stirdgit
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2005
- Messages
- 89
Virgil lowered the gleaming weapon, but he did not holster it within his pants, nor did he lay it on the small coffee table in the middle of the floor. Rather, he began using it as a sort of back scratcher and massager for his aching head - which for some reason, seemed just as unsettling to John. Perhaps it was the cavalier way in which Virgil placed the gun against his face, seemingly to cool himself, or the way he pointed it at his own head, as if deep in thought, but John almost wished Virgil would go back to his pointed stance.
“What you need to understand, John,” Virgil began, now walking around the small mobile home, stopping, gazing off into nowhere, “is that this is not a religious matter. I am an atheist and always will be. But again, I have documented some things, researched others and have concluded that the vehicle of our demise has been born. Forget about the Bible, forget all religion, this is about facts that you simply cannot ignore. Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket. Simple, poignant. Truth. That which builds can also destroy. Again, a very simple truth. Now, how all of this fits into the Apocalypse... and how Numerology fits in is simple. Syllables play a key factor... Me-di-cine, ve-hi-cle-, in-ter-net. Three. Three syllable words... Nu-cle-ar. Did you know that Chernobyl translates into Wormwood? It’s true. Subconsciously, we follow certain pattern with our speech, and you can tell a lot about a culture through their language. As language is invented, we subconsciously follow certain pattern when naming items. Though there may not be English words for French concepts, or German words for Russian, so on and so forth, the words, the emotions, the numbers are the same. It is an inescapable truth. Numbers unlock so much, so many things. It boggles the mind.”
Virgil broke from his lengthy monologue, gazed so far into the middle space that John began to wonder if he’d ever find his way back out again. But quickly Virgil regained himself, peered back at John and snickered - a most unnerving reaction.
“I ask you: how many coincidences does it take before you can no longer call something a coincidence? How many? Five? Ten? One hundred? Because I have thousands. I find more and more each day.”
John cleared his throat, could barley find his voice, but managed to ask, “But how did they know? The people who wrote the Bible, how did they know? And how do numbers mysteriously unlock all of these truths?” He was reasonably certain that his question was inoffensive, but one can never be too sure with an armed lunatic.
“I told you! It is locked within our subconsciousness. It’s not that such magic just happens. It’s that we subconsciously follow numeric patterns when we devise language. Think about it, the word nauseam actually evokes feelings of sickness. The word itself mirrors the symptom. This is ground into us from the beginning. We are talking about atoms and electromagnetism as much as anything else here.”
“Electromagnetism?” John asked, forgetting for a moment that he sat in the midst of a gun toting maniac.
Virgil’s expression became grave and suspicious. For many moments he glared at John, as if at any moment he would explode. But he didn’t. He merely nodded, said: “Yes, electromagnetism. Certain words have certain vibrations. Mix it with a cadence and there is a reaction.
“But we’re getting off the track. That’s such a small part of it. We are going to review history for a moment. We are going to look at seven churches, seven stars and seven candlesticks, four horses and twenty four elders, conquerors and plagues upon the earth. Seven Seals. Seven Trumpets. And, of course, six, six, six. The number of a man.”
John tried to make eye contact but could only gaze at the pistol, could only listen with his highly skeptical mind. What stood before him was a battered mind, twisted by pain, dulled by narcotics, and finally, shattered by monomania. A life long friend, now, possible killer.
Movement of any kind seemed ill advised, though an itch had formed on John’s nose - psychosomatic, no doubt. Even breathing became difficult and stifling, producing a heavy un-inflated chest and a pain like John had never before felt. He wondered if others in life threatening situations had had such a reaction, and for a moment he thought himself a coward. But, really, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving. Let the name callers say what they want later on. For John to be considered a coward, he would have to survive; otherwise he would be labeled victim.
His mind spun in circles looking for something to say, someway of letting Virgil know that he was on board. But his heart was becoming heavier by the second; and that was the last thing John wanted Virgil to see.
“False synagogues, I believe it is the fourth, maybe fifth church that is accused of being a false synagogue, and agents of Satan.” Virgil said. “Think about it... really think about that for a second. And keep in mind, this false, or Satanic church appears before Wormwood, before Chernobyl.”
A brutal, and deadly silence filled the dark mobile home.
“The terrorists that claim to be Muslims. They are not agents of any good force. They are agents of destruction. And the Muslim who promoted terrorism, published his first works on the subject in the forty’s. Did you know that? Alister Crowley, one of the foremost authorities on Satanism and the occult, said, ‘I am a God of the Eighty’s the Forty’s shall cower before me. It is a road map to what is happening, what has happened and what will happen. This Muslim terrorist, whose name I cannot remember, started in the forty’s, Chernobyl happened in the Eighty’s.”
“Virgil,” John began with an unsteady, weak voice, “are you saying this Muslim caused Chernobyl?”
“No. I am saying that something that would later come to haunt us, started in the Forty’s, and began spreading openly and aggressively in the Eighty’s. It’s not that there is one cause for all of this, unless you consider our own inventions to be a singular cause, regardless of how many inventions it happens to be. Our technology, is the hand of doom. The media. The internet. Fox News. I see 666 being more of a combination. If you can find the combination... you... you open the lock.” Virgil suddenly adopted that lost, thousand mile stare. He resumed, quoting: “And their dead bodies shall lie in the street of the great city, which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt, where also our lord was crucified. And they of the people and kindreds and tongues and nations shall see their dead bodies three days and an half, and shall not suffer their dead bodies to be put in graves.”
“Great city, spiritually known as Sodom. New Orleans?” John quietly said.
Virgil’s eyes widened with a reverent, awe-struck and psychotic flame. “Yessss. You are seeing it now. Excellent. Yes, metaphorically speaking, Sodom was a place of debauchery and sin. The lord is crucified there, because of the sinful ways, because of the Parishes and false churches. Dead bodies in the streets for three and a half days. Yes, indeed.
“I mean really, we don’t even have to quote chapter and verse. The whore of Babylon, equals pornography, The mark in the right hand... tell me John, when you use your mouse on your computer, do you use your right hand? And how soon, with our current climate, before we can only purchase via internet? How soon? Are you aware of the new computers being designed that fit as ear pieces and project a monitor onto the right lense of a pair of glasses? How about the national ID cards being proposed in Congress? How soon before all of this technology is circumvented and some inventor decides to implant it into us?”
“It’s already being proposed.” John answered.
Virgil breathed a hearty sigh of relief upon hearing his friend’s answer. He looked down to the gun, still being held in his right hand, and he smiled. Placing it closer to his face, he began examining it, in a very odd and curious fashion. John merely watched with horror, wondering what the next few moments would bring.
“Armageddon is said to be very close to the Garden of Eden, which is said to be in Northern Iraq. If I am not mistaken... aren’t we at war there? Yeah, I think we are.” Virgil went on, still making his case.
John, however, was now consumed by his fear of that damned gun and Virgil’s new found focus on it. John’s hands began shaking, a cold sweat covered his forehead and neck, and he felt a sickly wave roll through his belly. His eyes stung, watered, blurred his vision; his lips and mouth trembled. Familiarity with his friend did not help because this was no longer his friend. That made it worse and more unpredictable than if he had never met this person.
“You see, This is a matter of civilization, which is all Christianity is, a religion of civilization. And this speaks to our civilization. The Apocalypse is about destroying a ruined and tainted civilization and starting over again. The trouble people have is the fact that they try to find a cohesiveness to it. Revelation, the book, speaks of evil beasts and holy beasts, of the dangers of global rule but the benefits of global rule, provided it is under the name of Righteousness, ‘the New Jerusalem’. These are not contradictions. This is nature, our inventions can save us, or destroy us.”
John could not speak. He was overcome by fear, felt as if he sat on a slow building heat, itching, but slowly becoming an intense pain. The gun that had been pointed at his head, now was held aloft in a very carefree and negligent fashion, as if an after thought.
“It’s funny, but anytime someone says that the Apocalypse has begun, people instantly think of pain, of the ultimate ending. But this is only the case for those who are not righteous. The whoremongers, the liars, the murderers. They are the ones who think that the Apocalypse is a bad thing.” Virgil continued, now gazing the gun with a new intensity - almost an insidious pleasure. He switched it from hand to hand, seemingly fascinated by how it felt.
In a matter of moments Virgil had changed mood and demeanor as many times as John had in the past three months. Now, he stood , looking very stern, cold and soulless. But a sparkle shone faintly in his eyes, suddenly and he said, “There is an ancient Hebrew sect that devised a coded language. Using this language, the character for the number six is a sideways W. Did you know that? It’s true, you can look it up. WWW, to those ancient people was 666.”
Virgil brought the gun closer to his face, as if examining it. He extended it, stretching out his arm, aiming it at something perhaps only he saw..
John could not take it anymore. The unpredictable is far worse than the certain, and in this case uncertainty reigned.
“What you need to understand, John,” Virgil began, now walking around the small mobile home, stopping, gazing off into nowhere, “is that this is not a religious matter. I am an atheist and always will be. But again, I have documented some things, researched others and have concluded that the vehicle of our demise has been born. Forget about the Bible, forget all religion, this is about facts that you simply cannot ignore. Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket. Simple, poignant. Truth. That which builds can also destroy. Again, a very simple truth. Now, how all of this fits into the Apocalypse... and how Numerology fits in is simple. Syllables play a key factor... Me-di-cine, ve-hi-cle-, in-ter-net. Three. Three syllable words... Nu-cle-ar. Did you know that Chernobyl translates into Wormwood? It’s true. Subconsciously, we follow certain pattern with our speech, and you can tell a lot about a culture through their language. As language is invented, we subconsciously follow certain pattern when naming items. Though there may not be English words for French concepts, or German words for Russian, so on and so forth, the words, the emotions, the numbers are the same. It is an inescapable truth. Numbers unlock so much, so many things. It boggles the mind.”
Virgil broke from his lengthy monologue, gazed so far into the middle space that John began to wonder if he’d ever find his way back out again. But quickly Virgil regained himself, peered back at John and snickered - a most unnerving reaction.
“I ask you: how many coincidences does it take before you can no longer call something a coincidence? How many? Five? Ten? One hundred? Because I have thousands. I find more and more each day.”
John cleared his throat, could barley find his voice, but managed to ask, “But how did they know? The people who wrote the Bible, how did they know? And how do numbers mysteriously unlock all of these truths?” He was reasonably certain that his question was inoffensive, but one can never be too sure with an armed lunatic.
“I told you! It is locked within our subconsciousness. It’s not that such magic just happens. It’s that we subconsciously follow numeric patterns when we devise language. Think about it, the word nauseam actually evokes feelings of sickness. The word itself mirrors the symptom. This is ground into us from the beginning. We are talking about atoms and electromagnetism as much as anything else here.”
“Electromagnetism?” John asked, forgetting for a moment that he sat in the midst of a gun toting maniac.
Virgil’s expression became grave and suspicious. For many moments he glared at John, as if at any moment he would explode. But he didn’t. He merely nodded, said: “Yes, electromagnetism. Certain words have certain vibrations. Mix it with a cadence and there is a reaction.
“But we’re getting off the track. That’s such a small part of it. We are going to review history for a moment. We are going to look at seven churches, seven stars and seven candlesticks, four horses and twenty four elders, conquerors and plagues upon the earth. Seven Seals. Seven Trumpets. And, of course, six, six, six. The number of a man.”
John tried to make eye contact but could only gaze at the pistol, could only listen with his highly skeptical mind. What stood before him was a battered mind, twisted by pain, dulled by narcotics, and finally, shattered by monomania. A life long friend, now, possible killer.
Movement of any kind seemed ill advised, though an itch had formed on John’s nose - psychosomatic, no doubt. Even breathing became difficult and stifling, producing a heavy un-inflated chest and a pain like John had never before felt. He wondered if others in life threatening situations had had such a reaction, and for a moment he thought himself a coward. But, really, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was surviving. Let the name callers say what they want later on. For John to be considered a coward, he would have to survive; otherwise he would be labeled victim.
His mind spun in circles looking for something to say, someway of letting Virgil know that he was on board. But his heart was becoming heavier by the second; and that was the last thing John wanted Virgil to see.
“False synagogues, I believe it is the fourth, maybe fifth church that is accused of being a false synagogue, and agents of Satan.” Virgil said. “Think about it... really think about that for a second. And keep in mind, this false, or Satanic church appears before Wormwood, before Chernobyl.”
A brutal, and deadly silence filled the dark mobile home.
“The terrorists that claim to be Muslims. They are not agents of any good force. They are agents of destruction. And the Muslim who promoted terrorism, published his first works on the subject in the forty’s. Did you know that? Alister Crowley, one of the foremost authorities on Satanism and the occult, said, ‘I am a God of the Eighty’s the Forty’s shall cower before me. It is a road map to what is happening, what has happened and what will happen. This Muslim terrorist, whose name I cannot remember, started in the forty’s, Chernobyl happened in the Eighty’s.”
“Virgil,” John began with an unsteady, weak voice, “are you saying this Muslim caused Chernobyl?”
“No. I am saying that something that would later come to haunt us, started in the Forty’s, and began spreading openly and aggressively in the Eighty’s. It’s not that there is one cause for all of this, unless you consider our own inventions to be a singular cause, regardless of how many inventions it happens to be. Our technology, is the hand of doom. The media. The internet. Fox News. I see 666 being more of a combination. If you can find the combination... you... you open the lock.” Virgil suddenly adopted that lost, thousand mile stare. He resumed, quoting: “And their dead bodies shall lie in the street of the great city, which spiritually is called Sodom and Egypt, where also our lord was crucified. And they of the people and kindreds and tongues and nations shall see their dead bodies three days and an half, and shall not suffer their dead bodies to be put in graves.”
“Great city, spiritually known as Sodom. New Orleans?” John quietly said.
Virgil’s eyes widened with a reverent, awe-struck and psychotic flame. “Yessss. You are seeing it now. Excellent. Yes, metaphorically speaking, Sodom was a place of debauchery and sin. The lord is crucified there, because of the sinful ways, because of the Parishes and false churches. Dead bodies in the streets for three and a half days. Yes, indeed.
“I mean really, we don’t even have to quote chapter and verse. The whore of Babylon, equals pornography, The mark in the right hand... tell me John, when you use your mouse on your computer, do you use your right hand? And how soon, with our current climate, before we can only purchase via internet? How soon? Are you aware of the new computers being designed that fit as ear pieces and project a monitor onto the right lense of a pair of glasses? How about the national ID cards being proposed in Congress? How soon before all of this technology is circumvented and some inventor decides to implant it into us?”
“It’s already being proposed.” John answered.
Virgil breathed a hearty sigh of relief upon hearing his friend’s answer. He looked down to the gun, still being held in his right hand, and he smiled. Placing it closer to his face, he began examining it, in a very odd and curious fashion. John merely watched with horror, wondering what the next few moments would bring.
“Armageddon is said to be very close to the Garden of Eden, which is said to be in Northern Iraq. If I am not mistaken... aren’t we at war there? Yeah, I think we are.” Virgil went on, still making his case.
John, however, was now consumed by his fear of that damned gun and Virgil’s new found focus on it. John’s hands began shaking, a cold sweat covered his forehead and neck, and he felt a sickly wave roll through his belly. His eyes stung, watered, blurred his vision; his lips and mouth trembled. Familiarity with his friend did not help because this was no longer his friend. That made it worse and more unpredictable than if he had never met this person.
“You see, This is a matter of civilization, which is all Christianity is, a religion of civilization. And this speaks to our civilization. The Apocalypse is about destroying a ruined and tainted civilization and starting over again. The trouble people have is the fact that they try to find a cohesiveness to it. Revelation, the book, speaks of evil beasts and holy beasts, of the dangers of global rule but the benefits of global rule, provided it is under the name of Righteousness, ‘the New Jerusalem’. These are not contradictions. This is nature, our inventions can save us, or destroy us.”
John could not speak. He was overcome by fear, felt as if he sat on a slow building heat, itching, but slowly becoming an intense pain. The gun that had been pointed at his head, now was held aloft in a very carefree and negligent fashion, as if an after thought.
“It’s funny, but anytime someone says that the Apocalypse has begun, people instantly think of pain, of the ultimate ending. But this is only the case for those who are not righteous. The whoremongers, the liars, the murderers. They are the ones who think that the Apocalypse is a bad thing.” Virgil continued, now gazing the gun with a new intensity - almost an insidious pleasure. He switched it from hand to hand, seemingly fascinated by how it felt.
In a matter of moments Virgil had changed mood and demeanor as many times as John had in the past three months. Now, he stood , looking very stern, cold and soulless. But a sparkle shone faintly in his eyes, suddenly and he said, “There is an ancient Hebrew sect that devised a coded language. Using this language, the character for the number six is a sideways W. Did you know that? It’s true, you can look it up. WWW, to those ancient people was 666.”
Virgil brought the gun closer to his face, as if examining it. He extended it, stretching out his arm, aiming it at something perhaps only he saw..
John could not take it anymore. The unpredictable is far worse than the certain, and in this case uncertainty reigned.
