Nephilim Generations

by Avell Kro

Fortunately for us, most people who’ve read the story of the Garden of Eden have not understood it. Or anything else in the Bible for that matter. If they had, we’d never have got away with it. Incredibly, we have managed not only to mask the true meaning, but even to co-opt it into our own agenda. We have done this with all of scripture at some time or other. We offered people a reading of the stories that enables them to keep their egos intact.

  But our real stroke of genius was religion. The whole point of the Bible is that people were supposed to have a relationship with God. But they didn’t want that. They wanted pomp and glamour and ziggurats. And we gave them all of that. At a price, of course. Once we’d done that we had nearly everyone in our power. No-one is easier to fool than someone who is already blinded by their own ego. For millennia now, we’ve had humans thinking they were scrambling up greasy poles and ladders towards glory, when they were really descending into Hell. You couldn’t make it up. Really.

  Taffeta put down the pages on Curfew’s bedside table, checked that he was still comfortable and went to the bathroom before ordering some food from room service. Then she sat down again in the comfortable chair near Curfew’s bed. She used her smartphone to send a quick email to her parents to let them know that they were OK. Not that they cared, probably. The three of them had learned early on that they would have to care for one another. The Count and Countess Vanpyre were too busy being important to have much time for their three children.

  That was why Curfew had his meltdown in the first place. Years of being ignored, looked down on and neglected take their toll, even in the kind of material luxury the Vanpyres were used to. Taff opened the door to let the room service trolley in, taking a few stabs at the steak and salad she had ordered, and a few gulps of orange juice. Then she carried on reading….

  From Delusion to Deluge

  One of our most pressing tasks, then, was to prevent human beings from turning back to the light and the source of their being. There were a handful of people who were doing this – only a handful, mind, but enough to be a cause for concern. We had to invent a counterfeit version of life that could pass itself off as spiritual, while in fact reinforcing egocentric consciousness. Even better than this, we managed to generate a whole range of competing belief systems. Because nothing gives the ego greater satisfaction than defeating another ego and being proved ‘right’ while the other person is proved ‘wrong’. For a good few generations we had great success with this strategy – and we still do. But the trouble was that some stubborn residual part of the human psyche insisted on finding the spirit within, in a unique and personal way. This threatened our plans. We had to come up with something much more direct and hands-on. If human beings were proving stubbornly resistant to our attempts to keep them turned, then we would have to cut off the line to the human race’s destiny by contaminating them genetically. If we couldn’t secure their utter downfall spiritually, we would have to ensure it biologically. We would have to mate with them.

  It wasn’t hard to persuade my followers to do this. Earth women were, after all, highly attractive, and the prospect of forbidden fruit perhaps even more so. It was the ultimate temptation on both sides - just how I like it.

  In a few generations, we produced several sub-races of hybrid giants: the Nephilim, the Anakim, the Zamzimmim and others. These hybrids were the terror of the known world. Myths and legends are still told of their exploits.

  We knew it could not last. Our attempts met with disaster. All peoples on Earth who have unbroken records from that distant past have recorded the Deluge or Flood that wiped out all but a handful of humans.

  But worse than this: we had to watch while our own offspring, the Nephilim half-breed giants, slaughtered one another in a civil war. The Clash of the Titans, the Greeks called it. The Holy One, the Most High, ordained that we be bound in chains in the Abyss of Tartarus. In the darkness. And this is where we bide our time….

  Curfew began to stir from his sleep as Taffeta put the pages down for a few moments. He opened his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he could see her. But then he said, “I’m thirsty.” She had a bottle of mineral water handy on the bedside table in their hotel room, so she lifted his head and gave him something to drink.

  “Thanks, Taff,” he said, then sank his head back on the pillow, and went straight back to sleep.

  Taff’s mobile phone rang. “Hi sis,” she said to her sister Fett, who was just on her way back to their hotel on Madison Avenue.

  “Get everything you want?”

  “Pretty much,” Fett answered, adding: “How’s Curfew doing?”

  “Well he just woke up for a few seconds and drank some water, but these drugs are knocking him out.”

  “The doctor warned us he would sleep a lot,” said Fett. “Remember he’s hardly slept in months.”

  “Yeah, and then there was that E tab his friend slipped into his drink a couple of weeks back.”

  “Yeah, that nearly killed him,” said Fett.

  “OK, then,” said Taff. “I’ll see you back here at the hotel in a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” said Fett. “And when Curfew’s up to it, we need to get out and do some stuff while we’re still in New York.”

  “Don’t worry Fett,” said Taff. “We still have three more days. Plenty of time to do what we need to do here.”

  “How’s the reading going, by the way?” asked Fett.

  “What Curfew wrote during his breakdown?” asked Taff. “Mind-blowing, is all I can say. I’ll never look at the Bible the same way again.”

  “It’s real then?” asked Fett. “It’s all happening the way he said? Right now?”

  “It’s all happening, just like he said.”

  “Wow!”

  “Yep!”

  “So Curfew’s not crazy?”

  “Oh, he’s crazy all right,” said Taff. “But he’s crazy and right, not crazy and wrong.”

  “Glad we cleared that up!” said Fett, laughing, and hung up. Meanwhile Taff went back to the Being’s account of events….

  Despite the Flood in the time of Noah, which wiped out most of the humans and our offspring, the Nephilim, we continued with our plans. Once you’ve managed to turn people’s consciousness back to front, you can easily turn their whole world upside down. The ego becomes a petty, rebellious, vindictive, violent god – the centre of the personal universe. This in turn led to the creation, perhaps better to say the invention, of a reality that is now known as the World. This meant that everything that was not ego – such as the environment, or other people, were now seen as being outside the person and separate from them – the beginning of delusion. It’s only a small step from seeing other people as separate from oneself to seeing them as objects – as fodder, if you like, for meeting one’s own wants and needs. In this way, the source of being was suppressed and life became existence - a series of ever more desperate egocentric manoeuvres designed to get what one wanted (or thought one wanted, which is not necessarily the same thing). Other people became mere objects, and the personality became an insatiable bottomless pit of wants and needs that could never be satisfied. Worse yet, the more skilled one becomes at gratifying the ego, the more ravenous and empty it becomes. The ego is a black hole that draws all towards it.

  It doesn’t take much stretch of the imagination to work out what havoc this approach to life has on relationships between the sexes, which become predatory and exploitative. Things are no better in other relationships either, since one’s fellow humans are viewed either as a means of satisfying wants and needs, or as obstacles to doing so. Life becomes a permanent battlefield. It took only a few generations from The Garden of Eden to Sodom and Gomorrah.

  The language of scripture is extraordinarily precise, resonant, and yet unified and simple, making it opaque to those who are not ready for it, but as rich as a mother lode for those who are. “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”, for example, is not just a piece of ‘rule-of-three’ rhetoric. It is c
learly stating, for anyone who is ready to hear it, that there is no such thing as an inherited religion: there is only an individual and personal relationship with God. You either have one, or you don’t. Simple as that. Simple is not good if you want to control people. If you want to control people you’ve got to make things complicated.

  The Flood took us back to square one. Our offspring, the Nephilim, had been wiped out, but then came the second wave of breeding. Gilgamesh came along. He was a man after our own hearts – he took what he wanted – power, land, women, you name it. The descendants of Noah called him Nimrod – “The Rebel”. To us, he was the great founder of Babylon, the blueprint for our cultural presence on Earth. Instead of scattering people over the Earth, as they had been commanded, Babylon became a great gatherer and concentrator – great cities have always lent themselves to large-scale corruption. And we manipulated the people through their fear of another flood. The obvious ‘solution’ was to build a great tower – a temple complex and ziggurat dedicated to – yes, you guessed it – us, the gods. No more stones and natural materials – this was the beginning of sophisticated technology, with bricks and other man-made materials. The religion was man-made too, of course, but the people did not know this, or if they did they chose not to see it. We made them feel powerful and mighty and superior, all the things that egotistical people like to feel. The more they deny the truth, the more it comes back to haunt them.

  Curfew was awake now. He still had a thick head from long hours of heavy sleep and dehydration, but he was on the mend. Taff and Fett were relieved. Soon they could be out and about for their last few days in New York before flying back to London. They had a lot to do. Their parents were clueless, as usual. And the three of them intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  “How are you getting on with your reading?” Curfew asked Taff, on his way out of the shower.

  “Oh,” said Taff. I’m just up to the part where the Being is describing the beginnings of their second attempt at world domination.”

  “Yeah, things are really hotting up now,” said Curfew. “Can you see how all this ties in with the genetics research in Dad’s company?”

  “Yes, I can see that now,” said Taff. “But let me go on reading. I want to understand this before we start putting our plan into effect!”

  “Read on,” said Curfew, inspecting the bags under his eyes in the mirror.

  Babylon II

  It will be just like the last time. They just won’t be able to resist. How fortunate these humans have such a poor understanding of their own history. If they took even a passing interest, they would know that Hitler’s Final Solution, when the Nazis (guided by ourselves, naturally) came up with their plan to wipe out the Jews, also started in a low-key way. All they did, in the beginning, was to give ‘mercy’ injections to the old and terminally ill.

  “What harm could there possibly be in that?” they asked. They genuinely didn’t see it until it was too late. What harm? No harm in playing God? Really? And no harm in the fact that, once you have started giving lethal ‘mercy’ injections to the terminally ill it’s so easy to give them to the incurably disabled (after all, we do want a healthy population, don’t we?). And then, of course, once we have started killing off those who are already dying anyway, and those whose lives we deem not to be worth living (in our infinite wisdom), we could then move on to, oh I don’t know, how about gypsies, or homosexuals, or, ah yes, the Jews? And so, before they knew it, they had exterminated millions of their fellow human beings. The Holocaust, they called it afterwards. The trick, as always (and it is a trick), is to have them all looking in the wrong direction until it’s too late. And, if I say so myself, this is our strong suit. We have a real gift for making the unforgivable seem perfectly normal.

  What could possibly be more normal, for example, than the delightfully quaint English village of Little Titmongering, only an hour by train from central London? And yet it is home to one of our favourite families of all time – the Vanpyres. Talk about apt, calling a family of bankers ‘Vanpyres’! It’s hilarious, or tragic, depending on your point of view. The little light is now on amber alert: we are poised and ready to go. Yes, the Vanpyre family is under our control.

  Yes, it all seemed so normal and familiar on the surface. Cosy, quaint, ramshackle little England, with its quirky little buildings and its quirky people. And above all (at least from our point of view) the reassuring respectability of its time-honoured institutions of wealth and power. So what if the Vanpyres were up to their neck in shady little deals, and even shadier big deals? Who wasn’t? And anyhow, they are just a means to an end.

  Taffeta Vanpyre put the pages down and finished her steak and salad. By this time, her sister Fett was back and had unpacked her shopping. She took her own plate of food and glass of juice through to her own room in the suite. Taffeta went on reading…..

  Once people start thinking for themselves, you’re finished.

  The widely accepted use of alcohol and other substances for achieving ‘altered states’ has always been a cornerstone of our strategy. Very early on we discovered that genetics alone were not enough. It’s the old nature-nurture debate. The traits you want to enhance can’t just be there in theory: they have to be triggered, and sustained. We started it with the ancient pagan religions, when shamans and suchlike would use substances to communicate with us. There are periodic attempts to quash the use of drugs, but whenever it happens we always strike back. Each time, their use becomes more widespread and more ‘normal’. Only one or two generations ago, young people only drank one or two glasses of alcohol on a night out, and retired people hardly drank at all. Now we even have them ‘pre-drinking’ before they go out! They are lapping it up as fast as we can dish the stuff out to them. We’ve made a special effort to target the very young and the old, because these are the groups who are most likely to see through mass deception and, when they do see through it, are most likely to do something about it. It is especially dangerous for us when the young and the old start putting their heads together. There’s nothing like sobriety to keep you sober, obviously. So we like to keep them off their heads. So now we have the young, the middle-aged and the old pickled.

  This has been even more important since our recently revived plan of genetic manipulation got under way. For reasons which should be obvious, we are interested in the genetic markers indicating tendencies to sociopathic and psychopathic behavior, and have actively encouraged research that has successfully identified these markers. We can’t have our best operatives hampered by conscience and compassion. However, these markers do not necessarily correlate reliably with actual violent or criminal behavior, unless – and this is the real point – the individuals concerned are regular drinkers and/or drug users. Then the statistics really burst off the charts. Yes, we have been very, very pleased with our recent results.

  It has enabled us, for example, to make use of apparently completely random individuals with what is euphemistically described as a ‘mental health history’ to carry out all sorts of terror and mayhem. And the beauty of it is, the true source of it is untraceable.

  It’s always gratifying to be able to kill two birds with one stone. The widespread use of alcohol and drugs among the young, especially in combination, has enabled us to sidetrack and manipulate some of the people who pose the greatest threat to our plans. We can distract and disarm them by keeping them in a near-permanent stupor, thus dampening their intelligence and creativity. It’s a dream strategy, and when all the relevant factors align, it even enables us to get some of our most dangerous potential enemies – the cultural and spiritual freedom fighters - to kill themselves off. You can always spot them: they’re the ones who are bright and high-minded, but just don’t seem to fit. Obviously, when they crop up in a family dynasty that we consider to be ‘ours’, like the Vanpyres, we make a special effort to break them. We are, after all, their gods, and they must be made to serve us.

  Taffeta put down the pag
es. Her hand was shaking. It was all now falling horribly into place. She was beginning to see how her own family, the Vanpyres, fitted into this terrible plan. She forced herself to continue….

  Count Moribund Vanpyre comes from a centuries-old Vanpyre family, and his career was but one stage in the continuing rise of an established, even legendary dynasty. He grew up wanting for nothing. Nothing blinds a person so completely as getting far too much of their own way far too soon. Not that he was without talent or drive. It was just that his trajectory had been a series of contingency decisions in a family narrative that was now inescapable. He was what is somewhat cynically known in the Trade as a ‘useful idiot’. Not that he was literally stupid. Not at all. Just that he thought he was in control of what he was doing, when in fact he himself was a means to an end.

  What most people (fortunately) do not realize is that stupidity is not caused by lack of intelligence: it’s caused by lack of character. It was all there: the parasitical banking practices that were bleeding Joe Public dry; the systematic transformation of democratic political systems into show business extravaganzas designed to conceal who was really calling the shots; the arms industry; the black ops; the drugs trade – legitimate and illegitimate, although it was often hard to tell the difference between the two. And, of course, what was euphemistically known as the ‘scientific research’. Ah yes, the Vanpyres really have been very useful to us indeed. And they have certainly had their rewards in this life.

  Curfew had promised Taffeta that if she read this, she would be able to join the dots, and he was right. With growing horror, she realized the role that her own family had played in the diabolical plan described in these pages….