Horst passed him a bottle he had picked up in his rapid trip from there to here. Remarkably, it's contents had survived the transit. "Drink this," he said, unmoved by Cabal's anger. "You need to save your voice for your next session." Cabal took the bottle testily and swigged from it. there was a moments pause, just long enough for Cabal's expression to change from testy to horrified revulsion. He spat the liquid violently onto the grass like a man who has got absent-minded with the concentrated nitric acid and a mouth pipette. He glared at Horst as he took off his spectacles and wiped his suddenly weeping eyes "Disinfectant? You give me disinfectant to drink?" Horst's surprise was replaced with mild amusement. "It's root beer, Johannes. Have you never had root beer?" Cabal looked suspiciously at him, then at the bottle "People drink this?" "Yes." "For non-medical reasons?" "That's right." Cabal shook his head in open disbelief. "They must be insane.

...but there were four things I taught Walter to consider: 1) That it was Cain who built the first City, 2) That there is a true Science in the World called Scientia Umbrarum which, as to the publick teaching of it, has been suppressed but which the proper Artificer must comprehend, 3) That Architecture aims at Eternity and must contain the Eternal Powers: not only our Altars and Sacrifices, but the Forms of our Temples, must be mysticall, 4) That the miseries (If the present Life, and the Barbarities of Mankind, the fatall disadvantages we are all under and the Hazard we run of being eternally Undone, lead the True Architect not to Harmony or to Rationall Beauty but to quite another Game. Why, do we not believe the very Infants to be the Heirs of Hell and Children of the Devil as soon as they are disclos'd to the World? I declare that I build my Churches firmly on this Dunghil Earth and with a full Conception of Degenerated Nature. I have only room to add: there is a mad-drunken Catch, Hey ho! The Devil is dead! If that be true, I have been in the wrong Suit all my Life.

Nevertheless, the potential and actual importance of fantastic literature lies in such psychic links: what appears to be the result of an overweening imagination, boldly and arbitrarily defying the laws of time, space and ordered causality, is closely connected with, and structured by, the categories of the subconscious, the inner impulses of man's nature. At first glance the scope of fantastic literature, free as it is from the restrictions of natural law, appears to be unlimited. A closer look, however, will show that a few dominant themes and motifs constantly recur: deals with the Devil; returns from the grave for revenge or atonement; invisible creatures; vampires; werewolves; golems; animated puppets or automatons; witchcraft and sorcery; human organs operating as separate entities, and so on. Fantastic literature is a kind of fiction that always leads us back to ourselves, however exotic the presentation; and the objects and events, however bizarre they seem, are simply externalizations of inner psychic states. This may often be mere mummery, but on occasion it seems to touch the heart in its inmost depths and become great literature.

Realizing the seriously ruthless, venomous habits and agendas of evil always instills a more fierce passion and longing for a closer God. Men, out of pride, may claim their own authorities over what constitutes good and evil; they may self-proclaim a keen knowledge of subjective morality through religion or science. But that is only if they are acknowledging the work of evil as a cartoon-like, petty little rain cloud in the sky that merely wants to dampen one's spirits. On the contrary, a man could be without a doubt lit with the strength, the peace, and the knowledge of the gods, his gods, but when or if the devils grow weary in unsuccessful attempts to torment him, they begin tormenting his loved ones, or, if not his loved ones, anyone who may attempt to grasp his philosophies. No matter how godly he may become, God is, in the end, his only hope and his only grace for the pressures built around him - it is left up to a higher authority and a more solid peace and a wider love to eclipse not just one's own evils but all evils for goodness to ultimately matter. If all men were gods, each being would dwell in a separate prison cell, hopeless, before finally imploding into nothingness.

Now,' cried the fiend, 'follow me! You must understand that I cannot get out by the great gate - the porter will not suffer that. Once here, there is no retreat. Follow me, therefore: we will just go to your house, where you shall dress yourself; for you can hardly go to a ball in your present costume - especially as it is not a bal masque. Mind and wrap yourself well up in your winding-sheet, for the nights are cold, and you may feel unpleasantly touched by it.'As he said this, Satan laughed malignantly; and I continued silently to walk after him.'I am sure,' continued he, 'that, in spite of the service I am doing you, you do not yet like me. You are always thus, you men - ungrateful to your friends. Not that I blame ingratitude; it is a vice upon which I pride myself, since I invented it myself; and I must say, that it is one most in vogue. But I do wish to see you a little more merry - it is the only thing I ask of you.'I answered not, but still followed my guide, white as a statue, and as cold. I was silent; but, at the pauses in the fiend's voice, I could hear my teeth chatter against each other, and my bones rattle in my body. ("The Dead Man's Story")

The moon seemed to veil herself before the bold looks of Satan. The night was cold. All the doors were closed, all the windows darkened. and the streets deserted. From their appearance, one would have imagined that, for a long time past no foot had traversed those silent streets. Everything around us bore a death-like aspect. It seemed as if, when day came, no one would open their doors; that no head, of woman or of child, would look out of those dark, dull windows; that no step would break the silence which fell, like a pall, upon all around. I seemed to be walking in a city which had been buried some ages. In truth, the town seemed to have been depopulated, and the cemetery to have grown full.Still we went forward, without hearing a murmur, or meeting even with a shadow. The street stretched for a long way across this fearful city of silence and repose. At last we reached my house.'You remember it?' said the fiend.'Yes,' replied I, sullenly, 'let us enter.' 'First,' said he, 'we must open the door. It is I, by the way, who invented the science of opening doors without breaking them in. In fact, I have a second key to all doors and gates - with one exception - that of Paradise!

The AristocratThe Devil is a gentleman, and asks you down to stayAt his little place at What'sitsname (it isn't far away).They say the sport is splendid; there is always something new,And fairy scenes, and fearful feats that none but he can do;He can shoot the feathered cherubs if they fly on the estate,Or fish for Father Neptune with the mermaids for a bait;He scaled amid the staggering stars that precipice, the sky,And blew his trumpet above heaven, and got by masteryThe starry crown of God Himself, and shoved it on the shelf;But the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't brag himself.O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away,And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stayAt the little place in What'sitsname where folks are rich and clever;The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse for ever;There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain,There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain;There is a game of April Fool that's played behind its door,Where the fool remains for ever and the April comes no more,Where the splendour of the daylight grows drearier than the dark,And life droops like a vulture that once was such a lark:And that is the Blue Devil that once was the Blue Bird;For the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't keep his word.

If the bible be true, God commanded his chosen people to destroy men simply for the crime of defending their native land. They were not allowed to spare trembling and white-haired age, nor dimpled babes clasped in the mothers' arms. They were ordered to kill women, and to pierce, with the sword of war, the unborn child. 'Our heavenly Father' commanded the Hebrews to kill the men and women, the fathers, sons and brothers, but to preserve the girls alive. Why were not the maidens also killed? Why were they spared? Read the thirty-first chapter of Numbers, and you will find that the maidens were given to the soldiers and the priests. Is there, in all the history of war, a more infamous thing than this? Is it possible that God permitted the violets of modesty, that grow and shed their perfume in the maiden's heart, to be trampled beneath the brutal feet of lust? If this was the order of God, what, under the same circumstances, would have been the command of a devil? When, in this age of the world, a woman, a wife, a mother, reads this record, she should, with scorn and loathing, throw the book away. A general, who now should make such an order, giving over to massacre and rapine a conquered people, would be held in execration by the whole civilized world. Yet, if the bible be true, the supreme and infinite God was once a savage.

It comes as no surprise to find [Norman] Mailer embracing [in the book On God] a form of Manicheanism, pitting the forces of light and darkness against each other in a permanent stand-off, with humanity as the battlefield. (When asked if Jesus is part of this battle, he responds rather loftily that he thinks it is a distinct possibility.) But it is at points like this that he talks as if all the late-night undergraduate talk sessions on the question of theism had become rolled into one. 'How can we not face up to the fact that if God is All-Powerful, He cannot be All-Good. Or She cannot be All-Good.'Mailer says that questions such as this have bedevilled 'theologians', whereas it would be more accurate to say that such questions, posed by philosophers, have attempted to put theologians out of business. A long exchange on the probability of reincarnation (known to Mailer sometimes as “karmic reassignment”) manages to fall slightly below the level of those undergraduate talk sessions. The Manichean stand-off leads Mailer, in closing, to speculate on what God might desire politically and to say: 'In different times, the heavens may have been partial to monarchy, to communism, and certainly the Lord was interested in democracy, in capitalism. (As was the Devil!)'I think it was at this point that I decided I would rather remember Mailer as the author of Harlot's Ghost and The Armies of the Night.

Very well, but - who are you?' again asked Gil Gil, in whom curiosity was beginning to get the better of every other feeling.'I told you that when I first spoke to you - I am your friend. And bear in mind that you are the only being on the face of the earth to whom I accord the title of friend. I am bound to you by remorse! I am the cause of all your misfortunes.''I do not know you,' replied the shoemaker.'And yet I have entered your house many times! Through me you were left motherless at your birth; I was the cause of the apoplectic stroke that killed Juan Gil; it was I who turned you out of the palace of Rionuevo; I assassinated your old house-mate, and, finally, it was I who placed in your pocket the vial of sulfuric acid.'Gil Gil trembled like a leaf; he felt his hair stand on end, and it seemed to him as if his contracted muscles must burst asunder.'You are the devil!' he exclaimed, with indescribable terror.'Child!' responded the black-robed figure in accents of amiable censure, 'what has put that idea into your head? I am something greater and better than the wretched being you have named.''Who are you, then?''Let us go into the inn and you shall learn.'Gil hastily entered, drew the Unknown before the modest lantern that lighted the apartment, and looked at him with intense curiosity.He was a person about thirty-three years old; tall, handsome, pale, dressed in a long black tunic and a black mantle, and his long locks were covered by a Phrygian cap, also black. He had not the slightest sign of a beard, yet he did not look like a woman. Neither did he look like a man... ("The Friend of Death")

Maana halisi ya falsafa ya 'Nitakuwa tayari kufungwa kwa ajili ya matatizo ya watu', au Falsafa ya Kufungwa, ni uvutano mkubwa uliopo kati ya Roho Mtakatifu na Roho wa Shetani kwa sisi wanadamu wote. Jambo lolote baya limtokealo mwanadamu husababishwa na Shetani na si Mungu na watu hupata matatizo kwa sababu ya kudharau miito ya mioyo yao wenyewe, au kudharau kile Roho Mtakatifu anachowambia. Unaweza kuvunja sheria kwa manufaa ya wengi kwani mibaraka haikosi maadui. Ukifungwa kwa kuvunja sheria kwa ajili ya manufaa ya wengi watu watakulaani lakini Mungu atakubariki. Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako. Tukijifunza namna ya kuwasiliana na Roho Mtakatifu hatutapata matatizo kwani Mungu anataka tuishi kwa amani katika siku zote alizotupangia, licha ya damu yetu kuwa chafu. Mtu anapokufa kwa mfano, Roho wa Shetani amemshinda Roho Mtakatifu na Roho Mtakatifu hatalipendi hilo kwa niaba ya Mungu. Ikitokea mtu akayashinda majaribu ya Shetani katika kipindi ambacho watu wote wameyashindwa; mtu huyo amebarikiwa na Mungu, ili aitumie mibaraka hiyo kuwaepusha wenzake na roho mbaya wa Shetani. Nikisema 'Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako' namaanisha, Roho Mtakatifu ana uwezo wake na Roho wa Shetani ana uwezo wake pia. Ukimshinda Roho wa Shetani uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani, na ukishindwa kumtii Roho Mtakatifu uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu, ilhali uwezo wa Mungu ni mkubwa kuliko wa Roho Mtakatifu na wa Roho wa Shetani kwa pamoja. Mungu humtumia Roho Mtakatifu kumlindia watoto wake ambao ni sisi dhidi ya Shetani … Kila akifanyacho Roho Mtakatifu hapa duniani ni kwa niaba ya Mungu, na tukimtii Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yetu. Mtu anapofungwa kwa kutetea maslahi ya umma wewe unayemfunga umemtii Roho wa Shetani. Yule anayefungwa amemtii Roho Mtakatifu maana amebarikiwa, na mibaraka haikosi maadui.

Maana halisi ya falsafa ya 'Nitakuwa tayari kufungwa kwa ajili ya matatizo ya watu', au Falsafa ya Kufungwa, ni uvutano mkubwa uliopo kati ya Roho Mtakatifu na Roho wa Shetani kwa sisi wanadamu wote. Jambo lolote baya limtokealo mwanadamu husababishwa na Shetani na si Mungu na watu hupata matatizo kwa sababu ya kudharau miito ya mioyo yao wenyewe, au kudharau kile Roho Mtakatifu anachowambia. Unaweza kuvunja sheria kwa manufaa ya wengi kwani mibaraka haikosi maadui. Ukifungwa kwa kuvunja sheria kwa ajili ya manufaa ya wengi watu watakulaani lakini Mungu atakubariki. Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako. Tukijifunza namna ya kuwasiliana na Roho Mtakatifu hatutapata matatizo kwani Mungu anataka tuishi kwa amani katika siku zote alizotupangia, licha ya damu yetu kuwa chafu. Mtu anapokufa kwa mfano, Roho wa Shetani amemshinda Roho Mtakatifu na Roho Mtakatifu hatalipendi hilo kwa niaba ya Mungu. Ikitokea mtu akayashinda majaribu ya Shetani katika kipindi ambacho watu wote wameyashindwa; mtu huyo amebarikiwa na Mungu, ili aitumie mibaraka hiyo kuwaepusha wenzake na roho mbaya wa Shetani. Nikisema 'Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako' namaanisha, Roho Mtakatifu ana uwezo wake na Roho wa Shetani ana uwezo wake pia. Ukimshinda Roho wa Shetani uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani, na ukishindwa kumtii Roho Mtakatifu uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu, ilhali uwezo wa Mungu ni mkubwa kuliko wa Roho Mtakatifu na wa Roho wa Shetani kwa pamoja. Mungu humtumia Roho Mtakatifu kumlindia watoto wake ambao ni sisi dhidi ya Shetani … Kila akifanyacho Roho Mtakatifu hapa duniani ni kwa niaba ya Mungu, na tukimtii Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yetu. Mtu anapofungwa kwa kutetea maslahi ya umma wewe unayemfunga umemtii Roho wa Shetani. Yule anayefungwa amemtii Roho Mtakatifu maana amebarikiwa, na mibaraka haikosi maadui.

Уже тогда падре Антонио Исабель начал проявлять первые признаки старческого слабоумия, которое через несколько лет заставило его сказать, что, вероятно, дьявол одержал победу в своем мятеже против Бога и воссел на престоле небесном, никому не открывая, кто он такой на самом деле, дабы завлекать в свои сети неосторожных («Сто лет одиночества», Г.Г. Маркес)

What?' He cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you still implore the Eternal's mercy? Would you feign penitence, and again act an Hypocrite's part? Villain, resign your hopes of pardon. Thus I secure my prey!'As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.

I'm just asking you to accept that there are some people who will go to extraordinary lengths to cover up the facts that they are abusing children.What words are there to describe what happened to me, what was done to me? Some call it ritual abuse, others call it organised abuse. There are those that call it satanic. I've heard all the phrases, not just in relation to me, but also with regard to those I work with and try to help. Do you know what I think? It doesn't matter how you dress it up, it doesn't matter what label you put on it. It is abuse, pure and simple. It is adults abusing children. It is adults deciding - actually making a conscious decision, a conscious choices that what they want, what they convince themselves they need, is more important than anything else; certainly more important than the safety or feelings or sanity of a child.However, there can be differences which are layered on top of that abuse. I'm not saying that some abuse is worse than others, or that someone 'wins' the competition to have the worst abuse inflicted on them, but ritual and organised abuse is at the extreme end of the spectrum. If we try to think of a continuum where there are lots of different things imposed on children (or, for that matter, anyone who is forced into these things — and that force can take many forms, it can be threats and promises, as well as kicks and punches), then ritual and organised abuse is intense and complicated.It often involves multiple abusers of both sexes. There can be extreme violence, mind control, systematic torture and even, in some cases, a complex belief system which is sometimes described as religion. I say 'described as' religion because, to me, I think that when this aspect is involved, it is window dressing. I'm not religious. I cried many times for God to save me. I was always ignored — how could I believe? However, I think that ritual abusers who do use religious imagery or 'beliefs' are doing so to justify it all to themselves, or to confuse the victim, or to hide their activities. Ritual abuse is highly organised and, obviously, secretive. It is often linked with other major crimes such as child pornography, child prostitution, the drugs industry, trafficking, and many other illegal and heinous activities. Ritual abuse is organised sexual, physical and psychological abuse, which can be systematic and sustained over a long period of time. It involves the use of rituals - things which the abusers 'need' to do, or 'need' to have in place - but it doesn't have to have a belief system. There doesn't have to be God or the Devil, or any other deity for it to be considered 'ritual'. It involves using patterns of learning and development to keep the abuse going and to make sure the child stays quiet.