Friday, November 20, 2015

The Short but Terrifically Sweet Story of an Awkward Young Woman who Learns an Invaluable, Distinguishable Lesson SO 'Feminist-Esque' about Depending on Men for Inner Happiness

"What Makes You Happy"

A Short Tale of an Everyday Western Girl's Life-Altering Decision

By Jordan Miguel Adorno



         Sixteen-year-old Kelly sits on her twin-sized bed underneath her favorite Hello Kitty bedsheets, lame as she knows this makes her. Laying on her side with her head propped on the matching-set pillow, hands folded gracefully under her face, feeling tense nevertheless she lets go a yawning sigh which leaves a reasonable wistful distaste in her mouth. It is ten to midnight. A full moon is shining its luminous colorful light through her cream-colored, boring plain-like curtains. Normally, she likes that her bedroom is upstairs on occasions such as a full moon, when there is a spectacular sight to see. Tonight, however, she cannot care less about the pretty illuminated presence of a bright full moon directly past her window; no (if only), for tonight she has personal drama to sulk and overbearingly preoccupy herself with. Henceforth, lost dramatically in a tortured realm of overt mental madness, she indeed can even sense her entangled depressive thoughts nonstop racing across her brain. In fact, as far as her troubled, now vulnerable-feeling mind (currently in its most-corroded ever state) is concerned, her entire life has fallen apart in the proximity of one day's potential.

    So yeah, she is rather "distracted" one could say.

    In this single, actually proved incredible day (as it would swift turn out), her boyfriend of well over two years broke up with her, she found out about her parents' imminent divorce, AND she is having a bad hair day. The culmination of it all is taking a sufficient toll on Kelly. This is rather understandable of course, but that doesn't assuage any of her feelings, so it really makes no difference to Kelly right now. Even if it isn't but a, err, colossal-bit understandable (and it by all means IS, a pinch too much so no doubt, actually), either way bottom line she is in a great deal of pain. Anguish, actually, is perhaps more like it. This is like nothing she has ever been bothered by before.

    She can't stop pointlessly thinking, 'This sucks. I can't believe Mom and Dad are getting a divorce after twenty-five years of being together. Twenty-five years. And I can't believe I didn't see...' Her puzzling thoughts trail her, leave her more and more fazed. If she isn't pondering this without any answers, then she is thinking miserably to herself, 'I can't believe Jason cheated on me. That bastard! Always acting like he's the sweetest, nicest guy, and all the while he was just playing with my heart, and me, being stupid, fucking let him, too. I believed his lies, and now I feel like a fucking idiot for it.' Rolling over onto her other side, she takes a deep breath, blowing off some steam.

    In the discomfort of these unseeingly oh-so-isolating-like moments, Kelly literally hates herself. She cannot conceive how stupid she'd been to ever a trust a guy like Jason, and to stay with him for a whole two-and-a-half years at that. How stupid could she have been?! Now, she, unlike so many other girls (especially of her age), is one to avoid crying; the way she'd been raised, doing so is the act of letting your full guard down, to bury one's head in the sand with his or her pride right along with it. Usually she manages to follow this philosophy well. But tonight, it seems, is quite different, not succeeding to show a characteristic that is generally pretty uniform of herself. This, necessarily, bases on the fact that she is suffering the several tears which fall from her glistened, currently half-lifeless ocean-blue eyes.

   Becoming conscious of this, feeling agitated Kelly, apparently angry at herself for crying, sits herself right up, wiping her tears off immediately; basically—though she, lost in hesitancy, won't ever allow herself to realize this, complicatedly—she refuses to accept she is merely human, and that there is nothing 'weak' about crying every once in a while. Nevertheless, she vehemently shakes her head in respite, crying out loud this time. "NO!! I won't waste tears on that lousy creep! I can't be that stupid..." She yells this as if to make real and sure the difficult-to-fathom principle for the sake of her 'fenced' state (so to speak) of own self. She is a qualifying member of the Rasputin family, after all, and cannot do injustice to its glorious name by letting herself get choked up like this. It is a reprehensible disservice. And besides, she, now starting to feel cognitive and more clear-headed about the whole thing, thankfully, reminds herself that Jason really isn't worth it; and as for the divorce, she embraces the reality check now that she is most definitely not the first person to ever go through something like this and come out alive and well. As a matter of fact increasingly frustrated, she keeps trying to emphasize all of that inside, being brutal on herself in her latter, rather dangerous impacting thoughts...

    'Just get the fuck over it, Kelly. If they're getting a divorce, then clearly they're not happy together, so why should you let yourself get depressed over it? Why bother questioning it; why bother wallowing in pointless denial? You're one of just millions of kids who go through this exact thing everyday. You'll live.' SARCASM...always a heartbroken cynic's choice of best friend, is often a path she takes (often successfully, too) as a method of cheering up; like a first step (for her, that is) in the process of healing. Grinning to the sardonic cynicism (that of which she makes sure becomes immediately internalized all-throughout, by the way) she falls back squarely on her pillow, then immediately finds herself looking up at the ceiling, totally focused, as though searching for answers on its white popcorn-base surface. Pulling the comforter over herself and attempting to get cozy like any normal night, sighing she closes her eyes, relaxes, and for a brief second after smiles at her own "silliness" (as that's what she at very least feels this whole debacle rather was, honestly, anyhow).

    And from this day forward Kelly does not ever, ever let an unfaithful man take over her emotions and sway her into another mess like that again—no, not now; no, not ever. Yep, it may have taken a moment, but Kelly Rasputin at last knows and recognizes that inside she is far, FAR better than being that kind of whiny, desperate girl who's always beside herself screeching (if you will), "OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE—— *GASPS* I DON'T HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!", and other likewise 'messed-up' shenanigans.


Thursday, July 23, 2015

Regarding the Curious Question of Josef Stalin's Strictly Verifiable Religious Origins...


"JOSEF STALIN: Christian Who Manipulated Jews"

By Thomas Keyes
Apr. 7, 2005

     Many times in history, you read that in a predominantly Christian society, a handful of highly intelligent and crafty Jews has gotten control of a vast number of Christians, and that this is the sort of thing that has led to the repeated expulsions that Jews have experienced. This phenomenon has been recorded in Spain, Germany, Russia, Austria-Hungary and elsewhere. It is almost as if Jews float on water, whether it's a lagoon or an ocean, but are eventually tossed ashore by a big wave.

But there was one time in recent history when a Christian put himself in charge of a society of Jews. That one Christian was Joseb Dzhugashvili, better known by his alias, Josef Stalin, the man who ruled the Communist Party and the USSR with an iron fist.

Upon reading about the early Communist Party, I did not realize that so many of its high-ranking officials were Jews, because their names all seemed genuinely Russian. But their names were code names, aliases in other words. Thus Trotsky's real name was Brönstein. Martov's real name was Tsederbaum. Kamenev's real name was Rosenfeld. Zinoviev's real name was Apfelbaum. Sverdlov's real name was Solomon. Radek's real name was Sobelsohn. Litvinov's real name was Wallach. Even Lenin was part-Jewish.

Perhaps these aliases were assumed because originally these men formed an underground. Perhaps they sought also to conceal their Jewishness from the anti-Semitic element among the proletariat they claimed to be championing.

I noted in an article that I posted here recently entitled, "Jews: Figuring the Odds," that in a photograph of 61 leaders of the early Communist party, 22 Jews were included, and since Jews made up only 2.5% of Russia's population at the time, the odds against such a landslide's having occurred in a random selection would have been 21 quintillion to 1. This proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that certain Jews automatically rise to the top.

But Josef Stalin was not a Jew at all. Nor was he a Russian. He was a Georgian from a Christian family. Georgians are the largest group of 60 or 70 that make up the Caucasian ethnicity, not to be confused with the Caucasian race. The Georgians, also called Kartvelians, and their relatives, Lezghians, Abkhazians, Chechens, Ingushes, Kabardians, Mingrelians, Circassians and others, inhabit the Caucasus, between the Black and Caspian Seas. These people are completely unrelated to ethnic Russians, Armenians and Azerbaijanians (or Azeris) that live in the vicinity. Nor are the Georgians Jewish.

­Stalin was brought up in the Georgian Orthodox Church, one of the oldest of Christian churches. He aspired to be a priest, probably to please his mother, who sought this vocation for him, and, at the age of 15, he won a scholarship to a seminary in Tbilisi (or Tiflis), the capital of Georgia. He excelled in singing and sang a solo in the local church on the occasion of Tsar Alexander III's birthday. Later he was expelled from seminary for absenteeism.

I'm pretty sure that it can be substantiated statistically that a higher proportion of Jews than Christians become atheists. At any rate, one of the planks in the Communist Party's platform was atheism. This derived from the atheism of Karl Marx, another Jew. So Stalin, upon entering the party, if he had ambitions to rise within, would have had to confess atheism as a first step to being credentialed as a Communist. But whether Stalin really embraced atheism or persisted in his predilection for Christianity is a question that only Stalin could have answered.

However that may be, it does remain that the teachings of Christianity did nothing to prevent him from perpetrating the incredible monstrosities synonymous with his name. If the word of Christ had had such a redeeming quality as Christ's devotees like to pretend, Stalin would probably never have become what he was.

Anyway, with the death of Lenin, who probably preferred Trotsky to Stalin, a real power struggle ensued, with once-Christian Stalin winning out over Jewish Trotsky and his coreligionists. So one time and maybe one time only, a Christian manipulated Jews, instead of vice versa, as Stalin went on to control the party and the country for 30 years.

    P.S. A Note from Jordan: If you're further interested in learning about the horrific man that was Josef Stalin and how he murdered a total 20 million people across the span of his evil dictatorship, you may find this short documentary rather intriguing:

"Hitler's Sinister, All-Monstrous Rulership: Unholiest of Missions Catalyzed in Christ's Name"

"I am Catholic and will remain so until the day I die" – HITLER, 1941

By Charlotte Schnook and Jordan Adorno


Preface. Background History:

History is currently being distorted by the millions of Christians who lie to have us believe that the Holocaust was not a Christian deed. Through subterfuge and concealment, many of today’s Church leaders and faithful Christians have camouflaged the Christianity of Adolf Hitler and have attempted to mark him an atheist, a pagan cult worshiper, or a false Christian in order to place his misdeeds on those without Jesus. However, from the earliest formation of the Nazi party and throughout the period of conquest and growth, Hitler expressed his Christian support to the German citizenry and soldiers. Those who would make Hitler an atheist should turn their eyes to history books before they address their pews and chat rooms.

Considering that Christianity has thus far been incapable of producing an unbiased, educated follower which speaks the truth (I haven’t encountered any), I have been forced to dispel the myth by writing this essay. It is not until I bring up his speeches, my personal info on the Nazi regime and their tactics that a Christian will begin to question what their clergy told them. (I am the offspring of a German soldier. My Opa served under Hitler in WW2 and my father was raised during the time of the Nazi regime. This is important information to take into consideration for I am privy to some info that most Americans do not know. It is common for American media and education institutions to lie to their citizens concerning Nazi Germany.)

So, in presenting this information I must break it into four parts:  1) Facts about Hitler and his involvement with the Church. 2) How the Church was the catalyst for Antisemitism. 3) Facts concerning how the Nazi regime drilled these beliefs into Germanic society. 4) Quotes Hitler made proving his disdain for Atheism/occultism, his upheld Christian faith, and his hatred toward Jews due to his Christianity.

1. Hitler's Early Church Affairs:

a) Hitler was baptized as Roman Catholic during infancy in Austria.

b) As Hitler approached boyhood he attended a monastery school.
b-2. On his way to school young Adolf daily observed a stone arch which was carved with the monastery’s coat of arms bearing a swastika.

c) Hitler was a communicant and an altar boy in the Catholic Church.

d) As a young man he was confirmed as a “soldier of Christ.” His most ardent goal at the time was to become a priest. Hitler writes of his love for the church and clergy: “I had excellent opportunity to intoxicate myself with the solemn splendor of the brilliant church festivals. As was only natural, the abbot seemed to me, as the village priest had once seemed to my father, the highest and most desirable ideal.” - Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf

eHitler was NEVER excommunicated nor formally condemned by his church. Matter of fact the Church felt he was JUST and “avenging for God” in attacking the Jews for they deemed the Semites the killers of Jesus.

f) Hitler, Franco and Mussolini were given VETO power over whom the pope could appoint as a bishop in Germany, Spain and Italy. In turn they surtaxed the Catholics and gave the money to the Vatican. Hitler wrote a speech in which he talks about this alliance, as excerpted, “The fact that the Vatican is concluding a treaty with the new Germany means the acknowledgment of the National Socialist state by the Catholic Church. This treaty shows the whole world clearly and unequivocally that the assertion that National Socialism [Nazism] is hostile to religion is a lie.” – Adolf Hitler writing to the Nazi Party, 22 July 1933

g) Hitler worked CLOSELY with Pope Pius in converting Germanic society and supporting the church. The Church absorbed Nazi ideals and preached them as part of their sermons; in turn Hitler placed Catholic teachings in public education. 

h) Due to Hitler’s involvement with the Church he began enacting doctrines of the Church as law. He outlawed all abortion, raged a death war on all homosexuals, and demanded corporal punishment in schools and home. Many times Hitler addressed the church and promised that Germany would implement its teachings: “The National Socialist State professes its allegiance to positive Christianity. It will be its honest endeavor to protect both the great Christian Confessions in their rights, to secure them from interference with their doctrines (Lehren), and in their duties to constitute a harmony with the views and the exigencies of the State of today.” – Adolf Hitler to Catholic bishops, assuring them that he would take action against the new pagan propaganda, 26 June 1934

i) "Providence has caused me to be Catholic, and I know therefore how to handle this Church.”- Adolf Hitler, speaking on the reaction of the Catholic Church to National Socialism in Berlin, 1936

j) Further Reading. If you would like to know more about the secret dealings of Hitler and the Pope via Vatican "privilege", I recommend you a very resourceful book entitled Hitler’s Pope: The Secret History of Pius XII, by John Cornwell

2. How Christianity Catalyzed the Holocaust:

(Caption: Hitler with Archbishop Cesare Orsenigo, the papal nuncio in Berlin. It was taken on April 20, 1939, when Orsenigo celebrated Hitler’s birthday. The celebrations were initiated by Pope Pius XII, and became a tradition.)

1. Hitler’s antisemitism grew out of his Christian education. Austria and Germany overwhelmingly were Christian nations at this turning point, particularly holding that Jews were inferior to all Aryan Christians. The Christians blamed the Jews for the killing of Jesus. Jewish hatred did not actually spring from Hitler, it came from the preaching of Catholic priests and Protestant ministers throughout Germany for hundreds of years. The founding Protestant leader, Martin Luther himself, held a livid hatred for Jews and their Jewish religion. In his book On the Jews and their Lies, Luther set the standard for Jewish hatred in Protestant Germany up until World War 2. Hitler expressed a great admiration for Martin Luther by constantly quoting his works and beliefs.

2. Now, you must remember before Hitler rose to Chancellor of Germany the country was in a deep economic depression due to the Versailles treaty. The Versailles treaty demanded that Germans made financial reparations for the previous war and Germany simply was not at all self-sufficient enough in order to pay the debt. Hitler was the leader that raised Germany out of the depression and brought them back to a world recognized power. Due to his annulment of the financial woes of the Germanic people, Hitler became their redeemer and anointed leader of the German Reich Christian Church in 1933. This placed him in power of the German-Christian Socialist movement, powering Hitler authority over their individually legislated, political and religious agendas. It united all denominations, mainly Protestant, Catholic and Lutheran people to instill faith in a national Christianity.

3. "If anyone can lay claim to God's help, then it is Hitler, for without God's benevolent fatherly hand, without his blessing, the nation would not be where it stands today. It is an unbelievable miracle that God has bestowed on our people." - Minister Rust’s speech to mass meeting of German Christians, June 1933 

4. The closeness between Hitler and the Church was demonstrated on some annual occasions. “[...]Warmest congratulations to the Fuhrer in the name of the bishops and each diocese in Germany with fervent prayers which the Catholics of Germany are sending to heaven on their altars.” - Cardinal Bertram of Berlin, as addressed each April 20 to honor Hitler's Birthday

3. Nazis' Widespread FORCED Christian Conversions:

a) In the 1920s, Hitler’s German Workers’ Party (pre-Nazi term) adopted a “Programme” with twenty-five points (the Nazi “constitution”). In point twenty-four, their intent clearly demonstrates, from the very beginning, their stand in favor of a “positive” Christianity: “We demand liberty for all religious denominations in the State, so far as they are not a danger to it and do not militate against the morality and moral sense of the German race. The Party, as such, stands for positive Christianity, but does not bind itself in the matter of creed to any particular confession...” - Hitler’s German Workers’ Party "Programme”; Positive Christianity endorsement 

b) The Nazi regime started a youth movement which preached its agenda to impressionable children. Hitler backed up the notion that all people need faith and religious education: “By helping to raise man above the level of bestial vegetation, faith contributes in reality to the securing and safeguarding of his existence. Take away from present-day mankind its education-based, religious- dogmatic principles-- or, practically speaking, ethical-moral principles--by abolishing this religious education, but without replacing it by an equivalent,te result will be a grave shock to the foundations of their existence.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf

c) The Nazi regime began to control schools insisting that Christianity was taught.

d) The Nazi regime included anti-Semitic Christian writings in textbooks and they were not removed from Christian doctrines until 1961.

e) The Nazi regime having full blown power over the people began to forcibly convert all its military.

f) The Nazi regime forced the German soldiers to wear religious symbols such as the swastika and they placed religious sayings on military gear. Exampled in this photograph of the German army belt buckle (I believe my Opa had one), it reads “Gott Mit Uns”; for those of you who do not speak German it is translated as 'God With Us'.

g) The German troops were often forced to get sprinkled with holy water and listen to a sermon by a Catholic priest before going on a maneuver. 

h) The Nazis created a secret service called the “SS Reich” that would act as spies on the dealings of other citizens. If anyone was suspected of heresy-acting not only against the Socialist party but the CHURCH DOCTRINE entirely, too - they would be prosecuted.

4. Hitler's Many Self-Attestations to Christianity:

Adolf Hitler’s speeches and proclamations clearly reveal his faith and warm feelings toward an ideal, Christianized Germany even more. Nazism presents an embarrassment to Christianity and demonstrates the danger of their faith, so many theists misleadingly pin him onto other theistic views. The following words from Hitler show his disdain for atheism and pagan cults, revealing the strength of his Christian feelings:

1. National Socialism is not a cult-movement-- a movement for worship; it is exclusively a ‘volkic’ political doctrine based upon racial principles. In its purpose there is no mystic cult, only the care and leadership of a people defined by a common blood-relationship... We will not allow mystically- minded occult folk with a passion for exploring the secrets of the world beyond to steal into our Movement. Such folk are not National Socialists, but something else-- in any case something which has nothing to do with us. At the head of our programme there stand no secret surmisings but clear-cut perception and straightforward profession of belief..." (Quote continues below)
1-a. " [-] But since we set as the central point of this perception and of this profession of belief the maintenance and hence the security for the future of a being formed by God, we thus serve the maintenance of a divine work and fulfill a divine will-- not in the secret twilight of a new house of worship, but openly before the face of the Lord… Our worship is exclusively the cultivation of the natural, and for that reason, because natural, therefore God-willed. Our humility is the unconditional submission before the divine laws of existence so far as they are known to us men.” - Adolf Hitler in Nuremberg, September 6th, 1938
1-b. Christians have always accused Hitler of believing in pagan cult mythology. What is written here clearly expresses his stand against cults. Consecutively, the followed notices Hitler using the Christian Bible in order to attack the Jews and uphold his Antisemitism.)

2. "My feelings as a Christian points me to my Lord and Savior as a fighter. It points me to the man who once in loneliness, surrounded by a few followers, recognized these Jews for what they were and summoned men to fight against them and who, God’s truth! was greatest not as a sufferer but as a fighter. In boundless love as a Christian and as a man I read through the passage which tells us how the Lord at last rose in His might and seized the scourge to drive out of the Temple the brood of vipers and adders. How terrific was His fight for the world against the Jewish poison. To-day, after two thousand years, with deepest emotion I recognize more profoundly than ever before the fact that it was for this that He had to shed His blood upon the Cross. As a Christian I have no duty to allow my self to be cheated, but I have the duty to be a fighter for truth and justice… And if there is anything which could demonstrate that we are acting rightly it is the distress that daily grows . For as a Christian I have also a duty to my own people." – Adolf Hitler, Giving a Speech on 12 April 1922  

3. "Christianity could not content itself with building up its own altar; it was absolutely forced to undertake the destruction of the heathen altars. Only from this fanatical intolerance could its apodictic faith take form; this intolerance is, in fact, its absolute presupposition." – Adolf Hitler Mein Kampf
3-a. (Here it is quite obvious here that Hitler is referring to destructing the Judaism alters on which Christianity was founded.)

4. "The personification of the devil as the symbol of all evil assumes the living shape of the Jew." – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf
4-a. The idea of the devil and the Jew came out of medieval anti-Jewish beliefs based on interpretations from the Bible. Martin Luther, and teachers after him, continued this “tradition” up until the 20th century.

5. "With satanic joy in his face, the black-haired Jewish youth lurks in wait for the unsuspecting girl whom he defiles with his blood, thus stealing her from her people." – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf
5-a. It’s common in war for one race to rape another so that they can defile the race and assimilate their own. Hitler speaks about this very tactic here.

6. The best characterization is provided by the product of this religious education, the Jew himself. His life is only of this world, and his spirit is inwardly as alien to true Christianity as his nature two thousand years previous was to the great founder of the new doctrine. Of course, the latter made no secret of his attitude toward the Jewish people, and when necessary he even took the whip to drive from the temple of the Lord this adversary of all humanity, who then as always saw in religion nothing but an instrument for his business existence. In return, Christ was nailed to the cross, while our present- day party Christians debase themselves to begging for Jewish votes at elections and later try to arrange political swindles with atheistic Jewish parties-- and this against their own nation.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf

7. "…[T]he fall of man in paradise has always been followed by his expulsion.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf
7-a. See Genesis Chapter 3, in which humankind is cast from Eden for their sins. Hitler compares this to the need to exterminate the Jews for their sin against Christ.

8. Hence today I believe that I am acting in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator: by defending myself against the Jew, I am fighting for the work of the Lord.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf

9. The Antisemitism of the new [Christian Social] movement was based on religious ideas instead of racial knowledge.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf
9-a. This quote is very interesting for it disperses the idea that Hitler raged war due to being an Aryan supremacist. He states quite clearly that he has a problem with Jews for their belief not race. That is why many German Jews died in WW2 regardless of their Aryan nationality.

10. Only in the steady and constant application of force lies the very first prerequisite for success. This persistence, however, can always and only arise from a definite spiritual conviction. Any violence which does not spring from a firm, spiritual base, will be wavering and uncertain.” – Adolf Hitler,  Mein Kampf
10-a. Here Hitler is admitting that his war against the Jews were so successful because of his strong Christian Spirituality.

11. Along with the fight for a purer morality we have taken upon ourselves the struggle against the decomposition of our religion. We have therefore taken up the struggle against the Godless movement, and not just with a few theoretical declarations; we have stamped it out. And above all we have dragged the priests out of the lowlands of the political party struggle and have brought them back into the church." - Adolf Hitler, In celebration of Germany’s exit from the League of Nations, maintains that the Third Reich actively implements the Christian agenda, 1919-1945

12. For further reading:
12-a. Norman H. Baynes, ed. The Speeches of Adolf Hitler, April 1922-August 1939, Vol. 1; 19-20. Oxford University; 1942
12-b. Richard Steigmann-Gall. The Holy Reich: Nazi Conceptions of Christianity

5. Hitler's HATRED for Atheism:

         The following quotes DIRECTLY illuminate how Adolf Hitler strongly resented Atheists, finding nonbelievers in their core principle nothing but utterly repulsive. Sufficient as ever in only his proud words, I avenge my community by re-publicizing Adolf Hitler's reprehensible sentiments toward those not God-believing:

1. "For their interests [the Church's] cannot fail to coincide with ours [the National Socialists] alike in our fight against the symptoms of degeneracy in the world of to-day, in our fight against a Bolshevist culture, against atheistic movement, against criminality, and in our struggle for a consciousness of a community in our national life" - The Speeches of Adolf Hitler, April 1922-August 1939

2. We were convinced that the people needs and requires this faith. We have therefore undertaken the fight against the atheistic movement, and that not merely with a few theoretical declarations: we have stamped it out.” - Adolf Hitler, during a speech in Berlin, 24 October 1933
2-a. This statement clearly refutes modern Christians who claim Hitler was an Atheist. Hitler wanted to form a society in which ALL people worshiped Jesus and considered any questioning of such to be heresy. The Holocaust was like a modern inquisition, killing all who did not accept Jesus. Though more Jews were killed than any others, it should be noted that MANY ARYAN pagans and atheists were murdered for their non-belief in Christ.

3. "I often feel that we will have to undergo all the trials the devil and hell can devise before we achieve Final Victory....I may be no pious churchgoer, but deep within me I am nevertheless a devout man. That is to say, I believe that he who fights valiantly obeying the laws which a god has established and who never capitulates but instead gathers his forces time after time and always pushes forward—such a man will not be abandoned by the Lawgiver. Rather he will ultimately receive the blessing of Providence. And that blessing has been imparted to all great spirits in history." - Adolf Hitler, as quoted from Albert Speer's Inside the Third Reich: Memoirs (1982)

4. "We do not judge merely by artistic or military standards or even by purely scientific ones. We judge by the spiritual energy which a people is capable of putting forth, which will enable it in ten years to recapture what is has lost in a thousand years of warfare. I intend to set up a thousand-year Reich and anyone who supports me in this battle is a fellow-fighter for a unique spiritual-- I would say divine-- creation.... Rudolf Hess, my assistant of many years standing, would tell you: If we have such a leader, God is with us." - Adolf Hitler, from Secret Conversations with Hitler (page 68)

5. And now Staatspräsident Bolz says that Christianity and the Catholic faith are threatened by us. And to that charge I can answer: In the first place it is Christians and not international atheists who now stand at the head of Germany. I do not merely talk of Christianity, no, I also profess that I will never ally myself with the parties which destroy Christianity. If many wish today to take threatened Christianity under their protection, where, I would ask, was Christianity for them in these fourteen years when they went arm in arm with atheism? No, never and at no time was greater internal damage done to Christianity than in these fourteen years when a party, theoretically Christian, sat with those who denied God in one[,] same Government.” - Adolf Hitler, Delivering Historic Speech in Stuttgart, 15 February 1933

6. Third Reich's Conspiracy to Christianize Already Widely Overruled Masses:

Nazi World War II records (and such premonitory filings that preceded alike) have preserved documents which, in possessing greater, grander details, do well to illuminate the Holocaust's Christian involvements; and so noted in part here:

1. "Around 1937, when Hitler heard that at the instigation of the party and the SS vast numbers of his followers had left the church because it was obstinately opposing his plans, he nevertheless ordered his chief associates, above all Goering and Gobbels, to remain members of the church. He too would remain a member of the Catholic Church, he said. And in fact he remained in the church until his suicide..." - from Inside the Third Reich by Albert Speer (pages 95-96)

2. A consecutive historic occurrence is better explained by a scholar from a renowned Christian organization, in fact, called Kinsman Redeemer Ministries: “Adolf Hitler and true National Socialism were confident that as the harmful influence of atheistic or religious Jews and Judeo thinking was removed from society, that all true Christians would return to the pure faith in Jesus Christ. A return to what the first Christians said and stood for was not only the Protestant cry of Martin Luther, but also the official position of true National Socialism. The German people were earnest God-fearing Christians, seeking only to implement in the political realm, the theology of Christ Himself...” – from Positive Christianity by Pastor Mark Downey, 2009
2-a. For further reading: Positive Christianity

3. "After April 7, 1933, civil servants in Germany were required to prove that they were not Jews. Because births had been registered by the state only since 1874, the church was called upon to provide many records. The Catholic Church cooperated right up to the end of the war. Likewise, after the 1935 Noremberg laws that forbade marriage between Aryans and non-Aryans, most Catholic priests did not perform such ceremonies, even though the number of Jewish conversions to Catholicism was accelerating because of the persecution." - from Pope Benedict XVI: A Biography of Joseph Ratzinger, by John L. Allen Jr.

7. Hoaxed Statements Alleged to Hitler in the Infamously folly Table Talk:

Many opposed to the fact that Hitler was a Christian immediately cite Hitler's “secret conversations” within Table Talk, a publication where anti-Christian statements allegedly made by Hitler are compiled by a suspicious biographer. However, these alleged statements simply have no empirical standpoint whatsoever in any historic debate because Table Talk never unearthed proof of its credibility. In spite of myth, these supposed anti-Christian “secrets” were not recorded or captured by audio, film or radio broadcasts, and furthermore the specific translator had a burning anti-Catholic passion. Altogether, these Table Talk conversations are left highly questionable. But what's ultimately problematic about this alleged dissatisfaction with Christianity is its lack of accurate context to History's Adolf Hitler, the one who proved his Christian allegiances useful. Nevertheless, here consecutive is my point-by-point rebuttal:

1. As Jim Walker explains, “Those who deny Hitler as a Christian will invariably find the recorded table talk conversations of Hitler from 1941 to 1944 as incontrovertible evidence that he could not have been a Christian. The source usually comes from the English translation (from a French translation) edition by Norman Cameron and R. H. Stevens, with an introduction by H.R. Trevor-Roper. The problem with these anti-Christian quotes is that the German text of the table-talk does not include them.
 1-a. In fact, in the original German text and throughout each translation afterward, these quotes corroborate Hitler’s well-publicized infatuation with his savior, Jesus Christ.

2. Originally, Christianity was merely an incarnation of Bolshevism the destroyer. Nevertheless, the Galilean, who later was called Christ, intended something quite different. He must be regarded as a popular leader who too up His position against Jewry. Galilee was a colony where the Romans had probably installed Gallic legionaries, and it's certain that Jesus was not a Jew. The Jews, by the way, regarded Him as the son of a whore-- of a whore and a Roman soldier ... The decisive falsification of Jesus' doctrine was the work of St. Paul. He gave himself to this work with subtlety and for purposes of personal exploitation. For the Galiean's object was to liberate His country from Jewish oppression. He set Himself against Jewish capitalism, and that's why the Jews liquidated Him.” – Adolf Hitler, Table-Talk (page 76)

3. “Christ was an Aryan, and St. Paul used his doctrine to mobilize the criminal underworld and thus organize a proto-Bolshevism.” – Adolf Hitler, Table-Talk (page 143)

Given that what is sound are Hitler's own public proclamations and autobiographical testaments, it holds to reason that these listed quotes are far likelier to be valid given at least their consistency. After all, at least these Pro-Jesus statements were featured in every publication, whereas his uncharacteristic, anti-Christian whining mysteriously found its way into newer translations. But if you are still curious, you can read more about Table Talk hoax controversies here.


Sunday, June 28, 2015

Part One to the 2007 Original Short-Story Compilation, "TRILOGY OF CONFRONTED PREJUDICE"

Terror & Karma

A Short Tale of Deadly Prejudice

We have learned to say that the good must be extended to all of society before it can be held secure by any one person. But we have not yet learned to add to that statement, that unless all people contribute to a good, we cannot even be sure that it is worth having.” — Jane Addams 

Part I — Premeditation 
Date: November 5, —— 

In the eyes of Detective Gavin Horace   
      The town of Smithee had always been uneventful and dull. Mr. Robertson had been the butcher for years, Sister Mary had always run the chapel, and the many townspeople had always attended church services every Sunday. Nothing ever changed, and the people of Smithee liked it so. So, when the strange, unwelcome Somana Siblings moved into the largest, most lavish house in town, the townspeople began to talk nosily amongst themselves.

Mysteriously, the five Somana Siblings were the antithesis to the townspeople in every way imaginable: the family comprised three elder sisters who were, in spite of their twenty-something ages, running the unorthodox household where their two teenaged brothers were being raised. The siblings were most strange, from their dark, satanic-like clothing and obscene makeup to the odd language they spoke only amongst themselves, which was less a language and more a venomous mix of unsettling snarls and hisses; spookiest of all, the Somanas had no trace of an accent when speaking to various townspeople, even leaving the impression that the whole family was exceedingly articulate.

Nonetheless, despite the Somana's alarming oddness, the ultimate issue was their being not at all well-mannered, not even when addressing one of the town's most prominent people, Sister Mary, who ran Smithee's beautiful chapel: accordingly, when the nun asked the eldest sister, Claire, where their parents were, she responded standoffishly, seemed very offended, and made a snide comment about being above "medieval" standards of dependence on a weaker generation.

Not shockingly, by nightfall of that very day, the Somana Siblings had lost any opportunity at jovial residence in Smithee, for the word of Sister Mary was always taken as true. Commenting on the Somana Siblings, she steadfast called them, “liberal, nasty, and a plague of shame to our town.” Those few still willing to give them a chance gave up the first Sunday of their arrival when the Somanas didn't attend church service, and to top it off, were found afterward outside their home in morbid clothing and makeup looking guiltless of their disrespect; it was evident to the townspeople, all whom were scrupulous Christian, that they meant to gloat their fearlessness of the Lord God — BLASPHEMY!! That was the final junction of "offense" for the townspeople who, put lightly, were much too abhorred by the Somana Siblings to ever speak to them again.


And so the next five weeks went on with the townspeople attempting to ignore the strange Somanas. But it was a fall day that drew immense focus on the forlorn family, a day which struck undying anxiety into the hearts of the many townspeople, all of whom had never encountered a day of shock in their totally normal lives...

It began when the eldest sister, called Claire, strolled into town in a long-sleeved, Victorian-style black dress that reached just above her knees. The dress looked most expensive and matched perfectly with her pallid skin and dark eyes, though it did not bring her any approval from the townspeople, who found disgust in the inappropriate length of the dress. Her long, raven-colored hair reached her waist and she walked in a pose that meant business. Her striking beauty only upset everyone in sight of her though, because ultimately her Godless appearance repulsed them; after all, her composure was obviously nonexistent of any normal twenty-four-year-old woman in Smithee. Given, to not one's surprise "subtle" obscene hand-gestures and nasty looks assailed Claire’s way from every direction constantly, altogether maintaining a predatory watch over the poor woman like she was an invader in severe need of banishing.

Claire Somana first went to the marketplace, collecting groceries normally in a surprisingly polite fashion. When a young, hopeful adolescent offered to assist her with her heavy paper bags of groceries, she refused kindly and rushed home. Reportedly, she was seen again, perhaps an hour or so later at the library on the other side of Smithee, in deep conversation with Henry Robinson, the town's favorite bartender. Looking as though completely charmed by the handsome, cordial young man, Somana received many glares, not surprisingly, from countless spectators.

Some of these revolted witnesses equally frowned upon Henry, too, whom they felt was foolishly befriending the abnormal, unwelcome woman. It truly awed them to see Henry behave this strangely, having always been a decent member of their community. But he paid no mind to the disapproving eyes casting judgment, astoundingly unaffected. Remarkable indeed, the day went on as disappointed "eagle eyes" witnessed Henry's uncharacteristic disregard of convention persist.

Moving on, within another hour they departed the library with books in medical science, looking cheerful and happy as ever. Next the two were seen in the pharmacy uptown retrieving assortments of herbal treatments and various forms of painkillers. Although Mr. Adams the pharmacist said nothing to them, by nightfall he assured all in church that Claire Somana was a calculating junkie, and that she was polluting the mind of poor Henry, who at only the young age of twenty-two was, unfortunately, "...vulnerable to the manipulative mind of the untamed woman."

You see, I knew they weren’t normal!” Sister Mary denounced first, gladdened to hear the town pharmacist validate her discomfort about the Somanas, whom she considered to be a very "misfitting" family for their ultra-pious community.

By God, how awful that woman is! She is but a dangerous, shameless sinner, I say! Those two brothers of hers can’t be older than fourteen or fifteen, and they’re being raised by a junkie — I shudder at the thought of how the other sisters are!” exclaimed another, Mrs. Rachel White.

I’ve only seen the middle sister once. I think her name is Evie, isn’t it? She came to the park with her brother, the blonde one, Jacob I think, and read while he played ball. She didn’t bother to greet or speak to anyone!” resented Mrs. James, whom herself had four boys of her own. “Those boys need a home — A proper one.”

Should we be so quick to judge, to make assumptions? Perhaps we are mistaken,” suggested Sarah Marie, Mrs. James’ only daughter. “They’ve not been in town two months yet!”

Sarah, we can tell a bad seed when we see one, now be quiet,” scolded Mrs. James, embarrassed.

Everyone seemed to unanimously agree, and as Pastor Mony began service, the townspeople’s minds were focused on the Somanas, who were of course absent once again from the house of God. On the bright side, the service tonight was lovelier than ever: Mony spoke of Abraham, of Jesus, of the soon-to-come End of Times; promisingly, Sister Mary left for a short time during the choir's performance to prepare the special prayer vigil for afterward, and promptly returned to distribute communion, which everyone participated in, as always. No one suspected tonight would be the start of indescribable horrors, so when Donny Wright came screaming, running down the aisle in reach of the altar, falling down to his knees, crying at the hems of Pastor Mony’s robes, most assumed it was a foolish, blasphemous hoax.

MURDER, MURDER! OUTSIDE ON THE CHURCH STEPS! Henry Robinson's dead! Henry’s dead! Blood everywhere!” he screeched in horror to all, mesmerized by terror.

It was too unbelievable, a bold and juvenile joke, every spectator immediately thought. Inconceivable, the abominable truth at first was entirely disbelieved, for every churchgoer present forced their vulnerable hearts to refute it. No one has ever committed murder in Smithee, not ever, they told themselves. A defensive uproar of denial was instantaneous, thus, as their fragile small minds rejected the very serious statement.

But Donny Wright’s terrified composure failed to discontinue. "MURDER! MURDER!! SO HELP ME GOD, HENRY WAS MURDERED! His body lies right there, covered in a pool of blood on the steps preceding the church! Witness it for yourselves, I swear it's true!” he bellowed again, now overwhelmingly tearful.

Panic started increasing throughout the pews, finally. After all, Donny was a law-abiding young man, adamantly involved in Church and loved by all. Such a most respectable young man was not capable of such an unthinkable joke, came a shuddery thought amidst their denial; yes— they felt fear all the sudden, as then again, would it not be totally unlike him to lie, especially about something as major as this? As all momentarily fell to the terrifying realization that this was likely no joke, some screamed madly under the fire of all-consuming fear and apprehension. But it was three good men, fathers and trusted fellows, who finally stood up and, doubtingly, beckoned all to wait while they went outside and determined if the alleged crime scene really existed. Amazingly, it was only a minute (despite that it felt like the longest moment of every attendee's life) and then they returned...

Except now their faces were fixated in horror.

The disconcerted look of these three shaken, unnerved men made it obvious that Henry Robinson’s life had truly been destroyed, and probably in an especially torturous manner, too. “Notify the authorities,” confirmed one of them in an emptied, haunted voice, likely the only one not paralyzed speechless. “Henry’s dead.”


And so I, Detective Gavin Horace, was called to the mysterious, disturbing case. At first, I as well was certain the murder had been a hoax, impossible by all means. Outside assistance had never been necessary in Smithee, and the idea of a murder seemed beyond implausible. But there had been no hoax, the tragedy had occurred, and therefore my utmost determination I would use to solve the mystery.

Henry's death had been especially painful, that was obvious upon sight. The crime scene was a mess: blood was splattered all over the young man’s body; he seemed to have bled to death from his chest and mouth profusely, and most sickeningly, was at one point castrated; no less sinister, the look on the victim's face revealed how nearly paralyzed by fear he was in his last moment of life. (Shortly afterward, modern tools of science easily proved that the man died slowly and painfully.) Now, given the murderer's extreme cruelty, it must've been the most ironic thing ever that his body was left on the church steps, right? No, believe it or not. Most intriguing and way more ironic were the words written in hard-pressed blood above the boy’s head on the consecutive step: ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.’

Upon questioning the man who originally found Henry Robinson’s body, traumatized Donny Wright, his alibi was clear and concrete: he'd walked out of the church to set up the coffee and snack table for after the service, and nearly had a heart attack upon the sight. “So much blood,” the poor man recalled in a tortured voice. “So much blood...”

My necessary objectivity in my career never faltered, but this time I could barely suppress my own anxiety. The population in Smithee was short of 2,000, and yet in this small, tight community, someone had fooled them all; someone inside was a killer! To make matters worse, the motive was totally unclear. Henry had no enemies according to friends and family. He had, however, gone to University for two years in the city before deciding on an unexpected return three months prior to his murder. Immediately, my own instinct said (and hoped) this was an outside predator seeking vengeance against Henry, and yet the townspeople were almost hysterical about a possible suspect in town:

That Somana woman was with him all day!”

She plotted something!”

She’s evil!”

She probably drugged him!” accused Mr. Adams specifically. “She bought all sorts of pain killers at the pharmacy today.”

She is Satan’s demon incarnated, an evil spirit trying to destroy our pure devotion to our Lord in our town,” Sister Mary adjudicated of the outrageous matter. Her moral sensitives, intense pious feelings, were exacerbated toward the tragic situation for she was a most God-devoted nun; extremely distressed, Sister was desperate for an intervention with Lord God, for divine assistance, because the murder of a good Christian in their village was, according to her, "a maddening alert of Satan’s clutches." Hence, it didn’t matter that she had never been too close to Henry. In fact, the emotion was passionate as ever in the nun's final words to me: “Banish her, detective!!”

I knew well of the people of Smithee: extremely religious, strictly conservative, and quick to judge. I was not surprised that they so quickly concluded that one of the eccentric newcomers was responsible. Nonetheless, as the medical crew took Henry’s body away for the autopsy (to be conducted by expert medical examiners that would hopefully help in solving this investigation), I could only assure them I would find the killer.


An hour later I was at the Somana residence, hoping for a trail. The house was two stories high, surrounded by perfectly cut green grass. The house looked gloomy somehow; I couldn’t help but notice spiderwebs on the windows or the completely black paint which covered the house. It gave off an eerie, creepy sense. As I walked up the steps to the porch and watched the wind gently move their wooden swing, chills ran through my bones and I knocked loudly.

NowI understood the town’s immediate repression towards the Somanas.

After a dragged, unsettling silence, a thin girl of average stature and short dark hair opened the door, looking as though no guest was welcome at that time of the night, understandably. She was not mesmerizingly beautiful like her eldest sister (as I'd eventually learn): although she was youthful, barely an adult most likely, she looked awkward with her slanted eyes and hooked nose. Her short hair gave her a masculine vibe that did not compliment her appearance, nor did it assist her overly-thin frame. And needless to say, her abrasive "welcome" also hardly flattered her appearance. “Who are you?” she commanded immediately.

Detective Gavin Horace,” I said evenly, showing her my badge. “Pardon my visit at this time, but I’m here to question Claire Somana’s whereabouts tonight.”

The girl frowned, hawk-eyeing me suspiciously. Gulping, panic visibly slighted her demeanor as she responded. “She’s out now. What’s this about?”

Who are you in relation to Claire?” I asked sharply.

Medaysa Somana. I’m her youngest sister,” she answered calmly. Realizing the matter must be serious, her composure calmed. “If you need to talk, come inside.”

I thanked her and entered through the threshold. The house had a spectacular, mind-blowing interior: the immediate area, a living room of some sort, was dimly lit and completely decorated in gothic style, too predictably. There were large black couches made of leather that looked very comfortable, elegant lamps with ghostly depictions, Victorian-styled morbid paintings on the dark walls, and glass displays of war memorabilia. In the center of the room, in front of the couches, was a long, black table lit by thirteen candles. Surrounding the room prominently on either side was a wooden spiral staircase that overshadowed the double-doors on either side downstairs leading to other rooms.

It was hardly the layout of a friendly atmosphere.

But although this extreme eeriness was perhaps glaring, nonetheless Medayasa Somana casually invited me to sit down and make myself comfortable right away, so I attempted to take in the eccentric surroundings as though normal and sat on one of the couches.

Taking a seat on the couch opposite myself, Medaysa was first to speak. “Explain what’s going on,” she said firmly, but then in quite a grave and more scared voice she pleaded, “Please.”

Henry Robinson was murdered tonight and found at the church steps during service,” I answered in a clear, objective tone. Still, I admit to feeling a strike of pity for Medaysa as I watched her face sink palely. The poor girl couldn’t have been older than nineteen, really. Unsurprisingly I heard my voice soften slightly as I got to the sinister point of my presence. “Your sister was seen with him earlier this day.”

She didn’t kill anyone!” said Medaysa indignantly. “Henry’s an old friend, she’ll be devastated!” The young lady was very frail-looking,sicklypale now. She looked near tears and was starting to run her fingers through her hair unruly, shaking.

Please try to calm down, Medaysa. You don't want to make yourself sick...Now, I have to ask, where were you tonight, Medaysa?” I reluctantly asked out of necessity. I didn't really see anything implicative about her behavior, but still I carefully watched her body language in the brief seconds before she responded, looking for instantaneous clues.

Here,” she answered coldly. “My brothers and my older sister Evie can vouch. As for Claire, she’s gone to the University in the city. She'll be away for a couple of days.”

When did she leave?” I asked sharply and quickly.

Seven-thirty,” said Medaysa promptly. “Henry dropped her off here around seven and she packed a quick suitcase before leaving."

Why was she with Henry the entire day?” I asked authoritatively.

Like I said, they’re old friends,” snapped Medaysa, her tone rapidly heating. “Henry Robinson, just a carefree bartender you've probably heard …ha. He’s got a mind. Henry and Claire were both science majors at the University, and they hit it off right away. They were like partners in crime. After a while, I guess, the story goes that Henry didn’t like the ethics at the University, so he went independent and returned.”

The knowledge she offered me could eliminate Claire as a suspect — hypothetically. Ironically, see, on the other hand, the two's relationship now revealed only made the suspicions more reasonable, too. Thinking critically, I nodded understandingly. “How old are you?” I asked harmlessly, curious of the custodial situation.

Nineteen. Evie is twenty-one, Claire is twenty-four. Since she's the oldest, Claire is the one who actually has legal custody over Kyle and Jacob, our younger brothers,” Medaysa informed me.

I’ll need to speak to your eldest sister immediately,” I said firmly. “I need an address to reach her pronto.”

Medaysa surveyed me carefully, but then nodded in compliance. She understood. At this point, I was fairly sure Medaysa was honest in her information, sensing no trace of criminal intent in her fearful eyes. Sympathy once again afflicted my objectivity just a bit as I watched Medaysa seem inches from an emotional breakdown. “I must ask if you’re withholding any information from me,” I warned, a little too gently. I simply could not allow myself to sound at all emotionally invested. After all, that would simply make me vulnerable to the situation out of sympathy.

With a startle Medaysa got up, now with tears pouring down her cheeks. She began pacing 'round and 'round in circles, and oddly enough, her lively, frantic emotion nearly brought a strange beauty to her basically plain appearance. When she finally stopped her anxious pacing a few moments later, Medaysa moved to intentionally stand directly in front of me, putting her hand on her heart, and dramatically said, “Henry and Claire are like kindred spirits, Detective, you've got to understand that, and I just, just...I just don’t fucking know!” She then literally fell down onto her knees exhaustedly, running her fingers through her hair again while also pressing her fingers against her cheekbones and arms hard. Medaysa was effectively making it worse on herself, self-causing a psychosomatic reaction as she began coughing and shaking. The poor girl, looking as though in immense pain, began to look convulsive even, and would shortly be in need of emergency medical assistance, I worried…

Medaysa, I’m going to call a doctor!” I annouced, loud and clear in my urgent tone. Getting up, I grabbed her arms and tried to still her. “Steady now, steady... Come on, stay with me, Medaysa...Breathe. It's going to be okay.” I was shocked by how almost panicky I could hear myself sound; 'Musn't let myself get subjective,' I prudently warned myself...

Medaysa shook her head but eventually began inhaling and exhaling slowly, and in a few moments was calmer. She left the room momentarily to take some sort of sedative,passing through the double-doors on the far left into what I guessed was the kitchen. When she returned, Medaysa wrote down an address along with directions before sending me on my way to her sister. Still, as I thanked her and started out the door, Medaysa made it a point to say Claire was NOT the murderer, and then had me promise to find the real perpetrator. There wasn't just loyalty behind that though, not with that look of paralyzing fear; my guess is Medaysa had felt convinced this crime was a crime of malicious passion, maybe even a conspiracy of some sort, which suggested she was probably scared the killer would strike again.

'I will serve justice at all costs' was the answer I assertively gave her, decisively obliging myself to the promise. Upon heading out, I consulted my partner, Jill Motif. Since I intended to seek out Claire Somana, I instructed Jill to continue with interrogations in Smithee and to keep in contact with the medical examiners for any clues. But whether it was a good plan or not, every moment it sunk in more, more, more …

There were no coincidences.

Medaysa was surely right to suspect something bigger here, perhaps a conspiracy, I caught myself deciding very fast. Before long there was no doubt in my mind that the murder of Henry Robinson was a carefully devised act of coldhearted, merciless premeditation...

"Do not join your hand with the wicked to be a malicious witness. Do not follow a crowd to do evil; neither shall you testify in court to side with a multitude to pervert justice; neither shall you favour a poor man in his cause if it is not just." — Exodus 23: 1-3

Part II — Conspiracy 
Date: November 6, —— 

In the eyes of Evie Somana   
      I had never agreed with Claire's selfish reasoning for harboring in the pathetic town of Smithee. The cult lifestyle here—from the brain-dead housewives and their monster-like, dominating husbands to the brainwashed children blooming like clones into religious extremists (in other words, following the footsteps of their parents)—repulsed me. The moment I entered our new home I was sure we'd made a terrible mistake; present circumstances proved this beyond any doubt.
Henry Robinson’s death was a tragedy. My dear sister, Claire, spent two years in avid research with him at the University. She had been entering graduate school and he, fresh in University. She took notice to him immediately, noticing his particular attraction to eccentric science. According to Claire, within three months they were studying and experimenting together. All went well at the start, but after two years, a perhaps overzealous Henry felt his time was wasted at a university constricted by tight boundaries and immense interest in only conventional science and political correctness. And so he returned to Smithee, became a bartender, and opened a lab in the basement of his home. He implored Claire to visit often.
And then it happened: It was a normal day in our home, near to the University, conveniently. Medaysa and I watched Jacob and Kyle frequently, which was fine as we were grown up, and I still lived in my parents’ home. I felt I owed it to them. It was such a normal summer day. Jacob and Kyle were playing ball with their friends, Medaysa was celebrating her graduation from high school with friends, Claire was in class, and myself, alone reading inside.
And then the news was passed to me: my parents were killed in an accident of transportation, leaving their fortune, children, and despair behind. I need not elaborate on the pain we felt, feel, and will always feel...
Claire managed to finish her Graduate Degree by the end of the season, and in a directionless situation, Henry alerted us of a beautiful home in Smithee up for sale, which included a basement that could be transformed into a laboratory for Claire to use, and hopefully with him in collaboration, too. He’d insisted, so with the small fortune that our parents left behind we indeed purchased that huge extravagant house in Smithee. All was well at first as we found our new home suitable to comfort.
I saw Henry the day he died. He had been with Claire all day in a rush to finish one of their experiments. Their research was incomplete and therefore Claire chose to take a visit to the University library. With a smile I watched him grant her luck before her departure. Not for a moment did I believe his life would be taken so swiftly. And I couldn't even grieve in peace; fear was subsiding me, leaving me constantly wondering if yet another of my loved ones would be next on the chopping block...
I ordered my brothers to stay in the house, lock up . Ordering Medaysa to enforce this rule vigilantly, I then voyaged out to seek out Claire — as head of household we of course needed to decide the best motives for the future of our family. The trip took little time, and upon reaching our parents’ home, I found Claire in the sitting room, and on the chair opposite her, the detective Medaysa spoke of: Detective Gavin Horace. Claire was crying, her makeup a distorted mess all over her face. Sadly, I must admit she was holding up better than I had imagined, however...
...Yes, sir,” Claire was saying, struggling tear-to-tear. “Check with the company, my ride from Smithee to Alice Springs will be documented, the driver will as well alibi me appropriately. You waste your time here while the murderer runs free!” said Claire angrily, who sounded manic. I joined her at her side, comforting her soundlessly in a heartbroken embrace.
Have you any information otherwise, then, to offer me that can assist the investigation?” asked Detective Horace in a nonchalant, seemingly innocuous tone. He was trying to make the atmosphere as relaxed as possible, as such created potential for a confessional slip-up.
Investigate those most adamantly reproaching me instead, Detective!” Claire cried out pressingly, bitter and almost sarcastic in adding, “those who seem purest in conviction of their blinding, dangerously extreme devotion to their system of faith! Perhaps THEY killed Henry in fear I would corrupt him— Sick-minded fools!!” she cried out in a seething scream, running out of the room.
I knew the detective would question me next, so I didn’t follow her. I composed myself in order and looked at him carefully, letting him know I was strong, equal, and not to be belittled with. I was first to speak. “My name is Evie Somana,” I introduced. “I am the middle sister. I, like my youngest sister, who you spoke with last night, was at home." Pausing, I looked him face-to-face, confidently redirecting my speech in a focused manner." As she stated, please seek out the townspeople that through blinded prejudice may have a motive, those whom you may otherwise ignore in face of their 'holier-than-thou' Christian facades.”
He smiled at me, stood up, and began circling the couches. He laughed a bit, narrowing his eyes on me. Instantly, I knew. My pretentious attitude had just made me a suspect. I still did not worry, though, because I was innocent, had never gone anywhere near the crime scene; his motive to find a confession inside me would therefore be fruitless. Henry Robinson was a man I respected.
Have you a motive, ma’am?” he asked in a charming sense. His voice turned deep and chilling as he leaned on the arm of the sofa and stared at me. “Was he yours first, Evie? Did it drive you mad? Were you protecting what was yours? Did she wrong you, Evie?”
I glared at him. “As Henry was gay, I doubt any of us women were fighting over him,” I snapped, and he was taken aback. “He and Claire were most certainly not involved."
He stepped back and surveyed me closely. I could tell, though, for the present, he believed me. "Curious. Very curious," he plainly answered her, not backtracking on his cool, composed guard.
I thought back for a moment for any assistance I could offer. I thought of Henry’s former boyfriend, Sam. They had dated before he left for the University and Sam had been devastated. It seemed out of character, but had Sam snapped? Had an unrequited love in such a prison-like town caused him such distress that he snapped and became a murderer? No …. the murder was premeditated. The chances were slim. To top it off, the message left at the crime scene did not match up at all. But I knew revealing this information was only ethical. “Sam Williams may know something. He was his boyfriend prior to Henry’s University leave.”
The detective immediately looked alerted. He lowered his eyebrows exquisitely and then raised his head firmly. “I shall look into this; I’ll be in touch.”
Claire and I ventured back to Smithee a few hours later, mourning together. Our decision was to remain in our home in Smithee. Our pride was a large part of this decision, of course, as it was our home. We would stay together safely and await justice in our home. Our family pride would not let us flee into hiding, would not let us forfeit ourright to live our lives freely…
It was mid-afternoon when we arrived at home. We needed to visit the shopping center, and I volunteered to go. My younger brother, Jacob, insisted on accompanying me. I was not happy with this, but I understood: he was attempting to show maturity, to man up in a time like this. I was relieved to have someone with me moments after venturing into the marketplace.
I expected sketchy behavior, but the townspeople did not even whisper. They watched me cruelly, spoke of us loudly, and their composure almost dared us to attack them, to allow their belief in my family’s guilt be confirmed. This, of course, did not happen. I whispered to Jacob inconspicuously to disregard their silent taunting; ignore, look forward, stay composed…Repeat. I wanted to hasten, but I acted as normal as possible. I could not allow their antagonistic behavior overcome me. Wanted to show myself as a strong woman …Something the town depressingly lacked.
And then I was approached by Sam Williams as I and Jacob strolled down the pavement through the park…
It was a strange coincidence by all means— A pang, a mix of stress and guilt, ran thin through my veins; I felt uncomfortable of the secret I held. Detective Horace’s transportation was faster. Had Sam already been interrogated? Surely not … The interrogation with Claire had droned on longer than I had thought upon finding Claire and the detective back home. Claire had said the detective had pressed on for two hours. I wondered, was it my duty to inform him of my actions?
Hello, Evie!” said Sam halfheartedly, depression overriding. I had only ever properly met Sam twice, actually; once was when we’d visited Claire at the university for Thanksgiving: By then, Claire and Henry had already discovered their mutual interests and had become close friends quickly. Sam had come to see Henry as “friends” (truthfully to rekindle their relationship, hopefully anyway), and they and my family had celebrated together.
I became well-acquainted with Sam over that long weekend. He had professed to me his love for Henry, and as I always chose to take the role of an avid listener at the beginning of all my people relations, I became quite aware of the young man Sam had been. He was not interested in advanced studies; lessons did not interest him. He enjoyed the simple life of Smithee, though the burning secret he held in his heart haunted him. He told me of a time where he had been certain he had let his guard down to a fellow friend of his, and he compulsively practiced masculinity in the mirror for three days, until he realized he was being paranoid. He mentioned to me a potential interest in the armed services, but I knew his fear of exposure would prevent this.
Still,for a boy of my own age, I found him somewhat charming and at heart a good person. My second meeting with him was quite soon after our relocation to Smithee. I had actually been quite curious how this boy, whom I had met nearly two years ago had been getting along. We had written each other a few times, but with no devoted consistency. He had met me at the park this time as well.
He had grown nicely into a man now: He was tall and lanky and equipped with a proper poise, something he had lacked before. His blonde hair had grown out well, and his blue eyes shone beautifully. Ironically, he commented on my beauty before I had a chance to compliment his. He said my shorter neck-length haircut suited me much better than the long, dark curls from before. He told me the men in Smithee would die for my petite, feminine shape, and that my green eyes were lucky and pretty. I laughed as he commented that if he had been romantically attracted to women he’d desire me like no other. I told him I was flattered and had that been the case, I would have cordially accepted a date…
And now fate would have it that we met again.
He was very pale, distressed and slouchy-looking, sickly even, his eyes distracted and void of any emotions. He had never stopped loving Henry; I saw it, I felt it somehow. And I instantly knew he was grieving harder than possibly anyone else. As far as he was concerned, Henry was the love of his life, and the only other homosexual he had revealed his secret to. As I sunk this knowledge in, I found it impossible to look at Sam. It would have torn me to pieces. “Evie, my friend, how misfortune has reached us … Oh God, Evie … How could anyone …"I was shocked how quickly he fell apart. I looked at Jacob. He looked so obedient at that moment; he respected the man by being silent and understanding. By speaking, he would destroy Sam’s last traces of ego.
I could think of no words to explain the feelings in my broken heart: my parents, then of Claire’s very few friends, and now I witnessed someone beyond in love with Henry, simply unable to assess his emotions, understandably. “Sam, oh Sam,” I began as I embraced him kindly and then patted him on the back. “Please allow me to assist you as humanly possible as I can.”He nodded and I guided him to a wooden bench. For a moment I attempted to conceal my own tears, but I couldn’t. I wept along with Sam. It went beyond the murder, though that may sound cruel. The stress was murdering us all internally. Henry was dead, and we seemed to be dying in our own hearts...
When I finally managed to speak, my voice was uncharacteristically defenseless. “Sam, I told the detectives of your relationship with Henry. I had to, I didn’t suspect you, but I thought maybe you might know something,” I explained to him quickly, and guilt rushed out of my system in a blissful relief. Fear he would misunderstand my intentions did not dissipate slightly, however.
He let go of the embrace, wiped his tears and faced me somewhat composed. “I’d rather you hadn’t, but I understand. But I don’t know anything, honest,” he said passionately, and I knew his words to be true intuitively.
Just be honest to the detective and you’ll be fine.” I said. I decided Jacob’s presence was probably inappropriate, so Sam and I escorted him back home. Sam seemed to feel guilty, because he took it upon himself to speak to Jacob.
Ah, Jacob, how you look just like your father, really,” Sam said before we left. Jacob’s face lit up, and it was true. Though Jacob still had a boyish face, our father’s blue eyes glowed in him and he had his father’s same short, curly brown hair. He was tall just like his father had been. “He would be proud.”
Thank you,” Jacob said honestly. “I’m sorry about Henry, he was a good guy.”
So we bid Jacob farewell…
I brought Sam back to his home, where I made him tea and dumped his brandy out. The last thing he needed added to his depression were depressants. I consciously waited with him for less than an hour when the knock on the door alerted us of the visit of Detective Horace. I motioned for Sam to stay seated in his rocking chair as I opened the door. It was not Detective Horace surprisingly, but it was a detective. It was a female, and unlike Detective Horace, who was middle-aged, she looked fresh out of the academy. Her look, however, nearly mirrored mine unseemly: Control.
I was polite as I somewhat formally introduced myself and Sam to her. Her name was Detective Jillian Motif and she was sharper than Horace for sure. Her questions were more accusing and precise, her tone more alarming, her poise threatening.
Your alleged alibi can be confirmed by whom?” she inquired, as though she had no doubt of Sam’s guilt. I looked at the woman and I believe I understood her attitude.She was very plain-looking, and it was obvious she spent little time attending to her beauty. I believe she felt the need to constantly be on the defense. She had most likely been treated below standards her whole life.
As Sam gave her a list of five people who had been at the church with him, her mood seemed to calm slowly. I relaxed myself, knowing there was no way now Sam would be in a dilemma. Detective Motif asked a few short, simple questions and then instructed us to submit any new information to either her or Horace. Naturally, we complied.
I remained in Sam’s apartment attempting to comfort him for a short while. Upon leaving, it seemed almost as though both of our spirits had been raised, if only just. Time could be the only healer, I remember thinking.
Upon leaving, the atmosphere felt peculiarly chilling that night. I suppose there was fear in me as I made my way home in solitude. The trip seemed to take longer than normal, and in a bitter paranoia, all my senses felt enhanced, and I shook at any movement. I was relieved as I joined my family at home. All was well, temporarily, and I prayed no more tragedies would fall upon us...
The remaining week went normal. Medaysa schooled Jacob and Kyle, Claire continued her studies in her own lab in the basement, and I wrote. The week was gone like a thief in the night, and I began to relax a bit as no other hostile behavior had occurred in town.
On Sunday, as a family, we decided to take a visit to the top of a large hill outside of town. Our parents had raised us in the practice of transcendentalism, and the night was starry and pretty. It was an ideal time to enjoy the wonders of nature on the hill, surrounded by woods.
We never made it past the church. It was we who found Sam’s body on the church steps, drowned in blood. A look of pure terror remained on his motionless body. Written in blood was the identical cryptic message as before: 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned'.
Were we next in this murder conspiracy?!


"But someone digs upon my grave? My enemy - prodding sly?" Thomas Hardy

Part III — Revelation 
Date: November 14, —— 

In the eyes of Kyle Somana   
      Claire lost her mind. I never saw her in such paranoia and in such rage. She was positive we were next on the chopping block. She locked us inside her basement laboratory after dimming all the lights, forcing us to hide down there in total quiet for three nights straight. Only after much protest did Claire finally let us out, tearful and shaken like I'd never seen her.
But I understood, or at least tried my best to. Evie, who was normally entirely verbal, was quiet and cold. She snapped when spoken to, and could not sleep any longer than three hours at a time. Medaysa repeatedly went into nervous fits where she pulled hair from her scalp, especially the night of Sam’s murder. Jacob, apprehensive but never speaking, was always chalk-white and anguished face. I, only thirteen and too young to be really scared of dying per say, still felt astonishingly afraid all the time...
It was a terrifying time of shock and disruption for everyone and everything in town.
Jacob and I weren’t close to Sam or Henry, no, but it was obvious the murders were no coincidence. Someone was murdering with a clear motive, which, based on the bloody messages, was very religious. As we were far from Christian — and therefore totally unlike everyone else in this small psycho town — I was scared as ever for our lives!
The medical examiner apparently had revealed both victims had been brutally stabbed sixty-six times, after castration — Even beyond death. This shocked and frightened all, naturally. As we hadn’t left our home, I wouldn’t know, but I was sure most everyone else had hid indoors, too. They didn’t want their families hurt.
Detective Horace and Motif questioned us again, but we once again had an alibi. They suspected us less as our entire family was unlikely to be murdering together. Instead, the repeated bloody message seemed to be the new investigative focus, because (finally!) the detectives began looking for clues among the most devoted religious icons in the community...
No one knew of the secret relationship of Sam and Henry beside my family and the detectives. As far as the town knew, someone just liked the taste of blood. Of course, though, the town still solely suspected my family. I suppose they thought my sisters killed Sam and forced two boys, fifteen and thirteen, to watch...
So not surprisingly, we still never left home for a whole week.Then, for whatever reason, I brought it upon myself to prove our insulting accusers wrong. It was Sunday again and I was sure the culprit would be around again. Pretending I was asleep in my room, I slid out of the window, pocket knife in coat, flashlight in hand. I began my way down the road to the church, which was full of townspeople expecting another murder, no doubt. I was shocked there was even a service, given the circumstances.
Local police officers were stationed around the church. The killer wasn’t going to come. I began my way back, but a blinding light flashed upon me. I had been spotted. And then I realized how guilty I looked. I wore a long black coat with a knife in my pocket — Sam and Henry had been stabbed. As the police approached me, a million horrible thoughts raced through me. How could I have done something so moronic?
Three of them came within five feet of me, weapons held ready at side, flashlights on me. I put my left arm above my eyes so I could see. The men looked so intimidating. They were big, tall men and I was a short, scrawny boy. They would frame me, I knew it!
Identify yourself!” one said fiercely.
Kyle Somana,” I croaked.
What are you doing here? Up to no good, I see!” a stern other said.
Then the worst happened. The third officer searched me, and he found my knife. And then all three of them watched me in disgust but in success, truly believing they had found the culprit.
It’s dangerous to go out without protection!” I screamed indignantly. “Do you see blood on my tracks regardless, on this knife I carry protectively?”
They stopped, a bit taken aback. I took my opportunity to continue. “I came to see if I could spot anything. I have the right to walk around protected. Do you see a body? No!”
I was so, so nervous; I pretended confidence. Why would I expect them to do their job honestly?
We should take him in for questioning,” said a third officer. He came towards me to try to handcuff me. I jumped three steps back.
What evidence do you have to arrest me? What you know of the law my sister Evie could probably fit in the palm of her hand, trust me! She’s a criminal lawyer,” I screamed in defense. This was only half-true; although Evie was the most well-read person I knew on the subject, she was only obsessed, not employed in criminal law.
Let him go,” grunted a stiff-sounding fourth officer with a black top hat on, probably the highest-ranked officer present.
Go home, kid, or we will have a problem.”
"Yes sir. Thank you," I stuttered anxiously.
His inferiors were hesitant, disappointed clearly because of their wanting glory, but in pure relief I quickly made my way off—And then the glass shattered at the chapel while I was passing and nearly scathed me. Flying through came a marble, almost human-sized sculpture of Jesus Christ, now destroyed. Something horrible was going on in there. I looked both ways, unsure of what to do.
STOP WATCHING ME!” screamed a female voice from inside the chapel. A candle, kept in a glass container with religious imagery was thrown through the window next, it too shattering and causing a small fire. I was too scared to move as I stood on the left side of the window, not daring to peer inside. Then I heard footsteps coming my way, and I was lucky to see Detectives Horace and Motif running impressively fast.
"Help ... Something crazy ..." I breathlessly managed, unnerved entirely, so it took everything in me to recover and scream, "SOMEONE BALLISTIC HAS INVADED THE CHAPEL AND IS VIOLENTLY DESTROYING IT TO PIECES!!" I shook with panic as I did, as I confirmed that, yes, I myself had first-hand witnessed the latest sight of heinous horror to rampage the town. Needlessly said, I was greatly relieved to see the detectives break through the small chapel's side door a second or two later.
One of them — I was too distracted by my inner anxieties to see which — flipped on the lights. Everything illuminated before my eyes as I took a sneaking glance inside the chapel: Sister Mary was in there, untamed and agitated, in the long aisle between the pews on either side, surrounded by life-sized, broken statues of religious icons. It looked very scary, and for a lack of better term, evil. She was crying. Her hair was a mess; her eyes bulged. She looked exhausted.
They stare at me, they rid me with uncontainable guilt!” she yelled fearfully, running to a large statue of Jesus at the altar, lifting it at chest-level and smashing it in front of the closest pews. “Make it stop!”
Ma’am, do not move!” screamed the highly demanding Motif in a full, utterly unabashed voice. Horace ran towards her, grabbed her, and sat her down in one of the pews. Shockingly, she began to calm down as he firmly held her by the shoulders, softly asking her, “Why, Sister? Why do they watch you?” Horace smiled at her sweetly, like a man to his senile mother.
I understood perfectly. She had murdered Sam and Henry and now she was losing her mind. I hated her so much, more than any human had ever before him, I felt so sure of this...
At every pew there were pockets that altogether contained a grand total of probably over 100 copies of the Bible (literally), the King James generic intended for congregants to follow along with at Sunday service. Sister Mary pulled one out and began reading a familiar-sounding passage from the Book of Corinthians. “'Liars, Adulterers, thieves, homosexuals, will not inherit the kingdom of Heaven'.”
Every moment her madness further confirmed her guilt. Horace pulled the Bible from her, relaxed her arms, and smiled at her in a consoling manner. His innocence reflected that of a child as he innocuously requested of her, “Is that why you did it, Sister? Did you do God’s will?”
The aggrieved Sister screamed out loud as she grabbed the Bible from Horace and opened it to a consecutive passage. In a mystical tone shuddered with utter warning, she explained, "Look at the Book of Leviticus: 'And no man should lie with another man, and no woman with another woman, for this is disgusting'..."
Increasingly agitated, Sister Mary was screaming and shaking without any sign of near stop. “THEY WON’T STOP WATCHING ME!!!!!” White as a ghost in her delirium so outright,so incessant, the Sister pointed enragedly over at the remaining religious statues in the chapel.
Horace once again tried to calm her. “Shut your eyes. Tell me everything. The pain will dissipate, you’ll feel better, Sister,” he said with such manipulation, such intimation, that it made my skin crawl.
Those boys … I saw them kissing in an alley once when I was walking home. When I left the Catholic Church, I came here and was accepted, and I even kept my title of a Sister, and I started this chapel. I had a duty …I will burn this village before I let such disgust, such high level of blasphemous corruption, occur!” she declared, tearful through scourging, barely coherent screams of utter madness, disturbingly inhuman in her body's hideous convulsion.
An unreal rage— one beyond the reaches of human control it seemed— possessed me. Realizing what she meant in one unforgettable suffocating moment, I psychotically grasped the knife and I couldn’t stop. I ran inside, and pulled the knife from in my jacket. I wanted to kill her, to slaughter her for what she had done. She had killed innocent, caused stress and chaos and terror. I charged at her in the most rage I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
Stop!” called Motif severely. She lunged at me, and skillfully pulled the knife from my hand. She restrained me from destroying the cold-blooded woman, sympathy-stricken as she determinedly whispered, “Don’t— You’ll regret it. You’ll only ruin your own life.”
...I saw Claire Somana tonight. She had gone out right before service, to grab pain killers from the pharmacy, I took my bloody knife and I, I —” Sister breathlessly began confessing.
I immediately almost fainted. I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t take it. I felt my body sink from this world to the next, to some strange void worse than any kind of religious hell, to a place where there was truly nothingness, and where I was nothing, and where I could not return. I knew what she was going to say, and I couldn’t hear it, but I did. “The eldest sister’s body is behind the alter table.” She got up and raced up the altar. Horace followed and then alas—
He saw the body, bloodied as ever, and with the glance of total terror on its unfortunately lifeless face.
I wanted both for her to be dead and to be dead myself.
My life had been, and was now furthered by, a new excess of misery. My parents, and now my eldest sister were gone. I so wanted to kill her … I deserved that much. Motif grabbed her fiercely, nearly breaking her arm, pulling her from the altar. I was surprised she had left me standing there. How had she known I wouldn’t run and stab the woman? I suppose because Horace was standing by her anyway, examining my sister’s body … Or perhaps it was that I was too traumatized.
Sister Mary Paul, you’re under arrest for the murders of Claire Somana, Henry Robinson and Sam Williams …” began Motif austerely, but I believe I fainted right then and there as that is the last I remember, before Sister Mary was fully read her rights (which would have probably felt good to hear, admittedly). I’m glad because I never saw Claire’s body, and truthfully I'm glad I never got the chance to.
I think that I would die.
I later learned that written in a bloody hand's print on the floor over Claire's head was the identical message as twice before: "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned". Fucking extremist zealots finding a religious justification for their evil actions— How shocking' I recall was my first bitter dry thought.
And even when the murderer was sentenced to never leave prison again, left in the strictest-as-possible solitary confinement behind prison bars, I felt nothing near resilience for a very long time. But I did go on, and so did my remaining family, and how? Well, Claire was the strongest person I had known, and she would not have wanted us to give up, regardless of the pain that barreled the deathly salt into our burning wounds. That's right — for Claire and Claire alone we could not let ourselves die from the abominations of Sister Mary, from the hardships she delivered us. We recovered beyond the loss of our parents, and somehow we would survive beyond the devastating night when that nun poisoned my ears with her colder-than-ice revelations...
"A tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyrannies." —  'The Wolf and the Lamb', Aesop