I watched a man get murdered last night. Not once, but repeatedly. He was shot in the chest. His throat was cut. He was hung. He was burned. Every time he rose again, the signs from his last round of fatal injuries flaking away from him like forgotten autumn leaves. Not just the blood, mind you. The bruises, the burns, the cuts, everything. It was as though reality, having found a new version of itself it preferred, was shedding the old like a rasping, too-tight snakeskin.
Each time, when the man was fully on his feet, after his skin and his clothing had been made whole and unblemished, he would look at the figure orchestrating his killings. His hard black gaze was unwavering as he uttered a single word in gutteral German.
“Widerschhat.”
Again.
This is the last message the collective has to impart to its acolytes. This is the culmination of years of learning, training, and indoctrination. Yes, I admit to the indoctrination. Whatever else this group is, there are trappings of religion or cult worship in its very DNA. It’s made me and others wary even while we grew in knowledge and belief.
But this? This wasn’t philosophy or faith. This wasn’t brainwashing. I was fully awake and sober, and I watched that man get cut down six times less than ten feet away. And I watched him get resurrected by the power that these people wield.
There were no misgivings left by the time the evening was finished. No reservations left in my mind or my heart. This was Truth and Power and if I was strong enough, I could reach out and take them for my own much like these other men and women had before me.
Reiseln. Selah.
They told me that all I had been taught, all I had been shown, was leading to this moment. That this night, this ritual, served two purposes: To show the faithful the power we could claim and to honor the man crossing his final threshold through this act of great sacrifice.
For the supplicant performing the ritual was repeatedly killing his own son. A son that, whether through some magic, a steadfast belief, or just unwavering obedience to his father’s wishes, took each death without complaint or fear.
Maybe he thought he was invincible. That those resurrections would last forever. It may be that he didn’t understand that the seventh death is wholly different than what has come before. What most could understand as death at all. Most people can only see the meat, you see. They don’t truly recognize the processes of our existence.
So we watch the final act of murder. The unveiling of the supplicant’s final gate. When it is finished, both of them are gone. And I am left with a heart that burns to go with them.
But all good things come to those that wait.
Aradat. Selah.
You’ve found this tape because you were meant to find it. On a particular evening, years into the future. Stars and planets only play a small part in such things, but as with so much in life, timing is still key. You’re listening now, wondering if this is a joke. A strange prank being played by a man you never knew—well, other than whatever stories your mother might have told you.
Look outside your window, son. Tell me if that looks like a prank to you. They’re waiting for you to finish this tape. For you to be fully enured. If you are a dutiful son…if you wish to learn from your father…you will go with them willingly. If you are not? Well, either way I will see you soon enough.
I’m excited for this far off future. Not just because of my ascension, but because I’m curious what kind of man you grow up to be. I can only see such things very dimly, and I admit my curiosity is piqued. It may not seem likely from your perspective, but my absence all these years has actually been due to my own tenderhearted nature. I’m afraid if I get to know you too well ahead of time, I might lose my nerve. That wouldn’t turn out well for either of us, unfortunately.
At least this way, we both move forward. That’s what it’s all about in the end, right? Progression. I admit yours won’t be as pleasant as my own, but I don’t make the rules of such things. I just intend on winning.
About now, you should have heard a knock at the door. That’s your escort coming to get you, I’m afraid. So goodbye for now. When I see you next, I will greet you with love and gratitude. My child. My only son. My final gate.
I have so much to give you.
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