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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

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Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 18

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 18 - Memories

Lin Yan was afraid that the professor was going to run away. When the event was over, he didn't even take the time to change his clothes. He called over to little Daoist priest to tell him he could leave first, then rushed to the backstage lounge. The crowd trying to leave completely blocked the exit. Lin Yan wasn't able to get out for a while. Behind him was a swarm of school reporters, sweating profusely as they followed.

"Excuse me! Coming through!" He wasn't sure whose foot he stepped on in his rush, but the girl in front of him turned around and gave him a sharp look.

"Lin Yan!" a clear voice rang out. Lin Yan looked up and saw Weiwei standing at the door with a red staff badge hanging around her neck.

Lin Yan didn't care anymore about feeling embarrassed while he hurried through the crowd without any organized manner. He shouted at Weiwei: "Can you do me a favour? This is urgent!"

"It's my birthday next week, come over for dinner!" Weiwei shouted on her tiptoes.

"Okay, whatever, help stop the crowd behind me!"

Lin Yan ran as fast as he could straight down the corridor, stumbling from time to time over the hem of his clothes. When he burst into the backstage VIP room completely dishevelled, he realized that he had been worried for nothing. The professor hadn't planned on sneaking away at all. He was seated on the sofa and had waited for him, sipping his tea.

"You came? Sit down."

Lin Yan clutched his chest and nodded, breathing too heavily to speak.

The lounge was decorated in a very stylish way, with arc-shaped floor-to-ceiling French windows, beige wallpaper, and light brown soft leather sofas that looked like they were worth a lot of money. The school had always been willing to spend money on entertaining guests. The professor poured a glass of water for Lin Yan and pointed to the single-seater sofa opposite of him.

"You're Lin Yan, who came to us for an internship before, right? You performed well today. You've got guts and have a good mind." The professor pondered for a moment: "I thought you'd come find me sooner or later. I didn't expect that you would get back here so soon. "

"Do you know me?" A series of questions popped up in his mind. Lin Yan suppressed the urge to outright address his issue. He apologized for the outburst just then, and then said seriously: "I did here for that internship. This is very important to me, please tell me everything you know."

The professor nodded slightly: "I can probably guess what happened. So, I'll speak slowly. Listen carefully. If there's any useful information, I'll tell you." He sighed and looked out the window. He spoke softly: "The fact that you are still standing here in good shape is already much better than the person who came before you."

Lin Yan looked back at Xiao Yu, who was holding his hand tightly, standing ignorantly.

The floor-to-ceiling windows were facing the path outside the auditorium. The students must use this path to get to the dormitories. In the night, boys and girls walked down it together in large groups. I don’t know who yelled: "The river flows eastward, the stars in the sky look to the Big Dipper!*" The professor smiled, turned his face to Lin Yan, and recalled: "I was about the same age as you when I first entered the tomb. It was a good time to be young."

*(Song lyrics from "Hao Han Ge" by Liu Huan)

"Young people don't know what's important. . ."

The professor spoke very coherently, as if he had been wanted to say all this for many years. Lin Yan even felt that he was using this as an opportunity to reminisce about his nostalgic youth. But when the professor painted the scene back to Lin Yan, it sent a chill down Lin Yan's spine.

Twenty-five years ago, a group of coal miners in Jinxiang County accidentally collapsed a mineshaft while they were hacking away. They removed some jade plates and funerary wooden figurines from inside the hole, which turned out to be the entrance tunnel of an underground tomb. Once the county head official learned about this tomb, he blocked off the mausoleum and reported the news to the central government. At that time, China was still a novice in both archaeological technology and cultural relic preservation, and it was still difficult to excavate many imperial tombs. Therefore, this cultural Ming Dynasty tomb was handed over to the university, and a team of several master's students hired some local volunteers and rushed to Jinxiang.

This group of people included the professor and Lin Yan’s current supervisor. When preparing the materials for the tomb, the professor and Lin Yan both found some strange information. He strangely discovered that whether it were the county chronicles, the local chronicles, or genealogical records, there was no record of the tomb's owner. One of the workers on the team claimed to be a master of fengshui. After seeing the mausoleum, he said that it would be impossible to excavate. The earth's meridians formed a breeding ground for negative energy. The evil spirits attracted to the space were too dense to bury people. The owner of the tomb wouldn't be able to find peace after death. Not to mention the misfortune it would bring future generations. However, most of the students were young and energetic. They were eager to try after seeing the exquisitely carved jade artifacts. Without much consideration, they went directly to the tomb with tools and equipment.

"Strange events started after that." The professor adjusted his glasses and grimaced: "We should have listened to the warnings, but we didn't believe in evil at the time."

First, the four chickens brought to ward off evil spirits died overnight. When the underground tomb gate was opened, the scaffold collapsed, and an 18-year-old fell and broke his right hand. Everyone thought it was an accident, but from the time they entered the tomb, all those involved in the excavation had nightmares whenever they closed their eyes. Every night they dreamed that they were dying to the point that no one dared try to sleep anymore. Fatigue and constant fear made everyone’s fighting spirit die off after only a week.

"What happened after that?" Lin Yan looked back at Xiao Yu in surprise. He thought he had been tormented thoroughly by him, but he hadn't even seen half of this ghost's ferociousness yet.

"After entering the main chamber, we found many valuable cultural relics beside the coffin, but they were poorly preserved. We could only brush off the embroideries. Watching the treasures that we brought out so easily blacken and carbonize the moment the sunlight hit them was the fatal blow to our spirits. I cried miserably, but everyone was equally depressed and even fearful. No one had the energy to comfort me."

The professor's hand shifted on the windowpane, leaving behind a damp handprint. "There seemed to be some kind of energy in that tomb that could make people fall into despair. We worked hard and sang to make ourselves feel more brave, but it was still useless. A rural volunteer girl went crazy on the ninth morning and smashed her husband's head in with a machete while everyone could only stand in shock."

"Blood sprayed all over the bricks on the top of the tomb, and it was dripping everywhere. The woman put her husband's head in front of the blank memorial plaque, kowtowed three times, and sat on the ground convulsing, laughing eerily, while laughing and shouting a name." The professor looked at Lin Yan and asked, "Do you know what name it was?"

Lin Yan took a dazed step back. He wanted to break away from the hand holding his, but Xiao Yu held it tighter, not giving him a chance to escape.

"It was Xiao Yu. Who exactly is Xiao Yu? I searched through both the official and unofficial records, but I couldn't find any record that mentioned this name." The professor's expression became painful: "We gave the woman a consolation fee to settle the matter. After she took the money, she laughed for a while before she raised her machete and slashed it down across her neck. The blood was sprayed onto the memorial plaque. When she fell, only a thin piece of skin kept her head attached to her body. At that time, people didn't know much about archaeology. At first glance, some of the students were okay, but the hired volunteers were all scared away, saying that we dug up the grave of the dead, and this was retribution for it."

"The last person who left was the fengshui guy. He told me that the tomb had no fengshui. The owner of the tomb had died violently. Nothing could approach the tomb through the evil energy breeding ground. This resentment built up over a long time. The woman's body had been filled with too much Yin energy and she was the first to fall prey to the ghost."

"The man left. The students didn't want to go, but they were still having nightmares every time they. They tried to stick it out for a week before packing their bags and returning to school. No one else died. The first time the lead took over, he wouldn't even touch the coffin. It was a disappointment for everyone."

Lin Yan imagined the beheading. His face grew pale, and his stomach felt sick.

"Are you alright? You don't look well." The professor seemed to catch on to the younger's expression, and pointed to Lin Yan's cup: "Drink some water. Take a break then you can listen some more."

Lin Yan shook his head and asked, "Was it really like the fengshui master said?"

The professor hesitated for a while, and his fingers scribbled across a section of thin vapor he exhaled onto the glass. Two words appeared on the glass: "Xiao Yu." As if he didn't want to see it, the professor wiped it away and shook his head: "I have seen a lot of weird things throughout my career. The demon and ghost theory is not unfounded, but I think that the tomb might be some kind of spiritual formation. In ancient times, emperors and generals did everything they could to prevent their bodies from being destroyed. Many strange arts and techniques also emerged. It is possible that the woman was already delirious and so was the first to lose her mind in the consuming and the gloomy atmosphere in the tomb."

Lin Yan imagined the shadowy chamber with two headless bodies lying on the ground. He could barely squeeze out a wry smile: "What does this whole thing have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that part." The professor sadly lowered his head: "Young people have never been willing to admit defeat. Since then, I've been very interested in the history of the Ming Dynasty Chenghua period. At first, I wanted to find out the identity of the tomb owner but I really fell in love with the history, and, 20 years later, I became an expert in the field. But long-term research in any field will encounter roadblocks. I was troubled by problem for nearly two months, and finally decided to go to the Ming Tomb again."

Lin Yan asked puzzledly: "Are you not afraid something will happen again?"

The professor shrugged: "No way, the large amount of untouched cultural relics inside was too tempting. The team left before anyone had even touched the coffin the last time I was there. I've never gotten over it."

"Be considerate of the obsessions of an old man who has been involved in academia for most of his life." The professor said: "When the newspaper published the news about the excavation of the Ming Tomb again, a message came from my secretary saying that someone was willing to help me. He understood fengshui. If something went wrong, I could turn to him."

"I'm not the same young man who spent a whole year studying about the tomb. I ran all over the country all day and night. I was too busy to take care of it, so I asked the secretary to keep in touch with him."

"Later on, something did happened. It was exactly the same as before. After entering the tomb door, everyone was inexplicably depressed and paranoid, and soon began to have nightmares. I was so afraid that the tragedy would happen again, so I had to ask the person who knew fengshui for help. He told me that I need to find a person who shares the same horoscope as the evil creature in order to make it stop. Then he gave me a birth date and said that he could find someone with the same birth date horoscope."

Lin Yan had already guessed the answer. He pointed at himself and hesitated to confirm: "Me?"

The professor nodded: "That birth year made me think of a student. I asked your supervisor. He said that he had a friend’s son who was looking for an internship, and his own student, Lin Yan. It was just an extreme coincident that your birthday fell onto the right date."

"You know what happened after that." The professor looked at the path outside the window. The students were almost all gone now. The moonlight didn't reach the path, instead only reflecting the black shadows of the trees that were swaying back and forth in the night breeze. "If you want to ask me who the owner of the tomb is, I can only tell you that I don't know. It's shameful; after more than 20 years, I have revisited this topic year after year, but I still haven't made any progress."

"If you have anything else to ask, please go ahead. As soon as you say the name 'Xiao Yu', I knew it was you. You've got a lot of guts to throw my things like that." The professor laughed, "I was just like that when I was young. I had trouble with authority back then. It took a lot to keep up with me."

Lin Yan hurriedly lowered his head and apologized. He kept thinking that it was this File Folder dragged him into this mess, but it didn't seem like he did it intentionally. . . How much did he know about what happened after? Thinking of this, Lin Yan raised his head and asked, "Don't you want to hear how I know Xiao Yu's name?"

The professor waved his hand and relaxed his expression: "People my age don't want to listen to these ghost and monster stories. It's bad luck. I know you're fine when I see you standing here. I didn't discuss it with you. I blame myself for not discussing this with you sooner. I'll try my best to explain anything you need, but the rest. . ." The professor said, spreading his hands, expressing that there was nothing he could do.

During their talk, the professor's personal secretary came in and urged him to leave, saying that the car was ready and the school officials were all waiting downstairs. The professor nodded to the secretary, turned around and asked Lin Yan, "Is there anything else you want to know?"

Lin Yan felt stuck. The most renowned Ming historians in China had no answers. Did he really have no choice but to wait out the three months, waiting for this ghost to remember his life experience and tell him his wish. But what he couldn't remember? Would Lin Yan be forced to accompany him for eternity as a ghost?

As he pondered, a thought popped up, like a small copper hammer hitting the glass with a crisp sound. Lin Yan stopped the professor who was packing up and asked: "You. . . you mentioned that the fengshui guy had mentioned a horoscope date. I happened to be looking for an internship at that time, so it all worked out, right?" Lin Yan's voice was trembling with excitement: "This is too much of a coincidence. It's almost like he was waiting for me. . . Where is he now? How did he know something would happen in the Ming Tomb?"

The professor suddenly stopped, frowning and thought it over: "You're right to be suspicious. At that time, I was busy planning the excavation and didn't care much about it. . ." The secretary who was waiting at the door shouted: " Xiao Liu, do you remember that fortune teller? Give me his contact information."

The young girl flipped through the folder in her arms, and replied: "That person never contacted me directly. He had been passing messages through a young guy who was new to the team. I'll look into it for you. I'll get back to you about in in the next few days."

The professor's face sank, and just like Lin Yan, he had no answer. He whispered to him: "It'll should be easy to track him down." He patted Lin Yan on the shoulder: "I'll help you out with this, don't worry. "He took out a pen and left Lin Yan's his phone number, and the corner of his mouth ticked up: "I still owe you your prize. I'll give it to you the next time we meet."

When he left, the crowd was gone. The corridor was empty. The old custodian didn’t even turn on the ceiling light to save electricity. Only the wall lamp glowed a dull yellow. Lin Yan’s face drained of all colour. He suddenly felt like he was in a horror movie. He was the lead actor stumbling along the wall in a terrifying corridor.

The professor's story made him feel incredibly afraid. Behind him was a ghost, a murderer who put people to death in a cruel and bloody way. He didn't even dare to look behind him. He was afraid that when he turned around, a ghost covered in bloodstains would be there, grinning sinisterly at him through a veil of long hair, saying: It's your turn.

Lin Yan's breathing became heavier and heavier. When he couldn't resist the urge to run away, he was suddenly pushed harshly against the wall. His body was wrenched around. Lin Yan raised his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #danmei #danmei novel #yaoi #yaoi novel

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araingirl · 4 years ago

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That’s how they met

“Ding!"

The silver bells rang for the first time after the veneration of the destruction, for the worship of the celebration. Joss-sticks started emanating aromatic smokes, dipped inside the clay pots. The priests flapped the horsehair fly whisks in front of the holy idol. Lamps kindled, flowers discharged the fragrance and ribbons swayed. Sitting in diamond pose, the chocolate-haired girl drummed the strings of the koto. Melodious jingles of hundreds of untold words sprang from the speechless instrument. The priests chorused:

If you are searching for your lover,

Lose yourself, oh crazy, before everything is over.

If you are searching for your lover,

Lose yourself, oh crazy, before everything is over.

The coco-haired princess opened her mouth. The streams of one thousand cataracts originated from her vocal cord, defeating the tunes of the harp-like instrument. Everybody closed their eyes.

The ways to your abode, oh my lord,

Are just the tales of love,

They're just the legends of romance,

The words of River Fuji.

I recite those words, again and again,

It's nothing but your mercy...

Completing his bath, the slate-haired young man was returning to the temple yard. Suddenly, the magical world composed by a feminine tone chimed inside his ears, overthrowing the chirpings of the birds and the whisperings of the airstream. He felt as if someone had poured cold water inside his veins. Flurries fought against the wetness of his smoky bangs and made them blow. Spellbound, the prince started progressing to the temple. He entered the sanctuary building from the right side. Sitting down on the agate ground, he folded one of his knees and kept another laying horizontally. Propping his head against a flower-wrapped column, he drowned to the river of tunes.

The owner of the honeyed tone continued:

Coming to your reverence, the world is still,

But I'm weightless, because your wishes are guarding me.

But where there is no wish, the life is a desert.

Yet, desert is a flower to me,

As I've lost myself, I've lost myself...

No, the owner of the anonymous songs! You haven't lost yourself. It's I who...who have got lost completely. Your voice is divine; it is the constant truth of the world. I...I can portray you by your tone. I...I cannot see you but paint an image of you on the canvas of my heart. The image is like a starry night; it is embracing me but I cannot hug it back.

Oh tunes! The tunes springing from an unknown voice! You've claimed the seat of my familiarities without being familiar. How perfect you are! You've blossomed like a flower on my arid heart of restlessness...but how strange! You didn't let the waterless land tremble a bit. You didn't melt it, just left it flowered.

The final tune escaped from the instrument as the guy opened his eyes. Not waiting there for a single moment, he descended the stairs. The chocolate-haired girl looked back, noticing the white scarf swaying in the airstream. Her heart skipped a beat, thunderbolts entered her spine. Jolted, she stood up. Leaving her cousins and relatives, she ran downstairs with her lithe feet. Stretching her left arm, she yelled:

"Wait!"

The lord of love became satisfied with her. He turned to her, accepting her wish. Then...

Everything came to a standstill. Wind stopped blowing, birds ceased singing. Flowers looked at them, baffled. His amethysts imprisoned her rubies in their prison without touching them. Both the guard and the prisoner got lost in each other. He appeared from the flowery vines just like the moon, removing all the clouds of the nightly sky.

She gazed at him. The eyelashes of her didn't touch her cheeks. Who was standing in front of her? His hair was two-toned, just representing the skies of sunshine and rainclouds...no no, the skies of days and nights. His face was bright...what? The moon beneath the clouds? The orbs...they were just like purple lotuses growing in any translucent pond, floating under the twin racy icy-blue bows, the thick peaks rising a bit in surprise and slim corners dissolving with the fairness of his skin. Did the surface of moon have ponds? If it had and lotuses grew there, it wouldn't be less similar to the face of the Russian. His scarf was still dancing, winking at her with its invisible eyes. Droplets of the water of river Fuji were still trickling down from his bangs. Broad round shoulders bore the invisible weight of his valor, blue-veined throat had the white twirling scarf at its bottom, keeping the slightly curvy Adam's apple over it. Though it was a sunny day, the brunette felt as if it had been raining in front of her. Even in the rain, the appealing moon was there. There was so much peace on his face that it could even cool the fire. Obvious it was because the one who had to handle the fire always had to remain cool.

Flashback:

A forest. To be clearer, a lane inside a forest. Trees and bushes were by both sides of it, getting mixed with the daylight, embodying an unparalleled combination of light and shadow. In the narrow lane, there was a white horse. On it, a man was sitting, looking back. His hair was two-toned, just like the clouds before rain. His complexion was reminding them about the mixture of milk and turmeric paste. Beneath his fixed eyebrows, there were his eyes, looking like abloom lotuses floating on the surface of a clear pond. He was wearing a pair of comfy baggy trousers, tucked inside his boots and a full-sleeved black top, with purple and grey linings. The upper garment wasn't loose at all, clearly exposing his biceps, triceps and broad shoulders. The white scarf wrapped around his neck was seeming to blow.

Every stroke, every line, every touch of the brushes and colors in the picture was more than perfect. That was ethereal.

Flash forward:

Before her eyes, the creepy jungle of her dream appeared. But it wasn't eerie anymore. The savior was standing there, facing her. It wasn't a dream. It was more than that. It was reality. That was ethereal, so was it.

The moon should have smiled at her. But...why was it seeming baffled?

Perhaps, she didn't know that his amethyst orbs were fulfilling their thirst, quenching the elixir showered by her rubies. The temple, the garden, the instruments-everything disappeared. He found himself in the same jungle where he had roamed in his dreams before twelve years. Her feet were playing tabors there. Her chocolate tresses were playing hide and seek with the air. Her hair was tied into a loose bun. She was wearing a yellow kimono painted with magenta andrika symbols, supported by a broad magenta belt which created a bow behind her back. A pair of kite-shaped fuchsia earrings were dangling from her earlobes, rimmed with gold. Azaleas and golden daisies were tucked inside her hair, over her right ear.

He had seen her before. In the dawns of the late autumn, in the ingratiating nights of the spring.

Flashback:

He was running. His fair feet were smiting the surface of mother earth recklessly. But he couldn't catch her. He was sweating and wheezing. His lungs were craving for oxygen. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stand and rest for a sole second. In front of him, she was also running. But she wasn't panting. She wasn't exhausted. The echoes of her laughter were like the aftershocks of ever-flowing cataracts, rolling down from the crests of high, higher and highest mountains of the world. With her every step on the ground, green grasses were growing. Little but colorful flowers were being upstretched and peeking at the sky. With her slight touch, a leafless tree started growing green leaves. Birds sat on it and began to tweet.

"Wait!" He yelled, "Stop!"

As she heard him, she stopped and turned back at his figurine. Seeing her standing, he also quitted running and stood motionlessly. Her chocolate-colored hair was touching her waist. In the tempo of ever-dancing squall, her auburn locks were also boogying. A pair of irreplaceable rubies were observing him very carefully, situated at the sockets of her eyes. The complexion of her skin reminded the slate-haired boy of the mixture of milk and honey. The rays of sunshine fell on her skin and the succession of those protoderm cells shimmered like solitaires.

He couldn't utter a single word. He silently kept watching her without closing his eyes for once. Every single hair on his body got straightened. He felt warm despite standing on the veneer of his own motherland. In front of her sharp scrutiny, he couldn't stand anymore.

Flash forward:

They both felt like the trees whose roots went deep inside the soil. That's why, they couldn't move, nor their orbs. Eyes felt contented getting the treasury of eyes. From the magical streets of their visions, they found each other's ways towards the spiritual realms of each other's hearts. The color of blood started spreading across their cheeks. Getting the hint, again the birds started singing, flying around them. Flowers bloomed and leaves danced. Bumblebees played their flutes. Nature borrowed the color of love...

"Princess!"

Hearing the familiar masculine voice, the chocolate-haired girl gasped, struggling to emerge from the imaginary world. Her vision met the red-haired Russian who was standing behind his cousin. Startled, the dual-haired prince also turned back.

"Greetings, princess..." He spoke, "Can you recognize me? We met in the refugee camp of sage Dickenson, remember?"

Smiling, the brunette nodded. The redhead continued, "You were willing to meet my cousin. Well, he's my cousin, Kai Alexander Hiwatari. He banned the culture of sacrificing the childless widows in Russia, killed Katherine as well as her force and freed lady Kincaid from the spells of Boris Balkov. Kai, she's Hilary Tachibana, the princess of Japan. She's the one for whom the dwellers of the camp were so calm and relaxed. We used to eat the delicious foods cooked by her."

Like a humble vine, the brunette bowed. Slowly bending down a bit, the phoenix-prince took her right hand and placed a tender kiss on its back, reddening her more. The redhead rolled his eyes at that.

Except his mother and mother-like figures, for the first time, he had lowered his head before a lady.

"Returning from the camp..." Hilary started, "I was feeling worried."

Kai flinched inaudibly. Was he hearing the truth? Had someone been really worrying for him?

"Hilary didn't enjoy a single wink of sleep at that night, prince Hiwatari," Someone's voice could be heard, "Only after getting the news of your victory, she sighed in relief."

Both the boys and the girl looked back. There was the dual-haired princess of Spain standing with a bright smile all over her face.

"Greetings, the princes of Russia," She spoke, bowing, "I'm Julia Fernandez, the princess of Spain and the maternal cousin of Hilary."

"Greetings, princess Fernandez," The redhead glanced at her, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, prince..."

"Valkov." Tala finished, "My name is Tala Valkov."

Julia looked at the redhead, narrowing her eyes. How red his hair was! Did someone put fire on his head?

"I mean... I was getting worried for everyone," The brunette cleared her throat, flushing, "But when I got to know the news of Katherine's death, I felt relieved. Thank you so much for saving my motherland, prince."

"The pleasure is mine," Kai responded, "The victory of truth is inevitable, princess."

"I know..." The Japanese princess nodded, "Specially when the representatives of truth are fearless and skilled."

The tiny praise sprinkled vermillion on the moon-like face of the slate-haired prince. Smirking, he lowered his gazes. His amethysts roamed over her lily feet. Her nails were shot and pink, pouring cold water in his eyes.

"Anyways," Tala interrupted, "Kai, I came here with a view to informing you that His Majesty of Hayashi Tachibana has called sage Dickenson to his place. Sir Dickenson has decided to take us with him. So, let's go. See you, princess."

"See you too, prince." Hilary smiled. Leering back, the redhead almost dragged his cousin towards the palace. Before leaving, the phoenix-prince didn't forget to look at the chocolate-haired girl. Blushingly, the auburn-haired princess moved back to the temple.

.....................................................................

One of the most magnificent KaiXHilary moments from my KaiHil story “Kingdom”. Don’t forget to read and review it :P

#beyblade #kaihiwatari #hilarytachibana #hiromitachibana #KaiXHilary #kaihil #kingdom

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shadowknight465 · 5 years ago

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Lunar seer

June 19, 1517

Today I decided to cut myself, so I can numb the pain I feel almost every single day. Now thinking about it; it was the most stupidest thing I have ever done. Luckily my brother was there to stop me, in fact there should be more people like my brother in the world then anything else. Maybe I am needed after all.

Nightmare put down his quill, and close his journal entry. He looked out to his window to see his brother playing with a couple kids. To him children are pure beings that has more common sense than adults. He should know he was the village children's secret teacher. All because a little girl asked him to read her a story that her mom neglected to read for her. As he thinks for a writing prompt in his own stories, he heard the parents of the children calling for them, it's way past their bedtime. Dream came back holding a book. "Brother, can you read me the story? The girls told me that you're the best storyteller in the world." Dream ask with stars in his eyes. "I can teach you to read that book if you want." Nightmare responded.

"Well I don't want anyone to see me as a grown baby anymore." Dream reason with himself.

That night under a full moon, on Dream's bed. As Nightmare help Dream read a Greek mythology about how Leto gave birth to Artemis and Apollo. They discover like many of the towns people Dream has difficulty reading. However it doesn't mean he won't give up on it.

"Let-o struggle for 9 d-ays try-ing to give Ap-o birth, then her first-born daughter Art-e-mis who was born mer-ely a few days.. Brother, how come it's forbidden for anyone, but the priest and the king to read?" Dream asked putting the book on his lap. Both of them knew Nightmare broke the sacred law of literacy. Nightmare scratch his head then said. "I wish I knew, Dream I was I knew. Plus I was very curious when I was young."

Dream chuckled. I know I promise everyone that I'll keep it a secret, but everyone believed that you were a cursed."

"What do you mean?" Nightmare responded. Just because he one of the a few people who knows how to read, doesn't make him cursed. "Well you're not very good at socializing, not very well at being empathetic, and you never look at anyone in the eye."

"I looked at you in the eye."

"Plus, now this is the only part where I and everyone else agreed on, you never really pay attention to any of your surroundings; you just have your nose-hole in a book." Dream turned at Nightmare with a smirk on his face. "Also you keep rubbing with your hands, even as we speak."

Nightmare look down at his hands and put them behind his back. "Do you see me as cursed?" Nightmare asked. "Nah, you're just different." Dream answer as he snuggle in his bear skins blanket inside a rope hammock.

"Well, Bonne nuit." Nightmare walk to his room. "Bonne nuit.." Dream respond as he drift off to sleep.

Nightmare headed to his hammock and wrap himself into his bear skin. Letting the tiredness to take over into a deep sleep.

~~~

He found himself in the same valley at the stars again, this time he shall white figures that resembles children playing which later turned into a whole village celebrating a festival. Curiosity took over and he went to see what the festival is all about. Only to see a version of both him and his brother but his doppelgänger felt a bit off. Not right off in the 'this is not normal' way. Off as an eerie feeling. His hunch was right when he saw the doppelgänger killed the tree by accident. Yet here the other him, being hated. Things got worse when the doppelgänger got corrupted with the negative apples by eating them and started killing everyone, later turning his brother into stone. Nightmare tried to get the lookalike to stop, but as if by invisible chains, he cannot move or speak. He than felt a cold chill on his shoulder blade and turn around seeing himself with black substance pouring from his eyesockets as he smiled a crooked grin, muttering. "Hope is useless, dispair forever there."

Nightmare jotted up in cold sweat as silence filled the room. He look around to see if everything is still here. It was. He groun to himself. He's the prince of nightmares, he shouldn't be afraid of them. Because he don't think he'll go back to sleep anytime soon, he decided to make himself some coffee with milk cream. After making the fire, he took a look at the tree and he's doesn't know if he shouldn't do this, but he doesn't care. He admired his side of the tree, for resembling the night sky. If is was blue instead of purple of course. Then again a purple night sky wouldn't be so bad. As he traced the Orion constellation he heard the sound of crunching leaves, which turns out to be his brother.

"Dream, what are you doing up so late?" Nightmare asked. Usually he was night owl and Dream was the morning bird.

"I had another nightmare. This time I was being burned alive." He answered. "I guess your dreams are trying to tell you to not play with fire often." Nightmare responded.

"But fire is so beautiful."

"I know, but it's very dangerous as well." After a few seconds of silent Nightmare offer his brother some coffee. Dream was shocked when he heard that. His brother is a coffee addict and will get angry at anyone who interrupted his coffee time or try to steal his coffee. "You mean it?" He asked. "Sure." Nightmare said as he pat the other side of the log he was sitting on. Dream had coffee before, so it wasn't a huge shocker that he didn't go crazy and disturb the villagers sleep. Nightmare did notice that he was paying attention to the fire instead of the hot spilled drops on his shirt. "Just got a word from the messenger that the fire wizards are now calling themselves pyromancers." Nightmare jested. "Brother." Dream chuckle for a bit while embarrassed. As the two brothers laughed at the jest.

Nightmare suddenly saw a flash of light and saw a beautiful church that was famous throughout centuries because of a singular book. "Notre Dame." He whispered the church's name. " is something wrong brother?" Dream asked. "In April 15, 2019, Notre Dame will be set on fire."

"Brother don't destroy the beautiful church and plus it's impossible to live to see that year." Dream responded. Snapping Nightmare out of his dream like state. "Hmm? What happened?" Nightmare asked.

"You just said that Notre Dame will be set on fire in 2019." Dream reminded. Nightmare couldn't believe what he heard. Did he really said that? Before he could say anything else another flash appeared. This time he saw a queen portrait, but her head was off. He looked at the name he saw Marie-Antoinette. Nightmare shook his head violently and asked Dream did he say something weird. Dream nodded and said. "You yelled 'Let them cake' as you rip the head of a snake from its body." Nightmare quickly look down at his hot blooded hands with one of them still holding the head of the poor snake. He dropped it and immediately pour out his coffee to make a new batch. This time no cream.

"What's happening to me?" Nightmare asked himself. "Maybe you just need some sleep." Dream said. Nightmare quickly forgot that Dream was sitting right next to him. Regardless Nightmare nodded and decided to wash his hands in the cold river water. Just before he got onto his hammock he asked. "Hey, Dream can you sleep with me?" in an embarrassing tone. Dream nodded happily as the two brothers climb onto the hammock. Maybe just had to do something with the moon.

~~~~

Nightmare regret about drinking coffee at midnight. He felt the bags forming in his skull already as soon as he woke up. It didn't stop him from going out on his day however. After he was done brushing his teeth it dried corn and water, got dressed, and took his stickle for hunting. He saw a bright fire on the house. He knows it one of his bullies house, but it doesn't mean he can't prove that he's not evil after all. He dropped his stickle and grabbed a random bucket and headed straight for the village water well. After he was done filling the bucket he ran to the house while looking around, wondering why is nobody's reacting to this at all. After some effort he threw the water on top of the house. Big mistake. He could only stand up clutching his teeth and forming fists as he was being scolded at, while trying his best to not cry. What's going on me?

Nightmare asked himself. Until the priest got to the crowd yelling. "I'VE TOLD DREAM THAT HIS DEMON BROTHER IS CURSED WITH THAT HEINOUS JEWEL ON HIS BACK!" The crowd then try to rip his shirt, but he quickly got away to the woods. Knowing that nobody goes there out of fear of the Pooka. After a while of running he stopped to catch his breath.

Am I really cursed?

He thought to himself. He later try to think back on what he did before the events. Maybe one of his bullies cursed him. Maybe it could be the priest after Dream didn't listen and took his side. He then thought about his own nightmare. Is it true that despair is forever here? He heard the sound of running water and followed it. Maybe a splash of cold water will help him. As soon as he was done. He felt something hot the second time he dip his hands in the water. He later opened his eyes and saw that the water is stained with blood in some type of substance that apparently can be light on fire even if it's in water.

What the hell is going on?

He thought to himself .

"You are seeing the future." A familiar voice said. He turn and saw one of those ghost people. "I'm seeing what?"

"The future that's why your eyesight been acting strange and so is your behavior." The ghost said. Nightmare sigh and got up. "Look I don't know what your little plan is. Making me scared on being your emperor-king? I don't care, but making a fool of me means that you had to explain yourself." Nightmare rant. It becomes more terrifying from the fact he's actually taller than the little ghost. "As the moon emperor it's important for you to see the future. Even if it means no one will believe you."

"You still should've picked Dream. He'll make a greater emperor than me." Nightmare continue. "I understand that you are confused, but just like everyone else said you are not needed in this world." It reply. "You're wrong again because my brother needs me."

"Remember that dream you had last night? We were showing you what will happen catch up if you continue your miserable path."

Nightmare couldn't believe what he is hearing. So, he left. The part where the ghost said no one will believe him actually reminds him of what he would consider one of Greeks saddest tragedy Cassandra Ulysses. He will admit that even though her death was kind of sad, it was also kind of happy knowing that she would be free from all the pain she went through. He went back to the village hoping that maybe that they're going to forget about the little incident. They didn't, and called him a 'mad skeleton'. He remembered that he dropped a hunting stickle, and try to look for in the grass.

That's when one of the bullies he scared the other day stabbed him in the back with it. "This is what happens to demons like you." The bully said. Nightmare just shook his head. If the bully was going to stab him in the back he should've done it with his own weapon. "You're still a hypocrite. And don’t think that I didn't saw you trying to groom a 11-year-old girl." Nightmare said. "Well who is going to believe an aspect of evil like you?" The bully reply. Nightmare will admit he does have a point, but he didn't say it. So he just replied it with. "God will, if you try to kill me."

"Do you think God will ever care about a evil being like you?" Nightmare didn't reply. And walk towards his home, and of course the priest forced the little ones to throw rotten fruit and vegetables at him. While the adults called him evil and that his life doesn't worth anything. Not thinking about public appearance anymore he ran across the stream without rolling his pants up or taking off his boots. And of course he kept his eyes closed the whole time and bumped into their cottage. He quickly rubbed his nose-hole and got inside. Knowing that all the adults are laughing at him. He hated the adults are hypocrites that the children will get tainted with ignorance as they grow older. The world seem scary when the younger generations have more common sense than the last one. He threw himself to his hammock to take a few breaths.

"Brother, are you OK?" He heard the gentle voice of his twin. "Come in." Nightmare reply. "Everyone told me about how you ran around like a maniac, and some of them saw you sobbing. Did something happened?" Dream said.

"I think I'm really am cursed. I keep seeing horrible events, and I believe I'm going insane." Nightmare told Dream. " How can you be so sure?" Dream asked. "I don't know." Nightmare sigh. "Hey Nightmare can I ask you something again?"

"Sure, what did you need?" Nightmare sat up from his hammock. "Do you think we're horrible brothers to each other?"

Nightmare got confused. Why out of all people Dream would ask that?

"What makes you say that?" Nightmare asked.

"Well, everyone keep comparing us to be polar opposite's with each other. And every time I'm not around you always ended up getting hurt one way or another. And you were so distant from me lately." Dream answers, trying not to cry in front his brother, but failing. "Dream, no sibling is perfect for one another, but that's why we had to stay together. In a way we balance each other out."

"But why were you avoiding me? Don't you trust me?" Dream asked. Nightmare sigh. " I do trust you I always thought you want to play with your little friends like we always said ' I need to get out of my little shell more'." Nightmare reminded Dream. "Plus I'm not always avoiding you. As long you are wearing that cape, always know that I'm here." He reminded Dream about that stormy night. Dream blush embarrassingly.

"And you would've made friends with the Village's children if they actually see that you are the best brother ever." Dream joked a little. Nightmare chuckled. Sometimes he feels like the only reason he kept on living was because of Dream. "Oh, I almost forgot our hammocks are going to be replaced with actual beds. And this is the fun part we get to design our own bedrooms." Dream cheered.

"What?" Nightmare responded.

~~~~

After half the day on room designing Nightmare went to his new bedroom. Which is shades a silver,purple and hues of blue. The only thing that seems to be the odd one out is the giant light yellow crescent moon on his spring blanket. And he felt lucky that the villagers are sort of nice when they gave him his own writing desk. He set his book down and began writing his thoughts.

June 20, 1517

Lately today I began seeing visions of what the spirit told me to be the future. However they also said no one will believe me like the story of Cassandra. I still don't know what their intentions are, but my visions told me that if I continue on my suffering path I'll become the evil being everyone believed me to be. I know that in the Bible that I should be afraid of God, but I don't think I am. I am more afraid of people, yet not their children. It's scary to think how the elders are supposed to be the wisest, but it was actually them.

Nightmare closes his book and went to his bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

#daybreak #dream!tale #uncorrupted nightmare #nightmare!sans #dream!sans #moon king

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fromthemouthofkings · 6 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about Judas lately

Lots of people have tried to explain his motivations in betraying Jesus, from the fairly boring “he was in charge of the group’s money and got greedy” to the explicitly heretical “Jesus asked Judas to betray him because he needed to die,” but one tradition that I grew up with was the idea that Judas was a Jewish revolutionary who thought that the messiah was going to lead armies and overthrow the Romans and establish a new Jewish kingdom on Earth, and was disappointed with the messiah he got.

So let’s talk about Judas the revolutionary.

Let’s talk about Judas who gets into scuffles with Roman guards and puts himself between his people’s bodies and the soldier’s spears. Let’s talk about Judas who is a Jewish peasant and Proud of It, Judas who orchestrates daring escapes, Judas who wants to remake the world, Judas who has waited so so long for a savior.

Let’s talk about a messianic Judas. Judas who believes that the savior is coming and coming with an army to free the Jews at long last from their oppressors. Judas who stands on street corners and fights, who tells the frightened that God is sending a savior, a warrior, a king. Let’s talk about Judas the prophet.

Let’s talk about Judas who is called, Judas who has been waiting, wide awake in the night and listening for God’s voice, Judas who has been waiting all his life for this moment to arrive. Judas who is proud and angry and impatient, Judas who has scars on his cheeks and dirty feet and bloody knuckles, scraped-up hands.

Let’s talk about a Judas who saw Jesus open his mouth and heard God come out, Judas who answered, Judas who followed. Let’s talk about a Judas who has been searching, who stands up straight when he sees Jesus walk into town. The Word flows from Jesus like water over rocks, like this stream that Judas saw one time, way out in the middle of the desert, a thin line of green in the middle of miles and miles of dust and rock. It’s beautiful and clean and alive, and Judas hears his name, clear and bell-like in the sound in the of the water. He steps forward and says, Rabbi, teach me to be your hands.

Put down your nets and follow me, he said—all the disciples have to give up something. Let’s give Judas a family to protect, maybe a little sister who worries that he’s going to be killed every time he gets between a Jew and a Roman spear. Maybe he doesn’t see her very much, any more, or maybe he thinks about her at night and promises he will make the world better for her children. Let’s talk about a Judas who has friends and conspirators, people he owes, a life and fellow soldiers for the cause. People who think he’s crazy to follow this wandering preacher, who catch his arms, try to pull him back away from the crowd. He’s crazy, they say—the Romans and the chief priests both hate him, he’s going to get himself killed, preaching like that. You’re going to get yourself killed, if you follow him. Let’s talk about Judas who ignores them, who puts down his scraped-up fists and follows, steps out of his old life into something new.

Let’s talk about Judas who is chosen by Christ, who is so so full of hope and life and fire, Judas who is loved. And let’s talk about Judas who struggles, who gets frustrated, tired, confused. Judas who turns the other cheek about as often as he hits back, Judas who carries a soldier’s pack an extra mile and then has to fight the temptation to pitch it off a cliff when the soldier finally asks him to give it back. Let’s talk about Judas who wrestles with God, who stays up for long hours every night praying for prudence, for insight, Judas who begs God for answers, for salvation, for hope and a better world for his people.

Let’s talk about a Judas who loves Jesus and a Judas who argues with Jesus, a tired, jaded Judas, a Judas who has seen the world run on anything but love. A Judas who adores Jesus, who hangs on his every, electrifying word and wonders how anyone so brilliant could be so naïve. Let’s talk about Judas who expects a rebellion, and who gets more and more frustrated as tensions with the Romans and with the Jewish authorities rise, and Jesus lets them, Judas who waits for God’s reign to begin and is disappointed again and again. Judas who yells at Jesus—Rabbi, they will kill you! And is somehow only angrier when Jesus just looks tired and nods.

They will kill you, he says when the crowds press in around them on the seashore. Rabbi, they will kill you, he says when Jesus gets up on a donkey colt and prepares to ride into the city like a king. Rabbi, they will kill you for this, he says as they make their escape from the temple, tables and silver coins rolling across the sacred floor like water, and Jesus just looks at him—warm, dark, lovely eyes—and says I know.

Judas is the one who throws himself between Jewish children and Romans spears. Judas is a protector, a fighter, and he loves Jesus like a stone on his chest, like a fire in his feet, like water filling up his mouth. He loves Jesus like he’s drowning and how can Jesus say “he knows” that he is going to die? Let’s talk about a Judas who tries to orchestrate a daring escape plan and a Jesus who says Get behind me, Satan, Judas who argues and Jesus who rebukes him, Judas who pulls out mean, cutting words as pointed as spears and Jesus who says Let God’s Will Be Done.

And of course that only makes Judas angrier. How can that be God’s will? he yells. You are the messiah—you were supposed to lead armies and fight Romans and remake David’s kingdom anew! And Jesus says, One day I will be king and I will judge the Romans and the Jews, but right now it is Passover, and in two day’s time, I will die.

Judas paces the city streets after that, heart in turmoil and a fire in his stomach. He finds himself outside the temple of his people and walks in, his feet burning, his hands restless. What will you give me for him? he asks.

After, he slinks back in to supper, and his hands feel bloody like they haven’t in three years. He checks, but the scars on his knuckles haven’t reopened. It’s strange, and looking around at the twelve who have become his family for a moment he feels like a stranger to them and to himself. When did this become his life? What was the spark that lit this love in him, made him stand up and leave his old life behind? When did he stop fighting, when did he start loving, where is his sister right now and what is she doing and what would she think of him?

Jesus meets his eyes, warm and dark and clear like water, and Judas’s blood turns cold in his veins because those eyes are tired and kind and before Jesus opens his mouth, Judas knows what he’s going to say.

I know.

Judas runs. The dark, fire-lit city looms up around him like a dream, the little bread and wine he had managed to eat during supper churning in his stomach. His feet are clean—Jesus washed them with water, bending over the bowl like a slave. Judas had half-expected the water to burn when it touched him, but instead, it felt like stepping into a clear river on a hot day in the desert.

He gets the guards, hardly sure why he is doing this anymore, but his feet keep moving, leading them to the garden where Jesus prays. And still Judas loves him, loves him like he’s drowning and when he gets to the spot, and Jesus turns tired, clear eyes on the soldiers, there is only one thing Judas can do. He turns and gives Jesus a kiss.

Jesus is hauled away, and Judas is left suddenly, completely alone in the garden. A tree branch hangs over the spot where Jesus had stood, and it is heavy with fruit. Judas waits for something to happen, for the fire in his chest to consume him or else burn out, for a lightning strike, for the voice of God to come tumbling out of the sky. Nothing happens. Judas turns and begins to walk slowly back the way he had come.

He stops outside the temple, where the guards are standing at the gate and holding spears upright like fenceposts. He waits. His old life feels very far away. Viscerally, he feels that his only place is with Jesus now, that he belongs at his side or nowhere at all.

At last, the news comes. Jesus, the one they called king, the false prophet, the revolutionary—Jesus is to be killed.

Judas runs, fleet like a fire, his feet burning beneath him and the silver coins burning in his pocket. I have sinned, he says, his tongue heavy and dull like ash. He was innocent. He was innocent. The priests and scribes look at him with dull disinterest. What is it to us? Suddenly he is blindingly angry. He throws the coins at them, silver rolling like water over the sacred stones of the temple floor. He is burning, burning, burning.

He leaves. He goes back to the garden with a length of rope. The tree is still there, branch hanging heavy with fruit. I have sinned, Rabbi, he mutters, his tongue dry and cracked as the desert. He is burning, burning. He ties the knot. The city is dark and fire-lit, and his shadow dances like a dream. The tree hangs heavy, heavy, heavy.

Jesus dies. Just like he said. His hands bleed. His tongue is dry as the desert dust. A Roman soldier pierces his side with a spear and water flows out, his blood like a clear stream. Two days later he descends into hell.

Rabbi?

Yes.

Is that you?

Yes.

I don’t understand. Is this a dream? Why are you here?

I am making my kingdom.

I don’t understand.

I know. Do you want to come with me?

Rabbi, I have sinned.

Yes, I know. And I have chosen you, and I love you. Do you love me? Will you come?

Rabbi, you know that I love you. I have no other place but by your side. Call and I will follow.

Jesus’s kiss is like a river, cool water flowing down over Judas’s head and shoulders, calming the fires in his hands and in his feet, filling him up, filling in his chest and lungs and mouth. He gasps as his eyes flutter open.

#kings does theology #my posts #tw suicude #suicide #judas #judas iscariot #christianity #writing #idk what this is #prosetry?#spilled ink #that's a tag people use right?#theology #mine

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jessewaugh · 6 years ago

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The Child Sacrifice of Jesus Christ to Moloch and the Black Pope Antichrist at The Temple

MOLOCH AND THE BLACK POPE INVADE THE CRECHE

There was a painting by Giuseppe Porta detto Salviati which stood out for me at the Basilica di Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari in the Doge's Palace in Venice, Italy, during my last visit in 2016. Frankly, it was shocking.

I've long understood the sacrificial nature of the Jesus story - that Jesus Christ was born essentially as a sacrifice for the masses - perhaps to satiate the need for, and preclude further child sacrifices. I've also been aware of the mythology surrounding Moloch - who is effectively the god of child sacrifice -- a towering inferno bull-owl deity mentioned in the Bible, which was really only exposed to the masses in modern times by Alex Jones and Jon Ronson's infiltration of the Bohemian Grove during the Cremation of Care ritual in 2000.

HOWL

Moloch is also the main character of Allen Ginsberg's Howl - the poem that announced and defined the sacrifice of the Baby Boomer generation by way of the artificially-induced hippie countercultural 'revolution' - which itself turned out to be an engineered destruction of culture. Here is Part II of Ginsberg's Howl:

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

Howl seems to me to be an announcement that the Baby Boomer generation - perhaps specifically the males of that American generation more than the females - were slated by the powers-that-were to be a colossal mass-sacrifice for the greater good - i.e., Order out of Chaos for the New Age.

GEHENNA OUTSIDE THE TEMPLE

Another fascinating - and deeply unnerving - experience I've had was passing by Gehenna when I was outside the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Gehenna is a valley where the Kings of Jerusalem (and others) sacrificed their children to Moloch. It was located just outside Solomon's Temple. Milton writes about it in Paradise Lost:

"First MOLOCH, horrid King besmear'd with blood Of human sacrifice, and parents tears, Though, for the noyse of Drums and Timbrels loud, Their children's cries unheard that passed through fire To his grim Idol. Him the AMMONITE Worshipt in RABBA and her watry Plain, In ARGOB and in BASAN, to the stream Of utmost ARNON. Nor content with such Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart Of SOLOMON he led by fraud to build His Temple right against the Temple of God On that opprobrious Hill, and made his Grove The pleasant Vally of HINNOM, TOPHET thence And black GEHENNA call'd, the Type of Hell."

It's fascinating to think that Solomon, according to Milton, allowed Moloch to establish his abode right next to The Temple of Solomon -- why would he do that? One of the things that fascinates me most about the Temple of Solomon is that just outside the Holy of Holies is set up a courtyard for sacrificing goats - at least that's what models of the Temple I've seen in stores in Jerusalem show. Why is there such need for sacrifice? And how is sacrifice so intrinsic to Abrahamism that the holiest Abrahamic temple - Solomon's Temple - should require (or at least allow) a child sacrifice station right outside its gate? Perhaps it is an act of tessellation - meaning that while the greatest good is occurring in the Holy of Holies, the greatest evil is occurring adjacent to the sacred space?

SYMBOLISM

The black-robed, bald priest in this Giuseppe Porta detto Salviati painting La Presentazione di Gesù al Tempio (The Presentation of Jesus at The Temple) certainly looks ominous, and I have to say that it seems probable to me this is a depiction of the fabled "Black Pope" - who seems to have his hands inside (or at least under the arms) of a hollow-headed puppet pope, who in turn is an obvious embodiment of Moloch - complete with a piscean mitre modified to fit the shape of Moloch's owl-eared head! The black-robed figure may very well be an Antichrist as well.

The Million Dollar Question here is: Why is Moloch and the Black Pope (or whichever dark priest that may be) shown as being present at the birth of Christ? Very curious indeed. It makes me wonder if Christianity is little more than a method for the separation of the Sacred from the profane - to sate the cannibalistic masses' thirst for blood sacrifice. While the Sacred activity goes on inside the Temple - the profane masses are offered mock sacrifices to placate them.

Other symbolism which stands out to me:

Lightning bolts appear behind the Moloch / Pope figure.

Dark figures surround the Christ Child.

Mary supplicates for the return of her infant.

A monk holds the Holy Host at the feet of Pope Moloch.

An archangel holds a Crown of Thorns above Jesus.

A woman - presumably Mary Magdalene - readies an upside-down cross for Jesus Christ.

The image of a cherubim - or some other entity - is carved into the sacrificial altar.

Someone holds one or two spears (for lancing the crucified Christ?) - or perhaps they are candles - behind the altar.

The man in front-left holds his sword pointing down, resting on the ground.

METEORS OVER ROME!

I was driving with my friend Keith Williamson to Rome, from Assisi in 2013 - at the exact time that Pope Benedict XVI was resigning - when one of the most incredible things I've ever seen took place - a meteor shower rained down over Rome right in front of our eyes! I'd also heard on the news that lightning had struck the Vatican (which admittedly may be a common occurrence) as Benedict was leaving office. I mention this because it correlates with the lightning shown in the painting being discussed: Lightning and meteor showers can occur at auspicious times of Divine intervention.

CONCLUSION

Whatever the canonical explanation for Giuseppe Porta detto Salviati's La Presentazione di Gesù al Tempio (The Presentation of Jesus at The Temple) may be, I would find it hard to accept that it is not depicting Moloch and some sort of ritual child sacrifice of the infant Jesus Christ.

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