Look at His Pain - Another Zombie Attack

It has only been hours since the infected escaped the lab and the unimaginable has happened. This virus has mutated and spread throughout the population faster than anyone could have ever imagined. It appears that the scientists that ran the initial experiment are on the run, attempting to escape the storm of undead that approaches.

“…God, the plagued army approaches,” John exclaimed. “Oh God, what have I done? Quickly men… Run”

“John, follow your own advice brother,” George cried out to his colleague, “you cannot win!”

“No one can!” Richard said, “We must find shelter.”

John peered at Richard, “Shelter, we do not need housing, we need a laboratory; a lab where I can get an antidote for this festering rot.”

“I do not care if you blame yourself for this infestation, it’s about survival now,” Richard fired back. “Haven’t we lost enough already.”

As the group of scientists ran for their lives, they made a startling discovery. One of them was unfortunately ensnared by this hoard. From a distance, the mutation was evident, the rotting flesh, their moans, their wretched smell overwhelming everything and everyone in their path. Paul was in grave danger.

George glanced down the hill, “John--Richard… Paul cannot hear us. He is trapped down there with those vile things.”

“Sadly, we cannot wait for him much longer. While tragic, his sacrifice may be our salvation. We must survive!” John said, looking back toward the others, “A cure for my mistake is all that can truly save us.”

“Give up already John, too much blood has been shed already,” Richard replied, “We must find shelter; survive.”

“Quick, hand me that rock,” George called out, “Paul is trapped by that disease ridden blonde. With a perfect shot, maybe I can buy him some time.”

“No! George; Paul decided to venture out of our session into this pandemic on his own,” John said, “That arrogant prick deserves what he has come to him.”

“John, let it be,” George said, “No one deserves to be put through that. Help me… Save him!”

“George, for once I agree with John; at this moment, we are better off without him,” Richard said, “We must escape before those zombies find us.”

“Oh God, look… Paul… No-o-o! The pain, oh God, no, look at his suffering.” George screamed, “The skulls, not the skull, th-th-they are eating him!”

“What George, no way!” John said, “They must be mutating… We must find a lab!”

“I do not know about you, but any type of shelter would be perfect right now,” Richard said.

“Oh God, they are sharing him; engulfing him,” George sobbed. “Those maggot lovers are drinking his blood!”

The revolting sea was indeed devouring him; his screams for assistance drowned by the annoying sound of his meat being torn apart. They tore him limb from limb until his divine Gray was unveiled for the mass. They were fighting each other off for a chance at one piece of his delicious meat. His last chance of survival snuffed out by a single bad decision. What was the world coming to?

“George, you are right! We must find shelter… Give me time to go through my journals,” John muttered. “The answer must be there, it has to be.”

“Come on guys, over there,” Richard said, “the cemetery gates are open, maybe we can find a crypt to barricade ourselves into. Maybe the smell of death will keep them away.”

“Yes… Yes… The cemetery is a great idea, Richard,” John said, “our redemption can begin with the Lord!”

“George... Come quickly before they see you, Paul’s death will allow our escape,” cried Richard.

“Look, that tomb, the door, that could be perfect!” John said moving through the gates, “there I can hopefully determine where my formula went wrong.”

“Enough already John; we are in no position to attempt any type of experiment. Maybe once this hoard passes, we can return to our lab by the river,” Richard scoffed. “Maybe we can go back to where this plague began.”

“George, over here!” shouted John as he entered the vault.

“I’m here, close the door!” George screamed as he took the final steps into the ossuary.

Richard looked at their situation, “we should be safe here; maybe we will survive this terror.”

“Maybe,” John replied, “if we are lucky.”

Incredibly, it appeared as though the tomb may save them, as the undead mob went by instead of searching the cemetery for dinner. What as it that kept them away, was it the overwhelming scent of decay? The scientists sat staring at their temporary sanctuary, thankful to be alive. They were grateful that they did not become like Paul.

Milton on Moloch

As I continued to dive into Moloch and why he was such an important part of our religious leader's journey, I found an interesting mention of him in one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written. In Milton's’ Paradise Lost, the real darkness held within the veins of this demonic beast are revealed.

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.

While there is no mention of the Revelation of Moloch in these pages, it is clear that this beast could sit at a place of power within the realm. I have to do more research. Damn, I wish I could find the  Daemonum Codex Illustrationis, or at least talk to someone who has seen it. There may be answers in there that would help shed some light on the subject.

Here are a couple more of the original Latin Gospel entries, if anyone out there knows of any more or have clues to the whereabouts of either of these last two manuscripts, please contact me.

Potens est et contremuit terra. Ejicient te ab infidelibus in illum hiatum aeneumque flammae haberet. Peccatorum mundati ad dexteram Patris. Magna os suum bestiae ad radices montis. Et risit ad desperationem. (3.13)

Filius Dei audisti profitendi sapientiam massa. Ecce quantum iter damnatione dignus. Hecate per os tuum ad solemnitatem satelles specu. Ibi filicemque stipatus robore magno ianuam aperuit. Et una electa ad introitum vestrum manet. (7.28)

A Video Shot by a Survivor

As I was going through some of the materials on the desk, not only did I stumble upon that last account, I found this video from one of the survivors of the outbreak. To me, it will be important to continually document every aspect of the pandemic. There is no way that we can allow the United Nations or Government to sweep this under the rug.

Mike and Brittany - Stand-Alone Account

Good afternoon. I’m glad to back at it today, and I feel a buzz that I haven’t felt in some time. I am excited to continue on, there is so much to talk about and histories to be told. Plus, on a positive note, this makes two days without the voices. As I was cleaning my desk and organizing the piles of notes and materials, I had an SD Card fall onto the bureau. To my surprise, it was a single account from a poor soul detached from the city. How I got it, I’m not sure. But now I have it and feel this would be a nice change of pace. While this account does not connect to our core group, this story deserves to be told. However, be warned, this one does not end well (for anyone).

  

There they were, turning the corner. The couple never saw the peril they were about to face. Out of breath, running, you could tell that something wasn’t right, but they pushed forward blind toward the repugnant horde. I should have yelled, or warned them about their potential fate, but couldn’t at that moment. The fear had me terrified, it was my life that was important, and I had to do what was right for me. In my mind, their sacrifice could only work in my favor.

They turned the corner, and soon the unnatural darkness drowned their realities. They could see the shadows begin to stalk their every move. A frozen, almost petrified, look overtook their faces. It was clear that they realized that cutting through the alley may have been a huge mistake.

“Brittany, what should we do?” I heard him yell as their sprint turned into a crawl toward the lights that sat off in the distance. “Where are these freaks coming from?”

There, in the moonlight, the faint outline of the throng of undead rose through the mist. The sounds of silence shattered by the echoing cadence of moans breaking the crisp night air, the couple stood paralyzed as the shadows turned to rotting flesh. Maybe these brutes were once human, but now, mortality was a distant memory.

Brittany glanced down the hill toward Carson Street, “Mike, I do not see an escape, we are trapped here with these dreadful things.”

“Sadly, we cannot wait, Brittany,” the man said, “We must try to escape, we cannot hide. There is no shelter.”

In that moment of pause, the ungodly mass of creatures moved in to feast upon the flesh of the couple, their screams for assistance drowned by the irritating sound of meat being torn apart. I stood, unable to move; all I could think about was my survival as the bodies were torn limb from limb. I prayed that they did not see me hiding in the dark.

What’s that rancid smell? It can’t be! No……..

WOW, I tried to articulate and transcribe everything that was being said, but that was hard. This video was extremely hard to watch. In fact, I had to turn it off multiple times. If I missed something, I apologize,

This account was devastating. I feel sorry for that man and what he endured. I couldn’t imagine standing there as this took place. Plus, how the hell could he have the resolve to record it. Call me what you will, but I value you my life, and if I am not armed, I will do whatever it takes to survive, even if that means run away.

Unfortunately, being unarmed is something that I am becoming accustomed to. Fuck you Obama; anxiety is something we all suffer from. If we don’t have anxiety, then there is something wrong with us, or we are not human. In your case, you may not be. Still, fear should not prevent me from owning a gun! Oh, that’s right, I am not one of your sheep, I have a brain and can think.

Things are looking up though. With a new president in office, maybe soon these bullshit regulations will be revoked, and the overwhelming amounts of oppression will finally come to an end. Now that you’re gone, we can truly take our country back from the governmental controls and live as we see fit. The process has started, but there is still more work to be done.  

Original Latin Translations from Revelation of Moloch

Hello, hello, hello, if you have made it here, you must understand the importance of my work, and why I started this blog to accompany the manuscript. While the book is still being finalized, it is my hope that this blog may lead me to more information about what took place during the outbreak. Not to mention my desire to find a complete copy of the Revelation of Moloch.

I am going to start off this blog with a couple of the early Latin versions of the scripture brought forth by the Man of the Cloth. Hopefully, you continue to find your way back for more information, as I have some stand-alone accounts that I will be posting that did not make it into the After the Static manuscript.

Revelation of Moloch

Et commota est terra et erit dies in qua prophetia vivetis. Damnatorum et sola formidatis ibi conprehendet audiatur clamor ortus ut satelles. (1.11)

In die ortus trans flumen purus. Diculam basi nostri salvatores in montem offendunt. Lacrimas fundit munus sola in paradiso. Vox cantantis in gemitu et peccatores novae urbi attulere. (2.13)

Itaque hoc die, a series sub Maximo Confluentes curru ferri. Vi erumpentium Vesuvii et angelos flebis. Cinere triangulum aureum Christus apparebit. Ad hoc ut terram tuam Sanctum sanctorum. Et tu exsultabis in fonte in remissionem peccatorum. (2.10)