Legacy of Judas - Book One

by Aragon, Christian

  … An infant with the power of the Devil at her tiny fingertips. Who would've ever have thought such a thing?!

  “Isn’t this just wonderful?” I thought to myself sarcastically as I stared at the infant. “We have this new form to experience, but our leash is shorter than it ever was in Hell.” I can only hope, should this child grow up and actually put the book to use in her life, perhaps she gives us some slack in our bond so I may get a bit of enjoyment out of this new form.

  She has a name now; Victoria. Victoria Nyles, daughter to Thomas and Martha Nyles.

  Journal entry X

  I have not taken the time or spent the energy needed to write for some time. We’d become bored of the little bitch-child shortly after her birth and decided to further explore our new form and new surroundings instead, well, as much as we could. There’s so much fun to be had, but so little opportunity to have it. Fortunately there's a tremendous amount of knowledge to also explore, especially given all the time we've been away from the mortal world.

  Over the past couple of years it's been fun for us to imagine ourselves as being visible in this form everywhere the Nyles take little Victoria. The pediatrician visits; I love sitting next to the other moms and pretending to engage with them about all the juicy gossip. Going to the grocery stores has been a tremendous help in learning how to read a spattering of other languages down the ethnic food aisles.

  My personal favorite though; church! If those people had any idea I was sitting among them, or if they knew how many demons were attached to the parishioners in there, including their loudmouth pastor! HA! Nearly a third of that house has demons like parasites hooked into their souls. Husbands. Wives. Grandpas and grandmas. Brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles.

  Only one per household though. Two demons under one roof just causes things to go awry in stupid ways. Soon mom is plotting to drown the children in the bathtub while dad is plotting something truly gruesome for the entire household. Then who gets which souls in Hell?

  Children are rarely hooked into. But when they are it’s only by demons particularly suited for that work when they are hooked. Even when a demon does start influencing a child, it’s something that builds well into their teens, and longer if it can be sustained. Those demons sometimes put decades into the failing of a mortal, and so very rarely does one ever escape.

  By and large, mortals have become so much easier to influence as time has passed! Their lives have become more and more convoluted with … with … things. They’re distracted easily. They’re moving away from the collection of knowledge and towards continual instant gratification.

  But it would be careless of us to only concern ourselves with how mortals are spiritually fucking themselves with so many other things to explore. Our favorite pastime for some time has been the seriously fascinating subjects mortals have come to take for granted.

  We were so incredibly naïve about the spectrum of animals and plants living on this spherical planet while we were alive! Tom’s library on wildlife, plant and tree life, the oceans, insects and arachnids and even the universe itself have provided fodder for epic discussions within the book concerning the connections between the mortal plain and what we know from the texts of the book and even of Hell. It all makes us wish mortals could spend just one day in Hell. Those mortals would stop taking this planet, and each other, for granted in a heartbeat. But the weaknesses of character and the influences of demons doing as they've been taught and commanded have this world on a set path, so no sense dwelling there.

  The architectural designs and physical structures going all the way back to our times and beyond have been another great source of joys for us to babble about to no end. Though some of us have seen a few great structures in our previous mortal lives, we had no idea so much had been accomplished by so many around the world from then and to this time in history.

  Then there are the museums! It's like with everything else; the arts, architecture, math and sciences – most especially those of beasts and creatures great and small, the literature, and then all these things converging into a cranial-cramming cornucopia chronicling creativity and creations carved, crafted, and colored by creators … creators.

  Creators.

  Lost myself for a moment there. Museums. Art exhibits. The Nyles love taking Victoria to the exhibits even though she's not old enough to really comprehend much of what she sees beyond the pretty colors. They do everything they can to give her mind exercise and inspiration. They believe what she sees and hears now is like planting seeds which will grow into fruit trees for her later. The museums and art exhibits are the fruits of trees planted for hungry minds; some of those trees are thousands and thousands of years old, but still bearing fruits to be plucked and nourished by.

  Tom and Martha also frequently take Victoria to the zoo, and those trips are somewhat of a pleasure for us. We've found the wildlife at the zoos is aware of us being there. We're not sure if they're just sensing the book’s presence or if they can outright see us with the Nyles family, but it's obvious the animals are at very least on edge unless we do what we can to stay out of sight. We enjoy the animals; seeing them up close, breathing, eating, warming themselves in the sun and as contented with their enclosures as they can be, so we hide behind bushes and trees or walls of enclosures where the animals can't see so long as we’re within the distance allotted from Victoria.

  When the animals don't know we're there with the Nyles family something peculiar happens, and it's primarily aimed at Victoria. They all seem somewhat attracted to her. Maybe attracted is too strong of a word. They seem at ease with her in their presence.

  Very recently Victoria let go of Martha’s hand and went into one of the little man-made coves at the gorilla enclosure. It was shady there on a warm day, and there's a large pane of safety glass allowing people to be at ground level with the gorillas. The pane is framed in a faux rock creating a seat large enough for a certain little girl to sit on. She had no fear as several of the apes were close to the window already seemingly watching her. Tom and Martha stood back to watch as Victoria sat in the window frame with her back against the pane, and then gently leaned her turned head back resting her face against the window. A couple of the apes started to approach, but then hesitated as from one side the Silverback appeared. He was calm, but obviously master of his domain. Then he sat with his back against the pain, and he let his turned head rest back against the window. Were there no glass there Victoria and the Silverback would've been sitting cheek to cheek and calmly contented in doing so. Victoria’s second birthday party was planned for the following day, but this moment was already to be the most special of these two days.

  Just as with her first birthday, these people celebrated it with guests and all sorts of decorations, commotions, and a tremendous amount of food. We’re not sure when this tradition of celebrating one’s anniversary of being pushed out into the world started, but it must be something designed to lessen the harshness of the realities of living. From the conversations between the other parents, these celebrations are commonplace. Also from the conversations between the other parents, there’s also an underlying current of jealousy and inferiority complexes at work. They’re always quietly trying to outdo one another with their children’s celebrations.

  Aside from the educational exercises and excursions Victoria’s first two years have proven to be little more than a long series of drooling, pooping, puking, whining, waking everyone at the oddest hours of the night, peeing profusely just about anywhere except where she probably should, playing hard, sleeping harder – while everyone else is awake, and treating food items as toys and projectiles. Because of her we’ve become acutely aware of the rising and setting of the sun — something we haven’t had to get used to since our own mortal lives.

  Perhaps I expect too much from this child. Perhaps she is the village idiot I feared her to be because of this changed world and despite all the mental stimulation. Many souls within the book remember two year-olds from
their lives milking goats as the sun broke the horizon. This one sneezes and the contents of her nose ends up swinging from her chin.

  The changes of these times, compared to when last we saw our little corner of the world, are impossible to fully grasp while tied so tightly to this little beast. People are so much more sensitive to so many things which didn’t matter so long ago, and they’re seemingly oblivious to so many things they should be much more aware of, and then they’re completely insensitive to yet more things which shouldn’t be held in such light regard. But this is their choice. They can destroy themselves, or they can thrive. The answers are right in front of them either way.

  Being in the part of the country we are there’s an abundance of greenery throughout all the seasons. Photography has become a great friend to our eyes and minds. Seeing seasons change lush green leaves into warm oranges, yellows, and reds, and then blanketing the ground as a precursor to an unfathomable number of snowflakes silently laying down into a drapery of cold purity. Lakes of blue crystal clearness begging to quench summer’s heat. Snow-capped mountains and a cabin in the woods with a warm fire. Beach bungalows in the ocean off the white beaches …

  Seeing the elements of the world and the heavens as God Himself designed and created them has been a wonder we all obviously took for granted during our former life times, but we were also so incredibly ignorant to their diversity. Beasts of all manner, shapes and sizes from the smallest insects to the great whales of the oceans … OCEANS!!! There’s not so much of this world we knew, nor did we know to ask about. Life was so much larger all those millennia ago. These last couple of years though, being around this kid and her learned family, we’ve come to know so much more than we ever knew possible.

  But evermore the transgressions of men and women, though much better hidden from their neighbors who surround them, are present and accounted for. In some instances I’ve witnessed firsthand the obviousness of people blinded either by trickery or choice.

  Willful ignorance is by far one of the worst acts to let occupy one’s coffer. It’s the kindling which starts the fires of other sins through its denial. Within this very household several of the so-called friends of the family have shown great jealousy and resentment over the love and emotional nourishment this little girl has received since birth. Many times I’ve heard these people refer to this community as a small town where everybody knows everybody, and because of this there are no secrets which can be kept for long.

  Obviously some of these people are not paying a great deal of attention — by choice. They do not see the jealousies their children harbor because they harbor those jealousies as well. A skunk can't smell its own hole is another favorite expression around here, and particularly fitting for many of them. They do not see that within this small town there are those without the self-discipline to be fair and reserved over the smallest of annoyances. They do not see those who wield a wicked abusiveness disguised as sexuality against those in positions of weakness or ill fortune.

  It’s not just the weak and innocent who pay for their existences here though. The gullible and foolish do as well. One of the first things we learned of in the mortal realm is a religion, an offshoot of that which Christ’s followers established, which requires its flock to hand over a portion of their monetary gains in support of the church. THAT idea was obviously the work of a demon’s influence! Such are these people, who have consigned themselves so blindly and completely, and with such an abandonment of common sense, that it makes easy evidence of the fact that, like so many centuries ago, there are those with knowledge and there are those at the mercy of that knowledge. So many things have indeed changed, but the sin is still well intact.

  Go preach high on the mount and pray your flock provides unto you cloth to cover yourself, a roof to sleep under, and bread to eat. Jesus commanded you feed his lambs, not the other way around.

  Though, in speaking of blindness to the obvious, I still find it odd that after two years Thomas and Martha have not noticed my journal those few times when I was too involved to hear them approaching young Victoria’s bedroom.

  Once they entered in such a quiet and sneaky fashion that I did not notice them. We were delving through memories from our previous lives; trying to decide on what to write about. Saying we were deep in thought, especially given our particular circumstance, is a dramatic understatement. Upon noticing they were in the room, but they hadn’t noticed my journal and pen, my journal fell through my grasp, and my lap, as I sat in a rocking chair in the corner of Victoria’s pink-paint and white lace bedroom.

  This is when it became almost painfully apparent that though I could physically do as I pleased in the presence of Victoria; I was no more than air in the presence of anyone else. Martha heard the muffled flop of my journal on the cushion of the chair and quickly turned her attention to investigate the noise. She got Tom’s attention and they both turned their sights to the rocking chair. The information in this journal is plainly not for their minds and frantically I searched for a means by which to divert them away. The idea came to mind that if one noise took them away from their original intention then another noise could do the same. Quickly as I could I moved through the walls of the house to find a suitable source of noise when I happened across what Martha had always called a China Hutch. I’m not sure what was so Chinese about it, but since it was in a completely separate room, and with enough concentration on all our parts, we were able to physically move it. The next sound echoing through the house was the crashing of the entire hutch on the hardwood floor. Though it was probably more than what was needed, they came running to the sounds of the many crashing plates, cups, and trinkets. I quickly scurried back through the house’s walls to retrieve the journal and tuck it safely out of the sight of unintended eyes.

  Journal entry XI

  Another three years have gone by since I last wrote and I’m happy to say it seems things are progressing a bit more interestingly now … with a bit of my own help. Victoria has been learning a great deal from her parents, but I have learned her greater consciousness is able to hear my voice when she is sleeping.

  Continuously Victoria’s parents have spent the days trying to teach her things, or at least keep her mind stimulated in their spare time. I have taken the time between her waking hours and filled those hours with any useful information those within the book can provide. We’ve whispered directly into her infinite mind; that place Tom’s science books call the sub-conscious, but that term really doesn't do it justice though we understand the intention of the term itself.

  I sit beside Victoria, or around her head, allowing this form to sink into varying levels of Victoria’s bed, walls, and headboard, and then carefully reach into her mind. From within the group we well up the memories of what we want to pass on to her being careful to obscure unpleasantries which really have nothing to do with the scholastics of these endeavors. In moments the reaches of her mind give rise to why sub-conscious is such an inadequate piece of terminology as she's walking within the memories of times long past.

  The buildings; most being structures the majority of us had never seen, the people, the light of the days and nights, even the scents and flavors of the various cuisines, tobaccos, and incense. Those of us fortunate enough to have had educations during our mortal lives share the moments they learned favorite proverbs, philosophies, and axioms from the different cultures represented within the book. The many artists within our company shared moments of creating their works great and small; showing off all manners of techniques and mediums in which they worked. The artists also made apparent the sufferings they went through to stay true to the styles of their innate creativity, and ventures. Many of us have shown Victoria’s mind favorite little retreats; places of temporary escape where they might elude the public and influences of the world for a short time. Places we suspect don't exist any longer due to the advancement of civilization, but which still hold fond memories of moments of peace.

  We have the knowledge o
f the world according to those demons we’ve served in Hell, and so many of them had simply incredible educations prior to their exits from the mortal coil. It’s a shame, once the brain dies, all that lifetime of experience and knowledge can’t be stored or shared more thoroughly than it was in life. Instead the intangible soul is infused so completely with every detail of every moment, but inaccessible my mortals. There is so much to share which is no longer there.

  Ever since we began the nighttime tutorials Victoria has slept like the proverbial baby more-so than before. Tom and Martha have been getting better rest and the family as a whole seems to have obtained a better balance. We can only imagine their surprise were they to enter and see me leaning into her head each night and whispering treasure troves of information into that part of her mind which is so out of reach from her when she is awake. It's a good thing they can't see me, but I’m also not sure Victoria will be able to being that she's corporeal, and all of us are both gladdened and saddened by that particular prospect. This realm can’t possibly be ready for the likes of the Book of the Damned. She seems to have seen the book so many times, almost acknowledging its presence, but can she read it; can she interact with it? Does she somehow already have possession of the book or are we simply just outside her comprehension?

  Journal entry XII

  Both the Guardian Angels and Hell’s Demons use a particular tool on their intended targets to inspire and influence the people they choose. Last night, while reaching into Victoria’s mind and gently caressing her deepest consciousness, we were able to do what the demons and angels do, but to what effect? As I did so we concentrated on some of the things we have described to her. Only the more pleasurable thoughts were allowed from us to her in the most vivid of detail and life-like interpretation. I believe for the most part this connection was mutually beneficial for her and us. While my hands were delicately consorting with her hidden self we were able to taste something all of us had forgotten, or never knew we ever had: Innocence. The blank slate of Innocence. No hate. No prejudices. No ill will towards anyone or anything else …