“So, there are murderers in Heaven? Shouldn't they go to Hell?”
“This is where the rules of Heaven and Hell separate from the laws of man. Heaven admits killers, not murderers. Murder stains the coffer almost more so than anything else. But being a killer is for some mortals like it is for a lion, a crocodile, or an eagle diving from the sky and pulling a random fish from a lake; no rhyme or reason based in good or evil, it's just what they do to live. Some animals are known to kill just to kill. And no matter what, Humankind is a species of animal. Every animal has an essence, but only Humankind has souls.
However, Humankind evolved as an intellectual animal unlike any of the others in the animal kingdom. That intellectualism has both propelled mankind and cost it. Because of individuality and intellectualism humans assign emotions to many things, and then allow those emotions to make decisions for them. Emotions, superstitions, even hearsay are all demon playgrounds. Education, most especially the sciences, helps foster the kind of critical thinking which keeps humans progressing and out of trouble. But when emotions rule the mind, those are what ultimately causes the retardation of evolution, and, as we may be witnessing now, brings it to a standstill.
This is how your roadside preachers, evangelists and others like them, perpetuate these souls going to hell; by first forcing the indoctrination onto people who shouldn't have it, and then always reinforcing the notion they're sinners just because of their thoughts, or worse yet, because they were born as such. This is nothing more than cultivating the innate fears and self-doubt so many people have. If those people saw how many of those preachers had demons riding them, well, there would be a lot fewer wealthy preachers.
The same holds true for a person who does not have the propensity for murder within him, but because of whatever force or situation, murders anyway. Those actions will haunt that person always, and there again fill the coffer with those transgressions, and this person will go to Hell because of that. Fear, self-doubt, and self-loathing come into play without much, if any, outside influence. However, Hell’s demons are always happy to nudge and push for the desired effect.
Though these examples are extreme, how many people have gone through their lives knowing, but unsure why or how, or for whatever reason, they were not living the way they were meant to, or at least in a way which would make them feel happy and fulfilled? Instead of living up to the potential contained within them, they instead do just enough to be remembered for being alive, thus avoiding Purgatory, but, instead of passing on to Heaven, they allow their shame, self-loathing, and their coffers, which are basically empty, but do contain the slightest amount of either sin or proud accomplishment with which to determine if they go to Heaven or to Hell.
Everyone has the potential within them for great things. Only those with enough discipline and will hold the greatest potential for living up to their capabilities. These are the individuals the Guardian Angels and the Ebony Demons seek out.”
“You used the words evolution and purgatory. How can there be evolution if there's an all-powerful God? And I thought Purgatory was a kind of hell? And speaking of Hell; the Book of the Damned is from Hell, so why are you so well informed about Guardian Angels?”
“I love that you're so attentive. Darwin hit it right on the nose. Everything. Every last insect, spider, plant, animal, including Humankind, has gone through the rigors of evolution, and can again. Humankind went through the most overall so it could possess the strength to carry a soul. This also contributed the imperfection of every last human alive at any time. The human body has to be strong enough to contain a soul, but weak enough to release it as well. This incredible balance brought on by evolution is the greater reason why the human form is perfect at being imperfect. So when humankind evolved to the point where its form was strong enough to contain the kind of soul it was meant to, a baby was born; the first of its kind! As it inhaled that first breath the first human soul climbed in. Prior to that infant humans were just animals; instinctual at best.
In regard to Purgatory, yes I do suppose you could say it is a kind of Hell. It has been described as such by overactive imaginations, as well as the few who have somehow consciously connected with their greater ids, and in the slightest ways seen memories of being there.
Purgatory is in fact where the forgotten go after their mortal death. Like Heaven and Hell it is a separate realm from the mortal coil. Unlike Heaven and Hell it is much closer to mortal reality. These are the people whom, for whatever reason, never pursued the potential harbored within them. They float through their lives, always taking the easiest paths to avoid resistance, not doing anything they’ll be remembered for, and not feeling as if they should be. They literally let their lives go to waste, and it’s not until the very end when they suddenly have an epiphany, which tells them what their life could’ve been and meant. Then they die and spend their time after death simply wandering about the mortal world, aimlessly, wishing they had some purpose to live up to. Tens of thousands reside in Purgatory from every point in history, and it is the one place both Heaven and Hell do not bother to tread.”
“Why not? It seems like it would be a treasure trove of souls for each side,”
“There's a very simple reason angels and demons do not solicit Purgatory for the obtainment of the souls: Those souls would have to be made flesh, NOT fleshen, but actual mortal flesh, through such an order as flesh literally being given to them to utilize so as to consign themselves over to an angel or a demon. Neither angel nor demon has the ability to recreate mortal flesh and bone body properly. Both can stimulate the healing processes and even hold a soul to a body to keep a person from dying, along with other healing miracles, but neither can actually create living flesh. They must wait until Purgatory souls are incarnated again as mortals to begin the process of influencing the soul in one direction or another, and even then there is no guarantee an angel or a demon will select them for watching over and influencing.”
“Why can’t they recreate the flesh and bone? Isn’t that what happens to a soul when it passes along to Heaven or Hell?”
“That particular flesh is recreated from the memories a soul has of its mortal body, and in Hell the tortures of their mortal form completes their knowledge of their bodies; skin, muscle, veins, nerves, their skeletons, their organs, ligaments, tendons, connective tissues of all sorts, etc. Hell has always been far ahead of science when it comes to the human form. Ultimately though, that flesh is little more than an illusion given cohesion into reality by the experiences the individual soul lived through in its mortal life …”
Vic just yawned …
“I apologize for getting so wordy on this subject. There’s knowledge mortals lose access to during the interjection of the soul in that first breath. This is along with having to occupy a smooth, undeveloped brain; a blank slate needing to be exercised and slowly built up. The simplest truth about what you ask is that it takes a body and mind which have been nourished by the elements of the Earth herself to create a literal flesh and bone body for a soul. Demons and angels have not that ability since God bestowed it unto Humankind to use as it sees fit.”
I could see at this point that Victoria’s mind was now moving at a greater pace than a moment ago. The cogs of her mind were ready to shear themselves off judging by the look of intense concentration on her face. I could’ve easily reached into her mind to see what was happening, but what I had seen just a couple of days prior at the school held a great more significance in making sure she had all the basic facts about what she was now facing. So much she needs to know just because she made the decision to keep me in service to her.
I took her hand and led her to her bedroom window which faces out onto the street in front of her house. From there I asked her to look across the streets to the homes facing ours, and then asked if she saw anything out of the ordinary. She of course said she didn’t see anything unusual.
“Prepare yourself, for there is much you have yet to learn beyond tonight’s c
onversation. Here shall be a glimpse into the secret world around you ...”
With that I thrust my hand into her mind and lent to her a snippet of my ability to tear down the veils of reality and see what no others would be witnesses to. This is Hell’s Sight, and it comes with many uses.
In a home across the street, to Vic’s eyes and mine, the entire face of the house; the siding and the wood framing within, all cracks and pops, and then jagged fissures form and the structure of the front of the house peels open from an approximate center out to the sides. The wood never actually breaks but rather it curls back something akin to bending the cover of a paperback novel when opening it. Of course, this is all an illusion I created for dramatic effect. What's actually happening is that all matter has space in between the molecules and atoms — few things under God’s gaze are so dense that those spaces don't exist — so, via Vic’s soul being extended outward in a focused manner, we are surreptitiously traveling through those billions and trillions of spaces to find the light from within the home, which then gives us images of the interiors. Even sound becomes available through all these tiny spaces. But let's face it; making it look like we just peeled open the front of the house without anyone noticing is a lot more fun!
Here in the exposed interior lives the teacher I happened upon at the school just two days ago. When I saw him there he was looking through the previous year’s yearbook, something that in and of itself would’ve been innocent enough, but there was nothing innocent about what he was doing while slowly turning the pages of the book as he stroked himself at a furious pace to spill himself on the pages of the yearbook before being discovered. As if it’s not bad enough he lives across the street from Vic and her family, he has a daughter of his own who goes to the same school Vic starts in tomorrow. He also has an Ebony Demon thoroughly attached to his soul bleeding its own sinful thoughts directly into his system. It's those influences providing the teacher with the illicit thoughts, which have driven him to taking intimate liberties with young women in his classes, and with his own daughter.
As we gazed into this private sanctum we saw the teacher’s daughter in a thin flannel nightgown sitting at the end of her bed quietly. Her father was downstairs sitting in his well-worn recliner and reading over the day’s papers. He checked his watch as if he was keeping to a schedule, and then casually arose from his chair. His wife did little more than gaze up at him from her chair as she was doing what looked to be a crossword puzzle in a small magazine. He looked at her and barked, “What?!” as he slowly wandered to the stairs and headed up to his daughter’s bedroom. His wife did nothing to oppose him and dove back into her puzzle more intently as if trying to be as unaware as possible.
He slowly opened his daughter’s door and stepped into her room. Her head was bowed down and she just stared to the floor not looking up at her father once to acknowledge he was there.
“There’s my little girl ...” he said in a soft voice. I now had our sight of the proceedings focused in as if we were in the bedroom with them. Piggybacking on photons and their trails allows for such unique sights. The teacher looked down at his daughter and gently placed his hand on the back of her head. She briefly glanced up, and then back down again, though with a much less happy expression on her face than perhaps a daughter should have when her father enters to bid her good night. He reached out gently and took her hand, and then pulled slightly, and like a well-groomed dance partner she stood before him, still with her gaze ever towards the floor, as he held her hand gently.
“I love you, Tina Marie. You know that don’t you?” The teacher said it to her gingerly as if to somehow make everything which was about to transpire all right and good. She nodded slightly in response to his words, and with that he gingerly tugged her hand again to have her turn around so her back was facing him. Now, still holding her hand, his arm was wrapped around her as he drew her in closer to his own body and nestled his face into her hair and against her neck where he placed a couple of soft kisses.
It was then the Ebony Demon holding this man’s soul hostage began to ooze out into the open air from under the teacher’s skin. It extruded from all the teacher’s pores on his back, neck, and from his scalp into a dark mass. Never once did the beast detach from the teacher as it arose from within him and watched the daughter in a dramatic, ominous, and hungry form of great grotesqueness. The beast is mottled browns, yellows, greens, and black with rough skin slicked with a coating of liquid-like sin. From its shoulders are its skeletal arms, remnants of the Thorn which is part of this demon. It’s deceptively strong gauntness is further belied by the beast’s long skeletal hands with fingers broken out into individual digits at the wrist. Each finger is elongated with five to seven knuckles and assisted by no less than two opposing thumbs. Seemingly originating from under the rib cage are the beast’s festering tentacles, many of which are rooted firmly throughout the flesh and into the soul of this man. From thin as a hair to thick as a man’s arm, what these tentacles do while attached to their prey is nothing short of obscene. Protruding from its back are numerous large quills leftover from the Thorn this demon merged with; all of which curled, twisted about, and elbowed so as to all be pointing forward of the demon. Its face is haunting with bulbous eyes with no eyelids, and the flat, skeletal nose of its skull exposed. Its mouth is gaping seemingly uncontrollably with festering gums, rotted teeth, and saliva dripping in copious amounts all over itself, its prey, and Tina Marie. It's fortunate these demons are a step removed from mortal reality as this scenario is so much worse than the teacher and his daughter would want to know.
Victoria’s eyes were filling with tears and her mind with disgust as this poor excuse for a man and his unsuspected tormentor slowly reached out to Tina Marie. Her father’s hands slowly caressed her body, front, and back, through her nightgown before gripping the shoulders of the nighty. He stretched the cloth out to the sides, and then pushed it downward stretching the neck out and forcing the garment down her body. It was tight against her juvenile skin and left red marks where it was constrained the most. Finally it slips to the floor.
The demon grinned at the sight of her young flesh not yet weathered by life as that same youthful beauty transfixed her own father. For second, a fleeting second, fear and disgust glanced across the teacher’s face. The demon adjusted itself upon sensing the rise of the conscience, and just like that the teacher’s face reflected the lust for the violence about transpire. The demon stroked and caressed not her flesh, but her very soul with its hands and tentacles, from which small droplets of sin seeped directly into her essence. Those droplets added to the sin in her coffer. Most likely her coffer’s filling is caused by allowing her father to do what he's been doing; if for no other reason than in the hope to quell his desires for her classmates.
Tina’s father quickly began to undress as she stood as silent as possible with her back to him in all her nakedness; afraid and ashamed of what her father had obviously been doing to her over and over again for some time. The demon’s voice was deep, crackled, and gargled as it kept goading on its earthly prey to continue with the transgressions against his own flesh and blood. Gently the violence began as Tina’s father pressed against her from behind.
Tina shivered as she moved through obviously familiar choreography and reluctantly crawled onto her bed and laid face down. Tears flooded her eyes and shame draped upon her face vibrantly as she conceded to her role as her father’s plaything. She made only the effort needed to not make a sound; to not disturb or anger him during his cruel act. He leaned onto the bed between her feet and tasted her skin as he made his way up her backside until he was able to lay his nakedness against her own. The Ebony Demon also leaned forward and outstretched a great tongue that slurped over large portions of Tina’s soul and left a residue only her spirit could feel, but which caused an additional uneasiness in Tina’s physical form. The sensations of both the demon and her father are more than enough to give her quivers and even the sensation of needing t
o throw up, but she has endured this for some time.
Tina manages to keep some of her composure all through her father’s visit. Finally he removes himself from her, completely spent and sweating; he rolls off her and gets comfortable on her bed. Quietly Tina gets up and excuses herself to the shower down the hallway, and upon returning from cleaning up and hiding the fact that she had been crying, she finds that her father, with no further words or so much as a splinter of concern for her, has left her room and retired to his own bed. He’s asleep for some time when Tina’s mother finally comes up the stairs and briefly makes a poor attempt to comfort her daughter before also retiring to bed next to her husband.
Tina cries herself to sleep as I return normal sight to Vic and me. The face of the house across the street is as it was before we peered in and we're back to the safety and comfort of Victoria’s bedroom though we never actually left.
“Azeeza! I would’ve never…”
“I know, Vic. At this point I feel this is why I am here. Do you still wish to continue having me in your service?”
“More than ever, Azeeza! We're going to stop this!”
“We're wha …?!”
The police were called. Neither the wife nor the daughter gave any clue to there being a problem. The officers left without incident.
Journal entry XXV
Several weeks have passed since Vic and I had our Sunday evening Show-and-Tell. Vic has given little to no thought to the fact that a ruler of Hell may be hunting her for the Book of the Damned. Instead she's been plotting to try to rescue Tina Marie. I’m beginning to believe she has an innate sense about the most basic way of things; that there is a difference between what is true evil and simply presumed evil. Maybe. We hope. It seems the more she learns the more there's thought processes in her we’re not privy to.
Legacy of Judas - Book One Page 14
