“It was just that; a drunk driving accident. That's all.” She’s firm and without a doubt or hint of guilt in her voice.
“The bus driver said they all wanted to go to your house. My son and his friends NEVER WANTED TO GO TO YOUR HOUSE!!! YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT THAT DAY, DON’T YOU?!” With that he pointed the gun at her. It was a big gun; shiny with a long barrel and a white iridescent grip. Judging by the interior diameter of the barrel this gun fired very large, manly bullets, but it was no match for me.
I peaked over his shoulder from behind him and Vic saw I was there. She stood fast and showed no fear as he leveled his sights on Vic’s head, and then I reached into his skull. For the sake of gun safety I first paralyzed his arm attached to the gun, and gave him just a moment to wonder what was happening to him.
During that moment I took the opportunity to perform due diligence on his history. Fortunately it doesn't take much effort at all to unravel the macho types. Too many instances to count of Johnny being an intended witness of this person’s flagrant misogyny against Johnny’s own mother; calling her stupid and worthless, slapping her and continually drilling into her that she's there to serve just like all other females. Drilling her skull with words of being less important to him than his guns, truck, tools, and their son. At least Johnny made a guest appearance in that list, albeit the last one. Johnny was able to recount, with pride, his father breaking his mother’s nose three times, as well as other bones, some more than once like several of her ribs. Sexually he's used foreign objects inside her which should never be used for sexual gratification; the worst of which being a loaded and cocked shotgun with his finger on the trigger. At least he didn't tell Johnny about those exploitations.
His arm is completely limp from the paralysis I'm causing, which is causing the gun to dangle on his finger, and then it drops to the ground and fires. Most of his foot from the metatarsal to the toes goes away in a bang and muzzle flash mixed with a splatter and mist of liquid red. His lungs inhaled all the surrounding atmosphere until finally he screamed and screamed like a little bitch!
YES! I enjoyed his torment! This was the first time on the mortal plane we heard anything reminiscent of the screams of the damned, and in this instance I am not ashamed to admit I have been just a bit homesick for the torment of someone deserving of the suffering they receive. But this wasn't where this nut-fungus’s suffering ends. No. I really felt the need to give him Hell.
He dropped to his knees before me from the pain of his injury. I reached into his skull with both hands and caressed his brain still dripping with his viscous ego; even in his pain and bewilderment he thought he was better than this. In a way he wasn't wrong. He does deserve better … suffering. So, like I said, I gave him Hell. Our memories of Hell. It seemed that the pages of the book flared or ruffled not unlike a bird rustling its feathers, but the sensation was quickly drowned out. Our hyper-detailed, malodorous, shit-sweat-blood-piss-puke flavored, sights which can never be unseen, and sounds never to be unheard memories of the damned in all their glory against the backdrop of God’s shadow flooded this man’s consciousness. His mind began collapsing under the weight of our memories stacking up within his id. This fucker is going to spend the rest of his life strapped to a gurney and on massive amounts of calming medications. But he'll never stop remembering what we’ve given him as if he experienced it firsthand.
Welcome to Hell on Earth, asshole!
We looked up as he collapsed on the asphalt a whimpering, crying wretch. Vic was no longer at the tracks. She had walked by and we didn't notice. She was some distance away, her white spring dress and shiny black hair are dancing about in the light breeze, and her backpack full of books, notes, pens and pencils hangs heavily slung over one shoulder. Her head is hanging as she walks.
None of this was to last for her though, not in that town anyway. Tom had made more than enough money to acquire a small company in a valley north of a place called Los Angeles. I can’t help but sport a smirk across my face because of how much that name sounds like lost angels. I really can’t say I’ve kept up on the business dealings Tom has ventured into. All I know is the company he’s purchased a massive stake in works in something he keeps referring to as, advancing technologies, and with the advent of another item called home computers the family was going to be set for the rest of their lives. I'm not going to venture into trying to understand these things at this time though. Vic is our greatest concern.
Speaking of Victoria; some hours after the altercation at the tracks, she finally decided to speak to me again. Though I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the conversation she struck up with me...
“Azeeza, are you here?” She said as if she didn’t know I can hear her at all times.
“I am here, young one. What may I do for you?”
“I asked you a question you never answered. Do you remember?”
I wondered at one time if we shouldn’t have gone stimulating her intelligence the way we did. Now we’re not wondering IF we’re going to regret it, but instead we’re wondering just how much we’re going to regret it. Her memory is razor-blade sharp.
“You asked me to show you who I am, or rather how I came to be.”
“I still want to know. Please show me.”
“I must caution you, young one; you’ve already seen and experienced more than any mortal should ever have seen or experienced. Once you’ve seen the journeys we’ve traveled you will be unable to escape the memories, and you will not be like any other mortal alive, or yet to live. Are you sure you wish to continue?”
“Was that you all those nights, feeding my mind with images and visions, and the knowledge of so many things no one else my age knows?”
“Yes, young one that was I.”
“Then I’m already unlike any other mortal. Let’s get that question answered, please.” Well we walked right into that one.
The night was warm and quiet and her parents were at a party for something-or-another involving Tom’s company, so there was no risk of interruption. Victoria and I went to her father’s study, wherein resided a recliner I had taken a particular liking to. I'd sit in it while drinking her father’s better brandy some evenings after everyone else goes to sleep. Still not sure what happens to the brandy when we've sat for a drink, perhaps someday we'll find out, but for now we can smell it and some of the flavor comes through as well. After all that happened with Vic’s first collection there have been more and more earthly pleasures that we’ve been able to enjoy. Not sure why, but I'm getting off tangent here.
We agreed quietly among ourselves we would act as a buffer against much of what Victoria was going to see and experience. We DON’T want her in a condition similar to Johnny’s dad. But, we did not expect a certain event to take place which we were powerless to shield her or ourselves from.
Together we all reached out simultaneously, like hundreds of hands all coming together in one form and at one point, and gently reached into Vic’s mind. There our memories flowed like a river from each of our times before our descents into Hell, to the feelings of our flesh being taken from us and being fashioned into the Book of the Damned, and to the moment Judas lost his most powerful creation as per God’s command. That was when the most unexpected part of this trip through the past came about, as during the conversation that God was having with Judas, we also heard him speak to Victoria.
“Exercise great caution, child, on the path you could choose from here. Though I did not change the rules they have changed nonetheless. The path you take could change all the rules for all of my children, while also bringing about a conclusion you would not want to be weighted with.”
At first we questioned whether we had actually heard that. When we felt no questioning feelings within Victoria’s mind we continued with our trip down damned-memory lane noting to discuss that message at another time. The flow of the memories continued right up to the point where we were up close and personal with that part of Martha’s body from where Victoria made her e
ntrance into the world. To say the least she probably didn’t want to see that, but I may have just wanted to get a little jab in there for the awkwardness we endured as well.
We muffled the screams, the stenches and steered her away from most of the tortures of the damned. Obviously she witnessed Hell’s tapestry landscape and many of the various Thorn and their completely merciless handling of the fleshen damned.
As soon as we pulled our hand away we were unsure as to how to react to her wide-eyed trance, but then she blinked, stood up, put her hand over her mouth, and ran to the bathroom to throw up. Perhaps we should have warned her a bit more thoroughly about what she was going to see?
Chapter Four
~
Primary Education
Journal entry XXI
This past summer has been a busy one for Victoria. She has been very popular among the other young adults she’ll be attending class with. Her demeanor is as new to her as her parents’ new home, and she’s looking forward to her ninth year of schooling and the beginning of high school. The California air and sun quickly lifted darkened and downtrodden moods, and after a few visits to the coast it was almost as if that little town in the south was faded nightmare wrapped in a forgotten dream.
As females typically do, Vic is maturing quickly; becoming an exceptionally beautiful young woman and the upper classmen are already taking notice despite her youth. But more so than her physical beauty, her mind and self-awareness are incredibly strong. This has been evidenced during the extracurricular education she’s pursued over the course of this past summer, which has come along particularly well. Those upper classmen really don’t stand a chance against her.
Back when Vic realized exactly what I am she commanded we take our original form, and because the book was written mostly in the principal language of the Angels, with some demon-speak mixed in, Vic was as able to read and understand the scribing within the book from cover to cover with no difficulty. She picked up very quickly that the instructions are interchangeable and create a near limitless combination of manipulations for the mind, emotions, body and soul; individually or in combination. The night she went to throw up after seeing the existence we’ve shared, albeit censored and softened for her young mortal constitution, we thought there would be another dry spell between us consisting of no conversations, questions, or even dirty glances back and forth. But she couldn’t contain her curiosity, and the next day she was turning my pages as if there was nothing else in existence for her to read. The blood tattoos which forever stain the fleshy pages of the book, bent and contorted and became as they were intended to be, for her to properly read and understand every last syllable and the weight they carried with them.
Vic humbled us yet again as we had lengthy discussions about what she had read within my pages, after which she chose to give only one command which involved just one soul; her own. It was a command of greater unification between her mortal body and her own soul.
During her readings, and our conversations, Vic realized so many people have so little success in their lives because they’re too fearful to put themselves through the trials and tribulations they must go through to effectively recognize and take hold of their greatest potential as mortals. It’s known by demons, and most likely by the Angels as well, those trials and tribulations — whatever it takes to climb the ranks from Private to General; citizen to president, nobody to film star. Whatever aspirations people desire, they just have to be willing, and then take the arrows, make the mistakes, fall, get back up, move forward, don’t stop, don’t give up. Many of us within the book never knew these secrets which aren’t really secrets. Demons love using these secret against their prey. When all seems lost, here’s a contract. The rest is history. But for those who go through the process of failing to success, they earn a more unified sense of being from it than they had when they started.
The Unity Command for the soul, mind, and body will strengthen Vic’s already considerable intellect, character, and resolve. It will also give her an awareness of self and surroundings Buddhist monks would be jealous of. She’ll be able to sense the very ebbs and flows of life and existence and know, at very least instinctually, when she’s working against those currents. It seems Vic fully understands her life is different because of our existence within it. Because of this we also believe she understands waiting for this stronger bond through the course of life’s vicissitudes will not be a fast enough process.
Victoria used the book as it was originally created to be used, and in so doing learned not just the how, but also the why of this command of mortal and immortal unification. Because of this she has a strong and clean mortal body, a mind more focused than the greater percentage of people will ever know possible, and a link into her deeper consciousness she can use to create, store memories well beyond her mind’s physical capacity, all allowing her to learn new things with much greater ease and ultimate retention, which she can draw upon at will. If only the book contained a command for physical immortality she would be a nearly perfect human being. The command was a fairly simple one, though I will not go into its particulars in this journal, nor will I give the particulars of any other commands scribed within the book. All those tiny details are for the possessor of the book only, and I believe it necessary to never divulge the secrets within these pages.
We’re coming up on the beginning of school and because of the high level of schooling Vic has signed up for, as well as the fact she has come here from a place these people know little to nothing about, Victoria’s presence has been requested at the office of her school counselor the Friday before school goes into session.
Journal entry XXII
I hate to sound so negative after the move here became so positive for Vic, but something is not right with this school counselor! Her name is Ms. Johansen and she will be assisting Victoria during her time at this school. I admit I was restless and bored with this meeting, and despite there being something off about the counselor I couldn't put my finger on, I decided I needed a change of scenery and elected to inspect the campus instead.
With the greater freedom of movement I achieved during the collection of Vic’s first seven souls it was pleasant to meander about the grounds of this place of learning. Most of us within the book all had a sense of how fortunate these children are in being able to attend such a place; do things which will benefit their futures rather than leave them tending livestock, doing menial physical labor or living as criminals, outcasts or worse for the balance of their lives. Too many of us within the book had little to no choice, let alone discernible opportunity, to have such an education at our disposal.
I have to say I was a bit surprised sin could exist in such a place meant for the betterment of the younger minds, but alas, during my wandering about the grounds and buildings I caught a familiar scent in the air and couldn’t help but want to track it down to its source.
The individual I found was in far worse torment than I could detect from the scent in the air as one of Hell’s Ebony Demons had attached itself to him; creating illicit influences in this man’s mind and soul. What was worse is not only is he a teacher within this school, but he is also the father of a shy young lady about Vic’s age and lives just across the street from us. He was by himself in his classroom and my only thought was to get back to Victoria and warn her of my discovery. That was when a question which may never be answered arose in our collective: Did I really want to make Victoria aware of what she is surrounded by? We haven't previously with the people her family went to church with. Why start now?
I stepped into the small room where Victoria and this Ms. Johansen were talking and suddenly I felt as if though the entire mood or feel of the atmosphere changed dramatically. Ms. Johansen suddenly stood from her chair and began looking about the room as if she seemingly knew I was there, but was unable to see me. I’m sure the moment prior to my entrance the mood between Victoria and this counselor was light and cheerful since Vic still had a bit of a grin on her
face as Ms. Johansen practically leapt from her chair. As Johansen looked about her room and was completely ignoring Vic’s inquiries about her sudden change in demeanor, her eyes finally came to what would have been the meeting point of our stares had she been able to see me. If she suddenly was detecting the presence of the book, why did she not react this way when we first arrived?
Her most puzzling feature was her eyes, or lack thereof. Obviously Vic was seeing Johansen as a normal human being, but we weren't able to see her eyes as clear and vividly as we were able to see the rest of her. They were simply blurs within her eyelids and held none of the color or detail so noticeable in anyone else’s eyes. There didn’t even seem to be orbs within their sockets. Instead, what was there didn’t seem to belong to the rest of her form.
We’ll have to give this some consideration as to whether or not she poses a threat to Victoria. Was this unexpected meeting to begin sizing up her prey, or determine if this was for some other purpose which was not yet obvious? The only other clues as to whom or what Johansen is was in considering the rest of her physical appearance and somewhat advanced age. She possessed no stench within her coffer which would indicate even a mustard seed’s amount of sin. In fact there was something familiar about the faint odor I was able to detect beyond and underneath her arthritis cream and mothball-scented clothes, and even the shine she used on her freshly polished-to-mirror-finish orthopedic shoes. Johansen’s appearance was nothing less than sterile and almost without character or personality. Her dress was shin-length and a drab-gray nearly matching the gray of her hair, which was tied back so tightly it was a mystery to me how her face did not split and snap to the back of her head from all the tension. She wore a simple but loose-fitting white blouse with a ruffled collar buttoned tight around her neck, which was as much personality as she presented physically. In her voice though, was a strange sort of soothing calmness. No demons attached to her. No sin in her coffer. No coffer??? I was mistaken earlier by the lack of scent from her coffer, because she has none. What the hell is this woman?!
Legacy of Judas - Book One Page 11
