Free Edition of Before Now and After

The Dogbreaths Publishing
Before Now and After
David William Kirby
David W Kirby all rights reserved.,
Before Now and After.

The Occult History

Of the
TETRAGRAMMATON
ISBN: 9781311502315
Copyright David William Kirby 2009

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David William Kirby
dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk
The Final Draft

2013.3.33

Copyright David William Kirby 2009
The Dogbreaths Publishing.weebly.com
David William Kirby
Book 1
A Visit to an Island
Book 11
At what price a city is born
Book 111
The Path to Glory
Before now and after
David William Kirby
Part 1
A visit to an island
There is, like hawk on fire, a sword
Curved; its blade rolling;
Stalking the seam.
A feather on a shield held high
in a rock or stone
Shimmering.
Like water falling
on a blue, empty pass,
True and high and rained.
Falling, curving down through this flower
This flower of fire
Blooded and fallen.
Its face and roots,
its clawed and hooded
stone fingers like poses
Of fire, of water, of magick.
Pond like, wide and deep, as the sea.
Deadly.
Utibia was beautiful, a lone

star of an island situated in the middle ocean
just off the tropic of Capricorn. Although just a
few miles wide, it was the sanctuary of every
fish and beast of this world and more; it was the
other Eden. Utibia seemed, to the inhabitants of
that place, as if life had been breathed into the
world through the island by a god-like power and
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their very presence was an indication of that

power.
Dolphins swam in the tide and strange birds
occupied the blue skies; the place was blessed.
Fertile and warm Utibia was a heavenly garden and
no less a place to start a story.
The people that made their
had been there forever, so
Throughout time they spent
the beauty that surrounded
life on this island

their stories said.
their lives in awe of
them; humbled by it.
The Langa people were blue but not naturally so.

Brown eyed and brown skinned they shimmered like
sapphires in the morning sun. They turned their
brown skin blue by rubbing on to it the blue clay
that was harvested from a marsh in the islands
centre. The clay was rich and organic and so
protected their skin from the bright sun. It also
reminded them that they too were part of the
ocean and the sky that surrounded them.
A naturally peaceful race that led slow and
contented lives in small family villages. Their
lives were ordered so that no one did too much or
too little; no one had everything and no one had
nothing. They shared the chores and the labours
of life for the benefit of all. The old were
given special attention for being the wise ones
and the young were relished for being new life.
Their ambitions were to have rounded bellies and
smiles to wear.
Langa believed that they were spiritual
manifestations of their mother goddess; The
Earth. They saw the earth as a womb from which
they burst forth. That it spun around the sun
like the atoms of their bodies spun around
themselves and that if you looked closely enough
into a persons cells you would see another
island like Utibia.
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Likewise if you travelled far into the universe;

so far all the stars and planets and galaxies
would merge into one. Then you would eventually
find yourself looking at another island like
Utibia. The macro mirrored the micro. All life
was connected.
The villagers believed that reincarnation enabled
souls to travel from those very small places up
through the plains of existence until each soul
had experienced them all. Life and death were
part of the same journey; the travel of the soul.
They saw it in the birth and death of each day,
the ebb and flow of the tides and the wax and
waning of the moon. Life returned again.
A death in the village was not a time to be sad
but a time of celebration and joy. It was a
transition from one small plain to the next.
Through traditional songs they educated the young
and helped the old prepare for their next
transition; into the greater whole.
Stories were of great importance to the Langa.
Story telling formed the education of the young
and entertainment for the old. One story told
that the island was formed to create order in
chaos.
That all life, the soil, the flora and all living
things were made of the same substance from which
they themselves were formed. It was the essence
of the spirit of life. With this idea in their
hearts the Langa lived in peace, with love and
consideration for all that they found around
them.
They tended the gardens and looked after the
animals of their world with love. Some would not
eat meat or fish even saying it would be like
eating one of their own. Others; like the wise
old men, loved to eat their meat and fish but
would talk to the animal before slaughter to
ensure it was ready for its transition.
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All were equal in the village although when a

person reached a certain age he or she could
choose to be one of the elder circle or die. The
elders carried a heavy burden; a responsibility.
So, some chose to go. Go through the transition
and leave this world.
To be an elder meant to lose ones youth and teeth
and hair and become frail. But with this they
also became wise and able to judge others if
disputes arose. They also had to look after the
only thing the Langa valued. The book.
But more of that later.
Another story told of a man who spent his time
wondering if there was more to life than just the
island and the village. Rufus was his name. He
was born greedy and cunning and was able to
misbehave without a conscious. From an early age
Rufus exploited helplessness; used People.
He wanted more, proof that death was not the end
and that life continued. The story told that he
left the island and travelled to a far off place
where he stole powerful relics. Relics that he
hoped would enable his army to become invincible.
Relics like the book.
The book was the repository on Earth, stitched
with gold thread upon each of its leather pages,
of the secret and most powerful name of God.
This act changed him. He returned many years
later and told the elders that the name he had
stolen was destined to be theirs. It was so
powerful this word could not be spoken and had
been written in the book for the benefit of
mankind; but never uttered again. Those that did
risked being burned alive if the ritual, the
ceremony that accompanied its pronunciation, was
not enacted.
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Rufus told that with this name on a mans lips

enemies could be slaughtered, cities destroyed
and people controlled. He said that the book was
his and was never to be opened by any other. That
he had brought it to the island because he knew
the elders could be trusted to keep it safe for
him and never use its power. After his death it
passed to the Elder of the Elder circle; down
through the generations.
The story, which was enacted on long mid summer
nights around the blazing village hearths, said
that this man had conjured fire from the skies.
That the spirit of the trees had spoken to him.
He had learned the power that governed all life
and, with this power, looked through the veils of
time.
Rufus could see the past fading away like the
last embers in a cool fire and into the future,
where terror reared up in the childrens eyes;
like the bucking hoofs of a fierce stallion.
Far away from the island, in the West, a huge
tribe evolved where Rufus became just a fading
legend. The Langas story said that lust for
power was infectious and these others had become
diseased by it.
They kept but One Ruler; as Rufus had ruled over
them in their prehistory. He was a Blueblood who
gained his Right to Rule by blood.
These new rulers were His bloodline and through
the centuries they became the Kings and
aristocracy of those Western Isles.
These dangerous and deluded men spelt the end of
life for the villagers and the destruction of the
world. Across the sea a cancer was spreading;
everyday getting closer on an almost shrinking
Earth.
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Kings became Emperors and down the centuries the

legend of Rufus and The Word of God faded into
folk law.
Although one family kept Rufus alive, with yearly
rituals dedicated to Him and wild stories of
their own.
These descendents owned secret relics that
brought them closer to Him. In isolation from the
rest of mankind, this dynasty had kept his legend
alive.
The sacking of the great temple in Israel had
given them a faded map which was now kept as a
relic. Copies had been made as the relic
disintegrated into fragments over the years and
generations; far across the sea to the west.
Although these stories disturbed the people on
the island they also knew that change was
inevitable. Death must follow Life.
The elders dreamt on moonless nights, when stormy
waves beat against the great rocks in the bay,
omens of things to come bothered them.
Over the passing of time the cancer from the
Western Isle became an army no other could
conquer.
Their story ended with a premonition. The
villagers were told that he would return again.
The people from the West were expected to return
to the island to fulfil this prophecy.
When the villagers performed the story of Rufus
around those blazing midsummer night fires it
would always end with Rufus rising up, like a
demon, from the ocean.
With death in his eyes, blood on his hands and
fearlessness in his heart he would stand
victorious upon the ruins of the past. He was
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heralding the end of the beginning and the

beginning of the end of Rufus.
Contemplation of a mother God, and her divine

wisdom,
is the secret of simple order.
Strife for her power
strikes with chaos at the root
that governs our being
These were the last words of Abras Watermountain,
eldest of the elder circle. With these soft words
he closed his eyes upon the world and clasped a
small box to his breast.
It was the only important thing he possessed and
he was sorry to leave it in the hands of men who
did not appreciate its power.
Where it would not receive the respect and
quality of care it had received from his father
and from his father and his father before him.
The box, which held the book, had been carved by
his great grandfather from cedar and inlaid with
mother of pearl by grandfather and precious
stones by father. Kissing the book gently he laid
it in the box and planned swiftly to leave this
life.
He had known today was to be the day just after
he awoke that morning. It may have been the shape
of the first cloud he saw through his open
doorway.
Or it may have been the distant shouts of
children playing. Their soft voices rising on the
wind telling him that today was the day.
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It may have been the way the sun shone on the

houses or the way the breeze travelled through
the trees, the texture of the warm soil; the
buzzing of a distant insect. All the signs were
there, today he was to depart this life and move
on. He squeezed the box tightly.
He was not scared to go only sorry to leave this
possession. In fact he was proud that the legends
of the past should now be crashing into his
present. He was about to walk with ancestral
kings and hold court with them; exalted in those
darker lands.
With the passing of his life he was forced to
evaluate his deeds, muse upon his misgivings; all
in all, he was happy with what he saw.
Although this was true he felt the world had
changed recently. Either that or his memory was
failing, for the summers seemed bleaker then
those he remembered as a boy. He thought that the
air had grown stale or poisoned by a menace from
beyond the horizon.
That far across the ocean fires burned like
beacons upon every hilltop carrying their filthy
smoke in the clouds. It seemed that the world was
dyeing with him.
As his life filtered away, Abras Watermountain
slowly perceived the order that had created him.
Felt it flowing throughout his being, burning
within and without him.
He allowed himself to drift into the feeling
allowing it to permeate his body; he was
transparent to it. It was time, the old man
thought, and time to die. The boats had moored,
there were visitors to the island.
Slaves dragged the longboats up onto the sands so
that their masters might land without wetting
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their leather sandals. A small army alighted and

formed a neat regiment on the beach. They were
addressed by a heavily built man, finely turned
out in silver armour, a bright breastplate inlaid
with gold shimmered in the sun. Black feathered
plumes rose like smoke from the silver helmet
that covered his head. The man clasped the sword
attached to a belt at his side and addressed his
troops.
Men. He shouted beating his chest with his
other fist. Before we journey into these
peoples land you must prepare yourselves. All
manner of trickery awaits you here.
If you see a beautiful maiden, stab hard because
she could be a devil bewitching you. If you see a
beautiful youth, strike firmly in case his beauty
entrances you. If you see an innocent child,
strike hard for the devil takes many forms and we
are here to kill him; him and all his followers.
He pulled a dusty map from his belt and unfurled
it so that his men could inspect the document.
See where we are? He spat on the sand. Men,
you see here, in the centre of the world, only
beasts and savages lurk. The magic they practice
is opposed to all the things we stand for.
It is rumoured that they have the secret of
Abraham the Magi that they practice the
witchcraft of the Essenes and possess power
greater than Mars and Mercury. That they bewitch
you with their eyes.
He could see his words were having the desired
effect, the men looked worried, thin beads of
sweat gathered on their brows and some whispered
silent prayers. Good, he thought, he wanted them
anxious.
The only way to protect yourselves from these
monsters is to slay them quickly. We take no
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prisoners from this place, Augustus has decreed

this.
What about the women? Someone asked from the
rear.
They are not women, they are witches. The man
replied. Put your sword where you might put your
prick and slay them.
It was at that point that a small blue boy
stepped from between the coconut trees. His red
lips quivered and brown eyes widened seeing the
strangers in his midst.
The ribbons in his hair and the brightly coloured
shells around his neck glittered in the midday
sun. His expression was one of innocence and
interest.
He pointed at the men in their strange and
cumbersome costumes, their plumes and
breastplates, their swords and spears. These
things reminded him of a story he had been told
but he could not remember when.
General? One of the party stuttered. Look,
theres a savage amongst us.
He pointed to the boy and gasped.
Although he is naked like the savages you have
described; surely this child is not a devil?
You are allowing the childs innocence to
bewitch you. The general replied. Let the
archers do their work; destroy this beast.
With this command arrows streamed through the
air. Silent death with a hundred barbed teeth;
each one aimed to penetrate. A bird chirped and
fled its nest as blood soaked into the white
sand.
A leather sandal trod the body of the boy in to
the sand and the soldier with the black plumes
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reached for his sword. The blade sparkled in the

sun as it swooped down severing the boys head.
Onward. He cried. Victory awaits; have neither
fear in your hearts or mercy in your minds today.
Go forth and civilise this island, in the name of
the Emperor, for the glory of the Empire and the
honour of Rome. Hail Augustus.
Abras Watermountain was found dead and cold by
the man with the black plumes. He was still
clutching in his frail fingers the small box, a
smile on his lips.
The digits clasped so hard that even in death it
was difficult to give up their prize. They
cracked as the box was taken.
The soldier opened the box slowly and peered
within as the screams of other villagers filled
the afternoon air. In the midst of the death and
destruction he could see only beauty in his view
as a magical light streamed from the box almost
blinding him.
Within was just a simple blue cloth that covered
a small insignificant looking book. Made from
old kid leather, which had faded with time, it
did not appear to be the prize he had been sent
to find; but he could feel its power.
This truly was a great treasure, he thought,
worth more than its weight in gold or silver,
worthy of the greatest emperor the world had ever
known.
The reality of war awaited him as the Marcus
Agrippa left the longhouse. The soil was red with
blood and the sky black with acrid smoke as he
tucked the box into his map bag.
Agrippa? A voice shouted from behind him.
Come, all the forest is ablaze and soon this
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island will sink beneath the waves. We are

preparing to leave.
Did you see me carrying anything? Agrippa asked
the soldier as he joined him.
The box Sir. I only saw the small box. The man
replied hesitantly.
I thought so. Agrippa said as he stuck the
blade of his sword into the mans belly. That
was unfortunate, my brother.
The soldier fell as the long house began to smoke
fiercely. He looked up at his executioner and
heard faint words upon the wind. Agrippa was
saying a small prayer for the fallen man; giving
the soldier as a sacrifice to Mars in thanks for
the prize. His Emperor will be pleased.
Some months later Agrippa was aboard a galley as

it moored off the coast of Ostia; only a short
journey from the centre of imperial Rome. It had
been four years since he had last seen that
wonder of cities; wandered through its bustling
streets and surrounded himself with familiarity.
He wondered if it had changed much in the
preceding years.
He was aware that Augustus was still the emperor.
That fact was obvious by the size of the
welcoming party put on for him and his men. For
it seemed through Agrippas eyes that all Rome
had turned out to welcome him home.
The bay was full as far as the eye could see with
all manner of small boats crowded with waving
people. The docks were also crowded with people
dressed in the soft fabric that was the fashion
of the day. The people seemed to flap like flags
in the small breeze as their voices cheered him.
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Soon Agrippa was riding a chariot through the

crowd following a band of horn blowers and
drummers. The fanfare led all the way from the
coast to the city walls. It was a hot day and
Agrippa felt small beads of sweat gather on his
brow as his chariot entered the city through the
gate by Circus Maximus.
It was empty that day, no shouts rang from its
tiers; no horses thrashed around its track. The
whole of Rome had emptied to welcome him back.
Then through the
dust rose as two
Agrippa steadied
to a halt in his
two of Augustus
across the noise
centre of the crowd a trail of

speeding chariots approached.
his horses as the chariots came
path; they were being driven by
bodyguard. One shouted to him
of the drummers.
General Agrippa. The man screamed. We are here

to escort you directly to the Palatine; the
Emperor waits.
Yes, I thought this would happen. Agrippa
replied. He looked behind at the line of men who
had disembarked with him and asked.
But what about my men?
The baths await their pleasure, Sir. Augustus
expects you now.
Without haste Agrippa nodded to his men and with
a flick of the horses reigns he followed the two
chariots toward the palatine hill and the
Emperors palace.
The palace stood on one of Romes seven hills
completely encircled on all sides by a thick
wall. One side had a gate that gave access to all
the public buildings and temples, which consisted
of the legal and political heart of the empire.
While another gate gave a splendid view of the
river Tiber and the city itself which curled
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about it. The emperor also had access from the

rear of the palace to steps that led all the way
down to the circus. The palace was his own little
empire and it mimicked the greater empire over
which he ruled.
Once atop of the hill and in the beautiful palace
garden Agrippa was surrounded on all sides by
luxury. Finely sculpted figures stood white and
static around bright crisp fountains. Nymphs blew
spa water through the air cooling it down for the
visitors to this place.
He was led, by a valet down an open path that was
inlaid with precious gems and metals. Through a
portico lined with red granite pillars and into a
great hall that smelt of violet and linseed.
The floors were made of fine marble laid to form
squares, circles and triangles all intertwined to
form complicated patterns. Yes, Agrippa mused,
the emperor was truly a patron of the arts.
Soon he was approaching a huge gold door studied
with the emperors emblem, a circle of laurel
held in the mouth of a swooping eagle.
Above the door Agrippa noticed an etched plate
which depicted Romes mythical past. Romulus and
Reemus suckling the teats of a she-wolf were
depicted in all their glory.
The door was flung open to the sound of a gong
and Agrippa found himself faced by the emperor.
He was seated upon a guilt and marble throne at
the far end of a long, bright room. Behind him
was a window that overlooked the city and the
snaking river below. Augustus gestured for the
man to approach as a valet shouted.
Hail Augustus.
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The exaltation boomed around the room and was the

cue for the emperor to hold out a frail hand for
Agrippa to kiss.
Agrippa? The emperor whispered as the man took
his hand and kissed the ring he was wearing. It
is good to have you back after so long. We feared
the sea had got you.
Thank you master. Agrippa replied keeping his
gaze firmly on the floor not daring to look into
the face of the emperor. I am glad to be back.
I speak for all Rome when I say you have been
missed. Augustus continued. The senate has made
my life difficult with one of my greatest
generals away, I have felt truly vulnerable at
times.
Surely not master.
I am glad you have returned. He gestured for
Agrippa to rise and clapped. This made the black
plumed guards that had lined the walls leave in
single file closing the gold door behind them.
Agrippa was aware that he and the emperor were
now very much alone. Alone except for Augustus
valet, a deaf mute, strong as an ox and as hard
as iron, he never left his masters side. The
emperor looked quizzically at Agrippa after the
room emptied.
I seem to remember Agrippa, He said after a
long pause. That we had a wager before you left,
can you remember what it was?
I shall never forget, Sir.
It was that you should find me a relic, a
treasure from the past, a mystery, a myth. That
you should deliver to me that relic; that word.
I remember master. Agrippa replied looking the
emperor in the eyes for the first time.
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Well, was the relic real or just a myth?

You remember your part in this bargain I hope?
To make you console, general of all my armies,
of course I remember. But were you able to find
this relic or were you not?
I have kept my word master. Agrippa whispered
feeling his mouth go dry as the words left them.
You have? Augustus leaned forwards and his eyes
lit up.
You have bought me a myth, a legend. The Word
of Power that was revealed to Abraham; I dont
believe it.
Believe this, Sir. Agrippa smiled as he opened
his map bag and removed the box from it. He held
the box in his palm and offered it to the
emperor.
Believe this.
Augustus took the box and sighed as he twisted it
in his fingers. The light seemed to dance on the
inlaid mother of pearl and stones, a smile
crossed his pale old lips.
Where did you get this? He asked as his fingers
clicked the box open.
Many months from here.
The Enochian islands? The old man asked.
I cannot tell you the islands
Agrippa replied. I had neither
inclination to ask. We followed
the map and eventually we found
as the story said.
real name.
the chance of
the directions on
the island, just
The map was charted long before the seas were

conquered and so it was not very accurate. All I
can say is that we looked for an island and in
the end we found one; this was on it as the story
said.
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The emperor looked at the book still wrapped in

its blue dust cover and stroked it gently.
Even though the book is covered by this rag I
can feel the power, the energy flowing from it,
through my fingertips.
Its too much of a coincidence Agrippa, The map,
the island, the box and now the book. I should
never have doubted its existence.
They say every legend has a foundation in truth
and if this really is the sacred name of power,
the name revealed to Abraham in a dream; the word
that Moses pronounced to part the Red Seas;
Romes armies have a weapon no other could
match.
Isnt that a lot of rubbish put about by old
Jews to scare their children; this name of
power?
Possibly. Augustus
But it is ours now.
Hebrews and Enocians
founded upon wisdom;
understanding?
replied closing the box.

You remember that these
thought that peace could be
upon wisdom and
Indeed, this name is nothing but an ode to peace

if you like. Providing that the name is used for
wisdom and understanding. A sword hung on the
wall becomes a symbol, an icon that represents
anything one chooses for it. It could be the end
of bloodshed, for instance, the laying down of
arms.
But place that sword in your palm, grip the hilt
strongly and thrust it forwards purposely and it
becomes a tool once more. It ceases to mean
anything.
Isnt this what the Greeks taught our
forefathers, that people can be conquered by war
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and politics? This is our charter, the

Hellenistic way; it is our way.
Am I to get my prize now? Agrippa asked gently
wishing to bring the emperors attention back to
him again. Augustus tapped the box gently deep in
thought.
A lot has happened since you departed Marcus. I
have only one man to thank for my safety while
you have been away.
Unfortunately I made him general in chief shortly
before you returned. If I now take this prize
from him in the eyes of my people I may seem
indecisive or incompetent. This would never do.
Would any one dare call you incompetent if they
knew the power you now possessed?
THEY MUST NEVER KNOW! The emperor snapped. No
one should know about this; this Word of Power.
It is to be our secret.
But the wager, Sir... Agrippa said softly.
...what about the wager?
You are right. I didnt believe that you could
keep your end of it; I should never have doubted
you. What a fool I have been. Tell me Marcus,
surely there is something else I can do for you?
A stony silence fell between the two men. A
silence that was filled with tension and Agrippa
was aware that the Emperor would not suffer this
for long.
There is one thing Principate. Agrippa said
using the Emperors favourite title. You wish to
practice the ritual designed for this word. The
Enochian ritual, I believe it is called, I would
very much like to be a witness.
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I have heard that the mere pronunciation of the

word in this box can bring fire from the sky;
now, that is something I would like to see.
I could cut your head off and be done with you
instead... The emperor said smugly.
but no Marcus, I feel it would be unbecoming
for an emperor to practice this heresy.
If you are saying it is something that you would
like to explore for me, well then, build a temple
for me here in Rome; a temple for the ritual; a
temple to Hellenism.
Do so in secrecy, if its possible to do anything
in secret in a city as great as ours, and we
shall see what can be done.
I will concoct a story if you like? Lets say we
are building a temple to Romulus and Reemus. Are
there instructions for the ritual?
Somewhere among my things Marcus, I will find
them for you. Can I trust you to use this power
for us, men of Rome; to share its secrets with me
only; your emperor. Can I trust you Marcus?
Of course my Lord.
Then you shall do it... The Emperor smiled.
...but it must remain our secret if you are to
be my general, my consol and my magician.
You shall be remembered for being the greatest
emperor this world has ever seen, even the gods
of Abraham will kneel before you.
Did you say you wanted a Greek influence on the
temple, not a Hebrew style?
The world must know that the ideology of peace
through wisdom is dead. Let them see that
Hellenism; order maintained with politics and
war, is the true way.
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Hellenism is the true and only path to glory.

Here in the centre of our empire a temple will
rise, shining like a jewel in the mid-day sun,
here in the centre of Rome. A temple entirely
covered in the fruits of bloodshed will rise. It
must be as great as the Parthenon in Greece.
Our shrine to power and heroism and all those
things we hold dear will be a monument to us; men
of Rome. It will become a sword that we will hold
at the throat of mankind for a thousand years or
more.
Thus the building was erected. Over ten years

slaves rolled marble pillars and stone blocks to
the place of construction under the Palatine
hill. Their backs red from the whip and their
foreheads black from the sun they laboured;
carving stone from rock.
As the structure rose from the landscape and the
wooden supports were removed from under its great
concrete dome the tides of destiny turned against
the emperor.
Trouble that had loomed for months came to a head
as the Egyptians stopped supplying the Roman
armies with grain for their bread. Their queen
wanted taxes raised in Rome to pay the higher
price for the grain; but the gold was needed for
the temple.
When the lilac trees blossomed in the twinkling
of spring the emperor saw that the bread was made
with Egyptian blood. General Agrippa saw to that
and when his name was carved above the great
temples portico it honoured his barbarity.
Agrippa invited Augustus to view the building and
open it formally.
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A fanfare of trumpets and a crash of cymbals

announced the start of the procession as it wove
its way through the Palatine gates and on through
the great city.
At its helm African warriors leapt through the
air shaking fists armed with spears in a crazed
dance. The citizens gasped in amazement as the
warriors twisted through the air and banged
spears against skin covered shields. Tigers on
leashes at their side growled at the crowd.
Behind them followed a group of Spartan women,
dressed in translucent cloth and carrying great
sheaths of reeds danced like trails of smoke.
Dripping lilac fronds which they carried in bags
from their snake-like hips; they danced as petals
dripped on the street; a strange blizzard of
purple snow.
In their wake strode sixteen drummers beating a
wild and exotic rhythm which echoed through the
rag-bag buildings and bounced off the wattle
walls until the beat was lost in a cacophony of
sound.
To this reverberation twenty young Spartan boys
marched with their training swords clutched to
their small chests and savage snarls on their
beautiful faces. They were followed by adult
Spartan males wearing full armour and holding the
emperors colours high into the breeze.
Ten legions of gladiators followed who themselves
held the colours of Greece to acknowledge
Augustus honour of that land. Then behind them
marched the emperors bodyguard dressed in their
full armour and palatine colours accompanied on
each side by trumpeters and drummer boys.
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Then held aloft upon a golden sleigh the emperor

was carried and the crowds loved to see him.
They screamed his name above the sound of the
drums and trumpets as his sleigh was paraded
through the streets; carried by forty Arab slaves
dressed in gold thread.
The sleigh was fixed to four elephant tusks, one
on each corner, by virtue of a golden disc and
these were in turn connected to golden rings that
held his golden throne aloft.
Augustus, resplendent in his purple robe trimmed
with gold, touched his golden laurel crown and
smiled benignly as the procession filed down the
hill to the temple.
He could see, now that the wooden tresses had
been removed, that the concrete dome was by far
the biggest ever free standing structure in the
world.
Covered in gilt it shone in the morning sun.
Seeing it the emperor turned to catch sight of
Marcus Agrippa who rode beside him on a white
Arabic horse.
He smiled and Agrippa nodded back, pleased that
his emperor was happy with the construction. He
touched the jewel encrusted sword that hung from
his hip, a gift from the emperor, and held the
golden blade above his head in salute. They
arrived outside the building and the drums went
silent.
The crowd was held back by the emperors
bodyguard as Augustus sleigh was lowered to the
ground.
Hail Augustus! Shouted Agrippa as his white
horse cantering beside the crowd and snorted.
Hail Augustus! The crowd shouted back.
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Augustus was helped from the sleigh by a slave as

Agrippa dismounted to greet him upon the steps of
the portico. He threw down his cloak and the
crowd saw that he was dressed in a simple smock
of white linen, around his waist was a glittering
gold belt with a gold disc on the front.
The sight of this hushed the awe struck crowd. To
see Agrippa dressed in the symbols of the
Egyptian sun god confused them but when he
dropped to his knee and Augustus blessed him they
cheered as he anticipated they would.
As this cheer rang out the great doors to the
temple opened and the crowd saw the space within
for the first time. The sight of the marbled hall
brought amazed coos from the crowd.
Seeing the great oculus in the ceiling, which let
a beam of light through the domed roof into the
hall, amazed them and their emperor.
Augustus beckoned Agrippa to stand beside him and
acknowledge the crowds jubilation. Both men
smiled as Augustus whispered through the side of
his mouth.
Remember Marcus, you are only a man.
Agrippa smiled and bowed slightly before inviting
his master into the temple.
Once inside Augustus was in awe of the temples
construction. The dome was spellbinding and
seemed to rise higher than anything he had even
imagined.
He looked up to the centre of the dome seeing the
oculus, a round hole the same size as the midday
sun, which allowed bright light to beam onto the
marble floor beneath them. He knew secretly this
was designed for the pillar of fire that the
ritual promised.
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This, Master Agrippa is surely one of the worlds

wonders. He patted Agrippa on the back.
You are now a master mason as well as a great
general.
Will it be suitable for the ritual? Agrippa
asked.
Who knows, Augustus replied. You followed the
design as laid out in the Hebrew doctrine?
I did.
Then it will be suitable.
Where did the ritual come from? Agrippa asked
casually. I am aware that the Jew Moses was a
great magi but I understand that the words
contained in the ark from the temple in Jerusalem
were incomplete.
Thats true, they thought that the name of their
god was so powerful that they could not write it
down, hence only the consonants were found in the
temple.
But we heard that a tribe of Israelites had
themselves a sacred book containing details of
the ritual and after a search of many small
temples we found the location of that tribe. The
rest, you know, is history my friend.
I have heard they call my secret book, the
Tettragrammaton... Augustus said as the two men
walked through the temple.
...a poem of twenty-two syllables, I am
impatient to see it used.
It was rumoured, as you know, that it was magical
incantation that Moses used to part the Sea of
Reeds.
With it he brought fire from the sky and this
enabled the Israelites to escape Egyptian
slavery. This power is now in Romes hands and it
shall ensure Romes power for all time.
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You thought this was myth and superstition.

I was wrong. But they say this Name of Power is
dangerous... Augustus replied as they strolled
around the great space under the dome.
... To ensure it does not kill the one who
pronounces, this invocation, you must follow a
set of rules; Marcus.
The emperor walked with Agrippa in to the centre
of the temple and looked up at the oculus.
The ritual must be taken seriously if you are
not to be burned by the pillar of fire. Are you
ready to practice this magic?
I am honoured, Sir. Agrippa replied, knowing in
his heart that once he had used this power, his
heirs would inherit the golden laurel crown of
the empire.
There could be no other way, especially as
Augustus was now aged and weak, having the
knowledge of Heaven and Hell would be Agrippas
key to the empire.
So it turned out, after the death of Augustus
Agrippas sons took the throne of Rome.
Time marched on and, eventually Tiberius (a

descendent of Agrippa, not Augustus) became
emperor, and lord of the palatine hill.
One hot summers day he was in the great Coliseum
theatre watching two gladiators fight in the
midday sun. Blood strewn the sand and the crowd
roared for more.
Nobody took any notice of the dusty messenger who
entered the rear of the coliseum and fought his
way to the guards that surrounded Tiberius
Balcony.
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They fought to hold him back and a commotion

broke out. Eventually the emperor looked around
and asked what all the noise was about.
The messenger held out a scroll which had the
seal of Pilate upon it.
Here Sir... the messenger shouted. ...a
message from your consulate in Palestine.
Let him through. Tiberius said as in the sand
before him a gladiator threw a net over his
opponent and used his trident to pierce the mans
heart.
A roar swept through the crowd as the man fell to
his knees. The gladiator took his sword from his
belt and was about to chop the mans head off
when the gladiators trainer ran in to the circus
and stood in front of the injured man.
Very good, Tiberius shouted, clapping his
approval.
He gestured that the man had fought well and that
his life should be spared, very much to the
trainers approval.
The crowd roared their assent and the injured
gladiator has helped out of the ring. The
triumphant gladiator raised his trident high and
the crowd screamed.
Sir... The man repeated. ...a message from
Palestine.
Tiberius beckoned for the messenger to approach
and looked closely at his dusty clothes and face.
He had obviously been travelling on horseback for
many day without a break.
Bring this man some water. Tiberius said
casually taking the scroll from the messenger and
breaking its seal. After a few moments of
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contemplation the emperor addressed his company

of senators.
It appears Pilate has been asked to judge the
Son of God. He laughed causing a ripple of
smiles among those around him as the senators
laughed with him.
This messenger has travelled from Hierosoluma to
Acti, onward to Athena, then to Ostia and then to
us here; to this great convention. Just to ask a
question. What should Romes position be?
Should we side with the Israelites against this
man, this so called messiah or should we stand
aside and hand him back to them to do as they
wish.
Are we not the governors of Judea? One of the
senators replied.
Charged with upholding the law of that land? If
this is so then we should act decisively and do
what would be in Romes interest.
But what would be in Romes interest? Tiberius
asked.
If this man claims to be the son of their god,
not ours, then he is not placing himself over me?
It would be treason in any language otherwise.
If he says he is not their king and my loyal
subject then no law has been broken. If I order
this mans death it may cause rebellion for years
to come.
Bring him to Rome for our entertainment.
Another senator shouted with a chuckle.
...a son of god would make good show in the
circus.
Very good. Tiberius replied.
Let Pilate feed him to those Jew lions. Another
shouted.
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Perhaps... The Emperor smiled grasping his toga

with both hands and addressing his politicians.
...I feel there is an answer to this puzzle in
the route this messenger took to get here.
Tiberius placed his hands upon his hips and
addressed his minister and the crowd.
Our history shows that there has been a
continuous war between two factions, those that
believe that man can change his destiny by
submitting himself to the will of his god; as
represented by this man who claims to be the son
of a god.
The others believe that man can change his
destiny through the politic of warfare; the Greek
notion of Hellenism; forcing the gods to
prostrate themselves to our will.
Has not history shown that Hellenism is the
greater force? Is not the might of Rome founded
upon these principles. Our great empire stands as
a testament to this system.
He placed a hand on the neckline of his toga and
looked up at the sun.
As this is the case I put it to you, the people
of Rome, that we should advise Pilate to rise
above the petty squabbles of his slaves and
serfs.
This prisoner, a son of Hebraism, can have no
real power or he would not be rotting in one of
our jails. We should advise Pilate to take a
political stance and let the locals do as they
wish with him.
He must rise above this local rivalry and if they
decide, in the fullness of time, they have acted
rashly; it will be of no concern to us.
He turned to the messenger.
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Go and sleep, tomorrow you shall return to

Hierosolyma with this message for Pilate. The
people of Rome have decided that he should not
involve himself in the petty wrangling of the
local people when this man cannot pose any real
threat.
Let it be know that if, and only if, he slanders
my name or questions my authority then he should
die a traitors death. Otherwise it is in the
hands of the Israelites to decide what they
should do with him. This is the word of Rome.
Time marched onwards through the Julio-Claudia

dynasty. The secret of the black book passed on
to another. His name was Nero and his practice of
the magical art was not so prudent.
Having not the patience to practice the ritual,
in full, the fire from the sky brought with it
destruction to the city. Even a simple circle on
the floor to protect him from the great power
unleashed was too much effort.
Madness seeped into his brain as the daemons,
this magic sought to control, cast their spell
upon him. In the end the power worked against him
and all those he wanted to control. Neros last
wish was to tell his wife to hide the box. She
was told to hide it in the ruins of Agrippas
temple.
Have you done it? Nero whispered, in his inner
chamber, high on the Palatine hill.
Yes, my lord. She said softly looking at his
bare and dirty feet. You are free of its
influence at last.
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That book, that word, that name he spat

weakly.
..whatever possessed me to speak it. A name of
power no less, isnt it insanity to imagine such
magic exists? Isnt the confusion that now racks
my brain just punishment for believing this
heresy? No, the fires that rage beyond this hill
are its only consequence.
How was I to know that the fire from the heavens
would set the temple ablaze and that Rome would
burn also?
It is over... His wife whispered as she reached
out and stroked his damp hair. The shadows of
flames around their building crept up the walls
like greedy ghosts as smoke thickened the air.
...try not to bother your heart with such
matters as its history now; it is the end.
She listened and heard the trample of soldiers
feet approaching.
No my sweet lover...Nero hissed as she plunged
a dagger in his heart.
...it has only just begun.
The book was found of course, when Herod had the

temple rebuilt and the Empire grew strong again.
The ritual practiced in its entirety gave to the
magi the fruits of the world and all the
knowledge of heaven and hell. In the cold arms of
the dark arts Herod consolidated his power.
Time marched on like a legion of Soldiers and
from the ashes of the Julio-Claudia dynasty arose
the Flavians. The people saw the empire strong as
a consequence and there was peace through war.
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But somewhere in the empire there was always

discord rising and during the reign of
Constantine this discord came in the shape of a
cult.
The cult of the fisherman.
It had begun all those years back when Tiberius
had told Pilate to do what the locals wanted;
this had led to the execution of a Prophet and
the birth of a martyr.
They had tried to kill the followers of this cult
but all this had done was make them more
numerous.
They appeared to shine in death and this light
brought others into the cult. Constantine wanted
another way to end this rising alternative to his
reign.
Late into the evening he had become accustomed to
spending time with his wife. They lived for one
another being among the gods of Heaven and earth.
They held dominion over everything they could see
and feel and touch. Only this cult threatened
them.
Of course the Empire was run by others under
their direct control but Constantine was wise
enough to see ahead and he knew that unless he
could control the spread of the cult he would
lose everything. Practicing the ritual one hot
summer evening he asked what the answer should
be.
The gods of the fire told him that the cult could
be manipulated if he was to embrace it. He should
stop persecuting those in it and instead come as
a wolf in sheeps clothing.
He was a soldier of Mithras, he answered, and
only Mithras would he worship. Ah, the voice
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answered, then Mithras should be the wolf, dress

him in the clothes of the cult and then they will
all blindly worship him; with you at its head.
The magic had done more for him than anything
else his empire could offer and as he thought
about this the answers became clear.
No more would he come among the people to be
greeted by silence or lips moving behind cupped
hands. The wolf would be worshiped by its prey.
Oh to be like Hadrian He whispered through the
pale of opium smoke that rose in a curl from the
pipe he was holding.
It was a sparse room, a warm room, a room for all
seasons. He had been in that particular position
for twelve hours thinking through his problem.
First on his stomach sprawled across several big
cushions naked. His wife had massaged his back
with sweet oils while he had sampled exotic
chemicals from around the empire.
For the first two hours she had rubbed musk from
the tip of his toes to the top of his groin while
he had sniffed powdered Phygaric mushroom.
For the next two hours she had rubbed his neck
and back with sweet patchouli while he had sucked
the essence of hemp through a long water pipe.
Then she had rubbed his head with sandalwood
while he had smoked the opium; slowly allowing
her fingers to move like a snake down his body to
the tip of his penis.
Oh to be like Hadrian... He whispered again to
no one in particular.
What? his wife exclaimed with a sly lizard-like
smile.
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You want me to strap on the horn of an elephant

and sodomize you, dear husband; is that it. You
fancy the thrill of a young boy as Hadrian did?
You would as well, wouldnt you love? He
replied dryly.
If you were the beast of duality, able to take
me twice and once in return, well, that would
suit us both; alas such a beast does not exist.
No my dearest. I wish to be remembered, like
Hadrian, as a great leader and a builder of men.
Instead I shall be remembered for giving over
Romes power to a sect. A cult.
Even as we speak our people give up the worship
of Mithras; they ignore the day of the Sun, the
Sol Invictus and the other rituals that tie us
together. Our ways are to be forgotten in
replacement of and favour to a dead fish.
You only remember Hadrian his wife replied.
Because he gave you back that magical name of
power. Think, what has the magic instructed you
to do, do you remember dear?
I have been told to welcome the cult and to go
as a wolf in sheeps clothing. Constantine
replied sitting up and facing his wife wide eyed.
The magic has given us everything we could ask
except the respect of the people; but now I think
I know how to get it.
You cannot turn your back upon Mithras, the sun
god has given Roman people something to believe
in since Augustus.
I will give Mithras a new name and the people
permission to worship him. He will no longer be
the bull-horned man re-born, He will become the
Christ, it really cant be that simple.
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I will say I have embraced their religion while

changing its rituals to embrace my own, they will
all worship Mithras as the fisher of men. That
will get them to love me; I will be adored and
respected for all time.
If you want their love, husband, why not just
stop feeding them to lions?
Only two thousand a month, youd think that this
would force them to find something else to
believe, wouldnt you?
So, if they want religion, I will give it to
them. I will place myself at its head and they
will worship me.
Mithras was born on the winter equinox so shall
they worship his birth.
Mithras died for three days before being reborn
on the spring equinox; we shall say this is when
they should celebrate his death and resurrection.
Mithras was nailed to a tree, this will be their
Christs end. They shall have the Sabbath not on
the day of Saturn like the Jews but on the day of
the Sun.
This will be their holy day. I see it all now I
was told to do these things months ago but the
angels talk in such riddles I did not understand.
Now I do. My statues will not be smashed after my
death but revered.
My likeness from today onward will have the sun
burning behind my head and all will think it is a
mark of their Christ; when in fact it will be
Mithras burning there.
What a great plan, I am astonishing how simple it
is. Simplicity is always the key to make
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deception work, and we have the magic to thank

for it.
If you give them this my lord... She whispered
hesitantly.
...they will want everything else, even our
treasure; our magical secret treasure.
Constantine reached out and touched the
delicately carved wooden box that lay near him.
The people will never know this secret, it is
too powerful for anyone but us. Let them practice
their heresy in my name but nothing else. I will
grant a Christian amnesty and instruct my scribe
to collate all their writings.
We shall examine all and keep what is favourable
to Rome. This will make me a honourable man in
their eyes, a man to be remembered.
I shall not leave buildings as my legacy, like
Hadrian did, but I shall build a church in my
name and this will last longer than any brick of
stone.
Yes, she said excitedly. Make the heresy
complete, let them ignorantly worship all the
pagan gods of old while we laugh behind cupped
hands.
Lets say he was born of a virgin and see them
bow down to statues of mother and child. What a
thrill it would be to see them prostrating
themselves before Isis and Horus.
Yes, we will instruct them to end each prayer
with the name of Amon; the bringer of sunlight.
Constantine replied giggling like a small child.
What treachery; it will be the greatest trick in
history if we can pull it off.
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I cannot wait. How should we go about this? She

whispered taking the opium pipe from him and
sucking in then fumes.
First I shall issue an edict permitting them to
go freely in our realm. Then I will instruct
every province to send forth a representative
with their old writings for collation in a great
book of the law. We shall call it the codex.
Remember dear, whoever controls the present also
controls the past.
You surely are a wolf in sheeps clothing.
Yes, he smiled before howling at the moon.
They flowed into the hall like a frightened flock

of geese forming a crescent audience around the
central throne.
Dont be scared. A Roman centurion shouted as
they entered.
Its true that you are protected here; the
emperor has found your god.
They were cautious but became less so when they
saw there was no obvious guard preventing them
from attacking him when he entered. Perhaps it
was true and he was going to honour the amnesty.
They had plenty to attack him for considering the
previous years of bloodshed. But their curiosity
got the better of them and they took to their
seats and waited patiently.
When the room filled a loud blast of trumpets
announced his entry; resplendent in purple and
gold he swept into the room and took his seat
upon the dais.
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Greetings, friends. He laughed, trying to keep

his elevated mood hidden, fearing theyd smell
deceit if they saw it.
I have asked you here to Nicosia to announce to
you all the end of persecution. It is a new era;
the end of aggression from Rome.
His wife touched him tenderly on the shoulder as
she stood supportively behind him and tried her
very best to look sincere.
You have brought your written teachings as
requested? He continued smugly.
Yes. They replied.
I have the torah, our most holy scripture. Said
one.
Yes, the law from Judea... Constantine smiled
benignly.
...I am familiar with that. I have been reading
particularly the story of Moses and his flight
from Amana. I know all about his heroic escape
from Egypt with the knowledge of the Atum, the
divine SUN, secreted in his writings. It was
truly the birth of monotheism.
Well, the story differs from telling to
telling. The man replied looking a little
confused.
I have the gospels as recorded by the witness
to His divine Ministry. Another bearded man
shouted from the crowd, holding out some scrolls,
for the emperors inspection.
Good... Constantine said with a sly grin.
...for I have decided to unite the empire under
one religion, with one book of law.
I will collect your writings and instruct my
scribe Jerome to collate this information into
one great volume which our religion will use
forever more.
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And what has caused your transformation? A

grizzled old man with a flowing white beard
asked.
Tell us, what has brought you to our Lord after
so long?
I saw a sign, I heard the voice of god saying
that I was to worship Him, the voice came from
out of Sun on a distant battlefield.
Its a miracle. They whispered.
You are to worship His Son?
Yes, Sol Invictus, the bringer of life, the lamb
and the Shepherd. Constantine smiled broadly.
...He that was born of a virgin and died for our
sins; to be reborn three days later.
It truly is a miracle. They announced.
The spirit of your god entered my body and
directed me to lead you, how about that? He said
with a sniff.
Well, does this please you?
The crowd did not reply but whispered among
themselves.
What battle was it? said one at the front.
What do you mean? Constantine answered.
The battle at which you saw the sign, heard the
voice? the man asked further.
Who cares, what battle it was. Constantine
replied angrily. He held his tongue as his snarl
evaporated into a sickly smile.
I was at battle with my brother and after the
sign the victory was mine.
I decided then that your god should also be
Romes.
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It really is the end of persecution? an old man

asked.
You give us your word?
I decree it. Please leave your writings with me
and within a year I shall have created one great
holy manuscript.
From today there will be but One Church, One
Empire and One Gospel in praise of one God, the
father, The Virgin Mother and the Divine Sun.
565 A.D
In the course of time Constantine became what he
sought; the first Holy Roman Emperor. From that
day artists were instructed to depict him as a
saint with a golden halo encircling his head. It
was the representation of Constantine as Mithras,
the Sun God.
Cities were named after him and in the following
years successive emperors took residence in one
of these, Constantinople. Emperor Justinian built
his magical palace there far from the eyes of
greedy and inquisitive politicians in Rome.
Constantines plan was perfect, on the site of an
old temple to Mithras, a huge cathedral had been
built back in Rome.
The people were told that this was the place of
Saint Peters death and so it was called St.
Peters basilica.
Placing the running of the basilica in the hands
of flunkies the head of the new order could
please himself; Justinian did just that. The
people knew that he was the head of this church
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even if he did not reside in it on a daily or

yearly basis; they knew his power emanated from
it.
The church became an international business
promising deliverance with the one hand and
damnation with the other.
Rome,
would
right
fruit
in the form of the church, decided who

speak and who would be silent, what was
and what was wrong; what plans could bare
and what would wither on the vine.
What belonged to the Gods and what belonged to

Rome.
Whether it was land or water, silver of gold,
blood or honey they gave it freely; with the
promise of eternal life in return.
All they needed was a leader, strong direction,
and a living god to whom they could supplicate
themselves; they got this in the form of the
emperor.
Through his deeds and actions, in the working of
his law, they saw he had access to and a personal
relationship with God; indeed he had, but not
quite in the way they thought.
Upon Justinians deathbed he called upon his
family to hear his last words. They entered a
small room in silence seeing him lying upon a
large and comfortable bed; an old and weary man;
who smelt of the tomb.
I am about to die... He said softly as oil
lamps burned around the darkened room.
...surrounded by the loves of my magical life. A
dear wife, who has comforted me, and three
delightful daughters; what more could a mortal
man desire?
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He coughed and the four women shook hoping that

these would not be his last words; they stepped
closer and his wife sat upon the bed and stroked
his head gently.
Please father, one of the girls pleaded. Dont
leave us, not now, we need you so much.
Fear not Comito, the old man replied weakly.
For, as you know, death is just a door through
which we must pass. I shall wait for you
patiently on the other side.
What shall become of us after you have left?
another daughter asked reaching for her fathers
arm. Are we to be slaves of Mongolians or the
whores to Barbarians?
Never! the old man exclaimed breathlessly,
clutching the girls arm tightly. The magic will
protect you as it has all these years.
But how? the girl wailed as tears gathered in
her eyes. How can we work this magic when even
spiders frighten us; how can we summon demons
from that box and not be terrified?
No, Comito said firmly. We could never summon
demons.
I agree with my sister. Replied Theodora
simply. We have seen you practice the ritual;
seen the fire from heaven fill the room and heard
the voices of wisdom speak.
I have always thought that you would be there to
carry on; I have never considered being a
necromancer myself; alone or with my sisters.
Necromancy, ha! Justinian sniffed. The voice
is not that of the dead, it is of the living. The
practice of the ritual is not raising the dead.
It is the art of conversation; conversation and
negotiation with our holy guardians; they who
forever look over us. For good and for evil it is
the practice of a great work.
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Anastasia, his eldest daughter, stepped toward

the bed and looked at her father coldly. She drew
a deep breath before speaking.
I shall take the box containing the book to Rome
and hand it to your pontiff. She said proudly.
If this is the wish of you all? He whispered
weakly.
...Even if you know this will end our dynastic
possession of the power upon which this empire
was built?
They know. His wife replied softly. I know.
Then take it. Justinian said. His eyes closed
for a moment while he thought about the book and
the magical name contained in it. A name in four
sections and twenty-two syllables.
He remembered how that power had been shown to
him and his initiation into the mystery of the
ritual and the great work.
Historically this secret had been passed to the
male heir of the Roman Empire but Justinian knew,
having only daughters, this tradition would end
with him.
He had taken the precaution of teaching his
deputy in Rome how the ritual should be practiced
and what it could achieve. It would mean that he
would be the last emperor to magically lead Rome
but that the empire would live on.
It meant his family would lose their control but
the empire and the church founded upon it would
remain.
Take it to the Pontiff; he is well versed in its
history and will use the magical power well.
Justinian whispered weakly.
It may mean the end of it all.
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Perhaps for us? His wife answered as a cool

breeze blew through the window making the oil
lamps flicker and the shadows of death dance upon
the walls. But it will be a beginning for the
pontiff and for the church.
It will seal forever the bond between the state
and religion. Wasnt that Constantines goal; a
unified world under the thumb of a unified
church? he said softly.
Will he still protect us? Theodora asked. Once
he has the power in his hands or will we fall
under the onslaught of arms?
As long as the church remains strong you shall
be strong; as long as the church remains
prosperous so shall you. I made him swear this on
the book.
On the bible? she asked.
No, my dear child. he chuckled. On the book,
our book, as long as the great work continues the
empire and our secret will remain strong
With these words on his frail lips the old man
died clutching an ornate box in his spindly
hands.
Decorated with inlaid mother of pearl and gem
stones the box threw delicate colours around the
walls and into the eyes of the women grieving
around the bed.
His wife stroked the gray hair of her dead
husband and closed his eyes upon the world.
Somewhere off in the ether of time Abras
Watermountain called to the wind. His knotted
dreadlocks were billowing in the wind and his
blue eyes blazing like the sun.
This is the death of Rufus...He stormed.
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...Long live Rufus.
BEFORE NOW AND AFTER
TWO:
For what price a city is born
Waves of pale smoke, like shy ghosts,
rose from copper incense burners that marked the
four cardinal points in the room. A dark room,
small but airy, it was painted red and gold; the
colours of war and finance.
The room had no windows and the only source of
light was the single candle that burned brightly
on a golden altar situated in the centre of the
room. The altar stood grandly in the swirling
mists thrown down from the incense burners like a
mystical castle rising from a lake of veil-like
vapours.
To inquisitive eyes the room seemed no more than
a host to the altar, protecting it like a cloak
from gaping eyes. Protecting it from those who
did not and never could understand its purpose.
Without the altar the room would be nothing.
When the sulphur mist cleared here and thee one
could see under it a royal floor of fine marble;
white with a black, green and vermilion inset.
Two concentric circles were marked out; they
encircled the altar and almost touched the legs
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of the incense burners as they towered from the

floor. Between the concentric circles, the outer
in black and inner inlaid green, contained
letters and symbols cast in vermilion stone.
Strange and long
the light of the
were English and
forgotten Hebrew
forgotten the words glittered in

candle; some of the characters
some were in a long and
script.
Some were in a symbolic language called Enochian;

a language older then history itself said to be
the invention angels, and given to the seer
Enoch.
Almost touching the sides of the innermost circle
was inlaid a five pointed star and the altar was
set in the centre of this. Upon the altar, next
to the candle holder, was a fine wooden box; set
with semi-precious stones; the box caught the
light appeared to sparkle in the twilight.
It sat upon a cloth of red silk with a host of
other expertly crafted tools beside it.
A sword beaten from steel and copper, inscribed
along its blade with the words Orbit, Apdosel and
imo.
A goblet crafted from various metals, a short
silver dagger with a black ivory handle. There
was a short whip or scourge, a bell on a chain
and a wand carved from hazel wood tipped at
either end with magnetic iron.
These were craft-mens tools, handmade, with
thought and with care. They had been handed down
over generations from one craftsman to another.
Outside the room, down a grand hall and out
through a window could be seen a green and
fertile estate of manicured lawns stretching out
to a thick forest that led down a quiet bluff to
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a small stream. Here sat a man, the owner of the

estate, upon a wooden bench.
He watched the water as it bubbled through the
stream and played gently with the infant child on
his lap. The man and his heir were content to do
this from time to time; play by the stream and
listen to the song birds in the tree tops as fine
white clouds floated above their heads.
Inside the Temple, the man thought, he was the
lord of this world and the next and yet outside
he became just a man. To walk among the living
and vulnerable, was vulnerable himself; easily
destroyed, like the child upon his lap. The
sooner the boy knew his destiny the better, the
man thought.
David. The man said softly stroking the boys
hair. One day all you see will be yours, my son.
Not just the rolling fields, not just our house
where you rest your head and take your food; but
more than that. More then you could imagine.
He looked into the boys eyes and saw reflected
there his own continence, so fragile at that age
and yet his own noble blood rushed through the
boys veins. One day you will reign over the
entire world, upon a throne of gold and marble.
The universe will be your dominion; you will walk
with Gods.
But Daddy? the boy replied, Am I a prince?
You will have kings and princes kneeling at your
feet, Son. The man replied.
With His word upon your lips, in His name, you
shall be a king among kings. You will know the
history of our family and with it, the history of
the world.
All will become apparent. One day all will be
clear to you. You will be shown the path, with
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this sacred knowledge in your heart and his name

on your lips you will be a God among men.
Has God got a name father, has he, like mine?
the boy asked simply. One with which I can call
him?
Everyone has a name my holy son; even God. Its
a long and complicated name but a name no less.
One day you shall say it; I shall teach it to you
and you shall know its power. Some fools call it
the Tetragrammaton; but we are wiser.
What does it mean?
All in good time, my son. The man replied. It
will take many years to teach you properly but
one day you shall understand this mystery. Lets
just say for now that its like a poem, a poem
with four verses. In time you will learn all of
them.
A poem with four verses? the boy said softly.
Yes, my Son, four verses and twenty two
syllables; with this knowledge you will possess
the key to the universe.
History, history! This is the most important

thing! Davids father shouted as he stamped upon
the toy train set the boy had been playing with.
It was a New Year and his father had given the
boy the train set as a gift; telling him not to
play with it but to keep it in its box.
He was to look at it, appreciated its beauty and
value rather than play with it. It should have
sat upon a shelf and be envied and marvelled at
by the boys friends. It was a conversation
piece; something to treasure. The boy burst into
tears as the toy was crushed.
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How many more times have I to tell you. The

boys father continued. History is everything,
without history we are nothing. The day you learn
this lesson will be the day you become a man.
But father, I am only six years old the boy
whined. Cant I be a child and play. After all,
I have no friends.
So you are bored. I will engage a private tutor
so you can begin to learn your alphabet and
numbers. This fixation with childhood must end;
your destiny is waiting.
Ten years later
It has been some time since I saw you bathing?
Yes father, I am no longer the child you liked
to bully. The boy replied drying his body with a
towel.
Good. I hope your mind has grown too because
soon you will have to be ready. His father
replied with a fixed stern look.
Ready, for what?
Oh, in time my son. I did not really bully you
as a child; did I? I was trying to give you
strength of character.
It seemed like bullying to me. I mean, this
house is so big and lonely I felt at times rather
lost in it; our relationship was quite intense
because of that.
You forget the servants, how can you feel lonely
with so many servants; its not possible.
They could never be my friends, could they? I
think my childhood was rather sterile.
It had to be that way; although things are about
to change; first answer me three questions?
David William Kirby
Oh daddy, do I have to do this now! the boy

exclaimed having heard this phrase so many times
in the past and still not understanding why.
He saw his father tense up and watched as the
grey haired mans breathing quickened.
Answer me three questions and you will be a king
among kings, stamping nations underfoot. Three
questions that is all.
You always do this and the answer is always the
same. How can I answer if I do not know the
questions?
His father laughed and walked away from the
shivering boy. He left the bathroom and walked to
a window and looked out at the grounds and in the
distance the setting sun. His eyes glassed over,
just for a few seconds, but then he pushed the
emotion inside; pushing it all down.
Repressing it deep within by throwing back his
shoulders proudly. He didnt like to consider the
future like that, face the truth of what was to
come; it troubled him greatly; knowing that his
son, his beloved boy, was going to witness in his
lifetime the destruction of it all.
He felt a gently touch upon his arm and noticed
the boy was beside him. Dressed in a white
towelling gown, his hair neatly combed upon one
side.
Father? the boy asked gently. What are the
three questions?
Not today, my Son. You must sleep and get your
rest because tomorrow you have a new tutor to
meet.
A new tutor? the boy said sounding a little
confused. Surely my education has finished. Ive
had ten years of languages, arithmetic, English
and Latin, what else is there to know?
David William Kirby
The truth. The old man said wearily. It will

all become clear; let me tuck you in bed like I
used too.
Will you read me a story as well? the boy
chuckled.
Not tonight.
After setting the boy in his bed the man rubbed
his tired eyes and turned the rooms light off.
Pulling the door closed he crept away hoping that
tonight the boy would sleep soundly. He walked
down a great hall and to the top of a sweeping
staircase that led to the ground floor.
Before descending he stopped for a moment and
checked that the boy had not followed him and
then continued. A valet was waiting at the bottom
of the stairs for him.
You have a visitor Sir. The valet whispered. A
Mister Kiffer; I have shown him the gold
reception room.
Thank you, James. The old man said. He walked
to the reception room doors and steadied himself
before entering.
The room was huge and imposing, with a thick
royal blue carpet on the floor and large golden
tapestries on the walls. Mr Kiffer sat by a
window watching as the moon rose above the nearby
hills into a starlit sky.
Mr Kiffer, I trust you have not waited long?
Not long Sir. Mr Kiffer replied standing. Your
staff very kindly took my coat and hat.
Would you like some tea?
Oh, that would be nice. He said letting a
little Irish accent show. With some cake and
biscuits; I am very hungry after travelling so
far.
David William Kirby
Of course, James tell cook to prepare a late

supper for us both.
Yes Sir. James replied before leaving.
I hope your journey was not too eventful?
No, not really. Kiffer replied taking his seat
again. I did not realise how remote your house
was; one forgets that this country is so huge.
Has the maid taken your luggage?
I travel very light, Mr Stein. I have no cases,
no excess baggage at all. I am the epitome of the
light traveller. Neither burdened by the weight
of my past or packed with dusty parcels ar
ound my neck.
Nor am I fearful of losing belongings in the
future; what is owned can only be lost. This is a
lesson all of us learn in time.
A philosopher as well as a tutor; but you have
books being sent to you? Stein asked seriously.
A tutor needs books surely?
Am I not employed to teach your son the tree of
life? Kiffer snapped pursing his lips.
Yes, but
There are no buts. He interjected. Life cannot
be learnt in a book and so goes for the mysteries
of the tree. I was sure you would know this
lesson Mr Stein.
You come well recommended Mr Kiffer. Stein
said. I am beginning to see why.
You live in this grand old house alone, just you
and your son? Kiffer enquired
Yes, and the servants of course.
Of course. Is there no wife?
The boys mother died in childbirth. The old
man coughed and looked remote for a moment.
I am sorry. Kiffer said stonily. At least I
will not have to cut any apron strings.
David William Kirby
Yes, there is that.

James entered the room with a trey of food and
drinks which he placed upon a small table by the
fire. Kiffer stood and walked towards it and as
he reached Stein he watched the valet leave the
room and close the door.
Both men looked intently at each other for a
moment, eyes to eye. Cold dead eyes meeting a
inquiring expression, curved lashes and twisted
brows.
Suddenly a realisation dawned on Kiffer and he
stepped forward and dropped to one knee.
Master. He whispered. I did not greet you
properly. Forgive me; I am but a man.
It was early in the morning and a thin layer of

frost covered the grass that lay between the main
building and a set of small, one story out-houses
which verged the forest beyond. One of these outhouses had been turned into a habitable abode for
the new tutor. He had specifically asked for bare
rooms painted white with only a red carpet upon
the floor.
The rooms were always warm being centrally heated
and the only piece of furniture beside a bed and
table was an incense burner that hung from the
ceiling and a large bronze gong. There was, of
course, a good shower and it was supplied daily
with a selection of clean towels.
After his morning shave and shower the tutor
knelt before the incense burner; which had been
loaded and lit with a sweet smelling root, he
banged the gong four times and mumbled a soft
chant.
Lifting his left index finger to his lips and
beginning the gestures Kiffer whispered:
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Ateth...
He then finished the chant with the motto of the
cult. Love is the law, love under will.
The tutor left his abode on the stroke of eight
and stepped lightly across the green towards the
main house. After climbing the back stone steps
he entered and walked confidently through its
great, imposing halls.
It had been three months since the boys magical
education had started; three months sharing the
basis of a lifetimes work and knowledge; still
Kiffer pondered; he had a further five years to
mould the boys interests.
He approached the boys quarters and tapped
gently on the door to the room they had decided
would be the classroom. After a brief interval a
voice called from within and he was asked to
enter.
Good Morning Mr Kiffer. David said as the tutor
closed the door behind him. The boy was sitting
at a large desk having been washed and dressed,
fed and watered by the staff and he looked very
studious except, as Kiffer noted, for a comic
open upon the desk.
Good, the man sniffed. Good for whom?
He walked across the room and took a piece of
chalk that lay upon an easel and started to
scratch a word upon the board the easel held up.
After looking at the word for a moment the man
turned to the child and whispered softly.
Today we are going to talk about the Kabala. He
paused and David thought he saw a smile cross the
mans face but looking closer it faded into a
snarl.
David William Kirby
You have heard of this belief system? Kiffer

enquired. I know you father has a deep
understanding of this system and I wonder if he
has ever told you about it?
My father has shown me the Tree of Life...
David replied. ...when I was a small child.
And what did he tell you?
He told me about the Onion Theory. The boy
answered before pausing awkwardly.
He never knew whether to continue or to give way
to the tutors greater knowledge at these
moments.
Especially when talking about the Kabala, his
father had always told him that this was a secret
known only to a few and that it should not be
discussed in public or to strangers.
Fear not child. Kiffer said seemingly to read
the boys concerns. There are no strangers here.
I want you to tell me your understanding of this
so called Onion Theory. So that I can properly
estimate your understanding of the subject; pray
continue.
My father told me to tell no-body.
Yes,
And that this knowledge should only be known to
a few. The initiated
Well Kiffer interrupted. The mysteries can be
known by anyone who seeks to find them, but only
a few know how to use this knowledge.
This is one of the universal laws; seek and you
shall find. Now tell me, what have you found?
The universe, the boy said slowly,
concentrating on each word as they formed in his
mouth.
David William Kirby
The universe is constructed like an onion, a

central core surrounded by nine successive layers
or emanations.
Earth, being the densest of these spheres, is
situated in the very centre, the core. We call it
Malkuth. It is surrounded, like the core of an
onion, as I said, by nine consecutive spheres or
skins. These are the emanations.
Each skin has its own density, name and character
and the most external one, the very last, the
tenth, surrounding the whole onion is Keather, or
God Head. The other spheres are emanations of
this supreme whole.
Good, continue.
Kabala is essentially Gnostic. The boy said
confidently.
Unlike Christianity which is based on the
relationship between god, his son and his
revelation to man, Kabala does not rely on the
esoteric for truth. We can find truth in gods
word through the secrets of the Torah; the
Kabalistic doctrine.
Truth is encrypted in this great work and the
Zohar is the key to this truth.
It sounds like you have been reading a press
release. Now, tell me what you have found
yourself, what it the truth as you understand it
to be?
Well. The boy continued. Most people think
that they can talk to god by going through his
son, Christ or his other prophets, but we learn
from the Zohar that we can talk directly to god
by understanding the route.
The route as defined by the tree of life. That
there is a path between Malkuth, earth and
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Keither, godhead; knowing the correspondence

between these things makes it possible.
Keither, yes. The tutor said with a smile.
Rather a nice sounding name dont you think?
Its a little like your own the boy smiled.
Keither and Kiffer; it is pronounced the same.
True. So do you trust me now?
Yes, the boy replied with a wide grin.
You see, there are no strangers here. Kiffer
smiled. Now, have you learned the names of the
other spheres?
Malkuth, the earth. The boy replied. ...it is
our material realm, our earthly kingdom.
Kingdom? Kiffer sniffed quizzically, leaning
towards the boy expectantly.
My father explained about the correspondences as
I grew. The boy continued.
The correspondences between each sphere, or
Sephira as they are traditionally known, and the
twenty-two trump cards of the tarot for instance.
Malkuth corresponds with the Kingdom card because
we are children of the kingdom, children of the
earth; in a garden looking at a tree of
knowledge, aspiring to climb to its apex and sit
with the godhead.
Your father is a great man and he taught you
well. Kiffer mused.
I know. The boy replied
Kiffer wondered what he was expected to do, being
invited to share the house with a master,
expected to teach a true masters son; a child
who had high magic, the great work, born within
his being.
Kiffer knew that the next step would be to take
the child and teach him the practical arts of
ritual magic.
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Surely not, Kiffer thought, he must try to speak

to Stein about what was expected of him; where
the childs education should go. He looked at the
boy and smiled.
Well boy, dont daydream, the other names of the
Sephira and their correspondences.
Yesod the boy continued. The skin, sphere or
emanation after Malkuth; It corresponds with the
Foundation, for it is the foundation of our dream
world. It is otherwise known as the astral plane.
It is where we go in our dreams.
Hod, this corresponds with Majesty, being the
source of all creativity
That afternoon Kiffer left word with a member of

staff that he would like to have an audience with
Mr Stein. Soon after telling the valet his
request Kiffer found the same servant summoning
him to the masters office.
Kiffer followed his guide in silence carefully
calculating what he would say to Stein once they
were alone together. Then before he had composed
anything of any worth in his head the valet was
tapping upon a huge set of mahogany doors and
waiting to be asked to enter.
Come! Steins voice rang out from within. The
valet pushed the doors open and Kiffer entered
respectfully.
Ah, Mr Kiffer? Stein said as the doors were
silently closed behind his guest. You requested
to see me?
Yes Sir. Kiffer replied keeping his gaze on the
floor. I have found that your son possesses
great knowledge.
David William Kirby
Of course? Stein replied.

Yes Sir. Kiffer said humbly. He raised his gaze
and looked his employer in the eyes and saw there
burning, like beacons in the night, ruthless
understanding. I say so because I am at a loss
as to where to begin.
He appears to be well versed in all the basics
and these were what I imagined I would have to
teach. Today he told me that Keither was the
initial emanation which produced the whole of
creation; the Godhead.
I asked if he knew that man could travel from
Malkuth to Keither and return again and he told
me that this was possible upon the pronunciation
of certain passwords; one for each consecutive
sphere.
He told me that he knew all these passwords
although he had never climbed the tree, is all
this true?
It
our
He
He
is. Stein replied. I have taught the child

traditional knowledge since his conception.
is familiar with all ten Names of Power?
is?
He said that he is waiting to be taught the one

great word that unlocks all the spheres; The
tetragrammaton?
He is. You seemed shocked. Stein smiled. He
walked toward the tutor and whispered in his ear.
I am the keeper of this word.
It is the supreme crown. That which allows man
to be One with God? Kiffer said softly. I
understood the Tetragrammaton was lost in time;
that it does not exist today.
David William Kirby
But why do you seem shocked! Stein repeated

through clenched teeth looking perturbed by the
mans ignorance.
I had no idea that I was in the employment of
such a great master. I knew you were the head of
our temple but not that you possessed this power.
If true then this boy could be my tutor, could he
not?
Unfortunately not, Mr Kiffer. Stein said
straightening himself up and walking to the other
side of the room.
You see the boy needs direction, he need to be
led through the practice of the minor arts and
rituals. He needs to be rigorous and tempered by
instruction; it is dangerous otherwise.
I could provide this direction of course but I am
too close to the boy and I may rush him. All
fathers expect their children to learn at their
pace rather than going at the pace of the child.
You are an outsider, you could be a better tutor
then myself. In time, when he is ready I shall
take him to the final step and then he shall
receive the supreme crown of knowledge.
You will pass the tetragrammaton on to your
son?Kiffer asked excitedly aware that his jaw
had dropped almost upon his chest.
As my father passed it on to me. Stein replied
coyly.
Master, could I not be told this great secret. I
have dreamed of finding this lost knowledge all
my life. Kiffer said rubbing his hands together.
You will receive your prize. Stein replied
looking out a window towards the rolling pastures
beyond.
When the work is done.
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Tell me Master? Kiffer said as he began to

leave. How far do you want me to take your son?
To the limit, of course. Stein replied. To the
limit.
Davids personal valet thought about the boys

relationship with the tutor. It was a
relationship that was encouraged by the master of
the house and appeared to exclude everybody else.
He had seen the tutor walk across the green every
morning, always at the same time and always in
the same clothing. It suddenly struck him that he
hadnt seen the tutor that morning; in fact, when
he thought about it, he hadnt seen him for some
time.
He registered his dislike of the funny little man
with a small sneer; wondering what on earth
possessed the master to employ him.
He remembered how angry he had been when, a few
weeks previously, the boy had expressed an
interest in buggery. When questioned further he
had remarked casually that Kiffer has told him it
was a way to perceive god.
Then the boy gave him a lecture about Tantric
Magick, whatever that was. He recalled being
quite sickened by this remark. When he asked the
master if he could talk to him about the tutor he
had received a curt response and told to leave
the boys education with the tutor.
He had become so concerned that he had followed
the boy into his study one morning hoping to join
them for the day. The experience had not gone to
plan as the tutor had made it obvious that he was
not welcome.
David William Kirby
While in the study the valet had been amazed to

find that it was arranged not like a classroom
but like a temple; smelling of sweet perfumes and
oils. There was a large circle on the floor and
David was lying in the centre of it seemingly
unconscious; dressed in what looked like a roman
toga.
He had run to the boy and tried to rouse him only
to be verbally abused by Kiffer. He had left the
study vowing to leave the house as soon as his
affairs could be put in order.
The master had then summoned him to his office
and had shouted at him at the top of his voice.
He told him to pack his bags at once and to leave
the building and reminding him that he had signed
a legal document at the commencement of service
promising confidentiality.
The master had said that the tutor was teaching
the boy a Greek mystery play as part of his
history lesson. To which the valet replied that
it was strange the boy should be learning Greek
when he was dressed as a Roman.
Dreams warm dreams, flowing dreams like a soft

stream or creek, flowing past the eyes; the cold
eyes, closed eyes, eyes that flow. It was morning
in the room but behind Davids eyes it was
evening time.
The time when all is quiet and soft and flowing.
The time when hearts stop still, in the twinkling
of his eye, he was there watching.
He saw a Roman centurion lying dead at the foot
of his master, Agrippa, who was laughing like a
madman; jealously caressing his treasure. Holding
it tightly, kissing it, knowing that the world
was his oyster; prizing it open. He had gained
David William Kirby
power to rule over all the men of the world; over

the elementals; Now HE was a God.
Agrippa realised that the ancient tribe that had
possessed this power before him had not possessed
all the puzzle; just part of it. It took a Roman
to put the pieces together.
First the four letters from the Jews, what they
call Jehovah; Yod He Vau He. These and their own
correspondences to the elements of Earth, Air,
Fire and Water had been known since time began.
What was lost were the missing constantans of the
word; the other 18 syllables that made up the
whole poem.
He had dreamed of this moment ever since being
told about it; this power that could lead any
army to victory.
He was told that an old man had possessed this
knowledge before him and Agrippa had seen this
man in his dreams. He was a supposed prophet who
had walked among men; and he, Marcus Agrippa, had
slain him.
He had sought to destroy them all, the ones who
knew about the power of this word. Every single
one of them had to die before Rome remained
alone, in control. In possession of this word,
the divine name for the rest of time.
Davids dream shifted again, he was there,
watching another scene unfold.
What of the man they call the
had asked in the marbled halls
voices hanging in the air like
acrid, pointed almost sharp on
Christos? They
of power. Their
a chemical smell,
his nostril.
He looked at them knowing they had the solution

on their lips. For indeed that man, the Christ
was just a man, an insignificant insect of a man
when confronted by the might of Rome.
David William Kirby
He had no power behind his Words, Rome had

plundered it all before he was born. From
Abrahams Book of Law and all the way down; Roman
armies had marched to every corner of the known
world collecting the power.
It was a magical power which men could not
comprehend. They were using it for one reason;
one purpose, the Glory of Rome; a glory with
which his clothes were now fashioned.
Your morning shower has been arranged, Sir Said
a new valet, waking David from his dreams, he was
about to stroke the boys head but refrained when
the boy opened his eyes and fixed him with a
steely look.
One day I shall let you touch my hair. The boy
said sitting up in bed and smiling. The smile
made the valet distinctly ill at ease.
Then I will have to kill you. The boy laughed.
Very droll, Im sure. The valet replied turning
to leave the boy. He paused at the door and
looked back. How will you kill me, surely not
with your wit?
Oh come on, dont you find me amusing? the boy
countered as he got out of bed and walked across
the room naked. Even if I am being serious. He
said under his breath.
He walked to the open bathroom door and pissed in
the toilet sniggering to himself. The valet
huffed and closed the door.
I should shout it from the rooftops, the boy
said aloud as he climbed into the shower. The
staff do not find me amusing; what a fucking joke
that is. Youd think the bastards would laugh at
my jokes; after all, what are they being paid
for.
David William Kirby
The valet returned with a batch of fresh clothes

and walked to the bathroom to lay them on a table
by the shower.
What do you say to that? the boy shouted.
Ive not the foggiest idea what you are talking
about sir?
He looked briefly at the boy sniggering behind
the shower screen and said dryly. I suggest you
finish your morning ablutions and get ready for
your days tuition instead of asking foolhardy
questions.
Oh, you do, do you? David replied sarcastically
looking around the shower screen in disgust.
Well I propose you keep your fucking suggestions
to yourself and know your place; you fucking
shit.
Yes Sir. The valet replied sarcastically, quite
used to the teenage boys language, and not
frightened by it any longer.
Tell me? The boy said as he turned off the
shower and reached out a hand for a towel.
Do you believe in God?
God Sir? the valet replied watching the boy dry
his hair with the towel.
Yha, God? Do you read the bible, church on
Sundays and all that stuff?
Your father requires us to be here at work on
Sunday mornings. The valet replied. As thats
the case I do try to read the bible when I can.
So you believe that God has a name, right, one
which you can use to call him?
I believe the name is Jehovah, Sir. Although
whether you can call him with it is debatable.
David William Kirby
Jehovah? David repeated turning upon his heels

and handing the towel to the valet so that he may
dry his back and legs. Where does that name come
from?
Jehovah Sir? the valet replied standing to look
the boy in the eye and finding there, in the
valets opinion, a look that would frighten a
horse.
Ive discussed this very subject with the cook.
She and I spend some of our free time together
and the bible is never far from her thoughts.
I have read in the front of King James bible, in
the preface, that when the book was first written
all that remained of the great name of god were
the letters Y.H.V.H. The name being so sacred
that it was passed down word of mouth and over
the course of time only these letters remain.
They were compared by the writers of the bible
with similar words and they decided the actual
name was Jehovah. Simple really.
But the bible was written by a Roman Emperor,
surely you know that? Lets say you were that
emperor, wouldnt you keep the name for yourself
so that the book had little or no meaning?
I dont know about that, Sir the valet replied.
Its an interesting theory. Not one I would care
to trouble myself with, I believe faith is just
that, a matter of blind faith.
But what about truth. The boy replied getting
agitated. Because the truth is the modern bible
was translated from a Roman compilation.
This was the end of a well thought out plan by
Emperor Constantine. A plan that still echoes
today and is responsible for my power over you.
David William Kirby
A plan sir. The valet asked, not really

expecting a reply. What plan would that be?
The plan? The boy replied suddenly thoughtful.
Oh, just world domination; nothing more.
Why would Constantine want world domination, the
Romans had dominated the world since the
Greeks?
Thats another story. The boy said softly.
Well, if you dont mind me saying so the valet
sniffed. It sounds a right load of rubbish.
Does it?
Yes, the man continued passing a set of
underwear to the boy and readying his shirt. You
say Constantine kept the word, the real name of
God from the bible, secret and that it today is
responsible for your power over me?
Thats right
But that was over two thousand years ago, surely
it has no relevance today?
Suppose, just suppose that I told you that this
secret was given to a pontiff on the last
emperors deathbed; that since then successive
pontiffs have used its power to exploit the world
in favour of the Roman Church; to bring about the
new Holy Roman Empire?
But its all ancient history, sir. It has no
relevance today
You say that, but you are forgetting the Second
World War. The boy said wistfully. When the
fascists got to be in power during the late 1930s
the Vatican shipped a lot of their most treasured
artefacts here, to this country. My family has
had possession of them ever since, what do you
think of that?
David William Kirby
A very interesting story Sir, the valet

replied. ...Even if it does reek of blasphemy.
He cleared his throat half expecting the boy to
lash out at his honesty.
If you dont mind sir, Ill keep to ordinary
rendition of the biblical history; better the
devil you know
Quite. The boy added. Then the god you dont,
eh?
Five Years later.

Thanks everyone. The young man said
confidently. Mr Kiffer, friends, this is an
amazing surprise.
He looked coy for a brief moment revealing his
inexperience of public speaking; but then the
coyness was gone being replaced with a wide,
almost manic grin.
and a special thanks to my father. He said
turning to face the elderly man at his side. If
it wasnt for him, none of this would be
possible.
The elder Mr Stein held his shoulders back
proudly and placed his right hand upon the boys
back. There only remains one thing Elder Mr
Stein announced to the small group of people
assembled in front of the dais upon which they
stood.
David William Kirby
A man reaches the age of twenty one only once in

his life; a woman may reach it many times... he
quipped. but for a man it is a special age; an
age where dreams can come true.
He paused for a moment and looked around the room
at all the familiar faces staring back at him.
They were like a big, happy family. None of them
were related, except in their traditions.
Reaching this very special age, Stein continued
with a benign smile. has a magic all of its
own. Its a special magic that can open doors;
even doors which lead to other worlds. And
he added casually.
if you want to open a door, you need a key.
The small group sighed as the elder Stein placed
his hand across the younger Steins shoulder and
thrust his other into the boys hand; shaking it
vigorously. The small group broke into applause.
As is customary in our small, tight family...
Stein announced over the clapping.
...Before my son, my only beloved son, can take
the key all the ladies must vacate this office.
Youll find a handsome buffet in the adjoining
room.
A valet shepherded the women out the room and
once the door had closed behind them the men
gathered closer around Stein and his son.
They hung their heads and clasped their hands at
their groin as if in silent prayer before a gong
was struck four times.
Its shrill sound echoed around the room and
announced the entry of a man dressed in a gold
and white tunic. The man stepped towards the
group with a clockwork motion stamping his
leather-clad feet together when he stood in front
of the Steins.
David William Kirby
He raised his hands and in his palms was a small

red cushion upon which lay a small brass key.
Splendid. The elder Stein whispered as the
bells in the local church tower started to ring
out across the valley beyond.
As is traditional, in this family of ours... He
said humbly.
...Reaching the age of twenty one has a duality
about it that others fail to recognise but is
clear to us assembled here. Not only is this the
day my son gets his own house key, but it is also
the day he gets the key to our inner circle.
This day he rises from the grade of Adeptus Major
and takes the grade of Praticulus. Hail, our new
Praticulus!
Hail Praticulus! the assembled me echoed. The
old man looked in silence at the boy and thought
about his future.
He knew the boy was destined to kill him. As soon
as the old mans office was over the boy would
have no more need of him and the great plot would
begin.
He knew this was to be his end because they had
told him; the very creatures the boy was about to
become master over.
Before I give the key to my office to my beloved
son the old man sighed. Let us look back at
my guardianship. Back over the years of peace and
success I have wrought for you and this great
country of ours.
It really has become a place where dreams can
come true, a place where In Gods name we trust.
David William Kirby
I praise Him for the secrets He has revealed to

me. The assembled groups prayed for a moment in
silence.
Each one visualizing his own notion of what God
meant. This was done even though none had ever,
of course, conversed with him like their host
apparently had.
Some pictured images of a wise and old man with
long hair and white beard sitting upon a throne
of ivory; gold with stars in his hair.
Still others saw only gnashing of sharp teeth and
savage bloodshed under a blazing sun.
Sharp swords cutting imagined enemies in two.
Some saw visions of gold rise like semen from
their groins; spurting as Godhead over their
panting chests; seeing within this divine action
a sense of well being incomparable to any other.
Then their host set His vision among them,
visualising it filling the room and each of those
gathered within it. This caused them to shake and
panic and sweat and tremble as his thoughts
entered their brains like poison.
Visions of cloven hooves stomping across the sky,
mad horses their teeth blazing with lightening
and thunderous flashes. They were chomping on the
ashes of man, thrashing his remains into the
earth. It was visions of germs, bacterial
assault; it was that heat wave deception.
That black cloud and fireball turning the heavens
into a furnace. It was the gnashing of sharp
little teeth and long ripping nails tearing
through cold human flesh.
It was a vision of cloven hooves stomping on
human faces for eternity; this disturbed and
delighted them.
David William Kirby
David, My Beloved Son! the old man said at last

turning to the boy. Seeing the confident smile of
a man reflected back at him, Just as he had been
led to believe it would happen, the final
chapters were now unfolding before his eyes.
Take this key and use it well; the key to my
office. I have had advisers over the passing
years, these great gentlemen have been a source
of comfort to me in my lonely hours.
They have pledged their lives to you and the
working of our law. Use them well my Son,
preserve the old traditions and have mercy on me;
please forgive my failings. Today I am just a
man. Are you ready for this?
I am, father. I am ready. The boy whispered,
taking the key from the shaking hand of the old
man.
Then I am ready to die.
I wish I knew what they all got up to when

theyre alone together? One of the women said to
another over the buffet. She stopped briefly to
stuff another caviar puff into her mouth then
continued spraying puff pastry over the food.
Men, cant live with then, cant live without
them.
The other woman said nothing and moved on
swiftly.
Damn the lot of them. The woman exclaimed
stuffing a chicken leg into her mouth exposing
her loose dentures.
You shouldnt say such wicked things about our
hosts. Replied another middle-aged woman who was
David William Kirby
wearing too much foundation smeared across her

stretched face.
After all, its his birthday and he seems such a
nice boy.
Hes the fucking devil. The woman spat sending
a piece of chewed chicken across the room into
another womans drink.
She swigged back a large gin before placing her
empty glass on a valets trey and picking up
another.
The kid gives me the creeps. She added with a
hiccup.
Come now, said another old girl who was
dripping with pearls.
Try not to be ungracious; we are ladies are we
not?
Im a lady the woman replied. Youre an old
crow. Why I let Teddy drag me here to this
mausoleum every year I do not know. Its like
visiting the Munsters house.
Dont you think youve drunk enough tonight,
Mame. Said a uniformed flunky as he took the
woman by the hand and forcefully led her towards
the door. Perhaps a lay down is in order?
Get your fucking hands off me. She screamed as
she was marched out the room.
I cant stand them when they cant hold good
liquor. Replied the old girl in the pearls as
she watched the woman being removed.
His father is a monster and the boy is a devil
the woman shouted from beyond the room.
Enough! boomed across the room as elder Mr
Stein entered followed by the other men. Whoever
that woman came with needs to deal with her, She
is spoiling the ambiance...
David William Kirby
The staff have put her in one of the spare

rooms. A man whispered into elder Steins ear.
Good. Stein replied in a hushed voice. This
project is too near completion. Whoever you are,
you know what you have to do.
Yes, Sir. One of the men nodded before he left
the party looking agitated.
He walked down one of the great halls and into a
small anti-chamber, which led up a small flight
of stairs, and into a darkened room.
She was there upon the bed in a rather
undignified condition having been hurriedly
undressed by the maids.
His wife lay there sleeping in her silk stockings
and kickers; her bra hanging loosely at her
chest. In the half-light of morning she slumbered
peacefully unaware that he had joined her.
He moved silently towards her like a cat. Finding
nothing about her the least bit endearing the man
wondered why they had been together for so long.
He realised that he hated her slouch, hated the
way she carried herself. He hated her nostrils
and the air that was being sucked loudly through
them; he found it all, the whole sorry package,
sickening.
He lifted his fingers to the dim stream of light
that came through the curtains and closed them.
Held delicately in his other hand was a small
syringe.
He pressed the plunger and a stream of liquid
spurt across the room. He paused for a moment
David William Kirby
before pushing the thin needle into her goose

flesh.
He watched a small mound appear just beneath the
skin as the liquid entered her body; then she
stirred.
What the hell are you doing? the woman shrieked
sitting up on the bed clutching her neck.
Just watching you sleep dear. The man
stuttered.
Dont give me that crap, whats that in your
hand?
Nothing dear.
Whats going on Teddy? Tell me you fucking son
of a bitch. Why are you in this room?
Cant a husband visit a wife in her room?
Youve not done so for three years so why now?
I just wanted to say goodbye. The man said
placing the syringe on the bedside table.
What have you done to me? The woman said weakly
as she tried to get off the bed and reach the
door.
She stumbled and fell to the floor dragging the
bedclothes behind her. Why, why, now?
Because, he answered softly as the breath left
her lungs.
Because you were never like her?
Like who? she said with her last gasp.
Like her, the great she-wolf, she who howled
into the heavens, and bayed at the crescent moon.
David William Kirby
Where is she now, the great beast of Babylon,

whose call could bring down the stars of the
evening sky?
Where is she, with the flesh of the wild on her
bloodied lips? Dressed in Violet and purple she
rode a beast and trod the innocent into the dry
earth.
At the midnight scream of suckling teeth she
reared young warriors; she, the sacred mother of
Romulus and Reemus? Our blessed Scarlet Woman who
roamed under a black sky hunting the warm flesh
and tight sinus of death.
Theres no blood upon those lips of yours, those
blood red lips. A harlot painted vermilion now
cold like the hunted dead. I wanted a huntress, a
wolf, a mirror of Diana, but instead I married a
fox.
Why were you not like her, Mystery, Babylonia the
Great mother of Whores? Why?
Instead of a tiger I woke to find a tart, instead
of a warrior I woke and you were a fat, bloated
worm.
Because of you our children are waifs and
vagabonds, destined to beg for falling crumbs
from our masters table. You have diseased my
blood with your familys cowardice and wanting.
In your death throws I feel nothing for you but
hatred. Nothing but vulgarity. Your vomit tinted
breath repelled my love and made it hard like
stone. To kill you has been the only honourable
act of our marriage.
David William Kirby
We find older Mr Stein and his son in a car with

tinted windows. There is a screen between them
and the driver, which is closed. The old man is
reading the financial news while his son looks
out the window perplexed.
What is it we are doing today? He asked his
father.
Im going to introduce you to the staff at the
office and give you a feel for the job. Running
an international company like ours takes a lot of
thought. Are you ready?
If Im not ready now, the boy answered
thoughtfully. I guess I never will be. Tell me
father; whats your take on what we do?
Now let me see the old man replied lowering
the newspaper and composing himself.
We are information providers. In the old days,
before you were born, that was primarily with
newsprint but today we are at the forefront of
information technology.
Our Web search engines provide information free
at the point of use to over a billion people
worldwide.
So how does that free service generate cash?
Its to do with collating information as well as
providing it. We have over three hundred data
storage units in thirty-five countries that do
nothing except collect information and store it.
Information is power, my son.
So we collect information and then give it away
free, how does that translate into dollars and
cents?
We are the spiders in the web. The old man
replied rubbing his eyes. You see every time
someone uses our search engine we send a cookie
David William Kirby
to their P.C identifying its location and who is

using it.
If they search our data base ten times or more we
will know who they are, their age, their
religious beliefs, their hobbies, their friends,
their sexuality and all manner of other bits and
pieces.
This information is then sold to other interested
parties; mainly advertisers. So if someone
searches for cooking sites we may have a producer
of cookbooks who can then target that person for
their product. Thats the top side of what we
do.
Oh yha?
We also collate information for government
agencies like the D.E.A. They want to know who is
researching underground chemistry or ordering the
stuff needed to make precursors; the base
chemical elements used to make other, more
lucrative chemicals.
We can give them that information. Thats just at
home.
Overseas, some governments want to know who
researching, say, democratic change; we have that
information too. In fact the more sensitive and
focussed the information they want the more we
can charge to give it. Its all done with
mathematical algorithms.
Doesnt having all this stored information make
us vulnerable to cyber attack; how do we protect
ourselves?
We do this by collating information about our
users; if you know everything, or everyone, you
can usually nip things in the bud. Remember, our
service users are not just the general public,
theyre government departments, diplomatic
David William Kirby
embassies and even presidential appointees. We

have information on all of them.
Cool. No wonder we are making several hundred
dollars a second. So, as the man at the top of
the company what would you say your most
important job is?
Well David The old man thought for a while
then looked into his sons eyes.
I would say its got to be hanging on to the
position.
Theres a lot of hard bastards out there who
want our revenue stream and I pay some very
bright people to make sure we hang onto it.
As long as you keep your eye on the ball youll
be okay.
Thanks Dad.
One month later
David opened his eyes and looked around his
bedroom. He looked at the dresser, the chair, at
the curtains and at the paintings. It all looked
as it had the previous evening; but in the
twilight of that morning something had changed.
The suns spiked fingers stretched through a
crack in the drapes and reached across the room
towards him. He placed one hand between his legs
and felt warmth glowing; he rubbed gently, unable
to resist the growing monster down there.
A loud rap came from the door and attracted his
attention, he stopped what he was doing and
looked as the door was flung back. A valet
entered carrying a telephone.
Sorry if I woke you Sir, the valet said softly.
But the vice president is on the line.
Really. David replied with an air of distaste.
Why so early in the morning?
David William Kirby
He has phoned twice already, but I did not want

to raise you too early, Sir.
Quite right as well. David said taking the
telephone from the man and placing it to his ear.
That will be all now. He sniffed at the valet
who quietly left the room.
Hello, David Stein here.
Its me. Replied a muffled voice at the end of
the line.
Yes? David asked.
Our friends have done as you asked.
Good. David replied rubbing his crotch
furtively.
You will keep your end of the bargain? the
voice asked expectantly.
In time David replied sucking air through his
nose.
...In time.
But how long? the voice asked. Your father
would have done as requested immediately; there
are other interested parties waiting. You dont
realise, Im the only Dove, beside the president,
left.
The Hawks are closing in.
They think its all been foretold somewhere and
theyre crazy, I tell you, crazy as hell.
I am not my father. David spat.
I will have to give them a timescale. The voice
added hesitantly. Is there any way you could
hurry things up a little; please!
Why dont you try begging? David said with a
small smile.
If that will help Ill fucking beg, just tell me
how I can move this along?
David William Kirby
Who can move the stars? David replied. Who can

hurry the planets?
Look Stein. The voice said angrily. Dont get
fucking esoteric with me. We are talking serious
business here. You asked us to do that thing and
we did it on the basis that you would do our
favour in return.
The whole game is in your hands now and you had
better start playing right or this could turn
ugly. Ugliness unlike the world has ever known.
These people think God has ordained it. Please,
do something; tell us what to do, and fast
Or what? David shouted sitting up in his bed.
Dont you forget who you are dealing with. I am
going to act but in my own fucking time; now stop
worrying.
Okay. The man said. Sorry, but Im worried
about a leak.
Dont Stein said abruptly as he began to rub
his crotch again with more force. Just leave it
to me. He added breathlessly.
Are you feeling okay? The voice asked as the
telephone connection was cut. Stein then threw
the bedclothes back, as warm spurts came across
his belly, he dropped the phone on the bed.
Never felt better. He sighed.
As he wiped up with a tissue picked from a box on
his bedside table the telephone rang.
Hello? he whispered as he placed the telephone
to his ear.
Good morning Mr Stein. The valet said on the
other end of the connection.
I have a state officer on the line. He would
like to speak to you, Sir,
David William Kirby
I understand the matter is important otherwise I

would have directed him to the office
switchboard.
A State Officer David said. A State Police
Officer?
Yes Sir.
Put him through.
The line clicked softly before a deep, gruff
southern accent asked. Mr Stein?
Yes? David replied hesitantly.
I have some bad news I am afraid. The voice
said without any sign of emotion.
You are about to tell me that my father is
dead?
Yes Sir, the voice replied. I am.
David thought he could hear a slight curiosity in
the mans tone before the silence was broken by a
question.
Was that a premonition? the officer asked.
No, the vice president has just called to offer
his respects.
He did? the officer said with a surprised tone.
News travels fast; how did he find out?
As you say, officer David replied throwing the
tissue into a nearby waste paper bin. News
travels fast.
Of course you will have to arrange for someone
to do a formal identification. The officer
continued. Then give permission for an autopsy.
Would you like to know what happened?
Not really. My fathers solicitor will contact
you later today...
David William Kirby
At a smart reception in the banqueting hall of a

five star hotel the guests are clapping as a
little, bearded man approached the rostrum.
Thank you all for being so generous this
evening. He said with a smile.
Let me introduce a man, without whom, this would
not have been possible. The man whose generosity
has enabled this mere group of mortals to do what
god found difficult this was followed by
laughter.
Lets show this man what the Jewish people think
of him, come a round of applause, join us please,
Mr David Stein!
Stein stood and was lit with a spotlight. He
bowed his head modestly and joined the man on the
rostrum before hushing the audience with his open
palms.
Thank you friends. He said as the clapping died
down. As you know, my father followed the cause
of Israel for many years and was happy to put his
money where it did the most good.
I know you were worried that this funding may
stop following his tragic death recently. But now
it has been shown, beyond any doubt, that his
killers were acting under the Jihadist flag I
have come forward to take up the banner.
There is evil in this world, an evil force
blackened by hatred and jealousy. I understand
that the dispossessed covet what we have, they
may say they hate our wealth, they hate our jobs,
they hate our women, they hate our way of life.
But its all lies.
Really they want all these things of ours, these
freedoms, for themselves.
David William Kirby
They eat dirt every day and the taste of blood on

their lips makes them full of resentment. Every
moment of their lives they seethe with hatred and
jealousy, they say they hate our ways but they
want it, they plot to steal it from us.
This is what they want. Well, let me tell you
this; our way of life cannot be stolen or held to
ransom, it cannot be bartered and it is not for
sale, to anyone!
The crowd stood on their feet and clapped hard.
Today Jerusalem is ours, as God intended; with
his merciful guidance our enemies will be eating
dirt for another thousand years.
Their Prophet has led them to this, to starvation
and beyond; until they get on their knees and beg
us, yes us, not some vague idea of Godhead; but
us. Until they prostrate themselves at our altar
and beg for our mercy we must make sure they
continue to eat our dirt forever.
This brought another round of applause from the
ecstatic crowd although at the back of the room
an elderly, white haired man smoked a cigarette
and smirked.
He was used to the rhetoric and made his own
destiny. He played with a ring on his wedding
finger, a gold band with a gold cross set in a
black stone, thinking about his next move.
This conference was just a part in his bigger
plan. He stubbed his cigarette out on the carpet
and pulled out his mobile phone. After pressing a
number and waiting for an answer he just said one
word before disconnecting the call.
Endgame!
David William Kirby
Good morning Mr Stein. A uniformed security

officer remarked as he opened the rear door of
the Rolls Royce. Stein stepped out of the vehicle
into the bright sunlight of a spring day.
Resplendent in a dark wool overcoat and navy blue
suit, which was set off by a white silk shirt and
red silk tie, he purposely followed the security
guard across the pavement and held out a small
plastic card.
The guard ran the card through a magnetic strip
reader placed at the side of an amour-plated
door, which buzzed and then slid open.
Thank you Roberts. Stein said as he entered the
building having taken possession of the plastic
card and placing it in a leather wallet. The door
closed silently behind him. A few seconds later
the inner door, which prevented Stein from going
any further, clicked and opened.
Good morning Mr Stein. A pretty girl who sat
behind a reception desk at a computer terminal
smiled.
Have you come to open your fathers safety
deposit box?
Have you received the required paperwork? Stein
asked slipping the wallet into a breast pocket.
Yes Sir, your fathers solicitors office sent
it over this morning, the girl replied.
Everything is ready for you.
Thank you. Stein said, feeling his palms sweat
a little.
The girl noticed that he appeared anxious but put
it down to the sudden death of his father and the
responsibility the man had acquired.
She had read about the death of the richest man
in the world the previous week and had thought at
the time that someone was going to become very
rich, very quickly. Knowing how much pressure
David William Kirby
inheriting a vast amount of money could bring;

she didnt know if she envied or pitied him.
The fathers death was tragic, she though, having
been the result of a badly maintained Lear jet.
It was ironic that the man would still be alive,
she considered, if he didnt have the wealth to
own such a plaything. Placing a gold coloured,
plastic card, which hung from her neck on a
chain, into a card reader the girl looked at
Stein.
Could you enter your sixteen digit security code
please? She smiled. Stein did as was asked.
Thank you, now would you go to the door over
there and answer the security question.
Stein looked to where she indicated and saw a
small microphone that was situated next to
another door in the far wall.
Please speak slowly, Mr Stein. The girl said as
he approached the microphone. The voice reader
is a little temperamental.
State your name for voice identification. An
electric voice asked as he slid up to the door.
David, Elohym Stein. he replied slowly. There
was a brief pause before the door buzzed and slid
open. He entered a long, windowless room as the
door closed noisily behind him.
The room was grey in colour and bare except for
two cubicles that sat along one wall; above one
of them flashed a small orange light. Stein
walked to this cubicle and stepped inside.
A glass door slid closed behind him and he became
aware of the noise of his own breathing.
In the wall was a small metal shelf, which had a
keyboard and card reader set into it. A red light
above the card reader flashed and David removed
the card from his wallet again and placed it in
David William Kirby
the card reader. An electric voice issued a

command.
Enter your five digit P.I.N please. The voice
buzzed. Stein tapped the five digits into the
keyboard and waited. Accepted. The voice said.
There seemed to be an endless wait before he
heard a hum and the wall, which had appeared to
be solid, clicked and a square hole opened.
Through this a silver coloured, steel box slid
onto the shelf. Stein felt his anxiety fade as
his bony fingers reached toward the box and click
the lock. He lifted the lid slowly, savouring the
experience.
He now had it all, the house, the money, the
business and now this; the key to power; his
treasure. He could feel light emanating from
within the box and it invisibly shone out like a
beacon, filling his being and shining out further
beyond his gaze. He could feel the universe
glowing in honour of its power.
Stein carefully removed the treasure and placed
it in his breast pocket with a small conceited
smile. He had no need to remove its dust cover to
check that it was really what he had been led to
believe it was; this was confirmed by the energy
that flowed from it.
It numbed his fingers and hand and in his pocket
he could feel it glowing, warm and soothing. It
was a sensation that gave the treasure authority
and immense potential.
Glancing momentarily inside the steel box before
closing the lid Stein was surprised to see an
unexpected manila envelope. Upon closer
inspection he saw that it was embossed with the
legend:
David William Kirby
Three Questions, that is all

His mind went back to that day after his bath
when his father had poked him in the chest. He
had poked him with those sharp nails and even
sharper tone of voice.
He remembered the confusion and realised that he
still had no idea what his father had been
getting at.
He remembered his father saying that when he knew
the answers to the questions, that day, he would
inherit his fathers office.
He removed the envelope and tore it open. It
appeared to be empty and Stein frowned for a
moment before a small card slid from the envelope
and landed on the steel shelf.
He picked the card up and smelt the distinctive
aroma of sandalwood. The card was edged with gold
and printed in the centre was three sentences in
black ink.
WHO WILL KILL
Said the first.
WHY WILL THEY KILL
Said the second sentence.
WHAT WILL THEY KILL, David?
Stein shuddered as he read his own name and
realised that his father had known all along. He
had known that his life was to be ended by his
own son. That his mother had also been killed;
albeit in childbirth, by the same person and that
they were to be the first of many.
David William Kirby
He had the power to kill millions and Stein

realised that this was his destiny; the power and
authority had been given to him by birth. It was
now in his pocket throbbing gently.
He remembered an old saying that Kiffer had
repeated after lunch on day.
He had looked over his glass or wine and
whispered softly:
If you kill one person you are a murderer.
If you kill hundreds of people you are a tyrant.
If you kill everyone, you are a GOD
Kiffer had laughed and David had thought the man
was weird; now he was beginning to understand
what the saying meant.
Stein spoke slowly into the telephone receiver.

It was morning and the birds were singing loudly
outside the bedroom window but this did not
interest him. His face was tense and focussed.
Did you get the payment?
It arrived today, thank you for your support.
Will you be able to move now? Stein asked
softly.
Enshala, God willing.
Good, no one must know of my involvement.
My lips are sealed.
Stein hung the telephone up and thought for a
moment. Then the telephone rang again; he picked
the receiver up.
Hello? he asked cautiously.
Do you have an answer for me yet? the voice on
the line pleaded urgently. It was a bright spring
morning and David was sprawled across the bed.
David William Kirby
He had become tired of these persistent demands

for action from those that served him; especially
when they called early in the morning. They did
not realise that he had to take some time before
coming to a decision; no matter how much they
demanded. He had a plan.
His education had shown him the futility of
impulsive behaviour. These things could not be
rushed and he needed time to prepare; he did not
want to risk causing injury to himself because it
would only be safe when the time was right.
Patience. Stein replied softly into the
telephone. Patience is a virtue; didnt your
mother ever tell you that?
Look Stein the voice on the end of the line
shouted. You and the old man have just about
murdered this administration and Im telling you,
if we go down then you and this whole set up will
go down with us.
The President and I are fighting the Hawks just
to stay in office; is that what you want? .
Not really. Stein replied his voice cold as ice
and as barbed as a rose bush.
I am sorry for being emotional the voice
continued. But, dont you understand? You have
been telling us that you will give an answer in
time. You said that youll honour your promise to
help us. But we havent got any more time; time
has run out and now we are at a crisis.
If you cannot give us the answers we seek the
administration will take steps; it will be out of
my control and you know what that will mean?
You are really beginning to annoy me. Stein
replied.
David William Kirby
But the economy is disappearing up your fucking

arse-hole. How many more times do I have to say
this? Time has run out.
Let me correct you Stein interjected coldly.
Its you and your fucking lousy administration
that is disappearing; time has run out for you.
It never ceases to amaze me how short sighted you
and all those other losers in government are. You
and the other lot; youre all simpering insects.
I could stamp on the lot of you.
Mr Stein, please, Im begging you! the voice
strained. Stein listened and heard the distinct
sound of a grown man weeping; he smiled.
Stein, how much time? The man whispered.
Mr Stein, if you dont mind. David snapped.
There is no time like the right time and

patience, not panic, will help it materialize.
I see.
If that is all? I have business to attend too.
He clicked off the telephone and smiled broadly.
The telephone clicked across the other side of

the city and a man holding the other end cursed
under his breath. He looked at the telephone as
it began to ring again; his knuckles turned white
and he picked up and slammed the receiver down.
Is there anything wrong? asked another man who
was across the room being fitted for a new suit.
The tailor said nothing and pretended to be deaf
as he busied himself with chalk and pins.
Is that arsehole playing hardball with you?
No, Mr President. The man by the telephone
lied. Everythings in order.
David William Kirby
Come on, Im not a fool. The man being fitted

replied. Whats with this guy; doesnt he know
what he is risking?
Hes our best contributor. The man replied.
But a coffee dealer?
A rich coffee dealer; and thats not his main
revenue source. He also has the I.T businesses
Oh yes, The president replied. Id forgotten
about that. Coffee, cocoa, computers; its all
the same in my book.
The president looked at his reflection and
smiled.
Dont let the bastard get you down; we could
just kill him. If its a choice between us and
him, if one of us has to go, well, theres no
choice.
Thats what Im afraid of.
Stein closed his eyes and thought deeply. His
fingers massaged the sides of his temples and a
ray of sunlight sparkled behind his head; bathing
him in a warm glow.
On the other side of town the man in the blue
suit cleared his throat and left the room. He
walked briskly down a hall and into a garden at
the rear of the building. He lit a cigarette and
sucked the smoke into his chest.
He noticed a small bird on the grass in the
centre of the garden and spat; he didnt like
cute things and his ulcer was paying up.
The bird seemed to be looking at him and this
made him uneasy; then he noticed another bird. It
was behind him near the door. Something didnt
feel right but he was having a cigarette and this
was all that mattered until another bird joined
the one on the grass.
David William Kirby
He sucked in another puff of smoke and looked up.

It was just in time to see the edge of a wing and
the tip of a beak.
Mother fucker! he spat as the beak collided
with his eye.
What the fuck was that?
He stumbled backward and tripped as another huge
black bird, a raven, struck his head. He gasped
as its claws scrapped down the side of his face
and his head collided with the stone path.
The force knocked him out cold and the birds were
free to do as they wished. First the soft fleshy
skin around his eyes was pecked and then the
beaks went deeper.
It flew into his eye socket and the brain beyond.
He didnt flinch as the blood oozed from the
wound in his head; flying off with bits of his
brain to feed their young.
Back in the office the President was speaking to
another man who was holding a telephone.
How could the other administration allow this to
happen? the President said.
...Surely they could see this would eventually
come about?
The future looked a long way off. The man
replied holding a hand over the telephone. They
didnt realise that wed be fighting two wars on
two different continents; that our resources
would become so critical.
Its common sense; God damn it! the president
answered pushing the tailor away from him and
placing his suit jacket on. He stepped over to
the man holding the telephone.
If you allow one company to become so big and
amass so many assets, sooner or later it would
start to effect every part of the economy.
David William Kirby
Its basic maths one-O-one, for God sake. I dont

understand why they didnt put the brakes on his
fathers finances as soon as a monopoly
developed. When this situation first became
evident?
His fatherthe man replied.
Yes, what about his father? The President
replied. I read somewhere that hed agreed to
put half the companies assets into the economy;
that would reduce the overall interest accrued
into a manageable sum? This whole crisis would
have been averted.
His death has led to this situation.
Still, I thought the son would have agreed with
his fathers wishes.
The president took the receiver from the man in
the blue suit and placed it to his ear asking.
Has he reneged on the agreement or is he
stalling?
Sort of, hes playing games and...
...The balls in his court. The president
sighed. The fucking shit.
I tell you. The voice on the phone said
anxiously.
This bastard has my balls in his fingers and
hes squeezing them hard. When this shit is
sorted heads are going to roll.
Rubin? Stein said into his intercom. Im going

to my private suit for the rest of the day to do
some private work.
Yes Mr Stein. The voice on the intercom
replied.
David William Kirby
At around two am I would like you to bring me a

light meal; do not come in just place the tray
outside the door and leave it.
I understand Mr Stein.
If anyone should call please take a message.
Tell them I am unable to take calls or receive
visitors.
What if its Mr President?
I dont want to be disturbed by anyone; do I
make myself clear?
Yes Sir.
Tomorrow morning at nine A.M I will want a hot
bath and some more food. Please have a full
breakfast prepared and left outside my room. I
will collect the tray after Ive been to the
bathroom; then I shall be busy for the rest of
the day. I am not to be interrupted by anyone.
I understand Sir. Rubin replied.
Thank you. Stein stood and went to the door of
his study. He opened it and walked into the long
hall that swept away down the side of the house.
He stopped halfway down and looked out the
window. There was a small bird on the window
ledge, a thrush. He smiled and the bird flew off.
Stein made his way to his private suit and
unlocked the door.
He paused before he entered thinking back to his
childhood and how he wondered what his father did
behind this door; now it was his domain and in it
he was the master of this house and the Universe.
The feeling of power made his heart beat faster.
A small suit of rooms lay beyond, somewhere safe
and warm where he could retreat to escape the
pressures he felt in the rest of the house. Here
he was away from the snooping eyes of servants
and cleaners, which exist in every other part of
the great estate.
David William Kirby
He closed the door behind him and locked it

before climbing a small flight of stairs, which
opened, into a lounge. It was comfortable with
soft furnishings and cushions. He turned left and
went through another door and into a room, which
had a wardrobe and bed.
There he undressed and carefully folded his
clothes upon the bed. When he was naked he walked
to the wardrobe and stared at the full-length
mirror that was in the door.
Looking closer at the reflection of his eyes he
noted the changes. Although clear and bright the
lids looked heavier and there were faint lines
appearing in the corners.
He stepped from the bedroom back into the lounge
and collected a small silver snuffbox from a
mahogany table along one wall. He carried the box
to the centre of the room and sat upon an Indian
style cushion.
There was a remote control on the floor that he
picked up. Music flooded into the room from
hidden speakers, the volume was low and he used
the device to turn it up a little.
He placed the remote control on the floor and
opened the box. Inside was a small piece of
plastic tape about an inch square with a small
blue/black dot in the centre.
The blue of the dot contrasted with the clear
plastic that surrounded it. Closing the silver
box and placing the clear plastic on its lid he
rested on his knees and touched his forehead.
Ateth he whispered visualizing a white beam of
light entering the top of his head and
penetrating his skull. He lowered his fingers to
his stomach and touched his navel imagining the
David William Kirby
beam of intense white light shooting from his

scull to his groin.
Malkuth Then he touched his left shoulder and
whispered. Ve Gedulah. Touching his right
shoulder he whispered. Ve Gebulla. Before
resting his folded hands in his lap and intoning
the words. Le Olhem.
Once this traditional prayer had been said Stein
imagined the white light spreading throughout his
body; bathing it in strong iridescence. Through
the veins and capillaries the light vibrated;
from the top of his head and down to his toes.
He then took the small square of plastic from the
box lid and placed it upon his tongue.
He bit into the plastic and a bitter taste
flooded his mouth. The light pulsated now; he
could feel it shining out through his pores and
illuminating the room with its power.
He imagined, visualized the room filling up with
light and shining like a blazing star. He could
force the light through the walls and into the
suit of rooms outside. With every breath he
sucked more light in through the top of his head
and whenever he exhaled it thrust out.
Onward he shone, until he could feel the bright,
white light of consciousness filling the estate.
Then he visualised it filling the streets beyond
the estates walls. Filling the cities and byways
and across the night sky with its white, hot
power.
It shone through the universe beyond and then the
bitter taste in his mouth tainted the whiteness,
filtering out of his body, into the streets and
the skies above.
Tainting it all with a bitter blue chemical. The
sky shuddered in chemical bitterness and the
David William Kirby
blue, acid taste infected the universe and the

stars and the cosmos beyond; into infinity.
Stein exhaled a bitter chemical taste. He relaxed
his body, slowly focussing on specific areas from
his toes up; soon he was instructing his face
muscles to relax, feeling the tension leave him.
His breathing slowed to a casual, gentle pace,
soft and rhythmic.
He noticed that his mouth was dry; parched like a
sandy lane.
A snake-like forked tongue darted between his
parched lips; cracked but rose red. Frozen petal
lips in a forest of a face. Although he was alone
he was aware of something. Or was it someone; he
could feel its presence in the room; around him,
alongside him.
Perhaps it was his loneliness, that thick, grey
solitude he had known since childhood. He opened
one eye and spied the room; it was then that it
happened.
He could feel his pupils dilate, his breathing
become more laboured. He had to stand and
stretch; oh, that felt good, he thought, as the
tension left his aching limbs.
He picked up the now sparkled silver box and
walked to the side table from which he had
retrieved it earlier.
Placing the box upon the table he saw a candle in
a silver holder and he picked this up with a
chuckle and took it back to the cushion.
There was a tune playing that he liked. He didnt
know the name but the melody seemed familiar; he
smiled broadly as he lit the candle and sat down
again. He looked into the flickering flame and
thought he could see something. Something that
David William Kirby
intrigued him; it was a colourful something that

drew his attention.
The room was dark now and the flame lit his face
with a dancing beam of multi coloured light. It
was a white light in a black sky; a star in a
universe of moons. There was something about the
light, it flickered on his skin like an oil;
flickered on oil like his skin; his pupils
dilated further.
There it was again, darting between the blue and
the red; was it a colour, he thought? Pinhead big
and elephant small it sparkled like a star of
sapphire; a little world within the flame; so
small it could be the dominion of angels.
He laughed aloud.
Through letterbox eyes he saw the sapphire grow
pulsing with radiant energy. Small insects
attracted to the light danced in and out of the
flame leaving translucent trails in their misty
wake.
The insects were weaving in and out thin strands
of fine silk or cotton. He became transfixed to
the image, curled by it into a lattice, a twisted
framework formed before his golden eyes. These
were the eyes of a king.
He smelt the vibration before it actually hit
him, a bitter, chemical smell that was blue in
intensity. The floor shook violently and he held
the cushion to keep him steady as a gust of
cosmic wind blew over him violently.
It was ear splitting and it made the carpet shine
with intense lattice waves and colours. His
breath left his lungs and he became lost in the
waves, they were overwhelming him; Stein could
only give into them, he drowned in their
textures.
David William Kirby
Closed, the eye of the mind sees further, a voice

whispered in his ear. It was his fathers voice
on the wind speaking to him softly.
Closed, the eye of the mind sees with more depth,
more clarity and thus, it understands what it
sees.
He shuddered as the light brightened his face;
his thick oily face, dirty and colourful. It was
intense, he shielded his eyes from it and hissed
a long slow breath.
I must remember to breath, he thought.
There in the centre again he saw it. What was
that, he wondered, was it gold, silver, bronze,
iron, copper, lead, quicksilver, platinum or
iodine?
It bends like a metal under heat, a tangle of
multi texture fingers dancing across the spiral
of light. Like spiders in spacesuits. Glowing in
spires and distorting, sliding on oil, pools of
slippery face oil.
It was screaming now but silently; he was silent
now but screaming, not wanting them to hear him.
Not wanting them to know he was there; he was
where? Stein secretly shouted.
There was a sky above his head but it was not his
sky, it belonged to them; he was just visiting
and would have to leave some time or another. It
was a grey sky, a blue sky, a bitter chemical sky
of plastic.
He was only visiting them, those red-necked
cockroaches. Like swollen bloated fish the clouds
burst and he was standing in a seafood shower; a
shrimp of a man in an ocean of a universe.
There it was again, a taste in his mouth that was
bitter lemon, sour lemon and powdered. Clear now
David William Kirby
the colour invaded those colourless places; those

stranger-less places. Those places where dreams
are made and constructs dissected.
He was a species of spider, leaving faint trails
of web like silk; traces of dew on the faces he
knew, they burned in the flame of his mind. He
was losing his mind; or was it just poetry?
He remembered a funeral, the wreaths and
remember-me flowers and waters of weeping
mourners. The gun, the blood splattered field of
daisies, gold pieces on a silver platter, paid in
spaced out hogweed.
They were the diamond splinters that sparkled.
That shone in the sky that day. Shafts of light
shine in silver, they shone his way, that day;
the day his father died.
Electric spasms in the womb, he remembered the
womb of his mother, it was warm there. It was
acrid and bitter like blue lemon. It was like
Armageddon. The day they cut him from her
bloodied belly was an image fixed to his memory.
There were dazed images, blurred images, they
spin and turn in a matrix; spin and curl around
the centre, he was fading in there, boy, he was
fazing into their boy; the boy who killed his
mother.
A mirror cracked and crashed to the stone floor,
the glass fragments cut into his flesh and he saw
ribbons of blood there, like her womb. It was his
mother, his long dead mother, that she-wolf
mother of Rome.
He was transfixed to the image, transfixed to
that burning icon, fixed and yet unfixed. He was
a shiny beast in fox fur and ermine, a wolf in
sheeps clothing. Someone spoke his name.
David? the creature hissed. Your time has
arrived.
David William Kirby
I got up at two in the morning to take him some

food. Rubin said with a sigh. Two in the
morning, I tell you, then when I went to call on
him at nine the food was still there; exactly
where Id left it the night before.
Was it? the cook replied looking intently at an
open cookbook.
Yes it was. Rubin replied. The food Id taken
to him at two in the morning. I dont know why I
bother sometimes.
He hadnt eaten any of it? cook exclaimed
folding her arms across her chest.
Not a single bite. Rubin continued. Then I ran
a bath, as he asked me to, this morning at nine
Yes?
I knocked.
Yes?
And no answer. I really dont know why I
bother.
Shame on the boy. Cook sniffed looking back at
her book. He didnt say if anything was wrong
with the food then?
I didnt speak to him, like I said.. Rubin
answered. He didnt answer.
Shame on himCook said looking up briefly.
You get used to their strange ways. You should
hear the noise sometimes coming from his room.
What, all that screaming? Rubin asked.
Thats it. Cook replied looking at the valet
intently. His father was the same. In the middle
of the night youd hear nothing but screaming.
Sends your blood cold, it does.
David William Kirby
Ive heard it. Rubin replied looking at the

floor. He thought of the walk hed made to his
masters suit at two in the morning. How dark the
house had seemed. How quiet too; how spooky.
He recalled turning down the very last corridor
and walking slowly to the door Mr Stein had
wanted the food left outside. He remembered
lowering the food to the floor, as requested, and
listening to the keyhole to see if he could hear
voices.
He heard something alright, it was a
soft muttering, like the sound of crickets in the
evening air.
He heard the soft mumbling of a verse, over and
over again, a familiar verse. Perhaps even a
rhythm like the sort of rhythm youd learn in
nursery school; over and over in one long
monotonous tone.
Ive heard him. Cook said snapping the valet
from his daydream. But not like last night; it
was really frightening hearing him screaming like
that.
I didnt hear him scream, just mumble. Rubin
replied.
My room is just across the way, you see, I can
hear it all from there.
Really, I only heard a mumble, when I left the
food.
Well I heard it all. Cook said. It wasnt no
mumble. It was screaming I tell you; like he was
trying to raise the dead.
Frightening. Rubin said softly.
Best not to say nothing. The cook continued.
The last valet who said something was kicked
out. So, its best not to say anything. Still
she whispered in confidence. I always thought
David William Kirby
that boy would turn out strange; not having a

mother around. It isnt natural.
I dont know how youve stood it so long, if
youre not happy?
You have to keep your nose clean and get on with
your work. She replied slamming the book shut.
Thats what we are paid to do, and thats
exactly what I do. Look at the time; I suppose
you should go and see if hes eaten his
breakfast.
No need to. Rubin said abruptly.
What do you mean?
He never came out for his bath.
Stein was awake and quiet, thinking deeply. The

window was open and a soft breeze was blowing
into the room causing Goosebumps to raise on his
white flesh. He closed his eyes.
One the other side of town the President was in
his motorcade on the way to a reception at the
Marriott hotel. He had an aide sitting beside him
clearly instructing him on the ethics of post war
modernisation.
They were discussing getting the Arab Emirates to
pay for this reconstruction instead of dipping
into their own depleted budget. To enable them to
do this he needed facts and statistics which
would bolster his argument without looking like
they needed financial help.
The president nodded as the aide showed him
graphs that outline the facts in an easily
digested fashion. He was used to getting hecklers
shouting out unscripted questions and wanted the
information to rebuff any criticism that may be
thrown at him.
David William Kirby
The car pulled up outside the hotel and the

security man in the front seat got out and
stepped up to the rear door.
Are you ready? the aide asked.
As ready as Ill ever be.
Lets do this. He nodded at the security guard
and the door was opened.
The aide stepped out and looked at the thin line
of police that held back a small crowd of well
wishers.
They cheered and some held up cameras. The
president slid across the seat and pulled himself
out of the car.
Hello, He smiled as people pushed forwards into
the line of policemen snapping photographs. A
woman held up a baby and called to the president.
Mr President, a photo with my son?
Youve got a minute or two. Said the aide. He
stood behind the president and they approached
the woman as she handed the child over the
shoulders of the heaving policemen. The president
took the child and smiled as the woman held up a
camera.
Smile she shouted. Smile for the dead
children of Jerusalem. Allah Akbar, Blessed be
His Name!
The president felt the air pressure change and,
as if in slow motion, a wall of fire enveloped
the whole scene. A huge force then vaporised him,
the child, the policemen, the crowd and the aide.
It blew the bombproof car into the air and across
the street.
Then there was chaos.
David William Kirby
Stein looked out the window and saw a small cloud

of smoke rise in the distance. He noticed the
birds had stopped singing and that the gardens
around the house were strangely quiet. He knew
that his plans were working themselves out and
that there was just one thing more to do.
He stepped into the bedroom and pulled open the
wardrobe door. Inside, behind the suits and
ironed white shirts he found a large box, which
he dragged out and placed upon the bed.
He lifted the lid and looked at the costume the
box contained, it was not a dressing up box.
Instead it contained the ritualistic robes that
belonged to his father.
Each piece had its own meaning and power. The
pieces fitted together like a jigsaw and created
a representation of the Cabbalist tree of life on
the wearer.
There was a crown of gold which had a serpent
entwined around it, in the front were three
pentangles and the centre one was fixed by a
diamond stud.
The crown represents attainment of perfection and
the three pentagrams represents the holy triad or
tau, the beginning, middle and end. The serpent
represents godhead, eternity, and will
channelling power from above through the wearer.
Under the crown was a hooded robe made of silk it
was blue on the outside and lined with green.
Along the hem was a curled serpent again
channelling power through the wearers body.
David William Kirby
The robe represents silence and is a physical

manifestation of the wearers aura.
He realised that he was
strongly looking at the
that crashed across the
examined it in its box.
costume out and laid it
still hallucinating
flashes of blue and green
silken robe as he
He pulled the soft
on the bed.
He hadnt realised just how beautiful it was, the

gold thread along the seams and at the neckline
had small silver stars woven into it and they
glittered against the sky blue silk.
Dressing in the robe and placing the crown over
the hood on top of his head he examined himself
in the mirror. He then made his way out of the
bedroom and through the lounge. He stumbled
halfway along the room and had to hold onto a
small Chippendale chair that sat next to the
table.
His mouth was dry and he realised that he was so
wrecked he could hardly walk. The walls were
almost folding in on him; he managed to
straighten himself up and stumbled further to the
far end of the lounge towards a tall, dark
timbered door. It was the door to his fathers
secret office.
Stein reached into the neckline of the robe and
pulled out a gold chain that hung from his neck,
on it swung the key his father had given him on
his twenty first birthday.
He placed the key in the lock and turned. The
door opened with a slight squeak and he slid
through the gap, into the room, across the marble
floor; slamming the door behind him.
The floor felt cold
like a mausoleum in
a monument; a relic
the past and of the
beneath his bare feet. It was

there. It was like a tomb of
from the past. He considered
time that had elapsed from
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Augustus to today, all the history he was about

to conjure and repeat.
This ceremony had real history he thought, from
Agrippa in his Greek temple, to Constantine and
Justinian.
He thought of the Pontiffs who had followed them,
building up the Roman Empire into the modern age.
Knowing that beneath the sacred walls of Saint
Peters Basilica was a room that was bricked up
for a whole generation.
A room only opened once in a hundred years. The
room where they practiced The Sacred Ritual was
designed exactly as his own.
This ritual was now his. He recollected how, as
the fascists rose in power in 1938 the Pontiff of
the time, worried what would happen if the Nazis
got hold of this relic. He knew they were looking
for it. They would have been unstoppable.
He remembered how it had been shipped overseas in
secret and that Rome had expected it to be
returned once the war was over.
How wrong they were, now that room in the
basilica has been bricked up forever and Stein
stood in an exact replica that had been built by
his father.
He walked to the centre of the room and there on
the altar was a small broach made of gold and
inset with white stone, diamonds and rubies. The
broach, a white cross on gold with a red rose in
its centre, was pinned on his robe.
He placed the index finger of his left hand to
his lips and hushed himself, hushing the room;
creating a stillness in his mind that calmed his
thoughts. He knew from his education how
important these gestures were.
David William Kirby
They focused the mind, opened his subconscious

and tuned in his astral self. Then Stein mouthed
the traditional prayer.
Ateth
After completing the prayer, the Cabbalistic
Cross, Stein walked to each of the four cardinal
points marked out on the marble floor. He lit the
huge incense burners which stood at each of these
next to a small table.
Closing his eyes he visualised each cardinal
points guardian angel as astral beings and
summoned them.
Adonai! He shouted to the south.
Oriens! He shouted to the east.
Eh,ei,He! To the west and finally, with an
almighty roar, Stein steeped to the northern
point and screamed AGLA!
The incense smoke floated from the burners and
flowed down to the floor like a thick mist. The
smell of sulphur filled the room.
Then he entered the circle, set out in black and
green marble on the floor. This represents the
infinite and affirmed his identity with such. He
walked solemnly and approached the altar.
Upon this sat a scourge, dagger and chain with a
small bell on its end. These implements represent
the principles of fire, water and air or sulphur,
mercury and salt. Again they represent the holy
triad or a state of pain, death and bondage.
Next to them is a wand made of hazel, a great
sword and cup. The wand represents the will or
the power of its owner to form his own destiny;
or his triumph over fate. It corresponds with the
sephera of Chokmah on the tree of life.
David William Kirby
The sword represents reason and is made of the

metals of Mars and Venus, steel and copper. It
corresponds to the sephera of Daath.
The cup is made of a fusion of seven metals and
represents understanding. It is imagined to be
full of the seas and thus an ocean of
understanding overflows from it. It corresponds
with the sephera of Binah.
The bell or gong is made of silver and has the
ability to stop time when it rings out across the
universe. Solemn and majestic the bell enables
the user to disturb the infinite.
Stein understood all these correspondences and
hidden meanings from his years of training in the
ceremonial use of ritual.
Lifting the great sword, with inlaid rubies and
sapphires, Stein raised it above his head. He
swept it too and fro, marking out the form of a
star, a pentagram and visualised it shining
silver above his head. Tracing the star in the
air with the gilt point of the sword his
imagination filled it shining with bright, white
light.
Then he gently placed the sword by his side and
reached out for his treasure. The possession that
made all this possible. The two thousand year old
relic that had been passed from father to son,
pontiff to pontiff, emperor to emperor through
generations past.
Now his, after collecting it from his fathers
safety deposit box, unaware if it had been used
in his lifetime. Merely possessing it had
ordained upon him the power of Gods.
He sighed as his fingers caressed the soft blue
velvet dust cover. He opened the cover slowly and
devoured the experience, before his eyes saw the
faded leather binding, swallowing hard. It was
David William Kirby
here, he thought momentarily forgetting the

ritual, here in his little world that God had
chose to reveal himself.
Huc per inane advoco angelos he chanted
softly, remembering every word of the Lower
Ritual, taught him by Mr. Kiffer all those years
ago.
Sanctos tererum, aerisque he continued placing
his palm on the unopened relic. Salve Raphael,
Salve Gabriel, Salve Michael, Salve Ariel nam
tellus et omnia
Steins vision became blurred as the incense in
the burners filled the room with acrid mists. The
vision became distorted, liquid; as with his
audio senses, fazing slightly and echoing about
his eyes.
He was tearing through each syllable, his lips
and mouth gaping, the words came now at breakneck
speed; bleeding like a wound in his palm.
Non accedet ad me malum cuiuscemondi quoiam
angeli sanct cusodiunt me.
The words filled the room like vapour, resounding
from the marble floor and into the arches of the
ceiling. He visualised the waxing and waning
moon, the ebbing and flowing tides, the coming
and going of the seasons; the cycles of life. He
saw himself fading into the picture, turning
through it and becoming part of the natural
cycle.
ATETH! MALKUTH! VE GEDULAH! VE GEBURAH, LE OHEM!
AMON!
A silence worthy of the grave descended on the
room; it was desperately grieving a celebrated
mystery; a secret hidden from the eyes of those
who celebrated.
David William Kirby
Stein closed his eyes and it seemed as if the

marble beneath his feet shuddered. He imagined
the root of power thrusting through his body and
crashing out of his head, his fingers and his
toes; he was shining like a torch at midnight.
EXCULATORES, He screamed. In nomine Gabriel,
Exculatores, in nomine Raphael. EXCULATORES, in
nomine Michael, EXCULATORES! In nomine Urial.
He picked up the leather bound book and clutched
it to his heart before ringing the great bell
that sat upon the altar.
He rang it twenty four times in all, each chime
ringing through the never worlds; all the worlds
that could be imagined, for he was the ringer of
the bell; having power over heaven and hell.
When the last chime had faded into the swirling
darkness it seemed like the gates of eternity had
clicked back their locks. Stein opened the book
and prepared to meet the Architect of the
Universe.
He gazed for the
page made itself
was a gold seal,
the leather with
first time at the fist page; a

from leather; etched upon this
the seal of Abraham, woven into
gold thread.
Its beauty entranced him and he found it hard to

concentrate on the deed at hand. Each gold strand
was woven to create a lattice of the finest
workmanship, and each lattice was constructed of
finer gold threads into infinity.
The symbol was a cross of gold crowned in the
centre by a blazing red rose. Each petal being a
delicately woven shade of red, each one a
different shade to the next, arranged on ever
decreasing concentric circles. They got smaller
and smaller into the centre, in ever decreasing
sizes into the infinite.
David William Kirby
He was mesmerised by its shimmering beauty and

the shape was burned into his mind so that if he
closed his eyes it was still visible, proud on
the back of his eye lids. Cautiously and
curiously he lifted the page and turned it over.
Then it was there, the first syllable of the
word, woven into the leather page in silver
thread. He recognized the Enochian symbol
immediately having learned the language from his
father when was still in his crib.
He knew its pronunciation and the syllable rolled
from his lips slowly, like a prayer, in a long
quivering note. He turned the page and pronounced
the next syllable and the next in one vibrating
tone.
Then the next page and the next until the word
was vibrating around the room in echoes. A
vibrating rhythm began to form under the main
tone and a harmonic could be heard. Filling the
room with a tempo and rhythm the distinctive
chant was weaving itself into a lattice.
He could feel the word forming on his lips and
this vibrated around the room and back upon
itself in a resounding harmonic note. Like
strands of gold and red thread, weaving itself
into a lattice; an infinite tangle of harmonic
intensity.
The first round ended and he swiftly began at the
beginning again without taking a breath. Back to
the first syllable and onward building the
textures, the harmonic tones of sound, into a
thick lattice of mesmerising harmony.
The twenty-two syllables fitted together
perfectly, they scanned like the best piece of
poetry ever written, sounding beautiful and
perfect the echoes rose with each reading.
David William Kirby
The lattice of sound was filling the room with

gold and red sounds of infinite beauty and
complexity. The lattice of noise they created
formed infinite harmonics that rose with the
incense into a thick swirling wholesomeness.
Blue flashed here, vermilion there, silver on the
floor and pitched yellow. He was spinning into
the textures of sound and was swallowed by it.
Consequently he did not hear them at first; their
goat hooves thrashing across the sky, their tails
flaying the air and their bat ears flapping.
Stein continued with the pronunciation of His
name, demanding His presence, summoning Him to
appear in a form Stein could communicate with. As
his swollen and bloodied lips formed the last
syllable, of the last round of sound, he noticed
a pillar of fire had stormed from the ceiling and
had filled the whole room with blazing ferocity.
The star he had traced over his head reached down
like a glowing shroud of glass and protected him
from the licking flames. He looked and in the
flames he saw them.
Small creatures such as no mans eyes had ever
seen. They walked around the circle and tried to
push their talloned fingers into it only to snap
their bony digits back sharply.
They were small, dark imps with red beady
and sharp cloven hooves that knocked upon
marble floor. They appeared to be mocking
although what was coming from their sharp
could not be recognized as a language, it
more like the sound animals made in the
slaughterhouse.
He heard
the room
knowing,
vanguard
eyes
the
him
lips
was
mischievous taunts and jibes that filled

with coldness. He tried to ignore them
from his education, that they were the
for their master.
David William Kirby
Then a sharp judder shook the room and the imps

darted in every direction. Stein was amused to
see that some sought safety by ducking their
sharp heads beneath the drapes; leaving their
pointed tails sticking into the air.
Then a creaking sound like splintering wood
echoed out causing the smoke rising from the
incense burners to sway in soft ripples. A few
impish faces looked through the smoke and their
red eyes darted to and fro in fear and
anticipation.
Then a roar rang out; it was like the roar of
lions when they call one another in the African
darkness.
It was a throaty roar, dense and deep, echoing in
the night. It seemed that a thunderous flash of
lightening shook the room and He was there; a
windswept boy naked upon a sandy beach. He had
sweet droplets of water hanging from his wet
brown hair and his brow shivered slightly as if
caught by a chill.
With a vulnerable look the boy bit his lower lip
and smiled.
Come, join me The youth whispered seductively.
Come, join me beyond the circle. The water is
refreshing.
I have summoned you to serve me! Stein shouted.
He could see storm clouds rising on the horizon
behind the boy; ominous black clouds that
bellowed and flashed with lightening.
Temptation will not draw me from the safety of
my circle.
Come, The youth whispered again provocatively
stroking a smooth finger across his lips.
Let us bathe in the warm waters. Come join me.
David William Kirby
I will not be manipulated. Stein shouted

picking his sword up and pointing the blade at
the youth. Dispense with this frivolity, be done
with it and show your real face.
Thy will, be done. The youth whispered as the
image faded to be replaced by a loathsome
creature bathed in shadows. It was breathing
heavily and in the darkness Stein could see
saliva dripping from the creatures lips. A
nauseating smell filled the room and Stein felt
himself becoming intoxicated by it.
You called me name? the creature hissed as its
face left the shadow briefly and light caught its
awful eyes. It had lizard skin, wolfs teeth and
great horns rising from the crown of his head.
Stein looked down and saw a pair of legs clad in
thick black fur with brown hooves scratching the
marble floor.
Tell me, what should I do? Stein asked. What
is the next move in this game we are playing?
Do as time has ordered. The creature replied
licking its black lips.
They say people are starving, governments are
falling and that a revolution will ensue.
There must be famine. The creature hissed
changing into an old man with a long white beard
and sackcloth robe.
There must be bloodshed, governments will fall
but you shall remain strong. It is ordered by
time.
What is ordered? Stein asked confused by the
statement. What has time ordered?
There was a ringing in his ears and the sword
became heavy in his hands. He looked at the black
David William Kirby
line that encircled him and it appeared to be

fainter in parts where the mist had become sand.
They are waiting for a prophet to lead them, he
can be manipulated to take them down the path
time had ordained. The old man said wearily. I
have been working to make the time right and now
you have to make it happen.
Stein became dizzy as the sound in his head grew
louder and seemed to be spinning around his
skull. The persistent whirling became ear
splittingly deafening.
I do not understand? Stein called out. Then he
noticed the old man had gone to be replaced by a
young woman, her beautiful red hair hanging in
flaming braids around her shoulders.
Nana, is that you? He stuttered.
Come David, join me here. She smiled patting
the wooden bench she was sat upon. He remembered
a far off vision.
It was a time when he was just a toddler and his
Nanny was always with him. She was the only
significant woman he had ever known, again an
employee of his father.
They sat in the warm summer sun among the oak
trees on the estate watching spring lambs suckle
their mothers. It was a time of joy and warmth, a
distant land that had faded with time in his
mind.
He wanted to leave the safety of the circle and
go to her, to let her brush her slight fingers
through his soft hair, to smell her again.
Come, my boy, join me.
Do not vex me so! He shouted. Playing these
games with my emotions. Tell me what time has
ordered.
David William Kirby
The vision faded into an old crone sitting on a

three-legged stool. In her hands were two silver
shapes; a crescent moon and a star.
I can never get these things to stick
together The old crone croaked. Stein looked at
them and saw a vision of a mosque in the midday
sun, the crescent moon sparkled on its apex and
the star came from the sky to join it there.
Can you get them to join? the crone asked.
They are ordained by time.
I dont understand. Stein said as the old crone
turned back into the horned creature.
Power, money, lies It hissed. Use these for
the sake of time. I will be here waiting for
thee.
Then the vision was gone, he was alone and the
room was empty and void. He placed the sword upon
the altar and repeated the Cabbalistic Cross. The
incense burners were full of cold ash and rays of
sharp daylight beamed through cracks in the
drapes.
Stein closed the leather book and folded it up in
its dust jacket. He then left the circle and blew
out the last piece of melted candle that he had
lit the previous evening.
Good morning Rubin. Stein said into the

intercom on his desk. The machine crackled for a
second and a voice answered.
Good morning, Mr Stein Rubin replied. I hope
you are well, we were worried as we had not heard
from you for so long.
David William Kirby
Im here now. Stein said abruptly. You can

bring my breakfast now and tell cook that I wish
to have fish for dinner tonight.
Very good, Mr Stein. The intercom crackled. I
will bring a breakfast to the dining room
shortly.
Oh, and Rubin Stein added.
Yes, Mr Stein?
Would you get Mr Martin on the line.
Shortly after the telephone rang. Stein lifted
the receiver and a voice on the line said I have
the White House for you, Sir.
Mr Stein? A voice asked. He did not recognize
it.
Yes.
Im afraid Mr Martin is dead. He was killed in a
freak accident last week. I cant go into detail
but it throws any plans you had with him into
confusion.
I see, its good that we had no plans.
Do you know about the assassination?
I have not been informed. Stein replied.
Please continue.
The president and half his staff were blown to
pieces a couple of days ago. We have traced the
explosives to a middle-eastern consortium. The
new administration is taking it as an act of War.
I believe they were waiting to get some guidance
from you.
Is the new man in office? Stein enquired.
Hes right here, would you like a word?
Of course.
The line bumped and crackled before another voice
came on. The man sounded depressed and his voice
was that of a heavy smoker, gruff and course.
David William Kirby
Mr Stein. He said clicking a ring against the

receiver. It was a gold band with a black stone
set in the centre with a gold cross.
Congratulations. Stein replied. If thats the
correct term.
Never mind about the formalities. The man
replied coughing into the receiver. You know, Mr
Stein, all this has been foreseen.
Has it?
Yes, the man continued. Famine, earthquakes,
bloodshed, it has all be foretold in the Book of
Revelations. The assassination was a direct
response to our funding the demolition of the
Dome on the Rock. Our Israel-development section
said something like this would happen if we
helped Israel take Jerusalem.
It had to happen before the rest of the prophecy
could come about. I know you were funding that
particular project; I saw your speech at the
Israeli American Lobbyist Group.
The last administration were too cowardly to make
the tough decisions that we feel HAVE to be made.
Although I grieve their loss, particularly
Martin, he was a good man, but I know it is a
matter of destiny that we have reached this
position today.
I agree. Stein said.
Mr Martin wanted a financial route out of the
mess the economy was facing and so I understand
why you were stalling him.
Good, Im glad you understand.
Now, we know that the endgame is inevitable,
that we have identified the Prophet of war who
comes in peace, the lamb slayer. Now we can see
the pieces falling into place; we can mobilize
our forces against his people. You know what Im
saying here dont you?
David William Kirby
Im familiar with the Book of Revelations; Im

behind you all the way, time has ordained it.
Stein replied.
The act of aggression we saw this week is all we
needed legally to go ahead.
You are talking about Red Sun.
I am, even if Christ doesnt come down on a
cloud and lift us all up, even if this isnt the
dawn of a new Heaven on Earth, I am going to fry
those bitch heathens if its the last fucking
thing I do. I know there will be collateral
damage but change is always difficult
particularly if its unavoidable.
Stein thought about this for a moment and gently
tapped the desk.
How long will it take for the bunkers to be
ready? He asked softly.
A couple of days I suppose. The old voice
croaked. I have family in Europe, I would like
to wait till I can get them back before it
happens.
Red Sun can only be a success if we forgo any
considerations; dont you believe that all will
be raised up when the lord returns. Stein
replied with a wry smile.
Youre a man after my own heart. The voice
crackled at the end of the line. I will give
instructions for the clock to start ticking. God
bless you.
God; I believe he led me to this decision,
Stein added. He helped me see this is the only
way; collateral damage or no.
It is written, this future was foretold long
ago. The old man stuttered, holding back a tear.
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I feel blessed that it will unfold in my

lifetime; with my help.
He hung up the telephone and the old man looked
across his desk at the ten men who faced him.
Some wore military uniforms and others smart
suits. The nearest suit to him shook with
disbelief.
You have got to be fucking joking. He said
abruptly.
Have some balls man. A uniform replied sharply.
But we thought we had a future with this
administration. The man sobbed.
We do, just not one you anticipated. The
uniform spat. Ill get the troops primed. We can
go to Def-Con four in under an hour!
So this is it... Another suit said looking
about the room at the others who passively
accepted the situation. He reached inside his
shirt and pulled out a crucifix.
...armageddon?
Fucking madness, youre all fucking mad! the
sobbing man cried.
Was it Dante? The old man with the crucifix
ring said as he stood and leant forwards on the
table to address them properly.
Was it Dante, quoting Virgil, who said through
me youll find the city of despair?
Please, the crying man pleaded.
What about my children? My sister in Brittany,
shes expecting her first child.
Through me youll reach the region of the
lost... the old man continue.
...justice was moved by my high architect,
divine omnipotence created me,
transcendent wisdom and primordial love,
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before me only endless things were made

and I shall endure without an end.
Think of the children. The man whispered into
his hands.
...You that enter here. The old man replied.
...Abandon Hope!
The network of tunnels that made up the bunker

was prepared for the guests. It had taken twenty
years to build them and they were capable of
sustaining life underground for an indefinite
period.
There were stores that ran for miles and
contained every conceivable consumable from tins
of Cape tomatoes to electrical fuses and cable.
The bunker had been specifically designed to
contain, sustain and aid human life. There was a
hospital wing and schools as well as churches and
places designed to look like parks. There were
communal halls, television networks and radio
stations. Places were set aside for lectures,
social meetings and information dissemination.
There were halls of residence, which were
furnished in the style of the most expensive
hotels. Air was provided, having been pumped in
from the outside and cleaned with filters, so
that the ambient temperature was comfortable.
Water was delivered by means of underground spas
and springs and was tested regularly for
cleanliness and mineral content, Everything was
recycled, from the piss in the lavatories to the
paper people wiped their noses with. Nothing was
wasted and even sewage was used to generate gas,
which powered the heating manifolds.
David William Kirby
Some wastewater was directed to the underground

gardens to feed the plants and trees, which grew,
under sodium lights, as well as they did on the
surface. There were at least ten of these
underground cities spread around the globe and
their existence was kept secret until the time
they were needed.
Now that time had arrived those with tickets were
called to assembly points and taken to their
allotted bunker. Those who were not invited saw
the groups and vehicles leave but never guessed
that a party was being thrown and they were going
to be served up as desert.
The people came in droves, long processions in
shiny black cars and limousines, their boots
packed with fine cigars and liquor, cases stashed
with family heirlooms and gold bars.
Bankers, bishops, business men and industrious
men of fortune, the most important of them took
their whole families from the eldest old Grandma
to the youngest babe in arms; all chosen to
continue the human race and contribute to the
genome.
Many had no idea why they were being called to
assembly but knew it was important and that if
they didnt go to the drill their places may be
lost forever.
The only instructions they were given was that
they would meet at dawn and bring with them only
what they would need if stranded on a desert
island. Therefore some brought gramophone records
and compact discs others high heel shoes and
bathing costumes.
Even paintings were unframed and rolled into neat
tubes to be transported into the unknown future.
David William Kirby
Some women were dressed as if going to a ball,

their stretched faces clad in thick make-up and
gems strung from ears and necks flamboyantly.
Others wore comfortable house clothes as if they
were expecting a long flight and decided that
comfort was better than fashion on this occasion.
The children wore school uniforms and hung from
parental hands like bewildered monkeys. Some ran
through the halls and rooms of the bunkers wildly
excited by the adventure.
Then there were the men in dark suits, some had
expensive cashmere coats and talked in hushed
voices on small mobile telephones. They guessed
something was afoot and only the strained look of
concern flashed in their eyes to give the game
away. They could feel it in their bones but did
not want to believe.
The arrivals, once their identification had been
checked and names ticked, were ushered into
elevators and taken deep below the surface;
reassuring themselves that no executive order
would have been given and they were only taking
part in a drill.
Some were surprised to discover friends they had
previously lost touch with and conversations
broke out intermittently.
Hay Joe, said a middle-aged man to another in
the elevator as his wife held a baby to her
chest. Fancy seeing you here?
Bob, Id like to know where they got the money
from to build all this.
Once underground the people were shown their
living quarters, which were private for the most
important families and shared for the clerks and
secretaries. The quarters had items that would
fill every need, somewhere to sleep, somewhere to
David William Kirby
wash, somewhere to eat somewhere to feed the kids

somewhere to relax and, of course, somewhere to
get information.
Televisions sat blank in every apartment waiting
to spring into glorious life and broadcast their
first transmission; a transmission so they were
told, that would include a presidential speech
which would explain everything.
Excuse me? a fat Spanish-looking lady asked a
steward as she was shown into a shared apartment.
When will we be allowed to go home?
At ten AM the presidential office will broadcast
a speech on the internal network; all your
questions will be answered then.
Im hungry said a kid at her side.
Food will be served shortly in one of this
levels canteens. Ive checked your ticket and
you have entry to service canteen two, down the
hall and to the left.
People ate and drank, talked and relaxed acting
as if they were guests at a garden party given by
a distinguished host. Indeed, their invitation
was at the request of The President and this, in
itself, was an honour.
The guests appeared unconcerned that the garden
party was not in a garden but in the belly of the
earth; a thermally controlled bunker specifically
designed to protect them from Nuclear weapons.
They socialised politely in small groups around
strategically placed monitors, which were
broadcasting music and cute pictures. The airconditioning made the people feel comfortable, as
if they were enjoying a late summer evening in
the park with their families. Only the hiss from
the ventilation and the sodium lighting detracted
from this image.
David William Kirby
The television monitors suddenly burst into life

as the same transmission flashed across every
screen. A postcard snap of the Whitehouse at
night was displayed to the sound of God Bless
America droning in the background.
At last! a woman said stroking her hair before
adjusting her seat to see the screen better.
Lets hope we can get this over with now. Said
another anxiously waiting to hear what was
happening.
Anticipation swept through the bunker, down its
miles of corridors, passages and gardens. It
crept through its canteens and restaurants, over
its crop-halls and living quarters. Silence
replaced idle gossip and thousands of inquisitive
eyes looked towards the flashing screens.
The camera scanned the podium and a voice
announced the president of the United States. One
person remarked that there hadnt been an
election so legally this person was not the
President.
This remark was lost in the conditioned air as
the old man walked to the microphone and held it
tightly with both hands. His gold ring flashed in
the spotlights.
Friends. The old man said as his craggy face
filled the bright screens. Friends.
He cleared his throat and peered intently into
the camera before continuing.
You have been called to these places tonight for
what was called a drill. He looked around the
room he was standing in toward the director and
soundman before the auto cue was rolled on
further.
Im sorry, he continued. This is not a drill.
David William Kirby
A woman in a silk evening dress dropped her glass

of wine and the red wine splashed her white gown
sending glass splinters across the floor. She
raised her hand to her mouth and gasped.
Not the gulf? she whispered to no-one in
particular.
Its not the damned gulf a man said at her
side. This is the fucking deficit; you watch.
I am sorry to bring you this terrible news, the
president continued. His voice seemed weary and
his craggy face appeared more miserable then
usual; whether this was real nor not, they
couldnt decide; but this made him more human.
For reasons of national Security I cannot go
into detail. The president said. But, we have
the support the international community and every
other alternative was explored before a military
option was looked at. Sometimes there isnt any
other choice to be taken except the military
option.
This country has tried hard to avoid conflict but
it hasnt worked. We cant just let these people
attack our people, our way of life, our freedoms
and take it sitting. Sometimes you have to fight,
especially when that fight is the right thing to
do.
It is the gulf. A man hissed looking away from
the screen briefly and remembering his children
on holiday in Jordan. They were probably already
dead he thought.
I gave the executive order this morning under
the code name Red Sun. We anticipate Europe being
the first to be affected and that the disorder
will spread across the globe from there. I have
ordered us here now to be in readiness in case
the disorder spreads faster than anticipated.
David William Kirby
After our first strike against Iran they will

strike at Israel and then again at European
targets. China has pledged to support the Gulf
States and so we could come under attack across
the Pacific or the Atlantic. We are prepared for
both possibilities He cleared his throat and
drank a sip of the water on the podium by his
side.
In the captive audience a sense of shock spread
like the disorder he was talking about. Some
people trembled thinking about their loved, ones
who were not there, with them.
Others wept softly wishing they had stayed at
home with their pets while yet others giggled
nervously thinking that biblical prophecy was
being played out at last; just like the
preachers had told them.
What about the people up top? a woman said
aloud wondering about her elderly relatives.
Will they get medical attention and help?
Who gives a shit. Another man said loudly while
swigging from a champagne bottle.
War produces casualties and Im sick of this
country taking it up the arse.
Dont be so wicked. The woman replied as she
turned towards the screen again.
God bless America. A man shouted.
Tonight. The president went on. Let us pray
for those caught up in the conflict unfolding
above our heads. Let us remember that they die
for our continuing freedoms and that once the
ashes have cooled; we will continue.
Everlasting Peace will be hewn from war. Death
will enable life. Our civilisation will go on,
this is not the end; just a beginning of the new
paradigm.
David William Kirby
As the great bells of Notre Dame tolled Eleven

Oclock fire fell from the sky. Sleeping babies
opened their eyes just in time to see the world
destroyed; their tiny lives wasted.
People dancing in nightclubs along the Rhine
wished the music would go on forever unaware that
it would go on for eternity.
A drunken German raised his glass and toasted the
fireball as it burst above his head, spreading
fire and radio-active brimstone.
In the valleys of the Brittany a young couple
grope one another through their soft summer
clothing; hot and alive with the first pangs of
youth. They hoped this feeling would last
forever; never dreaming that it would.
In Antwerp a young lad lays still upon his bed
clutching a crucifix to his heart. The windows
are flung wide to the warm evening air as he sees
an apparition on the horizon. The boy sits up as
it creeps across the sky and fills the room with
light. He melts with joy.
FLASH WHITE FLASH
WHITE HOT HEAT
Burning, searing, roasted, toasted, flaming
futures. Cracking splitting bloated maggot-ridden
features.
Death rides the vortex.
A thousand cloven hooves stamp across the sky,
trampling the cities to dust and dancing upon the
destruction
David William Kirby
Part 111
The road To Glory
Go prostrate yourself
at the knee of your master
be a plaything of men
and wander a painted harlot;
ravishing with sweet scent
and Chinese colouring in the streets.
Darken thou eye pits with kohl
thou hast tinted thou lips with vermilion;
Thou hast plastered thou cheeks with ivory
enamels.
Thou hast played the wanton
in every gate and byway of the Great City.
The men have lusted after thee
to abuse and to beat.
They have mouthed golden spangles of fine dust
Wherewith thou did bedeck thine hair.
They have scourged the painted flesh of thee
with their whips
And you have suffered unspeakable things.
But I have burned within you as a pure flame
without oil.
In the midnight I have been brighter than the
Moon,
in the daytime I have
exceeded utterly the Sun.
In the byways of your being I flamed and
dispelled any illusion.
Therefore
Thou art wholly pure before me,
therefore
thou art my virgin unto eternity.
(Kindly reproduced from: A.C The Holy Books:Liber 4)
David William Kirby
The Planet looked pale and stormy as it spun on

its axis in the twilight of space, between the
sparkling stars and other revolving planets.
Nothing had changed up there; it was still, dark,
cold and empty; infinite. But down there nothing
would ever be the same again.
Earth had changed forever, now a twisted ball of
radioactive dust, floating like a human cell in
the universal bloodstream.
She was a cell on the verge of cancerous
malignancy, crashing through the heavens in orbit
of the Sun, a tumour of caustic blue. Trailing
death in her wake only the angels knew her true
face.
Dense radioactive clouds battled through the deep
valleys and open plains leaving only stinking
death and destruction behind.
The Suns rays were filtered by the clouds, so
only the ultra violet broke through, to the
surface of the scarred planet.
The savage landscape, the murdered landscape held
few living things, it was the wasted time. It was
a period where history died having no one to
record it properly; a second dark age. Only, it
was, so much darker.
The bombs were followed by a cold period, short
by the planets age but lengthy, too lengthy if
your ribs showed through your tight skin and your
mouth was dry and cracked.
Too lengthy if your parents were dead or dying
and your childlike eyes had never looked for food
or warmth or water.
David William Kirby
Ashen the ground iced over and the cold winds

blew snow across the frozen bodies. Fierce
strokes of lightening shocked the skies and
announced the fall of acid rain. Yet, in all this
chaos of rotting flesh and disease, life hung on
tenderly.
The desolate sphere, once gloriously blue and
green, spinning among the stars now ashen and
grey; could still give birth to life.
Not just on the burned and scorched, cold and
windy surface. Deep beneath the scarred soil
encased in steel and walls of stone, breathing
filtered air and smoking cigarettes; eating
hamburgers with fries on the side.
They were seen every now and then, these elusive
creatures, emerging from their underground lairs
like rats in white plastic suits. They took
samples and tested the water before sneaking off,
thieves in the night; with their bounty tight in
plastic containers.
They knew they were being spied upon, that behind
rocks watched crooked eyes in faces of stone. The
red skins as they were called, those who had not
melted, or turned to vapour.
Those former humans, whose humanity was seared
away, in a flash of burnt-flesh-seconds. Their
charred faces, hairless heads and septic sores,
festered with all manner of infection.
They watched and waited.
Yet these things managed to feed themselves by
banding together in small supportive groups;
petty tribes. They scavenged for food, for clean
water, clothing and other necessities like
insects have always done; as humanity found a
way.
David William Kirby
While forever keeping watch for them, those

underground mysteries, being vigilant in case
they should emerge to cause more violence. To
bring more terror and more pain into that scarred
world.
Sometimes, as the months turned to years, the
Under Grounders, as they were called, would
appear from their tombs in small raiding parties.
They were seen carrying strange weapons that
would stun their redskin prey into animal
submission.
These redskins were taken underground to become
slaves, or worse, behind the silo doors. Never to
be seen above ground again.
Some did escape, as the years passed and they
told of their ordeal to gasping crowds around
starlit bonfires. How those who refused to work
were tortured and subjected to surgical
experimentation. The under grounders were
fascinated by the mutations caused by years of
radioactive exposure.
They filled in long questionnaires about sources
of water, food and clothing. They researched and
studied what illnesses radioactive poisoning
caused; or weather mutations produced immune
responses? Asked questions, probed and poked,
prodded and pushed.
If they found a young child they were eager to
dissect the sample redskin to gauge internal
mutations. They did not care that the sample was
a pitiful life, which was cherished and loved by
other pitiful specimens.
The years became decades and the decades became
centuries as the march of time turned wood to
dust and the Earth healed herself. The burned and
poisoned landscape slowly turned into fertile
plains and grasslands.
David William Kirby
Great forests breathed new air into the

atmosphere and around the silo doors, as small
animals inherited the earth, moss and ivy grew.
One day a redskin boy, while minding his own
business left his village for a walk in the cow
pasture. He took off his shirt in the warm summer
sun and relaxed upon the moss covered stone that
he had known since he was an infant.
It was a big rectangular stone that looked at
odds with its environment. Among the moss and
twine-weed was what appeared to be a hatch of
some sort although he had never seen it open and
wasnt even sure if it could.
As a child he was told the stone was the door
which led to the bowls of the Earth and from
where demons and spirits could enter their world.
He was told it was a bad place and should be
avoided. Curiosity had always made him wonder why
it was bad and what could be so wrong with a
stone, after all?
He liked to sit and look at it, particularly on
hot summer days when the village seemed crowded
and noisy. There was something strange about this
stone that fascinated his enquiring little mind.
It may have been its shape, or the way it was
made and the material that was used. It did not
appear to be made of the same stone every other
rock around it.
It also appeared to be new although he was told
rock was ageless; there since the creation of the
universe. He had been told that if he misbehaved
the creatures that inhabited the stone would come
at night and drag him away; never to be seen
again.
He smiled remembering these stories and how the
myths used to scare him. There was a particular
story his father used to tell.
David William Kirby
It was about the night of fire. It was a terrible

time when all the women of the village were
struck down with some sort of swamp fever. Struck
down in the night by a monstrous virus that did
not affect the men.
A night when lives were wasted and great cries of
grief rang out through the village. Flashes of
lightening cracked the heavens above and all the
world was gripped by chaos.
These people were nursed by family members who
called their disease Death Rot. It may have
been another mutation but differed from the
others in that it stuck people suddenly and only
affected girls and women.
The first symptoms were mild, a sudden headache,
dry mouth and skin complaints. Then a tremor
began in the arms and legs. These progressed into
mad shaking and then the rot set in. The skin
burst into sickening sores which oozed slime and
a foul smelling liquid.
If you dabbed the slime it pulled the skin away
down to the bone and eventually the whole body
turned into a thick sludge while the person
slowly died. The disease had not been seen before
and not been seen since. It struck on the evening
that he had been born.
The villagers were convinced that the fire and
the Death Rot were caused by the same thing, but
his father had more to think about.
He had to bury his wife, the mother of his new
born child before worrying about unexplained
phenomena. The child was unexpected but would be
loved; being born without any mutations or
defects except for a small mark upon its
forehead.
David William Kirby
As the fire burned, somewhere deep below the

surface a man looked at a small computer screen
and sniffed.
What the fuck is happening up there? Another
man, dressed in a crisp white shirt asked as he
leant over his companions shoulder and inspected
the screen.
Theres been some overheating around the
ventilation ducts.
Oh, is that whats caused the conflagration?
Yes the man replied. The guys in the labs
vented their fume hoods and because they were
venting genetic material they followed it with a
blast of heat. The foliage up there was too dry
and it caused a fire.
Any collateral damage?
No. the man replied. Theres a village nearby
the vent and they may have experienced some
damage but nothing too bad.
Good, keep up the good work. The man said
walking away to a desk and sitting behind his
computer monitor.
The boy though about the story of that night and

wondered what life would have been like if his
mother had not died. He was happy, the village
was pretty and clean, with good water and food.
The river was supplied by a spring and it ran
into a lake which had good fish to eat.
They also grew crops of rye and wheat which his
father made into flour for bread or cakes. They
hauled their ploughs with horses and collected
wood for the fires. Some people had resurrected
the old metal furnaces and so good iron tools
were available for barter.
David William Kirby
As he sat on the rock and thought about how

beautiful the field and pastures looked in that
warm summer sun, the boy heard a sound.
He listened closely and realised that it appeared
to be coming from where he sat. Jumping up with a
start and ran a little before curiosity took over
from the initial panic. He stopped and hid behind
a small bush towards the place he had been
daydreaming.
The sound, a clicking, became more pronounced
until it became a buzz and this became a whir.
Then among the moss and twine-weed a crack of
light appeared around the square in the rock. A
door was opening and the boy felt himself fill
with dread.
He was unsure why, perhaps it was the stories
hed been told about the monsters that dwelt in
these places; but he was overtaken with a panic
such like hed never felt before.
Then he saw them. Several ghosts emerged from the
rock dressed from head to toe in white plastic
suits; they had no faces just blank black squares
where their eyes should have been. These were
the monsters he had been told about. Once again
his curiosity overcame his fear and he stood on
tip-toes to get a better look.
The one in front held a rod
appeared to be looking at a
other. Another seemed to be
samples and placing them in
contraption and taking note
gave.
in one hand and

box held in the
collecting soil
a strange looking
of the readings it
Then the one in front lowered his wand and

started to unzip his head. The others appeared to
be studying him and, to the boys surprise the
monster pealed back the black square to reveal a
face. These were not monsters, they were men, men
with masks on.
David William Kirby
The face was deathly white with large

and a mop of dry grey hair. He took a
and exhaled with a smile.
Its okay, men. He said to the rest
party. Im reading a pollution level
well below the level we expected.
grey eyes
deep breath
of the
of 00.6,
The others took their hoods off and the boy saw
that some were young and others were women. They
were all very white skinned and seemed relieved
that they could breath the air. The elder man
looked at the group and continued to address
them.
At last he said. We can come out from our
underground prisons and live in the light of the
Sun; today history is being made. Today we can
rise up from our pits and take our place in the
new world order we have created. Today we can
become kings over the land and rule again, in the
name of our God.
Upon hearing this, the boy turned and crept away
from the scene, hearing the others clapping in
the background. He crept through the trees like a
scared animal running from a predator; in fear of
those white faces and those grey steely eyes.
He ran as fast as he could back to the village.
He did not understand quite why but he knew he
wanted to get away from them, to gather his
belonging and find some remote place he could
hide away in. He ran and as he did so a mighty
roar filled the catacombs beneath his feat; a
cheer rang out among the steel and concrete, the
Under grounders were coming up.
A farmer was tending his crops in the field a

short distance from the village when he saw
something strange coming toward him. In the
David William Kirby
distance there was a line of people, he became

stiff with fear seeing the strange way they were
dressed and their deathly expressions.
Some carried small boxes which they held in front
of themselves. They made noises or lit up and
seemed to be giving the strangers indications of
what was around them; digital readings of air
pressure and pollution levels.
Then they were upon him, one gripped his hand
tightly in a terrifying grasp that made his
fingers hurt; shaking it violently as the others
formed a circle around him.
Friends, the deathly white stranger said with a
snarl to the assembled group. I have led you
triumphantly from the grave into the new dawn of
civilisation. We have spent too long amongst the
rotting flesh of our ancestors, too long in the
cradle of warfare; forced to feed upon the scraps
we could harvest without benefit of sunlight.
Never seeing or hearing the birds flying above
our heads in the sunlit clouds; never to feel the
chill of the wind on our faces. We were cursed to
live in the tunnels of our forefathers; but no
more. Never again.
He looked at the man whose hand he was shaking
and smiled.
Look at this savage. He and his people have
waited patiently for us to come and show them
what can be done with this world.
How man can manipulate its bounties and reign
over its dominions. We have risen, like our Lord,
and we are here to take our place on the throne
of this kingdom. Today the New World Order has
arrived.
The assembled crowd was getting bigger and bigger
as more people joined him. They roared with
approval and some clapped his words which only
David William Kirby
made the farmer more nervous. When the white man

had let his hand go the farmer shirked and pushed
his way through the crowd and ran back to the
village; frightened out of his wits.
There goes the real hero! the man continued.
In the eyes of that savage you can see the
suffering his people have had to contend with. We
must be gentle with them; it will take them a
while to get used to our ways but in the end it
will be worth it. Where are the armed men?
Here, Mr President. A soldier from the rear
shouted. He pushed through the crowd with several
others and they cocked their weapons in
readiness.
That savage and his ancestors, those that burned
in the fire of our miss-judgment, they will take
time to come around. All we can do is promise not
to repeat the mistakes of our forefathers and add
with that promise a sincere wish to restore the
world to its former glory.
We shall organise his people and bring
civilisation. We shall restore our empire and
bring about a new Rome to this planet again; in
the name of our Father, Amen. Now
He added smugly while lighting up a cigar.
...Lets show these fuckers whose boss.
Four Years Later

Deep within a forest far away from any others a
house stood. It was a house built with love,
single story, made of logs and shingle roof but
with a warm hearth and all that was needed for
comfort.
The man who built it planned to farm the land in
time but, for now, had just catered for himself
David William Kirby
and the small boy he cared for. This was the boy
who had once hid behind a rock when the strangers
emerged from their deep underground military
bases. He had gathered his things; including his
father, and they had run here to this place.
A well had been dug and a lone pair of hands had
watered the small crop which was sown. In the
thick forest a farm now grew from the land; they
were happy there, the boy and his father.
Son! A voice echoed through the trees.
Neits, my boy, where are you?
Here father. Neits answered. He looked up from
where he was sitting towards the hut in the
clearing beyond. Im here, with the goats.
He saw the top of his fathers head come over the
small hill that separated him from the hut. As
his father approached he thought about the time
that had passed since they had arrived in this
lonely, beautiful place.
He had been eight years old and his father had
carried him on his shoulders most of their
journey to that place. He remembered how they had
lived in a tent until the logs for the hut had
been cut and the well dug.
How great it had seemed to at last come in from
the cold and light a fire in the hearth, how safe
he felt there. He remembered, in the mornings he
would open the hut door and find wild animals in
the yard, visiting the new residents of the great
forest and was amazed at how tame they were.
The only thing that had disturbed his happiness
was the memory of the day he had seen them come
from beneath the earth. Those white faced
monsters with their plastic suits and machines.
Now, the only time he saw them was in his dreams,
he would wake up frightened and his father would
have to comfort him back to sleep. In his mind he
David William Kirby
saw them amidst strange symbols and echoes of

dreams which he did not understand.
Sometimes, when he was daydreaming he would
remember one of the symbols and in his minds eye
wonder what it was; he knew it was familiar but
from where confused him.
Neits, snap out of your day dream. His father
said when he reached him. There is wood to be
collected and I have made you some food. Eat and
then do your chores, the goats will feed
themselves.
The boy stood up and patted the nearest goat upon
its head before following his father back to the
hut. He looked up at the giant of a man, the man
who had raised him since the night of the Death
Rot, the night his mother had died.
He followed trying to keep up with the large
steps his father was able to make but never being
able too without tripping. They sat at the table
his father had crafted from four planks of wood
and ate the food placed there.
It was a rabbit stew and it tasted good. His
father had cooked it early that day in the big
pot they had brought with them from the village.
The smell seemed to fill the whole hut and it
smelt as good as it tasted.
This is lovely. The boy said wolfing it back.
Its amazing what the forest provides, His
father replied. If you know what you are looking
for. One day Im going to clean one of those
goats and make a real meal, a roast or
something.
This made the boy stop eating. He knew by saying
clean his father meant to kill and butcher the
animal. The thought of eating one of his pet
goats filled him with horror. His father smiled
and laughed aloud.
David William Kirby
Dont worry, I wont take any of your precious

animals yet, but one day we may have too. Get
used to the idea.
Beside two beds and the table the hut had just a
dresser with drawers for their clothing and a
comfortable chair his father snoozed in when the
fire was blazing.
Next to the table was a hole cut into the wall
which served as a window. It was secured in bad
weather by means of two shutters that seldom
served their purpose; blowing open frequently and
being no defence against hard rain. Still it was
comfortable and provided the pair with security
and a roof over their heads.
As they continued to eat, Niets looked over his
fathers shoulders, and out the window. He peered
towards the row of trees in the distance and the
mountains beyond them.
The sky seemed huge, even through the square
window, and was alive with birds and clouds. He
imagined himself there rising in the air, high
above the trees and looking at the hut far below.
He felt himself fly like a bird, or better still
a spirit; restricted by no mortal constraints.
Unchained and flying far above the world into the
stratosphere beyond until he could wrap his arms
around the universe.
Then, in the mist of this vision he saw a face
staring back at him out of the blackness. He saw
a face that could destroy everything.
Snap yourself out of your dreams boy! his
father snapped. Ive never know anyone so dreamy
before, the way you drift off into a trance every
time you sit still for a few minutes. Look how
cold your food is getting; Im sure all this
vagueness cant be good for you.
David William Kirby
I have nothing else to do, the boy replied.

Except think and I like thinking.
Your food has got cold again, His father said.
Do you know that in the village there are people
who would murder for such a feast; and cold at
that. You have been spoilt.
Yes father. The boy replied trying to place
that face in his mind; where had he seen it
before, was there a name that matched it?
Youve always been a daydreamer, ever since you
were a child. Off you would go and Id never be
sure if youd come out the other side. Perhaps if
you had a mother
The man looked at the boy and smiled sadly. Niets
looked back and smiled too.
I hear they are rebuilding a city where the
village used to be? He said through a mouthful
of food.
...One of the Great Cities from olden times.
Madness, he father replied. They said that the
land was contaminated and that no crops could
grow there; although crops have grown there for
years. Good crops at that.
Then, when the farmer
decide the ground can
about the man and his
that land. What about
had been tufted out they

be built on. What, I ask,
family that depended on
them?
The old man looked over at the boy and said.

Anyhow Son. How do you know about the cities
from the past, surely Ive not mentioned them?
No father. The boy replied. Before we came
here Id heard people tell stories about them.
What stories?
You know. The boy said collecting his thoughts.
David William Kirby
A long time ago there was a great civilisation,

where people had machines which flew and others
that replaced the horse.
They had great power but it was used to destroy
them. There were ruins near the village and we
used to play in them. My friends and I.
They had power the old man said. But they
were stupid and greedy. Some people ate gold
while others ate dirt. In time this gold poisoned
them. The man sighed and rubbed his chin.
All they left behind was stone and rusting
steel...Neits interjected. ... even that will
turn to dust in time. Then there will be nothing
left to remind us of their stupid civilisation.
If only that were true. The old man said with a
long sigh.
People make a civilisation and if they are
building the cities again then they are building
the system that previously destroyed them. People
never learn.
Ive seen people. The boy said with a cheeky
grin. Ive talked to them..
What?
Ive seen them from time to time in the forest.
Travelling people; I dont think they liked what
was going on and have moved away like we did.
Why didnt you mention this too me before. His
father asked with a note of concern.
I thought youd be angry that Id wandered off
so far. I wanted to tell you, really I did,
especially the news Id heard.
What news is that? his father asked placing his
spoon down on the table and looking at the boy
intently.
Ive heard them say the white people are forming
an army of slaves.
David William Kirby
So you have spoken to these people, these

strangers?
Yes.
Didnt I tell you never to speak to strangers?
his father bellowed. Its dangerous.
Im sorry father but I was interested to know
what was happening outside this forest.
What did they say then, these people?
They talk about the whites having weapons and
using them to enslave the villagers. They call us
redskins, they stop them growing food and make
them buy it with coins which you can only get if
you work for them.
They say their land has been taken and then they
are charged to return to it. It sounds
All too familiar. His father interjected.
Please tell me if you see any others, boy, the
old man said thoughtfully. It could be
important.
A few days later Neits was walking in the forest.
It was another hot, humid day and he was looking
for a perfect place to sit and ponder the beauty
of the world.
There was so much to see, the moss creeping up
the side of young oaks, huge crab-apple mushrooms
and green vines everywhere. In trees, over the
rocks and among the lush grass on which he stood,
natures beauty was everywhere.
He had travelled quite far and was thirsty when
he came across a clear fresh-water pond. It had a
small water fall at one end and was surrounded by
a thick fringe of reeds. He stripped off his
clothing and stepped into the water to escape the
high mid-day sun.
Diving forward he was swallowed up by the
refreshing fluid. He felt it caress his skin like
David William Kirby
a film as he held his breath and swam. All was

silent in that other world of fish and stone
under the surface.
Then he was rising for air as his lungs could be
held stiff no longer. He shook the water from his
hair and looked back towards the bank. His
clothes, which had been left folded were now
strewn around in a mess although he could not see
anyone. He stood erect and looked more closely
but there was no-one there, not even an animal.
Stepping cautiously from the water he heard a
sharp crack come from the tree line and this made
his stop suddenly.
Is anyone there? he shouted. His voice echoed
in the clearing and died out on the whistle of a
soft breeze. Who is that, answer me?
He stepped from the water and quickly pulled on
his pants and lifted a rock to defend himself.
Who is there?
There was a rustle in the nearby bushes and a
shadow moved. Neits looked closer as a small boy
emerged. He was dressed in rags and had no shoes
on his feet but his eyes were clear and his skin
red so Neits did not feel frightened.
He noticed the boy had the same coloured hair and
was about the same height, he smiled gently, and
walked to wards him while dropping the rock to
his feet.
Hello. Neits said.
Hello, the boy replied. My name is Adam, who
are you?
Neits looked into the boys clear brown eyes and
saw something that indicated friendliness, a
certain frailty, something in the sparkle of his
pupils that made him feel at ease.
My name is Neits. He replied.
David William Kirby
What are you doing in the forest? The stranger

asked excitedly. Are you wanted by the cops?
The cops? Neits replied. Who are they?
You know, the boy laughed. The cops, the
police. Surely you know who the police are?
Neits looked blankly at the boy and shrugged.
Theyre after me, Im an enemy of the state,
thats what they call people like me, you know,
thieves.
Thieves?
Yes, thieves. I stole an apple and that makes me
a thief. The cops can lock you up for stealing so
I ran away. Did you run away?
Not really. Neits replied putting his shirt on.
Me and my father came here to live some time
ago.
Your father, you have a father? The boy said
eagerly. I had a father once but the cops killed
him.
Was he a thief too?
Yes, the boy replied wide eyed. But he didnt
steal apples, he went after their weapons. He
thought the cops would leave us alone if we had
guns.
Did they? Niets asked softly. Did they leave
you alone?
No, the boy said softly. They killed my father
and tried to kill me. The stranger looked about
with a wide look in his eyes before asking.
Do you live in a tree house. If I lived in this
forest I would live in a tree house. That way you
could catch birds and fry their eggs for
breakfast. Do you catch birds and fry their
eggs?
David William Kirby
No. Neits answered. We have chickens and we

cook their eggs.
Can you keep chickens in a tree house then?
We dont live in a tree house, we have a proper
house.
Really? the boy said excitedly. Youre lucky,
I wish I had a proper house. Is it near here?
Not far.
Me and my parents had a house once, when I was a
baby. They pulled it down and started to build
Europa on the land.
What is Europa? Neits asked.
Youre funny. The boy smiled. He picked up a
stone and tossed it into the pond. Europa is the
city they are building; its a long way from
here.
Is that where the cops are?
Yha, but I think they are following me. Wed
better look out because I dont want to be locked
up. Thats what they do. My father told me before
they killed him, theyll lock you up and throw
away the key.
You said you had parents, two parents?
Yes? Adam replied looking at Neits with a half
smile.
Like, a mother as well as a father?
You are really funny. Of course I had a mother
but I had to leave her when my father was killed.
She was taken by Whitey, thats what my father
called them. The men with the guns.
The cops?
Theyre white too but the others have guns as
well and they are not cops. They say theyre
called da boss. If you speak to them you have to
say yes boss, no boss. Like that, understand?
I think so.
The whitey work with the cops.
David William Kirby
Ive got a great idea. Adam exclaimed. Why

dont we swap clothes, then if I run into the
cops or whitey they wont know if its me or not.
Theyll not know what Im wearing.
You want me to give you my clothes? Neits said
nervously; knowing that his father would not be
happy if he gave his clothes away, especially his
shoes.
I couldnt do that, my father would
Tell him you gave your clothes to me. Adam said
cutting Neits off in mid sentence. If you tell
him why we had to swap Im sure he would
understand.
I dont know.
Look, have this as well, its my only
possession. Adam pulled back his sleeve and on
his wrist was a thick band made of twisted
leather. A girl gave it to me. Its a love
token.
A love token?
Yes, that means she loved me. The boy took the
band off and passed it over. Neits looked at the
band closely, it was frayed and stained and was
not very strong but the way it was weaved
intrigued him.
Okay. He said simply.
I liked her but I didnt love her, she was a
mutant. Have you got any mutants around here?
No.
They started to undress and change clothes while
Adam told him about the mutants that lived in
Europa. He said that there was a whole area that
only mutants could enter and even the cops
wouldnt go there because they were afraid.
He said that if he needed help he knew some who
David William Kirby
would hide him for a while or feed him if he was

hungry. Then with a cheeky smile the boy
whispered something.
My mother died too.
Really? Niets replied.
Yha, a long time ago, before I was born.
Oh.
The he was gone leaving nothing of him behind
except his dirty rags and the thin leather band.
Neits walked through the trees until he started
to see things that he recognized. As the hut came
into view he thought back to his meeting with
Adam and wondered what the boy was doing now and
where he had gone.
It occurred to him that they were very similar,
both without mothers, both lost in the new world
order that had been created since the under
grounders had come out of their lairs; both
outsiders.
He felt as if the boy was closer then he should
have been, like a brother of sorts and this
feeling made him happy.
His father was sitting in his old chair beside
the glowing hearth. He looked tired and old
having probably been cutting wood and looking
after the animals since the sun rose. He opened a
wary eye as the boy closed the door to the hut.
Where have you been all day? the old man asked.
Then he sat forwards and looked at the rags Neits
was wearing. Where are your clothes, and your
shoes?
I met a stranger in the forest and he needed by
help.
His father stood suddenly and grabbed the boys
shoulders.
David William Kirby
Where are your shoes? It took me ages to make

them from our leather. What have you done with
them?
He was being chased and needed to change his
clothes so that he could escape. He gave me
this Neits held up his wrist and the leather
band that was tied loosely around it.
Bhaa! The old man spat. You have been conned.
Look at these rags, I cant believe you gave your
shoes away having seen how long it took me to
make them. Now, where am I going to get more
leather to make you shoes?
He sat down and looked at the fire before saying
gently. Youre too good, people will use you.
Im sorry father.
The stranger. His father said with a sigh.
Yes?
You said he was escaping?
Yes?
From what, what was he escaping?
He was a boy like me. Neits replied. He said
he came from the city and his father had been
killed. He said he was hungry and took an apple.
This made the cops angry and they were looking
for him.
You foolish boy. The old man said wearily. It
sounds like he spun you a yarn to deprive you of
your shoes.
Its true. Neits said. He told me that the
cops have weapons and they use these to make
people work for them; that they kill you if you
dont do as they ask. Or throw away the key
And you let this boy con you? the old man
replied grabbing the boys arm. Tell me, did he
David William Kirby
ask where we lived. Did he see what direction you

left in?
I dont think so.
Its important, we dont want them to find us do
we?
Who father? the boy asked.
His father let go of his arm and smiled gently.
Theres food over there, on the table. After you
have eaten we will
He stopped in mid sentence and listened hard.
What is it father?
Hush your mouth boy. his father listened
carefully and gazed towards the window. Then he
took the boy in his arms and walked to the bed.
He stooped down and pushed the bed up a little
before stuffing the boy under it.
Not one sound. He said holding his finger to
his lips.
His father arranged the bedclothes into a curtain
so that they covered the space under it. Neits
heard his father shuffle about in the room and
wondered what was going on, he closed his eyes
and listened hard and then behind the sound of
his fathers movements he heard another sound.
At first he thought it was the wind blowing
through the trees. Yet it appeared to be a single
note, like a pipe of something being blown. It
was a sound hed never heard before and it was
getting louder.
Then the faint note became a hum, a clear deep
hum in the distance. It was the sound of a
machine and it was getting louder and more
intense. He heard the sound of his father open
the door and step into the twilight beyond as the
summer sun slowly left the sky. A sky blood red
with omen.
As the door opened the hum became a loud buzzing
and it reverberated about the room like the sound
David William Kirby
of a banshee. Splitting the warm air, rancid and

frightening. Neits lowered his face and pressed
it into the floorboards hoping they would swallow
him up.
His father walked into the yard beyond the hut
and knew in his heart that their adventure was
over. A could of dust was being thrown into the
night air over the hill and as it came closer his
heart sank.
They were then upon him, a convoy of three
motorcycles and outriders followed by a large
square truck. They spewed black exhaust gasses
into the clean air as they turned the last corner
and the smell got into his nostrils and made him
feel sick.
When they had
riders turned
driver of the
throttled the
pulled to a halt by the hut their

off the deafening engines while the
truck kept his running and
engine occasionally.
A cloud of dust settled around them as the first

rider got off his engine and approached the old
man.
His hair was long and greasy, there was black
engine oil on his face and his breath smelt of
dead fish. He smiled wickedly walking around the
old man before taking a long baton from his belt
and smashing it against his hand.
Identity papers? He spat.
I dont understand Neits father answered.
What are identity papers?
Are you a fool or something old man; give me
your identity papers.
The others got off their bikes and approached
them and he trembled more seeing the large iron
bars they carried menacingly.
Ive been in this forest for several years, I
dont have any papers.
David William Kirby
Dont lie Old man, the first rider said poking

him in the gut with his baton. There was a
census last year, everyone was given identity
papers, a number and passbook. Only thieves and
criminals didnt get registered. What are you a
thief or a criminal?
Ive been in this forest for well over a year, I
havent seen anyone in that time, I wasnt part
of your census.
The lead cyclist looked at his fellow riders and
turned slightly before swinging round and
smashing his baton in the old mans face. This
sent him sprawling across the floor.
You think youre clever, dont you old man?
He looked at his friends and one of them gave him
a piece of paper.
Were looking for an absconder, a mutant boy, if
I find you are hiding him youll be in serious
trouble.
Im just a simple farmer, Ive done no harm to
you. No keep out of there
It was no good, the group entered the hut and
started to throw the furniture about in a frenzy.
Then one of them pulled back the bed and Neits
was left exposed to them.
As expected. The lead rider said pulling the
boy to his feet by the scruff of his neck. He
dragged him outside. Give me the description?
Male, boy.
Check.
Fair hair. The other said.
Check.
Five two approx.
Check.
Brown eyes.
Check.
David William Kirby
Utility suit No: 321.

The rider pulled back the boys neck line and read
the number printed within.
Check, this is the little bastard.
What about the scar? the other rider asked.
Where was it?
It dont say. Just see if he has any
distinguishing marks.
The rider pulled back Neits fringe and looked at
the scar he had on his forehead.
Yha, this is the little cunt.
He threw the boy to another of the riders who
clutched him tightly in a hug. Then he walked to
the old man still prostrate on the floor and
spat.
I told you that youd be in trouble if you were
harbouring a mutant. What have you got to say
before I pass sentence?
Believe me. The old man cried. He is my son,
we have lived here since he was a child. Please
do not take him.
Hes your son?
Yes.
Then why were you hiding him? He gestured for
the others to put the boy into the truck.
Father. Neits cried out as he was dragged away.
The last thing he saw before the back of the
truck was closed was the lead rider lift his
baton and bring it down in a mighty arch into his
fathers scull.
There was a loud crack and blood splattered up
the baton. Then there was blackness as the door
was closed.
Father, what are they doing to you? he
screamed.
Then a loud crack shot out in the night. It was
as if a cannon had been fired into the vehicle
David William Kirby
for the sound bounced from steel wall to steel

wall in an every decreasing echo.
Neits then realised that his life would never be
the same again, it was the end of his blissful
childhood.
That single loud clap announced the dawning of a
new era, a time for him to feed himself, wash his
own face and mourn the memories of old. Why, he
though, as the truck rattled into motion,
throwing him against the steel doors.
Why, does life have to be so hard, when all he
wanted was to live in peace? Why does life insist
on being so difficult?
He thought about what the riders had said. Was he
a mutant? Surely this was not true, he had eight
fingers and two thumbs, two eyes in his head, two
ears. His legs and arms worked properly.
The mutants he had seen in the distant past had
problems with one or all of these things. No, he
thought, they were clearly speaking about Adam,
after all, it was he that they sought.
The truck rumbled on and on and on. Never ceasing
its incessant shaking, sometime lurching to the
left, sometimes to the right, the van
occasionally appeared to stop suddenly throwing
him across the floor.
It was on one such occasion that Neits heard the
driver shout at the top of his lungs that they
were nearing their destination, Capitol City.
Here we come, the driver announced, as the van
tumbled down a steep incline and over a rocky
path. He wondered what this could mean having
thought they were taking him to a place called
Europa, wasnt that what Adam had called it, all
those bumpy hours ago?
David William Kirby
Then with a further roll and creek the van

shuddered to a halt and the noisy engine was
switched off. The motion had got into his bones
and he was left feeling quite sick having not
been use to such reeling and rolling. He sighed
and lifted his frail body as far as his knees in
silence, in darkness, listening.
He could hear many voices outside the truck, like
they had stopped in the midst of a flock of
geese. It was hot in there and he was thirsty,
his lips parched and dry cracked as they
desperately sought saliva from his dry mouth.
Then he heard a sharp clap on the side of the van
that made him start with fear. He looked towards
the back of the truck and hearing a scraping lock
being pulled the doors swung open flooding the
interior with light. Neits looked up through
squinting eyes and saw his fathers killer
smiling back at him.
You, in there. The man screamed. Stop acting
like a baby and make your way forward. Here, boy,
here, quickly.
Neits did as he was told picking himself up and
made his way towards the light, shielding his
eyes from its intense glow. Hiding the tears that
had collecting in them.
When he stepped down onto the greasy dirt he
found himself in an enclosure. There were people
everywhere and most of them looked like the man
now holding his arm tightly.
With long greasy hair and weapons strung about
their shoulders. Some though were like him,
dressed in the same rags and of a similar build
and age. This puzzled him.
He was led through a thick doorway which not only
boasted a sturdy wooden door but also an iron
David William Kirby
gate both of which were secured behind them after

he was pulled through.
He was dragged down a darkened hall and then led
into a small room. Several doors were set into
the wall that faced them all notable by their
ugliness and apparent strength.
Each door being equipped with no less than four
heavy bolts and two solid looking padlocks. The
boy wondered if these were intended to keep
people in or to lock would be thieves out; he
realised that soon enough he would find out.
One on, Governor. His guard called. Then, from
an opposite door a sound came. It was more of a
sullen groan then a reply and was followed by the
rattle of keys on a chain.
The door opened and with a creaking of
floorboards a huge beast of a man entered the
room. He was dressed like the others although his
long hair was tied back revealing a scarred and
burned face and his costume was covered in
ageless stains.
Lets be having you. The monster croaked as he
stepped across the room to a bolted door.
323, for you. the boys guard stated. Its the
absconder, you know the one, his keeper will be
collecting him soon enough.
Id better look after him then. The monster
replied. I go^ a lovely little room for
youere, he spat.
It wi^ suit ye good. Step this way litt^un.
Neits did as he was asked and became a prisoner
behind the huge door that was slammed behind him.
He listened as each of the four bolts were swung
back in place securing the door.
David William Kirby
Neits cursed under his breath thinking that he

would have howled out loud if the situation
hadnt been so desperately sad. It was slightly
amusing that the monster would think the boy
could break even one of the bolts.
After a while in the warm and stuffy room the boy
felt sleep begin to overtake him. A hard wooden
bench was the only piece of furniture in the room
and even that felt comfortable after his long
journey. He lay on it and closed his eyes.
Waves of relaxation swept over him and he slipped
down gently. Into the night he slept, into the
void of sleep and into the valley of dreams. Down
the valley beyond he flew and across the sweeping
field of trees to his old home. The one his
father had wrought from the forest floor.
There was the old man sitting beside a glowing
fire in his rocking chair. The hut was washed in
a soothing glow that made the boy heart feel
happy again. Neits peered into the hearth and saw
within the flickering embers another scene. A man
stood within a circle of fire engulfed in flames
and shouting strange names to the wind. His dark
hood and flowing robes shone scarlet and blue in
the light from the fire.
The man raised a sword above his head and cursed
the clouds as they rolled by. Then his eyes
turned and the two faced each other across a
void; an abyss of flowing magma.
323. Rouse yourself!
Neits sat up upon hearing the voice cut through
the thick air in his cell, he found the door had
been opened and his jailer towering over him.
Get up, littun, the monster spat. Youre
leaving.
Where am I going? Neits asked softly.
David William Kirby
Youll soon find out. The monster said before

turning on his heels and rattling the keys on his
chain.
He followed the man outside and was led to
another gate along a dingy corridor. Here the
monster took a set of chains and wrapped them
around the boys ankles.
He then led him by a further chain down another
hall beyond. The only sound to be heard as they
made their way was the deep, asthmatic wheezing
of the monster and the clanking of the chains on
the stone floor.
When, at last, they came to a huge wooden door
encrusted with steel bolts the monster directed
Neits towards a three legged stool and told him
to sit.
Am I to be collected? The boy asked as the
jailer sorted though his keys looking for the one
that fit.
Collected? the monster laughed as he tried
another key in the lock only to find it did not
fit.
Not collected, littun he repeated looking for
another key to try in the lock. The lock at last
clicked and the door swung open.
Youre to be sold.
The corridor filled with noise and light as the
monster let out a huge laugh pulling the door
back to revel a courtyard crawling with activity.
The monster waved the boy through the door before
locking it up afterwards.
Neits found himself in a large round courtyard
full of people walking in an ever decreasing
circle. Once they reached the centre they joined
the outside of the spiral and did the walk again.
What do you mean, the boy asked the jailer.
What do you mean by sold?
David William Kirby
I mean littun, the monster replied leading the

boy through the centre of the spiral towards
another gate on the other side of the yard.
That your previous master has been dune with yo.
You been offered up for auction.
That cant be. The boy said as he looked up at
the ogre. Im not a slave, Ive never been owned
by anybody.
Save yo lies for the scum in the auction
cellar. The jailer said as he tugged the boy
forward.
But its true. Neits screamed. I was living
with my father, I met a boy in the woods and we
swapped clothing; it was him that was running
away, not me.
Oh, yes the jailer laughed. Yo got some
front, no wonder the last won waz fed up wi ye.
Neits was finally dragged through the far gate

and into another small dingy room. There was
another door which faced the door he entered and
next to it sat a small wooden desk with another
guard sitting studiously behind it.
One on Sir. Said the monster to the other guard
as he placed the boy in front of the desk. An a
right lil brat he is too.
Is this the absconder? the guard at the desk
said as he lifted a clipboard and attached a form
to it.
That be right. Said the monster as the other
guard put a small tick on the form he held.
Right, he said sternly. I want you to empty
your pockets and place their contents on the
table.
David William Kirby
I havent got anything in my pockets. The boy

replied.
Okay then, he said with a snarl. I want you to
take off your clothing and place everything in
this box. He indicated a box too his left.
Start with your shoes.
I havent got any shoes. Neits said softly.
Oh, the man said ticking the box. Well start
with your socks.
I havent got any socks.
What? the guard
I tol ye, he be
smiled.
Well, the guard
what you have got
around.
huffed.
a right one. The monster
behind the desk snapped. Put
in the box and stop messing me
The boy removed his utility suit which was his

only piece of clothing and put it in the box as
directed.
Then he stood there waiting for the next order
feeling the chilly air rattle against his bones.
He folded his arms in front of his chest in the
vein hope that it would stop his shivers. It
didnt and so he stood there trembling.
He looks like a healthy lad? the guard said to
no one in particular after scribbling a note on
his form. Ive seen plenty of you lot pass
through these doors but none so fit as thee.
Miserable wretches normally, each and every one
of em; not you though. Whos been feeding you?
I lived with my father in the hills. Neits
replied shivering intensely.
You wait till ye here this. The monster
laughed. Hes a one alright.
Its true. The boy pleaded through clattering
teeth. I lived in the hills with my father.
David William Kirby
The thought of his father brought tears to his

eyes and he stood there thinking about the hut
and the forest and the animals that he had loved.
He remembered the smell of pitch being boiled in
the huge pot they had to put on the roof in the
winter. He remembered his fathers voice
comforting him in the mist of mid-winter snowstorms.
How strong hes father felt when he lain beside
him sleeping. In the middle of dark winter nights
he was comforted, while the bats and wild dogs
called from beyond the window, he was safe there
and felt wanted.
Hes a goodun at keeping a story. The monster
laughed. Truth was, somebody harboured him.
Just as I thought. The guard behind the desk
said. These boys lose weight when theyre on the
run. This ones as strong as a dog; did they
shoot the pig that hid him?
Think so. The monster said with a shrug.
He wasnt a pig, Neits screamed through his
tears. He was my father, and I loved him.
Put this on. The guard said thrusting a
dressing gown across the table at the boy. And
follow me. He led the boy through the door by
his desk and down a further darkened corridor
which had secure doors set into each side; each
identical to the next.
When at last they reached the end of the corridor
the guard took his keys and unlocked the furthest
door before pushing the boy into the cell and
slamming the door behind him.
Im thirsty. Neits shouted. I want to drink
some water.
The words faded with the sound of the door
slamming as he listened to the sound of the
guards footfalls echoing away from him.
David William Kirby
He was in another small, hot room that was bare

of all furniture except a small chair that sat
alone in a corner looking as uninviting as it
could. Neits needed to lay down, feeling tired
still and so he stretched out on the stone floor
and rested his head on his folded arms.
It had been a long day, a long and miserable day.
Why, he thought, did his life continue to be so
tough; he was concerned about his present
situation and worried about what the future might
hold.
He stretched out on the cold floor and felt the
chill in the stone bite into his back, why, he
thought, was it like this for all small boys?
He drifted into a light sleep and once again saw
there, projected onto the back of his eyelids,
the figure of a man. A brown skinned man with
blue mud caked over his body with hair like the
roots of a tree. The thick black locks spread out
from his head with fire burning in them. His eyes
were red, blood red but shone like the suns
reflection on an ocean wave. The man raised his
left hand and placed the index finger to his
lips.
Silence. He whispered. I will show you the
mysteries of the stars; the answers will then be
yours.
Neits saw behind the mans right hand, which was
raised to the heavens, a bright moon glowing in
beautiful glory. Behind the silver disc shone a
brilliant sun-burst which shot lines of blinding
light through the heavens.
An eclipse occurred, the moon became a black
circle and the boy felt like he was being sucked
into the centre of that dark hole. Sucked from
the cold floor into the dark matter surrounded by
radiance; through a door and into another realm.
David William Kirby
Once there he saw a bright green field and

shocking blue sky; fluffy white clouds bobbed on
the horizon as a huge rainbow arched above them.
Then he saw him, a man just like himself only
older, inverted, but as himself.
Wake up, you! Said a voice like thunder in the
sky. He felt a sharp dig in his ribs and opened
his eyes to find it was now the following
morning.
A guard towered over his prostrate body and his
foot gave Neits leg a sharp kick.
Get up boy. The guard shouted. Its your
turn.
Neits stood and pulled his gown around his body
in a vain attempt to get warmth from the thin
material. He wondered what the guard had meant by
it being his turn, perhaps, he thought, they were
going to feed him.
He followed the guard back into the long corridor
and back down to where the other guard still sat
behind his small wooden desk. He was filling out
another form attached to a clipboard.
One off, Sir! The boys escort said to the
guard behind the desk who proceeded to make a
small mark on his form.
Get dressed. The guard said throwing him the
box with the boys rags in them.
Neits did as he was told and then followed his
escort on through a further gate and down another
long corridor. The only other sound beside their
foot falls was the clinking of the guards key
chain which rattled with every step.
The boy noticed this place had a bad smell, a
dark and unpleasant odour which left an acrid
taste in his mouth. Neits held his breath and
hoped that they would make it to the end of the
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hall without the need to breath in case he choked

on the stink.
The guard was unaffected by the odour has if hes
become accustomed to it over many years.
Eventually they went through another secured gate
at the end of that dark place and the boy let out
a huge sigh, gasping for the fresh air that
permeated there.
They were in another room but this one was busy
being populated by several hundred people. They
looked at his thin frame and rags with an air of
sullen disinterest before continuing in their
previous activity.
Some looked at the floor, others chatted amongst
themselves while others paced back and forth
furiously. A guard smoking a thick black cigar
looked at Neits and then towards the guard.
Is this 232? the man asked. The other guard
nodded and pushed the boy towards the fat cigar
smoker.
Right, he said in a puff of smelly smoke. All
you have to do is walk through the door and stand
where the cross is marked on the stage.
Will I get a drink of water Neits asked through
cracked lips. If I do as you want.
The fat guard clapped him across the ear sending
a puff of cigar ash into the air where it rained
down like grey snow.
Cheeky cunt. The guard said. Get the fuck out
there and stop pissing about.
He pushed the boy through the door and he found
himself on a thin stage raised above the heads of
a crowd of people who he could just see through
the glare of a spotlight.
Lot 232. An electric voice echoed out. This
ones got plenty of years of service left in him,
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no dental problems or scurvy, will make a good

bed warmer or vent scrubber, any bids please?
Neits looked into the blinding spotlight and
cupped his hand over his eyes to shield them from
the intensity of the glare.
No history of mental illness the voice
crackled. Eyesight good and hardworking. Youll
find this mutant boy loyal and we expect him to
grow into a strong man; wholl give me two
hundred?
Two hundred for that scrap! a voice in the
crowd laughed. The boy became aware of a further
group of people at his feet, they were looking up
at him with pale white faces and inquisitive
eyes.
He was dizzy and thirsty, the light blinding his
eyes made him feel sick and weak. Faintness crept
up on him and he wobbled slightly.
That boys ill. Another voice shouted. Hes
not worth above ten coins.
One hundred and fifty. The electric voice
cracked. Come on people, thats a bargain.
Has he ever used his Psych? another voice
shouted.
No record of psychic terrorism, the electric
voice replied. Come on people, one hundred?
Seventy five. Another voice shouted.
Neits felt the faintness creep from his toes into
his calves and up his legs to his groin. He
stumbled forwards.
Ill give you eighty another voice shouted
before adding. Hes not violent, is he?
Just an absconder. The electric voice replied.
But keep him in a neck chain and hell behave
himself. Now, any higher then eighty?
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Ninety. Said a soft female voice. It was a

soothing voice and it left a quiet void amongst
the crowd.
Ninety-five. Shouted a male voice with a sniff.
One-hundred, and be damned. The woman returned.
Have him, then. The male voice spat. I could
buy a horse for that price.
The room erupted in laughter just as the boy fell
to his knees.
You have a horse. The female voice said softly.
And Ill have this boy!
Sold. The electric voice said excitedly.
Can someone bring him to my coach? the woman
added.
Neits was scooped up in the arms of the cigarsmoking man who took him from the stage and into
the room hes been in previously.
Very good price. The smoking guard said through
a mouth full of cigar smoke. Youre lucky boy,
he added. Youre going to a good home.
Im thirsty. Neits whimpered and the guard sat
him on a stool in the crowded office. Someone
handed him a metal cup which was full of lukewarm
water. He gulped if back before noticing that it
had a film of scum floating on its top. He was so
thirsty that he didnt care, the water filled his
mouth with bliss and tasted like the best liquid
hed ever drunk.
Where am I going? he asked softly to no-one in
particular.
The guard with the clip board was taking notes
and he looked up briefly to say.
Ignorance is bliss. Before continuing to write
on the form in front of him.
232? another guard shouted as he entered the
room.
David William Kirby
Thats the bugger. Said the guard behind the

desk.
The new guard was dressed in a similar uniform to
the others although his was clean and pressed. It
had shiny buttons and metal studs on the collar.
He looked at the dishevelled boy and tutted
loudly.
Boy? he said loudly. Neits looked up at him and
tried to concentrate.
Your new mistress will collect you shortly. She
is a good woman but she wont take any crap, if
you run away it will be the last thing you do,
understand?
Yes. The boy replied softly.
That dont mean the whip, boy. He added. Itll
mean the chop, do you understand, comprendi?
Neits nodded. There was a sharp tap on the door
and another guard walked into the room.
Madame Leigh Sophia! he announced as a
beautiful woman entered the room behind him. She
was dressed in a floor length gown made of a
shining material that filled the room with light.
Her soft red hair hung on her shoulders like
flaming embers and he saw that she had clear
green eyes that picked him out on the other side
of the room filling him with anticipation.
It that my boy? she asked pointing a delicate
finger that was adorned with fist sized jewels.
Sign this, madam. The guard at the desk said.
And hes all yours.
For the first time since his father had been
killed the boy did not feel frightened.
He was led from the building into the morning air

which, after all the stuffy dark room seemed cold
and bright. There was a dark vehicle waiting
David William Kirby
which was being driven by a man whos sole

purpose was to drive Madame wherever her whim
dictated.
She sat in a compartment behind the driver and
placed the boy opposite her so he was back to
back with the driver. The vehicle began to move
and they started their journey; in silence.
Every time Neits looked at this woman he noted
new things he hadnt noticed before. Her smell,
for instance, travelling along in that small
compartment he caught a sniff of her scent on the
air. It was musky and heavy, with a delicate
touch of rose; flowery, it gave her an invisible
aura.
Dont be shy, boy. She said smiling at him.
Neits looked at her green eyes and saw emeralds
in snow, they glittered like beautiful beasts,
seductive yet mysterious.
Her fingers were long and smooth, with huge rings
and gem stones on each one, tipped with
magnificent nails painted red and white.
He looked out the window and saw that they were
driving down a mud road, there were tents and
shacks of every description imaginable pitched on
either side. Flags flapped in the wind above each
one and he saw groups of raggedy people standing
beside open fires.
Black pillars of smoke rose into the sky turning
it a foul grey and now and then the smell of
sewage filtered into the car. He saw a dead body
laying in the ditch which followed the road and
noticed that death seemed everywhere, dead dogs
rotted in the fields, dead cats filled every
turning, there were dead horses and dead donkeys;
death was all around them and made the city
stink. Yet inside the vehicle only the soft scent
of flowers lingered.
David William Kirby
Have you always been so shy? she asked. The boy

glanced back at her coyly. He noticed that the
wide brimmed bonnet she wore obscured her eyes
occasionally when she tilted her head.
Or are you just shy of me? she added with a
smile.
You have nice hands. Neits said awkwardly.
So do you. She replied. Certainly not
workmans hands; you have the hands of a artist;
tell me she smiled. Do you paint of play
music?
This direct question made him feel even more
awkward. He didnt know what to say. Not wanting
to say the wrong thing and upset her. He just
looked at her and bit his lip indicating his
sense of comfort.
Ah, a boy who does not like to talk she said.
Will not tell tales. My secrets will be safe
with you I think.
The vehicle rumbled on over the bumpy road
towards its final destination. Neits saw beyond
the windows tents and shacks giving way to trees
and fields. Farm animals and crops appeared and
he started to feel more comfortable hoping that
he might see something hed recognise.
Occasionally he saw small encampments along the
side of the road that sprouted out of no-where.
Here, thin and dirty women greeted the car with
sickly looking children in their arms holding out
thin hands begging for food or money. Each camp
appeared to have its own distinctive flag; he
noticed that although they all had differing
designs they all bore a small motif in their
centres. It was an elliptical circle made up of
two concentric lines and centred by a white
eagles feather.
He also noticed that sometimes the encampments
had a mud wall built around them which bore
David William Kirby
crudely dubbed slogans. In paint or in chalk,

even in mud. The slogans broadcast a message.
HE IS YOUR REDEEMER
The slogans yelled.
HE IS YOUR SAVIOUR
HE IS YOUR BROTHER
HE IS YOUR FATHER
Neits was intrigued by this and for a moment
even considered asking his host what she made of
them. When he looked up at her she seemed to be
deep in thought and so he declined to do so. She
looked at him and smiled again, a fruity smile
that was caressed by a smooth red tongue.
He looked back towards the passing landscape and
secretly wished their journey would come to an
end in the hope that he might be fed. He had not
eaten for ages and his stomach felt small and
tight.
Eventually his wishes were answered and the black
vehicle rolled through a sturdy set of iron gates
set in a red brick wall and down a long gravelled
drive way. In the distance he could see a large
white building looming ahead of them.
It was the largest structure he had ever seen and
it filled the boy with wonder. It was four floors
high and was topped with a huge dome that was
covered in copper sheeting. In front of the
building was a large portico with a sweeping
flight of white stone steps. There, at the bottom
of the steps, was a man and a woman who waited
patiently for the vehicle to stop.
The man, wearing a stiff blue suit, opened the
door for madam Leigh and when she had left the
David William Kirby
car Neits followed her. The man looked at the boy

with an air of confused disgust.
Cook? Madame said to the woman who was wearing
a white apron over her blue suit.
Yes Madame?
Take this boy and give him a good scrub.
Yes, madam. The cook replied looking at the boy
intently.
When he has been scrubbed dress him in a clean
uniform, feed him then bring him to the blue
room.
Yes madam.
He is to be my valet.
The cook took the boys hand and led him away to
a door beside the stone steps, he noticed above
the door was a stone motif carved into the door
frame. It was circle with a feather in its
centre; shimmering in the late afternoon
sunlight.
Neits was tugged by the old maid into the

basement staff rooms and found his eyes bulging
from their sockets to see the grandeur of it all.
The floors were marble and the walls covered in
teak panelling, over his head a vaulted ceiling
stretched from wall to wall.
He was led up a wide oak staircase which had oil
paintings on the walls and here and there were
pieces of finely made furniture inlaid with brass
fittings. After being led through another set of
swing doors he found himself walking past a
bronze statue of a boy playing pan pipes, the
statue was larger than even him and the features
were cast so lifelike that you would have thought
the boy alive.
Charity? the cook shouted as she pulled the boy
into a room which he recognized as a scullery.
David William Kirby
Fix up a tub, we have a guest.

Neits saw, attending to some pots, a thin black
girl at a large white sink, her back was too him
and when she turned he saw that she had only one
eye in the centre of her head. It glared at him
menacingly making the boy avert his gaze.
Although she was clearly not very old her face
was lined with years of worry and pain. She wiped
her hands on the apron at her waist and tucked
her brown hair into the scarf tied around her
head leaving long tuffs hanging about her ears.
The one eyed girl took an iron tub off the wall
and walked off with a bucket towards a steaming
copper on the other side of the room.
While she was doing this Neits felt the cooks
thick fingers tugging at his utility suit pulling
it above his head until he was naked. He was not
embarrassed by his nakedness being too interested
in the girl as she filled the bucket with water
and walked to the tub. The steam from the water
seemed to bother her eye as she poured it; he was
fascinated with her.
Shes one of your kind. The cook said noticing
the boys interest. Ugly as sin and dumb as a
duck.
The cook threw his suit at the girl before
shouting.
Burn this before it infests the place.
The girl picked the suit up and on her next trip
to the copper opened a small door at its base and
threw the suit into the flames that burned there.
She then collected more water and walked back to
the tub which was sitting next to an open fire.
Come on then. The cook said tugging him over to
the steaming tub. We got to wash that stink off
you boy.
David William Kirby
Twenty minutes later he had been scrubbed and

soaked, soaped and dried. His toes had been
attacked with a small thick brush and his face
and ears rubbed red with what seemed like wire
wool. Cook wasted no time in smearing a thick
layer of soap from the top of his head down to
his ankles and scrubbing it into his skin.
When she had done her best to make him sparkle
she instructed the girl to pour cold water over
his head and then she lifted him from the tub
wrapped in a thick towel.
Both women then dried him off before a clean vest
was pulled over his head and crisp clean shorts
pulled over his feet.
Where does she get them from? Cook asked no-one
in particular as she ran a comb through the boys
hair. Dirty little urchins.
She bought me. The boy replied while a shirt
was being pulled over his shoulders and buttoned
up. At the market, for a hundred or something.
You can talk then? the cook exclaimed as a
shiver rippled through her ample chest.
Goodness, and there I was thinking you were mute
like her. Well, she huffed. If you can talk you
might as well tell me your name if you have one.
My name is Neits. The boy replied.
Newts, what, like a tadpole? What sort of name
is that? The woman said pulling a pair of socks
onto the boys feet.
I was named by my father, he was killed by the
cops.
I see, she grumbled. Did he like tadpoles or
something?
Its got nothing to do with tadpoles. Neits
said sharply. I think it was the last thing my
mother said when she gave birth to me, then she
died.
David William Kirby
Oh, the woman nodded. Delirious was she? So

your father
Yes.
was he a criminal; they dont kill you for
nothing, not like some sorts.
He was not a criminal, they killed him for
nothing. The boy shouted. But why should you
believe me, no one else does. Ive told loads of
people and they all think Im a liar.
Well if thats true cook responded pulling up
a pair of trousers. Youd be best advised to
keep it to yourself. You dont want them to think
that, do you?
She stepped back and put her hands on her hips,
admiring his transformation.
You wouldnt think it was the same boy. Hungry
are you?
Yes, yes I am. He replied softly with a small
smile. The cook smiled back.
Get some cold meats and some bread for the boy.
She shouted at the girl. And a nice, hot cup of
tea.
When you are hungry we will feed you. Madame

Sophie said softly. She was sitting behind a
large desk and peering at him over a sheet of
paper upon which she had noted his name and the
few other details he had given her.
If you are thirsty you will be given water, tea
or juice if its available. She continued.
Your uniform will be cleaned once a week and you
shall wear a clean shirt every day, after you
have bathed;
I must insist that you bath every day. The cook
will be your superior in the house and I want you
David William Kirby
to serve her without complaint; do you understand

what I have said to you?
Yes Madam. Neits replied, bowing his head
respectfully.
I will not tolerate violence in this house and
so you will not be beaten; consequently I hope
you will not run away. If you feel a need to do
so please come and speak to me. If you have a
problem I will try to resolve it for you.
If cook has a problem with you I will ask her to
send you to me so that we can discuss the matter;
I will endeavour to be fare in my dealings with
you as I am with all the staff. For your bed and
keep I expect you to work.
This work will mainly be in my service although
cook may wish to use you elsewhere from time to
time and she will direct you on those occasions.
Your hours will normally be from five in the
morning until nine in the evening, after which
you will have free time.
During your free time you will tidy your room,
bath and eat. You are not allowed visitors and
you will not leave the house unless you have
arranged this with cook or myself; do you
understand?
Yes madam.
You will have your own room at present although
this may change if we get other staff. Finally,
one day each month you will have free time during
which you shall learn to read and write; cook
will speak to you in more detail about this
later. Have you any questions?
No madam.
She gave him a gentle smile and tapped her
delicately manicured fingernails on the desk
momentarily.
That will be all, dismissed.
David William Kirby
The boy looked at her awkwardly and shuffled on

one foot and then the other.
Thats code for you can go now.
Oh, he stuttered before turning on his heels
and strutting quickly for the door. The cook
waited on the other side. The woman beaconed him
to follow her through the hall and up a flight of
narrow stairs which eventually led to a small
room. She opened the door and Neits followed he
inside.
This is your room, good night. She nodded
before leaving and closing the door behind her.
He wondered if he should ask how he was going to
wake in the morning but thought hed better not
upset her as the cooks mood had changed for the
better.
The room was not unlike the last one he had slept
in although better furnished. It was small and
cramped with a bare stone floor. A handsome bed
sat against one wall and it had a silk quilt
draped over it neatly.
A mound of cushions were piled at one end of the
bed looking as comfortable as a soft summer
cloud. Facing the bed was a small square window
which had dark curtains, through them he saw the
moon drifting lazily across the night sky and it
made him realise how sleepy he was.
Resting his head on the soft cloud of cushions he
felt the tension of the day leave his body and he
sank into the comfort. His mind wandered, through
the cloud of softness and he remembered a hot day
somewhere else.
It was a hot midsummer afternoon that lived
somewhere in the dark recesses of his memory. A
hot day when he was younger, a humid hour that
smelt of wild flowers and honey, it felt like
twigs and dry grass over a sun scorched field. He
was walking barefooted through the buzz of busy
bees amid the flirtatious calls of young
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sparrows; in unknown woodland, into the trees and

rising mist.
He came across a small brook that twisted its way
like a golden chain through the grasses;
reflecting in its rippled mirror the tips of
trees and diamond splinters of sun light. Diamond
glittering sparkles gently washed the fish and
lilies as the brook bubbled through the trees.
The boy jumped across to the other side landing
with a soft bump. The grass was higher over there
and he rose on tip-toes to peer over it. He held
his breath as he peered over the swaying tops of
greenery towards a further clearing of sorts.
Being without trees it stretched into the
distance as far as he could see; it consisted of
proud stone stumps that lay in neat rows to the
horizon. Stumps of white granite laying in neat
white rows in a grid that crissd and crossed
white patterns in the sea of green.
Neits stepped from the rushes and tall grasses
and walked to one of the nearest stone stumps
finding it flat and smooth on the face and back.
He rubbed the collected dust and moss which had
made its home there and saw beneath an
inscription boldly carved.
DEATH IS NO END
It read simply. Hearing a twig snap in the
distance made Neits drop to his knees suddenly
filled with terror. He hid himself behind the
stone monolith and peered cautiously back from
where he had come. A lone man was walking through
the grasses at a brisk pace towards him.
The man peered straight ahead as he strutted
forwards taking no notice of potential dangers at
his feet. He was heading towards the boy
confidently as if he knew the place well and
followed a well worn path.
David William Kirby
Neits stooped lower as the sound of foot falls

became louder, holding his breath and wishing the
ground would open and swallow him up. His eyes
were tightly closed but he became aware of a tall
shadow falling across him.
Neits. A familiar voice said. My son!
The boy looked up into the bright sun light and
saw a man towering over him. His head was
eclipsing the sun and this gave the appearance of
a bright golden halo around the mans head.
Neits was unsure if it was his father because the
man was not old, not life worn and hunched. His
hair was not grey and his face was shaved. He was
looking up at a man in the prime and vitality of
youth.
They killed you. Neits stuttered through
quivering lips. Didnt they?
A body is perishable, it is raised imperishable,
it is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory,
it is slain in weakness and is raised in power.
The boy felt his fathers hand gently brush
through his hair and within that light stroke a
great sensation washed over him. Like drunkenness
the sensation filled his body and mind with
soothing rays of light.
They killed you the boy cried, unable to hold
back the tears that filled each eye and over
spilled down his cheeks in faint droplets. I
saw it with my own eyes. Heard it with my own
ears.
What did you see? the man whispered. What did
you really hear?
The boy thought about that terrible moment and
remembered something, a sound, a word, a sentence
that faded in and out of his consciousness. It
was a poem that he knew but did not, could not
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know. A lyric to a song that someone had once

sung to him, but who, but when; he could not
remember.
SON, YOU NEED NOT ASK WHY
WHAT WAS DONE, WHAT CAUSED ME TO DIE
IT IS A PLAN WHICH YOULL PLAY A PART
IF YOU PUSH WITH YOUR MIND AS WELL AS YOUR
HEART
SUFFERING IS YOURS, TEARS CLOUD YOUR EYES
BUT Youll ESCAPE AND CAUSE SUFFERINGS DEMISE
THERE IS A PLAN, A KING YOU SHALL RISE
TO CROWN ALL MEN KINGS IN THEIR EYES
ON FATES WINGS YOU BATTLE THEIR CRUEL DEEDS
I GUIDE YOUR HAND AND HELP IT WITH EASE
WHEN ALONE, YOUR BATTLE HYMN SUNG
ILL TEMPER YOUR SWORD, ILL AIM YOUR GUN
THE NIGHT IS BEHIND, IN LIGHT YOU WILL SHINE
IF YOU PUSH WITH YOUR HEART AS WELL AS YOUR
MIND
A MESSAGE TELLS, PREPARE, COMES THE FIGHT
WEAR TRUTHS ARMOUR, DO WHAT IS RIGHT
THE LIGHT IS BEHIND YOU BEWARE OF THE NIGHT
THE SYMBOLS GUIDE YOUR DAGGER TO STRIKE
THE LAW IS YOUR WILL UNDER LOVE YOU MUST DO
IF YOU PUSH WITH YOUR MIND ILL PUSH WITH YOU
Come now boy! a voice shattered his dreams.

Its time to get up and have your breakfast.
Neits opened his eyes and saw the face of cook
peering down at him. He was warm and snug in the
bed and it was awful having to get up; but he did
as he was told.
She seemed pretty determined to make sure he did
so quickly. Tugging at his quilt with her thick
fingers the cook added. The bath is hot, if you
get in it now it will wake you up properly. Come
on! she tugged again. You havent got all day.
David William Kirby
He roused himself and had a bath before dressing

in a crisp white shirt and new blue uniform.
Looking at himself in a mirror in the hall as he
made his way to the scullery Neits couldnt
believe how different he looked.
The material that the uniform was made from was a
tight weave of blue cotton. The brass buttons
shone and his white shirt was the colour of
freshly fallen snow. He looked and felt as bright
as one of those buttons; for the first time in a
week he smiled.
Examining his eyes he noted lines around them
that had not been there the previous week. Lines
that were the consequence of too much pain in too
short a period.
He thought that just because things were better,
in that his clothes were clean and new and he had
a warm bed to lie in, it would never be as good
as when his father was there. He was still alone
in this world.
He walked to the kitchen following the smell of
cooked bacon that hung in the air and found the
girl and cook busy making toasted bread and
frying eggs. Sitting at the table were two people
he hadnt met before, they looked at him intently
when he entered the room
Sit down boy. The cook said turning to look at
him. Charity will give you some cereal.
He sat at the table opposite the two strangers as
the girl placed a bowl in front of him and poured
milk over Its contents. He looked across the
table at the two people sitting there eating
fried bacon and eggs.
They both wore a uniform but different to his.
Theirs were grey and had wooden buttons. One was
elder and one was a boy like himself. In fact he
looked like he could have been a brother, having
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the same coloured hair and eyes and height. In

fact they were both so similar Neits wondered if
he should know the boy. He reminded him of Adam;
a strange feeling came over him.
Havent you been told that its rude to stare?
the boy said abruptly. He looked over the table
directly at him and Neits noticed that the boy
had a thick scar across one cheek that descended
to the boys throat.
Sorry, he replied tucking into the cereal. I
didnt mean to
leave the boy alone. The other stranger said.
Cant you see hes uncomfortable enough. He
looks tired, if you ask me.
Thats the truth, cook said as she waddled her
large frame to the table and placed a cup of
steaming tea at Neits side. This is Jed, she
added pointing at the man. He works in the house
and does a bit of gardening.
Thats why Ive got my old gear on today. The
man said as he munched on some bacon. Dont want
my new uniform getting dirty in the garden.
And thats Isaac. Cook continued pointing at
the boy. Hes in the house too, but giving Jed a
hand today.
This uniform is so itchy. Jed said pinching a
piece of it between his finders. They make us
all look the same although this one isnt very
smart. I was wearing the other one when you
arrived yesterday.
Were you on the steps when I got here? Neits
asked. Only, I dont remember seeing you.
I remember seeing you. He said with a soft
smile. Any more meat?
You love your food. Isaac stated as cook
brought a frying pan to the table and deposited a
couple of rashers on Jeds plate.
So would you if youd been as deprived of food
as I had in my early days.
David William Kirby
Same here. Isaac interjected. Id not even

tasted meat till I came here.
Yes, Jed mused. I guess we are all the same
really.
Yes ! Isaac said softly. We are all exactly the
same.
Neits thought about this statement for a moment
wondering if they had lost their father in a
similar way and had been sold at auction.
Did they buy you too? he asked the elder man.
Neits picked up the mug of milky tea and tasted
it. It was hot and sweet and fantastic. It had a
wonderful aroma and melted on his tongue before
sliding down his throat. He greedily sucked some
more from the mug.
Why? Did they buy you? Jed asked looking
surprised. I thought you only got sold if you
were a criminal or some sort of vagabond. A loose
and low down crim that didnt warrant shooting.
What on earth had you done to get in that mess?
Dont say another word. Cook snapped swapping
Neits bowl for a plate of eggs and bacon. Its
none of his business. Lets just say that youre
here now and that it. Okay?
My parents were killed. replied Isaac looking
suddenly very vulnerable. My mother died when
she was giving birth to me and my father died of
the water.
Your mother died giving birth? Neits said
looking up from the delicious plate of food.
Thats what happened to me
Theres a lot like you two. Cook said placing
her hands on her wide hips and staring at the
table. Orphans I mean, a lot of orphans. Yes,
they called it the Death Rot or something.
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Apparently all the pregnant women got it at the

same time, a virus they said.
It affected the womb so that when the baby was
born the mother just rotted, terrible it was.
Well, a lot of the men couldnt cope and they
either gave the kid up or killed it. Some hung on
and brought the kid up, but not many.
My father kept me. Neits said softly.
Funny thing is, cook continued. All those kids
look the same, like they all had the same father.
I mean, look at you two. The three adults looked
up at the two boys, Charity from the kitchen,
cook from the stove, Jed from his bacon and
stared.
You could both be brothers.
Have you got the mark? Isaac asked. Not like
this one. He said pointing his fork at the scar
on his face. The birthmark. My ones on my arm.
He rolled up his sleeve and there just above the
elbow was a small round mark.
On my forehead. Neits said excitedly. He lifted
up his fringe and showed the rounded mark he had
had there since he was born. I thought I was the
only one.
No, we all got them. Isaac said.
Bless me. Cook exclaimed coming closer to
inspect the mark, first on Isaacs arm and then
on Neits forehead. Isnt that strange?
They say we can Isaacs voice trailed off as
the groups attention was drawn to the kitchen
door. It had just opened and in had walked a huge
man.
He lingered in the doorway in silence. Dressed in
a thick woollen jacket over a thick woollen shirt
the man had a blur of frizzy hair and a scruffy
beard. His fists looked like brown leather balls
as they hung limply at his side. He tried to talk
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exposing a mouth void of teeth except one in the

front but instead of a word only a grunt emerged.
Mongols here Jed. Cook stated softly. Then she
raised her voice slightly and slowly asked if the
man wanted food.
Are you hungry? she said. Food, belly? she
pointed firstly at her mouth and then her large
belly before shrugging.
Ill get him going. Jed said as he stood
rubbing his stomach. That was a good breakfast
Cook. He stated with a wink. Then he looked at
Neits. You got to know how to speak to a woman
boy. He said with a cheeky smile.
If you flatter them theyll always do a good
breakfast.
He noticed that the boy was not listening and was
looking intently at Mongol.
Dont let Mongol scare you. Jed said warmly.
Hes harmless.
Neits had only looked at the man they called
Mongol for a second but found himself transfixed
by the sight of his big hands and thick neck.
Mongol
filled
spot.
Well
Mongol
had a wild, untamed look in his eyes that

the boy with dread and rooted him to the
be off then. Jed said going to join
by the door.
Bout time too Cook huffed rubbing a clean cloth

over the spot where Jed had been sitting.
Charity she shouted. Come and take Jeds
plate and wash it up please.
Jed and Mongol left the room closing the door
behind them.
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You really stare a lot. Isaac smiled. He may

seem frightening at first but youll see the
beauty in his eyes when you get to know him.
Where are they going? Neits asked as his empty
plate was taken away by the girl to be washed in
the sink.
Theyre cutting a tree down. Cook said as she
wiped the table in front of him. Youre helping
them Isaac, so off you go.
Why are they cutting it down? Neits asked to no
one in particular. Is it ill or something?
Dont be so stupid. Cook exclaimed. Is it ill?
What a stupid question.
My father only cut dead trees down when we lived
in the forest. Neits said looking at the woman
intently. Or if we needed to build something.
You lived with your father? Isaac asked
enthusiastically.
No! Cook said with a clear loud voice. Madam
Sophie wanted the tree cut because it obscured
her view of the moon at night. That tree had been
there for over a hundred years, a handsome tree
which had rooks nesting in it, blocked the view
of the moon rising. The moons important to
Madame Sophie.
Isnt that the truth. Isaac nodded before
burping loudly.
The room filled with laughter.
A soft bell rang and cook looked behind her

towards the wall above the door. There was a row
of small bells and each one had a number marked
above it. The one marked six was tinkling.
Number six? cook said hesitantly. Thats
madam. Do you know where to go? she asked
looking at Neits.
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Who, me? the boy replied.

Thats right, the cook huffed wiping a bead of
sweat from her brow. Youre her valet.
Right. He said standing and pulling his uniform
into place.
Get your boots in motion, she said. And do
some valet ting. Number six is her bedroom, dont
knock just enter. Isaac?
Yes cook?
You go with him to make sure he dont get lost,
Only, Jed Plank will have to do with Mongol till
you come back. Well, what are you waiting for?
The two boys exited through the door under the
bells and made their way through the house.
Youll get to know the place, Isaac said on the
way. It took me about a week to find my way
about alone.
Have you been here long?
A couple of years. Isaac replied.
You said your father died of the water, what did
you mean?
Dont you know? The boy replied earnestly,
stopping in his tracks and looking at Neits.
Know what?
You really have led a sheltered life, havent
you? Isaac said. When the white people came
back they did something to the sea, pollution I
think its called. Anyway, this meant that the
rain became poison for a while and this made the
river undrinkable.
It was alright if you drank from a brook, because
that water comes from down below. It gets
filtered by the rock and bubbles back up. But
river water; it killed thousands.
You know a lot about it.
Well, once they found out it was the river they
told us not to drink it, thats how I know that a
bubbling brook would be okay.
David William Kirby
They continued to walk through the house stopping

occasionally to look at the paintings hanging on
the walls. Isaac seemed to know a lot about them
and the people they depicted.
Thats the old master. He said pointing to a
picture of an old man dressed in a smart blue
suit with a red tie. He was looking sternly from
the frame and Neits found his stare unsettling.
He died before the war. His son is the old
master now, this house belongs to him and Madam,
shes his sister.
Theres a lot of old masters.
These people treasure their heritage. They love
their history, their old house was destroyed
during the war but they kept all the paintings
and stuff with them and after rebuilt the house
and put all this stuff back into it.
I thought it all looked old. Neits replied
running his fingers along the top of a marble
side table that stood along the wall.
Really old, Isaac said. Of course, if I was
rich, he continued. Id have all new stuff.
They carried on down endless halls and through
vast rooms seeing no one on the long journey
except the occasional cleaner on her knees
scrubbing here or there. Neits reached out and
touched the boy on his arm gently making him stop
to face him.
When we were in the kitchen he said
Yes.
When we were in the kitchen, you were going to
say something. Something about the scar we both
have, but you were interrupted. What were you
going to say?
Oh that? Isaac replied looking intently at his
friend. Its just something I found out when I
met another mutant like us. Before I came to this
David William Kirby
house, you see there are a lot of us, boys I

mean, with the same thing.
Mutants, Neits repeated horrified. Were not
mutants, are we?
Not like Charity, you know, deformed. Or like
the Mongol, brain dead. We have something else,
all the boys born on that night do, I only found
out just before I came here. Its our scar see
What about our scar?
Its a
Boy! Bellowed a loud voice from across the
room.
They turned and saw a Madam Sophie peering
through the gap in her bedroom door. She was so
far away they could just see the top of her head
and her eyes peering at them.
Stop gossiping and get on your way boy. She
shouted at Issac before using her index finger to
beckon Neits.
Yes Madam. Isaac replied standing to attention.
The door closed and he looked at Neits with a
distressed expression.
Youd better go to her. Well talk later. Isaac
said before running in the direction from which
theyd come.
The door shed called from was inlaid with brass
fittings and stood ten feet high, it seemed
enormous to the boy as he stood nervously outside
it.
Suddenly her voice emerged from the between the
great doors.
Enter. she said.
Neits pulled down the brass door knob and pushed
one of the doors open. The room was in darkness
even though it was a bright summer day. Heavy
curtains were drawn against the bright sun and
the room was cast in shadows.
David William Kirby
As his eyes became accustomed to the lack of

light Neits could make out the shape of figure
laying in a bed at the far end of the room.
Open the curtains, boy. The figure said in the
darkness. Her affected tone was unmistakable.
Neits did as he was instructed and walked to the
massive window which was draped in the black
velvet curtain. A cord hung at one side of the
frame which when pulled flooded the room in
light.
Not so suddenly. The woman shouted, shielding
her eyes from the light by pulling a pillow over
her face. Her angry tone rooted Neits to the spot
unsure if he should close the curtains again or
open them more slowly or what.
Madame Leigh Sophie slowly moved the pillow to
one side and exposed her bright green eyes. Her
hair was standing on end and smudged make-up lay
thick around her lashes. She was still beautiful,
the most beautiful creature he had ever seen;
there was something sordid about her appearance
that attracted him.
A unwholesome attractiveness that appealed to the
growing boy within.
Tell me boy, She said resting her arms on a
pillow and supporting her head with them. Look
out that window and tell me what you see.
Theres a long, green field, Madam. The boy
replied nervously.
Is there anything more? she asked seductively.
Theres a sky and birds and in the distance is a
hill that has a wall running across it.
Is there more? she asked again, urging him to
inspect the view further, more closely.
There is a tree madam. The boy replied. A tree
which Mr Plank and the other gentleman are
working on; I think they are cutting it down.
David William Kirby
Good. She said with a sniff. She then proceeded

to push herself up and sat across the bed with
her toes dangling over the edge.
Bring me my slippers boy. She said. Theyre
over there, under the shelf.
She pointed to a shelf by the wall.
These? He asked pointing to a pair of soft gold
silk slippers. She smiled and nodded. He picked
them up and brought them to her trying to avoid
looking at her thinly veiled body which was
wrapped only in a sheet.
Put them on my feet, wont you. She asked
lifting a delicate foot towards him.
He did as instructed but glanced up furtively as
he did so. Noticing that her leg stretched up to
a place he had never seen before. That part of a
womans anatomy that is usually hidden. He
coughed and fixed his gaze on her foot again.
Oh... She sighed. ...you do make me laugh.
When her slippers were fixed on her feet the
woman stood and let the white sheet slip from the
rest of her body leaving her naked and towering
above his squatting figure.
He had never seen any woman naked and the sight
filled him with confusion. Part of him wanted to
look and another felt he should look away. He
began to feel frightened.
Look at me! she demanded. You act like you
have never seen a woman naked before.
She stared down through the valley of her breasts
and got a pleasure from his discomfort.
I havent. he replied simply.
Not your sister, your mother? she asked.
I have no sister and my mother is dead.
David William Kirby
Well, she smiled walking across the room to a

long mirror that hung on the opposite wall.
Today is your lucky day.
The woman admired herself momentarily before
walking to a small table from which she picked up
a silver box and removed a cigarette from it.
Looking at her breasts in the mirror she lit the
cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the air.
I like to smoke in the morning. She hissed. Do
you smoke?
Smoke? he replied keeping his gaze lowered.
Oh, never mind. She took another puff and
walked to a coat stand where she removed a
dressing gown and pulled it over her shoulders.
Go and tell cook that I shall have breakfast at
lunch time. She looked over her shoulder and
smiled.
Yes, that will confuse the old bitch. Tell her
Ill have breakfast at lunch time, lunch at
dinner time and dinner at supper time... With
this she let out a loud rasp and coughed.
...Im feeling very rebellious today.
You want breakfast at lunch time? Neits replied
backing towards the door.
Yes, yes. She smiled looking back to the
mirror. Go on, those are my instructions.
Dismissed.
He backed out of the room and still confused
about what exactly he was to tell the cook but
glad hed got out in one piece. He closed the
door behind him and let out a sigh before fleeing
to the kitchen.
Cook huffed and muttered under her breath as he
relayed the message to her back in the kitchen.
She was boiling a pot of sweetly smelling fruits
over the hot stove and Neits noticed a bead of
David William Kirby
sweat collect on her brow, flow down her nose and

plop into the pan as she stirred.
Oh she does, does she? cook panted. Go put an
apron on and help Charity with the potatoes.
Outside the house Jed Plank and Mongol busied
themselves about their task. It was a big tree
and took a great while to cut down. Such was the
effort required that both men had to take regular
breaks so their energy levels were not diminished
too quickly.
It was during one of these short breaks that
Plank felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket and
turned to see Mongol smiling like a small child
hopping from one foot to the other.
What is it Boy? Plank asked wondering what was
getting his companion so worked up.
Mongol nodded towards the house and when Plank
turned his eyes that way he saw in an upper
window the figure of a naked woman.
Oh, He sighed. Is she at it again?
The two looked on in amused silence
paraded behind the glass performing
dance.
Just look at her. Plank whispered
Shes like a dog on heat; wants it
proper.
as the shadow
an exotic
to himself.
good and
He looked at Mongol who stood bewitched beside

him as the shadow danced like Salome and thought.
Yes boy, you get your eyeful before the master
comes back from his trip. That will put an end to
her games.
He paused for a moment
thinking about her and
About how different it
it belonged to him and
and rubbed his chin

the master, her brother.
would be in that house if
Cook.
Thered be no funny business, he thought, not

unless Cook wanted it. That thought made him
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cough and he turned back to the tree and his

work.
Have you worked here long? Neits asked the girl
as Charity joined him at the table which was
cluttered with various vegetables and a few
pounds of potatoes.
She said nothing but placed a peeling knife in
front of him and handed him a potato to get
started on.
Dont you feel like talking? He said picking up
the knife and starting to peel a thick piece of
the peel away.
Theres no use in talking to her. Cook shouted
from the stove. Dumb as a brush, she is. She
hasnt said a word since the day she was born.
Oh. The boy replied seeing a small smile creep
across Charitys face. She was smiling at the
thickness of his peel and took the knife from
him, folded her fingers around his, and showed
him a better way to peel.
You are always working, He continued. Dont
you get the evenings off?
Time off? Cook huffed. Didnt Madam explain
your hours too you?
Yes. He replied.
Well there you are. There is always work to be
done and if we finish early we can go to bed
early.
He peeled the potato like he was shown and in the
time he took to do one Charity had peeled three.
Then, with a bang and a puff, Cook was placing a
huge pot on the table beside them.
Put them in that when youre done. She said.
The woman then returned to the stove and heaved
over to the table the pot of fruit that she had
been boiling. With her sleeves rolled up she then
busied herself stirring the pot.
David William Kirby
Have you been here long? Neits asked with a

jaunty smile.
Cook looked up and wiped the sweat from her brow
with the back of her hand and pointed the
steaming spoon at him menacingly.
You really are a nosy person arent you? She
snapped. And you know what happens to nosy
people dont you?
No. Neits replied wide-eyed. What happens?
They get their noses chopped off. Cook snarled
before adding. So, before you ask again Ive
been here since just after the house was built.
Ive not been further then the front gate since.
I lived with my father before I came here. The
boy said softly. He took another potato and began
to peel deep in thought wondering if they believe
him yet.
Yes. Cook replied leaving the table momentarily
before returning with a large pie dish. She
scooped the fruit into the dish and mashed it in
the corners. Youre not like the other boy,
Isaac. Hes a handful.
We went into the
He continued. My
was worried about
from underground.
them.
hills just after I was born.

father took me there because he
the people that were coming
He didnt like the look of
I dont blame him. Cook said sprinkling sugar

over the fruit. It was like an invasion. I
remember it well. Wed all just got used to
things like they were and then bang, all change
again.
While we were in the forest the world changed a
lot. My father didnt realise and that was partly
why they killed him.
David William Kirby
Killed him? Cook exclaimed. Who killed him?

The police... Neits replied looking at a potato
in his hand and bowing his head. ...like I said
yesterday. Its a long story.
You poor little mite. Cook said leaning her
head to one side and biting her lip.
They said that they were going to make things
just like they were before.
And they did she said bluntly. They made it
all bloody shit.
Has she got any family? Neits asked nodding
towards Charity. The cook looked at the girl and
flung her shoulders back before collecting her
thoughts.
Only her mother. She said with a mischievous
smile.
Wheres she? He asked plopping a potato in the
pot. Both women laughed for a second before
looking at him.
Youre looking at her. Cook said.
Oh.
Yes, oh. She walked to another table and
collected a large wooden bowl that had a ball of
soft pastry in it. She returned threw a dusting
of flour across the table and started to roll out
a pie lid.
Sorry. The boy said looking at his hands. He
glanced up and looked between both women trying
to see it there was a resemblance. I would never
have guessed.
Why should you? Cook replied. She looks more
like her father then me anyway.
Is Jed her father? The boy asked with his eye
brows lifted making his expression both expectant
and dozy at the same time. This comment made
Charity huff and cough and snigger and puff as
she laughed in silence.
David William Kirby
Bloody cheek. Cook shouted. Youll get this

rolling pin wrapped round your head if youre not
careful.
Charity looked at him through the corner of her
eyes and smiled widely shaking her head.
As if Id do it with Old Plank. Cook huffed. I
may be poor but Im not bloody desperate.
Later that night when the moon had risen above

the tree stump. When its silvery light had cast
its shadows across the fields. When the stars had
appeared from their daytime bedding to hang in
the sky like twinkling lights.
The bats came from their lairs and hooted in the
dark. The scullery and kitchen was cleared and
cleansed a small group huddled around a candle in
the kitchen.
Jed Plank was sipping from a coffee mug while
Mongol sat on the floor by his side.
Charity bit her nails while Isaac rapped his
fingers silently on the table top as Cook
polished a brass bowl.
They looked relaxed sitting quietly in the
flickering light; although there was a note of
anxiety in their faces. It was a nervous anxiety
that seemed to affect all of them; all of them
except Mongol.
He sat there expressionless; his eyes stark and
staring. Neits wondered what was going on behind
that stare, if anything. He yawned slightly
before Cook sat up and said.
Right, time for bed.
She stood placing the sparkling brass jug on the
table and wiping her hands on the apron that hung
from her waist.
David William Kirby
Come you lot. She said with a sniff. We got a

busy day tomorrow.
Have we? Neits said casually to Isaac while the
others busied themselves around the table.
Yes. The boy replied. The masters coming
back.
Dont remind me. Jed Plank sighed. I was just
getting used to him being away.
I was too. Cook responded. She lifted the
candle and shooed the younger members of the
group into one corner of the room by the door.
I know Madam
shes nothing
Totally gone
And... Cook
it.
Leigh Sophie is round the bend but

like her brother. Hes hard work.
with the fairies. Jed nodded.
interjected. ...dangerous with
Follow me. Isaac whispered to Neits as they

were ushered from the kitchen towards the stairs
that led to their respective bedrooms. The boys
were just about to sneak off together when the
whole group froze. One of the bells above the
door rang gently.
Talk of the devil. Cook said under her breath.
She looked about the room and caught sight of
Neits. Youll have to see what she wants.
Will I? He said. The house is dark.
Be brave. The Cook said as she handed him the
flickering candle. Shell probably want you to
close the curtains or something. Youll be
finished in no time.
Neits looked at Isaac and the boy mouthed the
words, come after, silently. He nodded his assent
and left the group to pick his way through the
darkened halls and rooms toward the Mistress
room.
David William Kirby
He stepped lightly through the shadows and picked

his way through the house like a blind man.
Touching a table here and a desk there, stroking
a handrail or a chair-back in a steady rhythm.
It was very strange and creepy to be in the house
at that time of night, his first night alone in
the long, dark corridors. Even the statues
appeared to have different expressions to their
daylight faces as their cold hard limbs flickered
in the candle light.
He hurried his pace and was soon at the top of
the stairs which led to the hallway he needed. He
stumbled down the passage and past the unfamiliar
places he knew only in the light. Then he was
outside her room, the whole hall looked different
in the light from his small, flickering candle.
He paused and took a deep breath before knocking.
As he raised his knuckles to the door something
caught his eyes; it was something hed not
noticed before, down the hall was another set of
doors. They were painted black.
Also, these doors were distinctive because all
the others were painted white and their panels
looked unremarkable. But these doors, they were
looming at the far end of the hall like two
centennials.
Guards, who were standing silently in the
darkness to protect a great treasure.
They were secured with a chain and padlock and
this looked very strange indeed considering the
doors were internal. Perhaps it was a strong
room, a place where the family kept their jewels
or gold, he thought.
He realised
that he was
called out,
Enter. It
the hall had become very cold and

beginning to feel frightened. A voice
he hadnt even knocked.
echoed across the hall.
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He clicked the door handle and the door opened a

little. The sound of rhythmic music flowed into
the dark hall and a faint scent filled the air.
He opened the door a little further and saw a
shadow creep across the wall on his left.
She was dancing like a cobra, curling her arms
above her head and moving her hips gently from
side to side. The shadow wore a thin chiffon gown
that looked translucent and was transparent in
the twilight.
The soft aroma of flowers and herbs filled the
air as he opened the door fully making him feel
slightly intoxicated. There was a dreamlike
quality to the scene that met his eyes as he
walked into that room. She, Madam, was moving
slowly and cautiously through the mist that was
thrown down by an incense burner that stood
behind her.
Come. She slurred sensuously. Come join me.
Madam held out a delicate hand and he noticed
each bony finger was dressed in a large and
interesting ring; these appeared larger and more
ornate than the ones he had seen previously.
Each ring was the receptacle of a large, flawless
stone. The stones, intense blue on her index
finger, sparkling yellow in her middle finger and
intense green on her little finger appeared to
catch the light and dance with her.
Perhaps it was the music or perhaps it was the
scent of the incense but something was getting
into his mind and taking him somewhere. He could
feel himself getting faint, fading with the
pulsing rhythms. Her curling fingers beaconing
him to join her, the stones were calling him and
it felt good; hypnotic, mystifying and unreal.
Her eyes were dancing as she removed the candle
from his shivering fingers and blew it out. Her
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breath smelt of sweet honey and as it left her

mouth he saw the soft tissue of her tongue sweep
her lips.
She reached for his hand and he felt himself
being led towards a pile of cushions that were
scattered across the floor. She pulled him down
gently and he felt her soft fingers probe his
groin, touching him gently, stroking the boy into
a frenzy of expectation.
Her tongue pushed into his mouth and he looked
into the eyes now that they were close to him. He
looked deep into the pupils and beyond the
intensity of the green that shone there.
He saw something that disturbed him. Her lips
moved to the side of his head and he felt her
fingers rise up to his jaw as she whispered.
Lick me.
What?
LICK ME! she demanded.
Her hands pushed his face down and before he
could react she was thrusting her shaved groin
into his mouth, each knee beside his ears. She
was rubbing thick stubble into his nose.
Forcefully, stifling his breath.
Lick me you cunt. She screamed.
Youre hurting me. He said uncomfortably as she
thrust her groin into his mouth. Again and again.
He caught a gasp of air and choked as she pushed
her pierced labia into his mouth.
You fucking shit. Lick my pussy. Lick it.
Please! He yelped like a wounded animal, but it
was no good.
She now had his hair in a tight grip and was
thrusting so hard blood began to trickle from his
nose. Her knees gripped his head and she yelped
like a wounded animal.
David William Kirby
Lick it, lick my cunt! Lick my fucking cunt!

She moaned flaying herself on his face. The blood
smeared across his cheek and he couldnt breathe.
It clogged his nose and her pubic hair blocked
his mouth.
He was suffocating on her orgasm and she loved
it. He felt life slipping away and reached up to
force her from him.
Please! He eventually managed to whimper as his
head pulled away. Clumps of his hair were tangled
in the stones of those rings and as her vaginal
spasm rocked through the root of her being.
Madams fingers went limp and she slumped onto
his chest. Neits pushed himself away
breathlessly. He didnt see the slap coming, his
eyes were already full of tears as the hand
smashed into the side of his bloodied face
leaving an ugly red welt on his cheek.
The slap stunned him and he looked at her wide
eyes.
Dont resist me. She shouted. Dont you ever
resist me in future. You worm, you fucking
intolerable worm. If you want to eat in this
house then you will eat what I want you to eat.
Understand?
Yes, Madam. He whispered as a tear left his eye
and crawled down his face like a broken dream.
That includes me.
Yes, Madam. He repeated. She stood and he
scrambled to the door. Neits looked back at her
the blood drying on his raw face.
Dismissed.
She turned away from him and reached behind her
for a cigarette. Finding the silver box in which
she kept them she lit one and blew smoke into the
air.
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That means fuck off. She screamed. He did not

need to be told twice.
He made his way back to his room without a candle

but knowing instinctively where he was going.
Although he had been in the house a short while
the plan was becoming clear in his mind and he
was getting used to it. The blood in his nose had
clotted by the time he reached the hall where his
room was. Only his tears felt wet.
He felt used and dirty and exhausted. He had been
led to believe that physical contact with a woman
was a thing of beauty; of love and tenderness.
That was what his father had told him.
He was told the experience was to be treasured
all through your life and remembered in times of
loneliness or isolation. But all it did was scare
him. It was something he wished he could forget.
He was gasping on the tears now, as his fingers
wrapped around his door handle, as he was about
to enter Neits realised just how much he missed
his father.
This realisation opened floodgates and the tears
became a river of sadness flowing down his young
face. Just as he opened his bedroom door he heard
a hiss on the night air.
Neits looked over his shoulder and saw Isaac
peering from behind his bedroom door just a
little down the hall.
Neits, come here. He beaconed quietly.
The boy pulled his door closed again and ran
lightly down the hall to Isaacs room. The door
there swung open and as he entered Isaac closed
the door gently behind him.
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He locked it cautiously; not wanting the sound of

the lock to disturbed anyone else on the landing.
She got you then? Isaac remarked looking at
Neits face. He lifted his hand and turned the
boys face toward the light.
Fuck, she got you good.
Am I bleeding? Neits asked reaching up to his
nose and inspecting his fingers.
No, Isaac replied handing him a clean, damp
rag. Its dry now. I hope the bitch didnt hurt
you too bad.
You know what shes like? Neits asked somewhat
surprised to find that he wasnt the only victim
of this woman.
No man! Isaac replied. That bitch fucks
everyone, especially when her brothers not
around. She even got Mongol to fuck her. Did she
punch you, is that how you got your nose?
Not really, but she slapped me.
Fucking bitch. Isaac spat. Come over here and
sit on my bed.
He led the boy to his bed and they both sat on it
before Neits felt himself unwind a little and he
lifted his feet and lay down on the soft
mattress. Isaac lay to face him and in the moon
light which streamed through the window Neits
examined his face.
You really look like me. He said after a while.
Isaac smiled and reached out and gently touched
Neits hair. It was a tender touch and it sent a
slight shiver through the boys spine.
Thats nice. Neits whispered. I need some
tenderness right now.
I know. Isaac replied.
Both boys looked at each other and before they
could think about it they leaned forwards
slightly and brushed their lips together.
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Sorry. Neits said awkwardly pulling away from

his friend. I didnt mean to
Its okay. Isaac replied. He stroked the other
boys hair and pulled his bloody shirt off.
They both climbed beneath the bedclothes and
hugged one another. It was a soft, sensual hug
that made each of them feel needed and loved. Not
sexual but full of eroticism and intimacy.
It was the sort of hug that we all need from time
to time if only to feel human. This hug made
Neits feel human again and he did not want to let
go.
Thank you. He wept smearing fresh tears on the
pillow-case.
Dont cry. Isaac whispered. You are safe now.
Im so confused. He said softly.
Why?
Losing my father really hurt. The boy replied
thinking briefly about the scene that day.
The motorbikes, the clubs and batons, the sight
of his father being hit; it seemed so recent.
Then he recalled being sold and how happy he felt
being at that house.
He thought that his problems were over and he
could just spend time grieving and coming to
terms with his loss. It now seemed that dream was
shattered. Instead of being the solution to his
pain and hurt the house appeared to be. It seemed
that his pain had just started.
I thought being here would help me get over it.
Instead it has made things worse.
He sobbed gently onto his friends shoulder.
Its not that bad. Isaac answered stroking a
tear aside. Youre being fed and clothed, youre
warm in the winter and cool in the summer. You
have your own bed that doesnt have bugs or fleas
in and of course, you have me; a friend.
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I didnt think of it like that. They were quiet

for a moment and the only sound in the room was
the breathing of two lonely boys.
Has she ever? Neits asked hesitantly.
Yes, His friend replied.
She tries it on with everyone; like I said, even
Mongols been up her.
Really?
Yes. Isaac said looking at his friend intently.
What you have to understand is that she gets off
on hurting people. So if you squirm and beg her
to stop she does it more. You are giving her what
she wants.
I just pretended to enjoy it. Every slap, every
punch, grope, kick and bite. I just pretended to
lap it up. Thats not what she wants so she has
stopped now. Ive not been called back for ages.
Thats incredible.
If you seem to be hurting she gets off on it. I
bet you are called back because you gave her what
she wanted tonight? Isaac sniffed and wiped his
eyes. Next time just pretend to be enjoying it
and she will stop, seriously.
Even if it really hurts?
Whatever she does... His friend replied.
...dont let her think she is getting to you
because she wont stop. Youll see what I mean
next time.
Ill try it. Neits replied thinking about the
slap she gave him before he left her. That had
hurt, he didnt know if hed be able to pretend
to enjoy something like that but hed try.
The night air blew through the opened window and
Neits saw there was a full moon that night. It
was shining so brightly that the room didnt need
a light on, they could see one another clearly.
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Isaac kissed his friend on the forehead gently

and looked at his scar.
Its moon shaped.
It is?
Yes, mine looks like a star.
Your what?
My scar, silly. Isaac smiled. He pulled his
night shirt to one side and there on his shoulder
was a small star shaped scar.
Ive had it since birth, we all have one.
We do?
Dont you know? Isaac asked with a half smile.
All the boys born that night have one. He lay
back and looked at the ceiling while getting his
thoughts in order.
What night?
The night of the rot, you know. He said. All
the pregnant women got it. They said it has
something to do with the Under grounders somehow
but I dont know.
The night we were born, and thousands like us,
our mothers gave their life to earn our own.
They gave theirs so we could have ours; our
lives. It just happens that we all look similar
and we all have a mark, a birth mark somewhere on
our bodies.
I think it makes us all brothers. Have you ever
done the psyche? He asked with a cheeky smile.
The what? Neits asked. Hed never heard the
word before, or had he, somewhere in his memory
he had heard it before but couldnt place where.
The Psyche. Isaac repeated. We cant do it on
our own but if there are two of us or more we can
do things.
Things? Neits smiled.
Yes, things.
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Like what? He laughed. He reached out under the

bedclothes and tickled his friend on the belly.
Not that. Isaac smiled.
What then? Neits wondered if Isaac was joking.
He had not realised that there was anything
special with his scar and it certainly didnt do
anything in particular except look ugly.
Tricks. Isaac said softly.
Tricks? Neits repeated. Party tricks?
No, Isaac whispered. Magick tricks.
What do you mean, magick? Its just a scar.
If you look at Mongol. Isaac explained slowly.
He was trying to put into words something that
was very difficult to explain so he was trying to
remember how it was explained to him.
If you look at Mongol you can see he is
different to us.
He was born like that. Neits said.
Thats right, he was born mutated, they call it,
its a birth defect.
Hes a mutant.
That sounds horrible, Isaac replied. But yes,
he has a mutated gene or something, and thats
what makes him look like he does.
Right?
If you look at others with mutated genes they
may have one eye, Isaac continued.
Or six fingers?
Or big feet?
Funny. Isaac laughed. But yes, you get what I
mean. Well we have a mutated gene too. Our one is
invisible but its there.
How do we see it?
We cant see it. Isaac replied lifting a pillow
from behind his head. We can use it. Look see
this pillow, imagine it is floating.
Floating? Neits looked at the pillow and pulled
a puzzled expression. He wasnt sure what his
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friend was trying to do but it seemed very

strange. You want me to imagine?
That its floating. Isaac said. Concentrate on
your scar, imagine a force, or a light, imagine a
light coming from it that is holding up the
pillow.
Holding it up?
Concentrate. Isaac said. He closed his eyes and
visualized a beam of light leaving his scar and
focusing on the pillow. Visualize a beam of
light, holding the pillow in the air.
He opened the corner of one eye and looked at
Neits. The expression he was making looked funny
and he began to giggle. Then both boys fell into
fits of hysterical laughter.
The laughter cut through the boys pain and for a
short while they were somewhere else, somewhere
safe, somewhere happy.
Later that night, in the early hours, when Neits

was back in his own bed and sleep descended on
him. He had a dream, a strange dream but it was
familiar somehow. He was walking along a beach
and it was hot, the wet sand cooled his feet as
crashing blue waves crept up and then away from
him. Someone touched his arm gently.
Looking around Neits saw an old man walking
beside him. The man had a dark, lined face but
intense green eyes; he looked very friendly and
his smile seemed to light up the air like
sunlight.
Its only me. The old man said. Neits noticed
that the old mans hair was in thick dread locks
down to his shoulders and each lock had a ring of
gold around the bottom, the brown hair had flecks
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of grey in them making them sparkle in the hot

sunshine. Slow down boy, cant you see Im too
old to keep this pace up. Slow down. Enjoy the
view for a moment.
Neits did as he was told and stopped to look out
towards the horizon across the crashing waves and
endless ocean.
You know what? The old man said with a bright
smile. He lifted a hand and gestured out to sea,
lifting his soft, bejewelled fingers towards the
horizon.
What? Neits replied. The old man gestured
towards a bird flying in the haze of the sun.
Look, there it is. He said. Like a hawk on
fire, a word.
A word? Neits replied confused. He looked at
the great bird swooping across the haze of summer
sky and it appeared to be shimmering in the light
from the sun.
Its a sword. The man continued. Curved, its
blade rolling, Stalking the seam.
Stalking the seam? Neits repeated. A vision of
a great sword swiping through the air filled his
small mind. It thrust forwards and sliced through
a bright blue robe. Cutting the head from a
serpent that encircled it.
A feather on a shield held high, in a rock or
stone, shimmering. Or like water falling on a
blue, empty pass. True and high and rained upon.
Rained? Neits looked across a great abyss that
stretched out before him. He used the power of
his mind to rise above the depths below. A voice
echoed in his mind to make his mark on the world;
to cross the abyss and become a King.
David William Kirby
Curving... The old man said swiping his palm

through the air. ...through a flower on fire.
Neits saw in the distance a bright summer field
speckled here and there with vermillion coloured
lilies.
bloodied... The old man shrieked, instantly
snapping the boys attention.
...and fallen. Its face
That face? Neits said vaguely, he remembered
the face from his dream as a child. He remembered
it clearly, the mouth, the nose, the look in
those eyes.
Its roots the old man said pointing at his
feet in the sand.
Roots?
Its clawed and hooded stone fingers. Like
poses
Destroying everything they touch. Neits
whispered.
Of fire the old man said abruptly smashing his
fist into the palm of his hand. Of water
He gestured towards the crashing waves and
smiled.
Of magick. He sighed, looked at the boy before
offering a wide smile.
It is pond like, Wide and murky as the sea.
Deadly. This, boy... The old man whispered. His
voice was taken up by a breeze and it wafted
around them like a tornado.
...is the sea of politics.
A dark cloud crept over their heads and Neits
felt a chill run up his spine and freeze his
blood ice cold.
Now son...The old man smiled. You have crossed
the abyss, today you are a man.
-----------------------
David William Kirby
I dont know whats wrong with me today. Cook

said with a sigh as she laid a plate of toasted
bread on the table in front of Jed Plank.
Is it your back again? he asked coating a piece
of toast with a thick layer of butter. He offered
the other slices around the table giving the
plate to Mongol on his left.
No. Cook replied thoughtfully. Its my
nerves.
Come on Old Girl, Plank said through a mouthful
of toast. Things arent that bad are they?
I couldnt sleep a wink last night. She said
leaning against the table and rubbing her eyes.
I just lay there all night worry about him
coming back. I couldnt cope with all that bother
again.
Oh. Jed Plank replied. Isaac looked up at him
and then at Neits. He was about to say something
and then thought the better of it.
He cant be that bad? Neits said with a breezy
tone. The comment was met with icy silence.
If you keep going on about how horrible its
going to be Jed remarked with a sniff.
Thats just what it will be, horrible. Do your
work and perhaps hell leave us alone.
I suppose youre right. She replied going back
to the stove. I hope you are anyway.
Is he like the mistress? Neits asked taking a
slice of toast and buttering it.
Hes the devil. Cook replied. Hes a
malicious, sarcastic bully.
Stop winding yourself up woman. Jed said
firmly. All youre doing is getting the whole
house tense. Then the young ones will make
David William Kirby
mistakes cause theyre nervous and it will turn

into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Cook muttered something under her breath and
turned to the stove as Charity got up from the
table and started to collect the plates. The only
person who did not appear to be on edge was the
Mongol who sat there looking at ease with the
world. He chewed on a piece of toast blissfully
unaware of the tension in the room.
You can help us with the fire wood today. Plank
said to Isaac changing the subject quickly.
Me and Mr Mongol could do with a hand. Thats if
you can get the sleep from your eyes.
I thought he looked tired. Cook said removing
the tea pot from the table. Didnt you sleep
either?
Er, no. Isaac smiled looking across the table
at Neits. It was hot in my room.
You look tired out too. She said
intently at Neits. This caused Jed
and Charity to stop what they were
inspect his general condition from
looking
Plank, Mongol
doing and
head to toe.
He does look tired. Plank commented before

gesturing to the bell on the wall.
Did she have you up late last night? He asked.
Did she want you to close her curtains? Isaac
said mischievously. Or open her legs?
Isaac! Cook snapped. Leave that sort of gutter
talk in the playground. I dont want to hear it,
especially at breakfast.
Well, its the truth isnt it? Isaac replied
stubbornly. Why pretend that its not happening.
Everyone round this table has been a victim of
her, er, fingernails.
I havent! Cook replied.
David William Kirby
Her fingernails? Plank said looking confused.

Surely you mean her
I dont want to know! Cook shouted slamming her
fist on the table.
Now have you got work to do or what?
Yes. Plank replied trying to look businesslike.
Isaac, Mongol follow me.
He led them to the kitchen door and nodded at
Cook who passed a cloth to Charity and gestured
towards the crockery waiting to be dried.
I think you should make yourself busy. She
remarked to Neits.
Doing what? He asked feeling at a loss. The
last thing he wanted to do was visit the mistress
even though he was aware that she may call for
him at some time.
Go and see if you can help Mr Plank. Cook said
with a huff. She knew that this was what he
wanted to do anyway. Ill call you if she
rings.
Neits put on an overall to cover his uniform and
went into the garden to find the others. He ran
outside into the grounds of the house and saw the
three beside the old tree that was laying on its
side like a dead giant.
Cook said I could help out. He said to Jed
Plank as he joined them. Isaac looked up and
smiled. They were collecting the branches that Mr
Plank had chopped off the main trunk and placing
them in piles.
Put the thick ones in that pile. Plank said
indicating one pile. He was using a large steel
saw and as he used it Mongol held the trunk
steady. That pile is for the fire wood. He
said.
That pile for tinder and all the small stuff
over there is for the compost heap.
David William Kirby
Okay. Neits replied.

Neits joined Isaac and they both started to
collect the thicker branches that Mr Plank had
sawed free. The sun was hiding behind thick white
fluffy clouds and although it was warm there was
a stiff breeze blowing.
I was right to say it? Isaac said above the
sound of the saw. You didnt mind did you?
Neits was about to reply when he noticed that Jed
Plank had stopped sawing. He looked at both boys
intently.
What did you say? He asked Isaac.
I just asked Neits if he minded that Id said
about the mistress. He placed a thick branch on
the pile and stood erect expecting to be told
off.
Why should Neits mind? Plank asked. Mongol
turned to look at the two boys and smiled.
Its just that she really frightened me last
night. Neits said breathlessly.
He paused and glanced at the pile of branches at
his feet and wondered if he was able to stop
himself crying.
I thought she was trying to kill me.
I know what shes like, Son. Plank remarked
wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He
looked at the boy earnestly.
Theres not much we can do about her except do
our work and hope she loses interest.
Were lucky to be serving in a big house where
theres food on the table and clean beds to sleep
in. We could be in the mines where you get worked
like dogs until you drop dead in your boots.
Fancy that?
He adjusted his saw and did a couple of swipes
before gesturing towards Mongol.
David William Kirby
Look at him. Plank sighed. This man would have

been dead years ago if it were not for his place
in this house. What with his deformity and low
intelligence he wouldnt have stood a chance.
No one would have given him work, so he would
have been picked up by the police and given the
chop. They call it social engineering, killing
people with his condition.
It happens every day, state sanctioned murder.
The truth is if you are not useful in the society
they have created... He nodded towards the
house.
...youre not wanted.
Is that true? Neits asked horrified.
Unfortunately, yes. Isaac replied picking up
more branches.
So get on with your work and be thankful. Plank
shouted. It could be much worse.
Neits busied himself collecting branches and
placing them in their respective piles when
something caught his attention. It was noise hes
not heard before coming from the other side of
the estate.
He and Isaac looked over in the direction the
sound was coming from and they saw a flock of
black birds rise into the air like a thick black
cloud.
They had been disturbed from their nests and the
birds soared above their heads like a menacing
black fog. They looked in the direction from
where the birds had risen and there, in the
distance was a fleet of big, black cars.
The noise they could hear clearly was the sound
of a loud siren that was screaming from the
leading vehicle as it raced through the grounds
of the estate closely followed by the others.
David William Kirby
The next had its headlights flashing on and off

and a blue light in the centre which was also
flashing.
The vehicle behind that had a flag on the bonnet
and as the fleet came closer Neits made out the
symbol that was embossed on the flag.
It was a circle with a white feather in its
centre. It was the same symbol he had seen in
stone over the door to the house.
He then remembered the dream hed had the
previous evening.
A feather on a shield held high.
Thats right he thought looking intently at the
flag as it flickered on the wind. The motif was
drawn in a gold coloured thread and in the
sunlight he saw it clearly, it was shimmering.
Now it begins. Plank said softly as his eyes
followed the line of vehicles to the front of the
house.
The bell had summoned him later in the day and

Neits had gone to Madam Sophies room hesitantly.
She was up and dressed elegantly in a two-piece
suit. Her makeup was done expertly and her hair
was pulled back from her face and tied with a
ribbon behind her head.
Tonight I will introduce you to the Master of
this house. She said indifferently checking her
ear-rings in the mirror as she spoke.
I will call for you after supper and, when you
come, please wait outside the room until I need
you. Do you understand?
Consequently later that day he was standing in
the shadows outside the blue lounge, as it was
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called, waiting to be instructed. He could hear

their voices travelling through the door as he
stood there like a mannequin or statue.
It was uncomfortable listening to them talking
and he wondered if she had forgotten that he was
there. Perhaps she liked to feel him nearby,
involved, but not so involved as to be part of
anything.
Come and take the night air. She said as she
opened the window. Its fresh, much better than
the smoke filled, stinking air of the city. All
that sewerage and sweat; it gets in your clothes
and hair and you cant get rid of it.
Must you have the windows open? He replied
reclining on a large sofa a cigarette burning in
his fingers. You know how prone I am to colds.
He got up and walked towards her leaning over and
pulling the window closed tight.
Leave it open you spoil sport. She hissed. I
want to feel the cold breeze against my skin. I
want to be touched by the frozen hand of nature;
it turns my blood to ice.
To match your heart. Her brother quipped. Have
it your way but dont expect me to sit here and
freeze to satisfy your indulgencies. From tonight
I want a fire burning in every hearth, if you
want to be cold, stand outside.
Yes, I could stand on the driveway completely
naked. She laughed and joined him at the drinks
table.
Youd love that, all the servants lusting after
my body while you wank yourself off at one of the
windows; closed of course. You could peer at me
through a crack in the curtains.
I think youve drunk too much tonight sister.
He replied coolly pouring himself a large brandy.
David William Kirby
Like the night air, your conversation has made

me uncomfortable.
Come on brother. She slurred leaning on his
shoulder. I know your fantasies; your deepest
thoughts. You know I would do whatever you wanted
me to do; you just have to ask. Particularly at
this time of the year; now the rites are upon
us.
So, thats what you are getting at. He mused
with a smile. You want to be my altar virgin;
well dearest, its a bit late for that.
Dont be unkind. She hissed. I will help you
in other ways, look after your interests.
I can look after myself. He replied tapping the
side of his glass with a delicate finger.
I know. She said sitting beside him and placing
a hand on his thigh. But the balance can swing
the other way quickly. They say your policies are
unpopular, your economics unsound. They say all
this could go in one coup.
Not while I live. He hissed taking her hand and
dropping it unceremoniously in her lap. This
equinox will see an end to strife. The ritual
will consolidate my power for now and for the
rest of time.
Perhaps. She smiled.
Explain? he said softly. Whats going on in
that perverted little brain of yours?
My lips are sealed. She said walking to the
mirror and examining herself in the reflection.
But let me just say that the age of man is in
the descendent and the age of woman is in the
ascendance. A new age is dawning, all hail the
new age.
David William Kirby
Very funny... He said sternly. ...but you are

forgetting one thing dear.
Oh yes?
Baphomet! he replied softly.
Yes? She turned and looked at him with a curled
lip. What about Baphomet?
You are too old, he prefers something younger.
He knew this would make her angry and he smiled
wickedly. He needs a younger yoni, a virgin, a
maid. Something untouched by man; you definitely
fail on that point.
Ho, Ho bloody Bap-ho-Met. She said. Who have
you got in mind? Not that dumb bitch in the
kitchen, give me a break!
Well see.
Well, she said going to the door. Let me
introduce you to another member of staff. I took
him on while you were away. Boy, she shouted.
Come in here and meet your master.
Neits touched the door handle and was about to
enter when he heard the other voice reply.
Not tonight, I am too tired. He stopped in his
tracks and listened.
You can make introductions at another time.
The door opened and Madam Sophie stood in the
crack looking at him.
Dismissed. She said abruptly before closing the
door again.
Neits shrugged and walked back to his room glad
that the day was over and not sorry for being
told to go.
In the hall outside he glanced across to see if
Isaac was there but tonight he was alone. He was
very tired and so the thought of getting into his
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own bed appealed to him greatly. He went in and

closed the door behind him.
The following day the master and his sister were

in the oak panelled dining room eating. It was a
beautiful room with windows all along one wall
which took in the estates sweeping view. The
green valley and thick forest that fell away from
the house went on until it reached the crashing
ocean.
Madam Sophie Leigh had descended the staircase
from her private rooms with all the dignity of a
street drunk being still intoxicated from the
night previously. Each step had to be carefully
negotiated to prevent her from falling while her
brother managed the task without difficulty.
When, eventually, she made it to the dining room
she sat opposite her brother at the other end of
the huge black table that crossed the room.
Charity was standing in the corner beside a dumb
waiter with a crisp white apron wrapped around
her black uniform.
If Id waited for you... The master said
simply lowering his soup spoon for a moment.
...I would have had to suffer the injustice of
cold soup. That would never do.
Dont let me hold you up. She replied with a
snarl mimicking his manner. After all, Im just
your sister. We all know whose boss around here.
Im not even worth the injustice of cold soup.
He did not reply but his expression betrayed his
inner resent. He knew she was bitter about his
comments the previous evening but he was not
prepared to apologise.
She was going to have to bow to tradition as he
had always done; there was nothing else for it.
David William Kirby
She sat erect staring at him as Charity poured a

ladle of soup into her bowl.
Careful. She snapped.
Youre splashing my dress, stupid girl.
Charity nervously stopped and stepped back into
the shadows placing the soup bowl back onto the
dumb waiter. Sophie smelt the soup and sighed.
Ah, she smiled. That old bitch in the kitchen
certainly knows how to make a good soup. It must
be all the practice she gets whisking Planks
wooden spoon.
Her brother looked at her intently and shook his
head from side to side.
The thought of them fucking over the kitchen
sink she started to say.
Stop this. He shouted splashing his soup over
the clean tablecloth.
Keep your thoughts to yourself at least until
weve eaten. Youre embarrassing the girl. He
nodded toward Charity.
She brushed a crease from her apron and hoped
they would change the subject. It was frightening
enough being there alone with them both without
being the subject of conversation. Sophie pursed
her lips and looked at Charity through the corner
of her eyes. She slurped a spoonful of soup
noisily.
Are you going to keep this up throughout the
meal? Her brother asked pushing his soup bowl
away.
Ill behave as I see fit. Sophie replied
finishing her soup.
No matter if it disturbs you or the staff.
Charity carefully took the soup bowl from the
masters place and stepped gingerly to the other
end of the table. She reached out to take the
other bowl and her hand was visible shaking.
David William Kirby
Get on with it. Sophie snapped as the girl took

the bowl. Sophie stared down the length of the
table and asked softly:
So, are you going to let me join you tomorrow at
the equinox or not?
Behaving like a child will not change our
traditions. Her brother replied as he watched
Charity place the bowls upon the dumb waiter and
collect two plates.
There is a right way and there is a wrong way, I
do things the right way. Remember... He hissed.
...I am their redeemer, their saviour, their
brother and their father. You can be none of
these things.
The girl walked to the table and placed a large
white plate beside the master and then walked to
the other end of the table. She placed the other
plate next to Sophie and walked to the dumb
waiter again. Several small dishes had arrived
there having been sent up from the kitchen.
Change is inevitable. Sophie said with a small
smile. A new age is dawning; a new feminine
age.
Must we go on with this? He said raising his
voice. Beside the traditional paternalistic
aspect of this ritual, there are other
preparations that you know nothing of.
What preparations? she asked watching the girl
place a spread of vegetables on her brothers
plate. The girl then walked to her end and placed
a selection of green beans and potatoes on hers.
Magical ritual requires at least
knowledge of theory and practice.
something I know you are ignorant
not the slightest thing and there
for you to learn.
a basic
This is
of. You know
isnt the time
David William Kirby
He huffed and waited while the girl placed a

piece of cooked meat on his plate, he waved her
away before she could place more.
You are wrong again Brother. Sophie said
watching the girl place meat on her plate. Ive
been reading your books. All of them.
Really? He sniffed pouring some sauce on his
plate and eating. They both at in stony silence
for a while. Then, after a long tense pause, she
looked at him intently and continued.
I have been studying in secret for many months
and I feel ready to get involved.
He looked up at her and shook his head. There was
a wine decanter in front of his place and the
master reached out for it.
Its not that easy. He replied pouring himself
a glass of red wine.
Youre just being a snob. She smiled before
indicating that the girl should fill her glass.
Charity stepped quickly to the decanter and
rushed to her mistress. She filled the glass that
was being offered up to her and returned the
decanter before taking her position by the dumb
waiter again.
Ive read everything and feel just as
knowledgeable as you. I may have even practiced
the art in your absence.
Youre lying. He said laying his knife down
with a clatter. The tension in the room grew as
the silence between them threatened to crush the
table. You had better be joking. That room is
out of bounds.
If I was lying, she shouted. I wouldnt know
about the ritual, would I? She pushed her plate
away from her and muttered to herself before
glaring at him.
David William Kirby
When you are away from here theres very little

to do and I am bored stiff.
I thought you occupied yourself, erm... He
sniggered like a schoolboy and threw a glance
toward Charity.
...in your own way.
The master looked across the room again and the
one eyed girl froze on the spot.
Do me a favour. His sister spat.
The staff have their uses but come on, theyre
as dumb as donkeys. She glanced at Charity and
her lips twisted into a sickening snarl.
No, She continued. When you are away I have
reign over the whole house. Even the parts you
forbid me from using.
My god, Ive got to do something in the evenings
otherwise Id go mad.
What have you been doing in my room? he
demanded to know. You had better not have used
my tools. They are mine, they are consecrated and
purged of bad energy. If you have so much as
touched them I will...
Cool down brother. She replied drinking a huge
gulp of wine. Dont lose your cool. I know the
rules. Didnt you ever wonder why I could talk to
you about the mysteries, about Baphomet? Did you
think Id just woke up one day with that
knowledge? And, believe me, I truly have
knowledge.
She stood and walked to a cupboard that sat at
the side of the room and pulled open a mall door.
Inside was a small box with switches and buttons
which she pressed.
David William Kirby
The box lit up and from hidden speakers music

slowly filtered into the room. Sophie walked to a
small dinner gong and picked it up.
The music was slow and rhythmic, a beating drum
was set among the lilting sound of violins. The
rhythm marched steadily from the speakers with a
wilting and hypnotic stream of gentle notes
accompanying it. Sophie lifted the gong and
banged it.
Listen, all you who have ears... She said
raising her chin and dancing slowly towards him.
...The seven sacred sonnets of BAP-HO-MET. She
said with a mischievous grin.
A little mathematical poem for you, my brother,
something to show you the depth of my
understanding.
She moved towards him with the gong in one hand
and the gabble in the other. Dancing hypnotically
as the sound from the speakers filled the air. He
raised his glass towards her and smiled.
A mathematical riddle, she continued. The nine
degrees.
She squatted down on her haunches and looked up
at him like a cat. A candle burning behind her
flickered through the soft green silk of her
dress and she banged the gong three times before
whispering.
FIVE equals SEVEN.
Yes Sophie Leigh, he asked softly. What is
Philosophus?
Standing she thrust her groin towards him and
continued to dance slowly like a serpent around
the chair in which he sat, mouthing a verse for
him in tune with the music.
David William Kirby
Each line of the verse was filled with a hidden

symbolism that he was to interpret; it was a game
only they knew the rules too.
FIVE equals Seven. She repeated.
This is the word of the Hermit
the sacred name of fire
the secret word on Shus brow
a Virgin in the sky.
Her brother twisted a half smile towards her
arching body as she moved around him. The words
echoed from the walls and ceiling in time with
the slow march of drums. He nodded for her to
continue.
SIX equals SIX, she said banging on the gong.
This is the magick Herophant
the bull-horned man reborn
the Horus flower
a name of power
the bringer of fire-storms.
She banged the gong a further three times and
sank to one knee.
SIX equals FIVE
In those dark storms they dwell
The Emperor and The Ram
The messenger called Jupiter
Will lead to their crown
Standing and giving a bow Sophie danced away from
him moving her hips from side to side
seductively. He watched the performance with
interest the smile becoming wider with each sway
of her hips.
SEVEN equals FOUR
When one becomes majestic NINE
Hermes longs for birth
The Empress flies in Vermilion skies
Far above the Earth
David William Kirby
EIGHT equals THREE

The Priestess will devour you
Kneel to be her blessed
Bend low and take the Moons arrow
Call out here for Isis
NINE equals TWO
The pumping rod must be purged
Thrust forth the Mages staff
Do not hold back Mercurys attack
Call here the name of Mars.
The music beat frantically as she twisted around
the room a flowing blur of green silk. Her hair
loose hung around her shoulders in wild tassels
and her skin was kissed with sweet droplets of
moisture. She banged the gone three more times.
TEN equals ONE
Hear O seed of Osiris
Its the Fool in search of TIME
A spurt of white
The stains of night
AIR in EQUALIBRIUM.
She fell to the floor with this call on her warm
lips and lay there quivering.
Bravo! he clapped over her panting breath.
Bravo, bravo, bravo. He said as the gong
slipped from her fingers and rolled across the
cold floor spinning on its axis loudly.
Its true, you have been busy reading.
They both looked towards the gong laying at the
feet of the young girl who stood by the dumb
waiter looking puzzled.
Charity was holding a cold pudding in her hands
and was looking towards the master and his sister
for some instruction.
Sophie picked herself up from the floor and
looked intently at the awkward girl.
David William Kirby
Just serve the fucking pudding will you. She

spat eventually. Stupid little bitch.
Charity stepped from the dumb waiter and towards
the table cautiously. Placing the trey that held
the pudding on the table in front of her master
she reached for a bowl and placed a portion in
it.
Then she took his dining plate and placed that on
the tray where the bowl had been. This was
repeated at the far end of the table where
her mistress had been sitting.
She was about to take the tray to the dumb waiter
when he said something that made her blood
freeze.
Wait, her master ordered. Come, stand here in
the light.
Charity placed the tray on the dumb waiter and
turned slowly. She could feel Madam Sophies eyes
burning into her and dared not look in case the
stare turned her to stone.
He lifted his delicate hand and beckoned with his
finger for her to come closer. His eyes were
focused on her face although she was aware of
them dropping to her breasts momentarily. Darting
over them, taking them soft panting of her chest
in with glee.
She stood next to him as his eyes swept from her
chest to her hips and then her legs. He reached
out and touched her inner knee which made a shock
of electricity shoot over her.
She trembled slightly as his fingers rose to the
hem of her skirt. Charity closed her eye and
gulped feeling the coldness of his knuckles on
her inner thigh.
Time seemed to stand still as she trembled in his
gaze. Those fingers explored a little higher as
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he wondered how far she would allow him to go

before pulling away.
He moved higher still and smiled wickedly feeling
the tremble on the tips of his exploring fingers
and then, as the tips brushed the soft mound of
her panties, Charity stepped back. Her eye opened
and it glared at him. He smiled wickedly being
amused by her fear.
You can go now.
Neits made his way to his room later that evening

having made his way there from the kitchen. He
had helped undress Madam and hung her clothes in
the locker before being dismissed. From there he
had gone to the kitchen but it was late and all
the lights were out and the stove was cold.
Standing outside his room for a moment Neits
wondered why he hadnt seen Isaac that evening.
He wondered if her was in his room and crept down
the darkened hall to his door.
He listened and thought he heard voices so he
knocked gently and waited. After a moment or two
the door was pulled ajar slightly and Isaac stood
in the crack.
Hello! he whispered looking down the hall
furtively.
Can I come in? Neits asked putting is hand upon
the door.
Not, really. Isaac replied but it was too late,
Neits had pushed the door back and he saw inside.
Charity was in the bed covering her modesty.
Sorry. Isaac said remorsefully. Its
complicated.
I understand. Neits replied lying. He didnt
understand and yet didnt know what to say or how
to react. Ill see you in the morning.
David William Kirby
Yes. Isaac said closing the door. In the

morning.
Neits went to his room and closed the door. He
sat on his bed and bit his lip thinking about
what he had seen. Then he curled up in a ball and
went to sleep.
******************************************8
You can help Isaac in the Pantry. Cook said as
she took the breakfast things from the table. It
is dusty in there and the boxes need unpacking.
Wont Madam need me? Neits asked sipping on the
last of his tea, he placed the cup down and it
was immediately taken by Cook. Charity then wiped
the table with a wet cloth.
She will probably sleep till eleven or so. Cook
replied. You can be busy down here till she
rings for you.
Theres an apron over there. Jed Plank remarked
pointing to a row of hooks. Isaac?
Yes? The other boy replied coming into the
kitchen.
Take Neits there and show him how we arrange the
foodstuffs in the pantry.
Okay.
Neits got up and pulled an apron around his waist
and looked at his friend. He gestured for him to
follow and they entered a large dusty room filled
with boxes and lined with shelves.
We have to unpack the boxes. Isaac said
pointing towards the pile. The tins go on that
wall, the bottles over there and the loose stuff
on the lower shelves.
Right.
David William Kirby
Before we start its best to dust down the empty

shelves. Isaac said taking a cloth and throwing
it over his shoulder.
Where does all this stuff come from? Neits
asked. Ive never seen so much food packaged
like this. In the village we used to pickled
vegetables but never like this.
All this stuff has come from a central store.
Isaac said pointing at one box that had a date
stamped on the side. This stuff is years old, it
keeps forever if its looked after properly.
They began to rip open the boxes and explore the
contents. It was mainly processed meats in one
box and tins of tomatoes in another. After wiping
the shelves they placed the tins with the labels
naming the contents facing the front.
Im sorry about last night? Neits said after a
while. He looked at his friend and gave a half
smile that indicated his obvious disappointment.
Sorry, Isaac replied. What for?
For interrupting I guess. I should have known.
What? Isaac replied stacking the tins with his
back to his friend. He turned to face him.
You couldnt have known about me and Charity.
Are you having an affair Neits asked softly.
No. Isaac laughed. Shes a friend. Look the
girl cant talk so she needs someone to give her
a hug sometimes. Make her feel wanted. She takes
a lot of shit in this place, can you imagine what
its like?
We all take shit. Neits replied coldly.
But we can talk about it. Isaac said.
Imagine, if you couldnt tell anyone how you
were feeling, how angry you were. Imagine if you
couldnt say if you were depressed, imagine
that?
David William Kirby
Yes, it must be hard for her. Neits replied

feeling guilty that hed brought the subject up.
Hard! Isaac said. You have no idea. The girl
would go mad if she couldnt get it off her
chest. I mean, she cant talk so if shes sad I
let her cry, if shes angry I let her get mad. I
give her permission to be herself. Shed go off
her head otherwise.
Do you have sex?
Are you jealous? Isaac replied with a wide
smile. You are jealous. I didnt know you
cared.
Dont take the micky.
Look Neits, Isaac smiled. I have enough love
for everyone, even you.
I just thought. Neits said turning to open
another box. That we had a special relationship,
something private, just for us. I didnt realise
it wasnt that special.
It is special. Isaac replied. Its ours, its
ours and no one else is included. You are like my
brother. Just remember that.
I will. Neits replied softly. He made a small
smile and whispered:
Thanks.
Now thats out the way. Isaac replied throwing
a tin of tomatoes across the room. You can start
to stack them up there.
Come here! The master said coldly. It was later
that evening and the two were sitting at the long
black table again; alone with one nervous
servant.
Charity placed the bowl she was carrying on to
the dumb waiter and walked slowly toward the
master.
What size do you think she is?
David William Kirby
Do you have to? His sister replied looking

across the table sternly. These games are just
too boring.
I thought a size 12, what do you think? He
smiled.
Ha, Ha! she sneered. Who gives a shit.
Charity stood in front of him and looked awkward.
Turn around. He whispered. She did as she was
asked and turned on her heels, his eyes burning
into her body, penetrating her clothing.
Beautiful. He said eventually. Come to my
rooms tonight, after your work in the kitchen has
been done.
You cannot be serious? His sister shouted
throwing down her cutlery. She stood and walked
towards the door. If you think Im going to be
party to this, you have another thing coming.
With that she stormed from the dining room and
slammed the door behind her. Her brother smiled
and nodded to the girl to return to her duties.
She was relieved to do so and scurried off to
collect the mistress things from the other end
of the table.
Dont forget. He said as she walked away. Come
after you have finished your duties.
Later in the evening Charity was feeling nervous.
She had no way of telling anyone what he had said
and it was worrying her. As she swept the last of
the kitchen floor and hung her apron on its
familiar hook she felt as if she was going to her
execution.
She climbed the
with a sense of
door she paused
something would
going in.
stairs to the Masters quarters

resignation. Once outside his
before knocking in the hope that
happen that would prevent her
David William Kirby
Then she heard a friendly voice. She turned and

saw Isaac walking down the hall towards her. He
was carrying a box that the master had told him
to retrieve from a storage room.
What are you doing here? He asked knowing that
she wasnt able to reply. Did he ask you to come
here?
She nodded and bit her lip. He looked at the door
and then at her. He felt helpless knowing that he
had to let her do as she was asked.
Dont worry. He whispered. I have to go
downstairs quickly but Ill come back and wait
here for you.
He looked at the box he was told to get and
passed it to her.
He wanted this. You give it to him.
Charity smiled and then looked towards the door
with reservation.
Go on. Isaac said softly. Ill make sure
youre okay.
She knocked and a voice called from within for
her to enter.
Once inside the door she saw the master waiting
beside a blazing fire. The room was cast in
shadows and the only light was from the logs
burning in the hearth.
Whats that you have. He called out. Come
bring it here.
She stepped towards him and held the box out. He
looked at it and smiled recognizing it at once.
Good. He smiled. You can help me dress.
He opened the box and the first thing they saw,
sitting upon a green and blue silk cowl, was the
golden crown of his ancestors. The crown gleamed
in the twilight and shadows thrown down by the
David William Kirby
fire and looked majestically beautiful sitting

there. Charity had never seen anything so ornate.
Do you like it? He asked taking the crown from
the box. Its part of a very important costume.
A costume I get to wear only rarely. Tonight is
one of those occasions. Get that mirror from the
corner.
He indicated a full length mirror that stood in
the corner of the room which was on casters. She
wheeled it to him as he undressed. When he was
naked he asked her to bath him.
There was a bowl of steaming water on a nearby
washstand and she dipped a sponge into it and
lathered it with sweet smelling soap.
His body was smooth and hard as she wiped the
sponge over it. The water and soap drained from
his skin in long lines and collected in a small
pool at his feet. He turned and she noted his
arousal. His hand caught hers and her fingers
were pushed down to his groin.
Wash there. He said softly.
As the sponge swept over his hard genitals he
closed his eyes and enjoyed the sense of power he
had over this girl. She felt a sense of
breathlessness and fright that combined in her
body making her tremble.
She knelt before him and swept the sponge down
his legs and over his thighs. Charity kept her
gaze on the floor and behaved businesslike; she
tried her hardest not to appear frightened.
Dry me now. He said as she stood. There was a
large towel by the fire that she took and wiped
over his body.
When she had finished he took the crown out the
box and shook out the garment beneath it. The
serpent that encircled the hem shone in the light
David William Kirby
from the fire as he pulled the garment over his

head.
You can go now. He said firmly. She hesitated
before giving a shallow nod and leaving the room.
Outside instead of the friendly face of Isaac she
met her mistress, Sophie.
You think youre clever dont you. The woman
said as the girl closed the door. Sophie stepped
toward the girl and reached out. It was a sudden
thrusting movement that caught Charity by
surprise.
The smile on her mistress face was un-natural,
it was a wicked sneer, full of hatred and
loathsomeness. Charity felt a blow and looked
down. She saw a dagger sticking out of her chest.
Bitch. The woman snapped as the young girl fell
forwards, You thought youd take my place, take
my birthright? That will never happen.
Charity fell to her knees and looked up at the
woman who towered over her. She saw the blood on
the tips of her fingers and felt warm moisture
trickle down her chest as her breathing became
laboured. Then her vision blurred and she fell
forwards as if in slow motion.
Never! Sophie shouted at the corpse. She turned
and walked towards her room as if nothing had
happened. She was mumbling to herself about the
bloodstains on her dress as she opened the door.
As it closed Isaac came up the stairs from the
Staff quarters. He saw the prostrate body of the
girl and ran towards her.
Charity? He said quietly lifting her body up
and then his face turned white. He looked at the
palm of his hand and it was covered in thick red
blood. She was lifeless and yet still warm.
No! he cried out in the darkness. No!
David William Kirby
He pulled the dagger from her chest and opened

the door to the Masters room. Isaac saw the man
standing with his back to him admiring himself in
the mirror. He was totally unaware of what had
happened in the hall outside. The master looked
at the boy in the reflection and sniffed.
What do you want? He asked with an air of
indifference. He was about to turn as the boy
crossed the room and the master caught sight of
the dagger in the boys hand.
What are you doing? He said as the knife
punctured his lung. Isaac pulled the blade out
and struck again.
Its something I should have done years ago. He
said pushing the blade into the blue silk, again
and again.
The master fell to his knees and held a hand up
to stop the blows from the dagger but the blade
cut into his palm. He looked at Isaac one last
time as the blood poured from his body and saw
the expression on the boys face change from
absolute anger to confusion.
His pupils turned into one another and he dropped
pole axed. The masters last sight was that of
his sister standing behind the falling boy with a
hammer in her grip.
Im so sorry, my brother. She cried as Isaacs
body shook in convulsions on the floor beside
them. She picked his head up and placed it on her
lap, stroking the blood from his face.
Dont worry. She said softy. I will complete
the ritual and perhaps all will be back as it
was.
His empty eyes stared blankly back at her. She
then proceeded to undress him and to place the
blood soaked ceremonial robe on her own body.
David William Kirby
Neits stepped from his room and looked across the

hall. It had been hours since Isaac had told him
that he was going up to make sure Charity was
safe.
He crossed the hall and tapped on his friends
door, there was no answer. He tapped again before
trying the lock. The door swung open. He peered
cautiously inside and found the room empty.
The boy stepped back into the hall and walked
along until he came to Charitys room. He knocked
gently.
Charity, he whispered. Its me, is Isaac in
there?
There was only silence in return. He tried the
lock and the door opened. The room was empty too.
What are you doing? A voice asked making the
boy jump. He turned and saw the face of the cook
looking out from behind her door.
Boys are not allowed in this part of the staff
quarters.
I know. He replied. Its Isaac, hes not in
his room and neither is Charity. He went to get
her from the Masters room hours ago. Im worried
that something may be wrong.
Go to your room and Ill call Jed Plank. She
replied pulling her dressing gown around her
body. Hell know what to do.
Neits ignored her and ran down the hall towards
the staircase that led to the main part of the
house. Climbing each step cautiously he peered
around each landing expecting to find either the
master or his sister standing there.
When he reached the final stair he looked down
the hall and was surprised to find it in
darkness.
David William Kirby
Normally this part of the house always had a

light burning in the socket; although tonight it
was dark and silent. He could see the shape of
something half way along but couldnt make out
what it was.
Ateth. She said softly raising a hand to her
crowned forehead. Sophie was dressed in the
ceremonial costume her brother had been wearing
only a few moments earlier and now she was
standing in the secret room beside the altar,
whispering the ancient prayer of their ancestors.
Malkuth, she whispered touching the purple cord
that wrapped her waistline. Ve Gedula, Ve
Gebhula, Le Aleom.
Neits walked to the lifeless body of the young
girl in the hall and knelt beside her. He had
never seen so much blood and it was sticky to the
touch.
He listened to see if she was breathing and when
he realised that she was dead it sent a shock
wave through his body. He stood and looked down
unsure what he should do. It was then, through
the open door to his left, beside the crackling
fire, he saw something else.
ADONAI! She screamed turning to face the
blazing southern burner.
ORIENS! She screamed to the east.
The thick plumes of incense rose from the burners
and started to fill the room with an acrid smoke.
Eh-Ei-He! She screamed to the blazing west and
then turning to the northernmost burner she
raised the bloodied dagger into the air and
screamed. AGLA!
Neits walked carefully into the masters room, he
had never been in there before and he was afraid.
Then he saw the body of his friend laying beside
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the mirror, blood was still leaking from a gaping

head wound. There was another body lying in the
shadows. He peered closer and could see that it
was the naked body of the master.
Neits stepped over the masters body and bent
over beside Isaacs prone form sure that he too
was dead.
Neits He looked down and saw Isaac had opened
his eyes.
What has happened here? Neits asked kneeling
beside his friend. He reached out with tears
streaming down his face as the realisation that
his life was about to change again, forever,
dawned on him.
Its her. The boy whispered weakly. You have
to stop her.
Who, stop who? Neits asked. He could see that
Isaac was very weak and didnt want to leave him
there but the boy mustered all his strength and
pointed towards the door.
The mistress. He croaked. Shes there, shes
over
His eyes closed and his arm fell limply to the
floor.
Isaac. Neits screamed out in the darkness. The
fire or hatred burned behind him like the flames
of hell and he felt a new energy fill his body.
It was a power that Neits had never felt before,
an awesome feeling of invincibility that filled
him with anger.
Sanctus, Tererum, Aerisquo She whispered
breathlessly. Salve Raphael, Salve Gabriel,
Salve Michael, Salve Urial, nam tellus et Omnia
Neits stepped over Charitys cold body and looked
down the hall. He noticed the two black doors
that had always been locked were now slightly
ajar.
David William Kirby
He had previously wondered why they were always

locked and had never realised the circumstances
through which he would find out.
Stepping closer he touched the handle of the
first door and pulled it back. Inside was a
darkened stairwell.
Sophie opened the worn leather book and opened
the cover. She stared with marvel at the first
page, the golden cross centred with a red rose,
each petal picked out in red metallic thread
against a lattice of gold.
Beautiful. She said as the design drew her into
its beauty. She could feel the energy burning
through the leather cover and into her fingers.
The more she looked the greater the detail she
saw; finer and finer lattices woven in gold and
copper thread, fading away into infinity.
Beautiful. She repeated.
Then turning the page she saw the first symbol of
the word. She started the slow chant of the
twenty-two syllables that was etched in each page
of the book.
Each syllable corresponded to each of the twenty
two letters of the old Hebrew alphabet. The
twenty two trump cards of the tarot, the twenty
two rune-cards, the twenty two ages of man and
the twenty two thousand year cycle that made up
the procession of the equinox.
Each utterance of this word was shrouded in
mystery and echoed with power.
Reaching the end and beginning again, her voice
was creating a lattice of echoing sound that
bounced from the marble walls and ceiling.
Harmonics danced upon harmonics and the sound
reverberated like a bell through the mists of
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time and wonder. Ringing out through the ages,

down the centuries, she imagined it tolling in a
new age of enlightenment and wonder.
In her crazed mind she saw herself as the new
messiah. The new Saviour of mankind, the new
redeemer of the age, it was the start of the age
of Sisterhood.
Neits climbed the stairwell and found himself on
a landing containing exquisite artworks. The
whole house had been full of beautiful things but
none as superb as these.
There were gold fixtures and gold fittings
everywhere, golden cherubims and idols of fawns
and fairies. The walls were hung with dark
paintings of horned gods and sacrificed bodies.
He could hear a murmur in the room ahead and he
stepped gingerly towards the door that separated
him from the sound. A sound he had never heard,
like singing, it was a ringing chant and the
harmonic layers seemed full of endless echoes.
It was an hypnotic sound and it reminded him of
something, something scary. He stepped towards
the sound bravely.
Sophie had her eyes closed as the rhythm of the
word picked up its own textures once theyd left
her mouth.
It was alive in the room and the sound filled the
hollow spaces with a growing tension. She was
unaware of the firestorm that she had created.
Fire was blazing in and around her firstly
bursting through the ceiling and then into every
corner of the room.
It was a blazing confabulation that soared around
the protective circle in which she stood. Then
the sound of their cloven hooves made her open
her eyes.
David William Kirby
Seeing the room full of fire the vision took her

breath away and she became fearful of the power
that had been unleashed. Her fingers trembled and
Sophie became terrified of what she had created.
Then, through the flames she saw them, thousands
of small elemental creatures each with the face
of a devil. Their clawed fingers reached out
towards her through the flames and their cloven
hooves rapped out a tapping sound across the
marble floor. In their hands were either pipes
made from golden rams horns or barbed tridents.
These thought forms look furtively at her, poking
their tridents, blowing their horns and then they
stopped and peered behind. Moving aside and
bowing a gap opened through them.
Sophie looked up and saw coming through the
flames a young boy. She recognised him at once.
But he appeared to be glowing there before her.
He was shimmering with bright white light which
enveloped his form completely.
He was a vision of love and kindness that the
flames could lick but not harm. Even the goblins
looked startled by the form walking among them.
She saw standing above Neits the figure of a man
and he was holding his hands above the boys
head, like a crown of fingers. Protecting him and
allowing only love to beam from the scar in his
forehead.
Around the globe all the boys of his age felt
joined for that moment, across the abyss of time
and space they broadcast their power and love
towards him; knowing that tonight their destiny
was for filled. They changed reality with nothing
but thoughts of love and light.
David William Kirby
You! she screamed as the scar on Neits forehead

started to glow white hot. He remembered what his
father had said in his dream, if he pushed hard
he would push to.
Around the world they all pushed, from the centre
of their being, filling the boy with psychic
energy.
With that thought in his heart the boy pushed
over a flaming incense burner spilling its
contents across the floor. The heavy iron burner
tumbled over as if in slow motion.
Its smoking contents scattered across the floor.
The ash and tinder obliterated the circle in
which Sophie stood.
This created a bridge for the goblins and
elementals to use. They immediately swarmed
across the bridge and began pricking her with
their pointed forks. Their tridents quickly
became bloodied as they found their mark, through
her blue robes, into the serpent stitching, then
again through her flesh.
They swarmed into the circle and had fun with the
screaming woman. Sophie picked up the great
ceremonial sword and tried to use it to kill them
but it was too heavy for her.
Lifting it above her head the weight of the sword
made her fall backwards out of the circle and
into the fire. The small creatures danced around
her body as it was consumed by the intensity of
the flames.
Her screams rang out in the night like a she wolf
baying at the moon. Echoing down the years, the
mother of Romulus and Reemus, Babylon the great
gasped her last.
David William Kirby
Then, as she burned, Niets saw the whole mass of

flame, blood and heat appeared to be sucked up
into the centre of the ceiling. Sucked up by a
vortex of wind, thunder and hail; leaving the boy
in an empty room. At his feet sat a small leather
book.
He thought he heard a voice on the wind, a
screaming voice of the age, Rufus is Dead, it
howled, Long live Rufus.
He thought he heard the sound of cloven hooves
stamping across the sky, or was it thunder, or
perhaps the grinding of sharp teeth against flesh
and bone; or was it the sound of a man screaming,
forever.
Then there was silence. A warm silence that made
him feel happy, like a hot sun rise by the crest
of an ocean. The sound of birds singing outside
the dark room reminded him that morning was
approaching, a new morning and the dawning of a
happier time.
He picked up the book and turned it over. On the
rear was a map. Niets picked up a piece of blue
silk that lay on the altar and carefully wrapped
the book in it.
He ran outside the house and saw that it was
summer all around, there were green shoots
everywhere and flowers littered the wayside. The
bright morning sun was rising above his head and
he knew that the world had changed.
_______________________________________
___
The following week he stood with a badly injured
Isaac, a weeping cook, stern faced Mr Plank and a
solemn looking Mongol by the grave of a young
girl. Cook placed a wreath of flowers on the
grave and looked towards the boys.
So, its over. She sighed.
David William Kirby
Are you sure you dont want to come with me and

Mr Plank? Were going to find some land and make
a home there for us and him.
She nodded at Mongol and smiled.
Thank you. Neits replied. But we have plans of
our own. Dont you want to stay in this old
house?
No fear. Jed Plank retorted grasping the cooks
hand and squeezing it gently. This place is like
a tomb. Somewhere for storing the dead. We would
never feel comfortable here with its bad memories
and ghosts.
No. The cook whispered. Its best left for the
rats and mice. Were going to make our own life
somewhere else. I have a feeling only good things
can happen now.
Yes. Neits smiled. So do I...
----------------------------------Three months later.
Are you sure you want me to set you down here?
The captain of a fishing vessel said taking off
his cap and wiping the sweat from his brow.
There doesnt appear to be much to see, cept a
few Indians and the like.
I think they will treat us well. Neits replied
helping Isaac to his feet. The two boys walked to
the side of the boat and Neits jumped into the
crashing waves of clear blue water.
He turned and helped his friend, who was still
weak from the attack, to climb off the boat and
into the bright blue water. They both walked
through the surf onto the beach yonder.
David William Kirby
Well be moored off the coast for a day or so.

The captain shouted. Maybe even two days
dependent on the fishing; youre a long way from
home. When were gone youll be stuck here.
If we change our minds in the next day or so
Ill let you know. Neits shouted through the
sound of the crashing serf. Thank you for all
you have done for us.
It was a pleasure. The captain shouted
heartily. ...Thank you for the paintings.
He glanced over his shoulder towards the stack of
oil paintings leaning against the bow of the boat
and smiled.
Goodbye, for now. Isaac shouted limping onto
the white sandy beach. He shielded his eyes and
watched the boat return to the sea. The captain
and his crew waved back from the deck wishing the
two boys well.
Isaac leant forwards and removed his sandals
feeling the hot white sand between his toes. The
wind caught the coconut trees and the mass of
ferns that lined the beach then blew through
their hair. Both boys realised that they had come
home.
Neits felt his breast pocket and was relieved to
find it still there, a small leather book which
he had carried on the long journey from the
house.
How did you know about this place? Isaac asked
as his friend helped him toward the tree line.
Its beautiful.
Someone told me about it. Neits replied. In a
dream.
They then saw an old man step from the trees and
walk toward them, his skin, patted with clay as
David William Kirby
blue as the waves and the sky above, his tight

grey hair in long dreads that hung like treeroots from his head. Neits recognised him at
once. It was the man from his dreams; the one who
said he was the boys father.
He nodded and smiled as the two boys joined him.
My Son. The dread-locked man smiled. We have
been waiting for you.
Neits took the book from his pocket and gave it
to the old man who nodded and smiled.
Oh, He said with a note of concern. Id better
put that away.
Yes, you had. Neits replied.
People think they can talk to god with it. The
old man laughed.
Have you ever heard such nonsense? Still, he
said thoughtfully.
Id better put it somewhere safe.
As the small party entered the village the
children and women came from the long houses and
looked with interest at the two strangers.
You see. The old man said with glee. I told
you one day Rufus would return. Look, he is
cleansed of his evil ways. Lets celebrate. The
return of our brothers.
The village never needed an excuse to have a
party, and boy, what a party they had that night;
but thats another story.
Content contemplation of Divine Wisdom creates
simple order. Strife for absolute power strikes
with discord and the root of our being
THE END
David William Kirby
DWK (THE DOGBREATHSPUBLISHING) 2010

From the original 1974 Manuscript
All rights reserved
C: dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk

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The Dogbreaths Publishing

Before Now and After

David William Kirby

David W Kirby all rights reserved.,

Before Now and After.

The Occult History

Copyright David William Kirby 2009

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Before Now and After

David William Kirby

The Final Draft

Before Now and After

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Before Now and After

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Before Now and After

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Utibia was beautiful, a lone

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their very presence was an indication of that

life on this island

The Langa people were blue but not naturally so.

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Before Now and After

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Likewise if you travelled far into the universe;

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Before Now and After

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All were equal in the village although when a

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Before Now and After

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Rufus told that with this name on a mans lips

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Kings became Emperors and down the centuries the

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Before Now and After

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heralding the end of the beginning and the

Contemplation of a mother God, and her divine

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It may have been the way the sun shone on the

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their leather sandals. A small army alighted and

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prisoners from this place, Augustus has decreed

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Before Now and After

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reached for his sword. The blade sparkled in the

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