth, and now I feel ashamed for all the times I cried like a child for your attention,” I admitted. And he kissed me, grateful that I understood him.

  “Close your eyes Mary. Feel the angels of the air as they bless you. Allow the sensation of their cooling beauty to bathe you in their peace. Now open your eyes and tell me what you see,” he instructed.

  Doing as he bid, I was no longer in the darkest region of Hell, but upon a sandy shore beside still waters. In the sky were countless faces.

  “What do you see?” Jesu asked pointing to the sky above, ablaze with curiosity.

  “There’s an old man. His eyes are closed and he has a large hooked nose. His mouth is open. He seems to be dead. Beside him is another man whose face is long, and though his eyes are open, there are no eyes, just a dark vacancy where once his eyes would have been. His mouth is also open and he too appears to be dead. I see animals—a bird, a dog, sheep, and horses with wings,” I told him.

  “Mary, what you see are the many faces of death. Having completed a life, these souls have now returned to incarnate. Gathering together, they form what we know as clouds in the sky, which pour unto the earth as drops of rain. As the souls fall, so too is their fate conceived. For if the spirit enters a man through the medium of food, it becomes semen and once again has a chance of life within a woman’s womb. All souls hope for the good fortune of a human life—however, if a soul finds itself upon a herb that is eaten by a bull, who then impregnates a cow with his semen—then again the soul has a chance at birth, but in that of a calf’s body.

  “Then there are those who may land upon dry ground. Their fate is to again become a cloud, to fall upon the earth as many times as fate dictates—or until they understand the true value of human life. The pleadings of these souls follow me, such that I cannot rest. For me it is a very great burden. But this is who I am. This is what I came for. God willed it for me. Now you see as I see . . . so you understand” h
e cried, tears streaming down his sunburned face as he shared with me his burden.

  “I had no idea how vast the suffering was, until now,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “Is this how all souls return to earth?” I asked, amazed by what he had described.

  “Yes, Mary. It is a perfect design, in which every detail is taken care of with great attention, so that no soul lands by mistake in any given situation. It is magnetically arranged according to each soul’s kismet. People like us preach passionately, because the living do not realize what they have. I have come to help them end these cycles forever.”

  A circle of thick mist surrounded me and once more I stood beneath the two oaks. The roots of the trees, like snakes, hung in the air above me, writhing, while the trunks stood tall, like sentinels.

  Though Jesu was gone from my sight, I was grateful to have seen him.

  CHAPTER 35

  HELL—VEIL FIVE

  When we come into the world of the living, we are all of us born pure and filled with light. Then we enter the master plan of those who rule, and their wish more than any other, is to sully our cleanliness.

  They wish to lock away our light, campaigning hard to

  consume and profit from us.

  My dance through the seven veils of Hell, changed my attitudes and perspective about everything. And though the experience was at times undoubtedly harrowing, I was nearing my final lessons. Soon the seven veils of Heaven would be upon me—and that was something which spurred me on.

  Veil five is where I would face greed in all its slithery vessels of deception. It was a foggy, cold, and obscure place. The air was hazy, making it difficult to see. A blood-curdling cackling sound in the distance, declared my arrival, as soldiers of death crept up on me in a solemn march. With Jesu, I had encountered more than a few disembodied spirits who liked to do people harm, yet now I found myself so fearful that I dared not look behind me to face what was there—for such danger did I suppose was upon me.

  The soldiers of death surrounded me in a tight circle. Their black hooded robes floating eerily on the wind, feet never touching the ground. Their eyes, even from within the shadows, were threatening and deeply disturbing, causing me to doubt a good outcome. I backed away, entreating them for mercy, announcing my valid reasons for being there—but they just laughed in a most hideous snarl, heeding me not.

  In unison, their ghoulish hands picked me up with formidable strength, as if I were but a feather. Holding me above their heads, they carried my prostrate body in mournful ceremony, as if I were dead. I lay still as a rod, unflinching, despite the uneasy sinking feeling I had inside. As they filed forward to the throb of a disquieting drumbeat, with me firmly held in their grip, I surrendered, risking a lesser danger than the terror which clutched at my throat.

  Speedily, they moved across the mysterious landscape with me as their captive. Their touch made my skin crawl. Their putrid smell sickened me. Terror, by its nature, is almost impossible to hide, yet my hypervigilance told me to remain unaffected in their presence—for I sensed that they feasted on fear.

  The region was savage, rough, and fear inducing. Sin hung in the air like a frost—the dam of kindness had burst and its absence chilled me to the bone.

  “Lord protect me . . .” I whispered.

  As if in response to my summons, a light descended from the dusky sky, growing bigger and brighter as it neared. The soldiers of death instantly stopped their doleful march laying me upon the ground, wafting off into the distance without looking back. ‘Strange,’ I thought. ‘What kind of onerous tribulations lie here?’

  The High-Priest emerged from within the center of the light, like a mirage. “Hurry,” he said, taking my arm in his.

  Whispers from within the shadows spooked me, as strange alarmingly human-like beings, like a trick on the eyes, crept between the twisted trees—their crimson eyes staring unblinkingly from behind their profound misfortune.

  The High-Priest set off at a frightful pace, sensing we were being followed, eventually reaching the edge of a narrow ravine. Sweeping bridges crossed from one side of the valley to the other, over a placid river that shone like glass in the mysterious light. The dawn of new beginnings and the absolution of old bonds flickered hopefully on the water’s surface, as the mouth of the river, opening wide, whirled downward, sucking souls into its watery vortex. Hoarse from pain, they cried out—dragged down by the revolving forces of fate.

  In the distance, an angelic choir echoed promises of decency and freedom. The dichotomy of this was clear, though the souls seemed unwilling or unable to reach for the assurance of relief, which was irrefutably accessible to all—at least to my senses it seemed to be so.

  “Here we shall bear witness to the plight of human greed, that you may discern the dangers of materialism in its most crooked manifestations,” the High-Priest said, forcibly jumping off the cliff’s edge with me in tow.

  My perception of time distorted, as hurtling into the eye of the whirlpool, we fell in slow motion. The forceful current of the water’s gravitational pull, made it impossible for me to breathe, while its icy-cold substance bit at my skin. The High-Priest’s firm grip on me was the only reassurance I had, as together we were propelled through the center of the funnel—casting ourselves down into the watery depths. Suddenly he let go.

  I came to a grinding halt far beneath the water’s surface. A compressive pressure invading every inch of my body. My head pounded. The immense darkness reinforced the deathly silence which was upon me. I was desperate to take a breath, yet I was falling further and further into the bowels of the earth which threatened to swallow me whole. The High-Priest was nowhere to be seen. I was alone. Serene.

  There is something out of the ordinary found within that special soul who seeks for the divine. For they willingly place faith in its entirety, unquestionably accepted, in the Lord’s very capable loving arms. Finding courage in the face of the darkest hardships by the rush of their own unflinching pursuit of devotion, they find the Lord and are relieved by Him.

  The intensity of the cold was replaced by my urgency for air, as I drifted amidst the swaying strands of water weeds, their sharp vines twisting themselves around my legs, grabbing hold determinedly. I let out one final breath, watching as it slowly drifted upward in a succession of bubbles from whence it had come. I was being tested. The High-Priest was still out of sight, as was air. Death was imminent.

  ‘Mourn not for the passing of a life well lived,’ a voice whispered.

  Suddenly, without cause, I was able to breathe. I knew not how, nor did I care, for I was grateful to be alive.

  As I regained my composure, there before me, confined inside cages suspended on chains, anchored to the marrow of the deep, were droves of villains—held prisoner. Swaddled in what appeared to be burial wrappings, mummified, only their swollen, downcast eyes were free to roam. Trapped inside a tiny crate, each wrongdoer was forced to relive the sins of their past, recounting each detail of their crimes until they could bear the weight of guilt no more. Still, repeatedly, they begrudgingly endured, only so as to withstand the price of penance.

  The High-Priest at long last appeared, and as always, I was reassured by his calming presence. The hostages’ eyes followed our every move—for we were curiously free. I decidedly looked each one of them square in the eye, to encounter their difficulty, wondering what unfortunate series of events had brought them here. Their critical gaze implored me to liberate them.

  “We have not come here to interfere with the laws of justice,” the High-Priest reminded me, speaking to me from within his mind. “Greed leads people to do outlandish things,” he said. “These souls stole, raped, kidnapped, maimed, and killed—for greed. They were fanned by a need to covet what others had, so they
cheated and lied to relish in indulgences which led them to commit all manner of crimes. Here they do penance, weighted down by time, until their avarice is repaid coin for coin—life for life.”

  With the increasing pressure, my heart began to beat loudly. Was it the weight of their crimes or the fact that the waters were thick with secrets aching to be told, which oppressed, nay, suffocated me? For suddenly, all I wished for, more than anything, was the ignorance of sleep. Never had I known such apathy. Yet my task was to remain awake. To witness hidden things, so that the paralyzing fear of darkness would have no more prey.

  I knew clear as day that I would have to brave the insufferable sorrows of Hell, so that the dawn of virtue would find a way to extinguish the blanket of blackness which had taken hold of humankind.

  Unexpectedly, an enormous sea creature swooped down on us, electric with power, thrusting us aside forcefully. Having two large twisted horns upon its head, and a lithe scaled body, the beast seemed hungry for repayment. A party of strange sycophant goblin sharks, with sizable protruding jaws, long snouts, and teeth sharp as spears, followed behind in tow.

  The hostages remained very still as the creatures prowled between them, without empathy. I presumed for having seen what happens to those who squirm pointlessly. Darting between the living dead, nudging the cages, playing with them like toys, they had come to deliver the dark mirror of justice. These destitute earthly treasure hunters, had found no treasure—but the stark reality of greed’s bitter sting.

  “Sinner! Offender! Gossip! Lawbreaker! Traitor! Forger! Thief! Liar! Cheat! Murderer! Miser!” the goblin sharks called out. The harsh voices of truth campaigned to have the condemned pay for their crimes as the waters filled with blame, faultfinding, and criticism. Insults were hurled at the fettered criminals, as the beasts rallying together, surrounded each of the terrified dead in turn.