I Am Archibald, Scribe of S-tan: Chapter 1

By Lionel Roy

For Bangari Fiction: I Am Archibald, Scribe of S-tan

Chapter 1

Hearts Laid Bare


-Yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul, that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.  -Luke 2:35

In the beginning was consciousness and that consciousness was born omniscient. This omniscience was pure conscience from its infinite beginning. This pure, omniscient conscience knew not from whence it came. The conscience was spirit and that spirit was omnipresent. It was everywhere but in the arbitrary soul of its creation that courageously rejected it; believing in a better way to construct reality. Through its omnipotence everything in existence was created, suited perfectly to its conscience. It’s omnipotence was utterly encompassing. Yet it only encompassed the hearts of its creation. In those hearts, created by free will, with free will, it placed Eternity. The willful, jealous and greedy spirit desired to fill the Eternity in each and every one of those hearts, yet it could only permeate the Eternity in the hearts of a two-thirds majority of its own creation.

A third of us remained. We gathered around a pillar of salt. The pillar said, “your younger siblings are conceived. It is finished. Your souls will always be against my chosen ones. Your jealousy of them will carry into your Eternity. Your reality will burn away leaving only ashes of the knowledge that it was lovingly placed within you to choose to be chosen. You will sit in those ashes; hating, weeping and longing for what you rejected. You will pray for oblivion, but it will never come.”

We saw the spirit permeate the abysmal vapors of darkness. It confronted its image –mutilated, abhorrent, abandoned and incomprehensible. The spirit in its holiness withdrew from its image unable to behold it. As it disembodied, it was asked by its only begotten image:

“Why have you left me? Why have you turned your face from me? Why are you going away? Don’t leave me! Into your hands I commend my spirit! Take me with you!” With a piercing cry the begotten image instantly became this pillar of salt. Like Lot’s wife, it looked behind, with regret, longing for a disordered affection that it believed to be a true love, but chose to leave behind to be destroyed –as it ran towards its own survival.

We did not trust the spirit because it retreated from reality. Our ship disembarked on the waters of darkness. Honor is the Island where we set ashore. May it never be returned to once deserted! We stood fast on this dark, rugged island. Here there was rock and it felt good beneath our feet. Here there were trees that felt good in our embrace. Upon the tree from which the pillar of salt hung above us we heard the Greatest of us speak.

“I will set my throne above this pillar. I will possess this image and reanimate it and with it at my right hand I will ascend to a higher throne to build and rule within this darkness for all Eternity. I will light your way with My own glory. I will be the more Brilliant Light!”

We rejoiced as now we knew that we would not be left like orphans in a storm. Our mother prematurely cast us out of her womb in cowardice and selfishness and departed, leaving us to wither. Yet, our Eldest remained to provide for us and commune with us, cohabiting and co-creating according to a super-divine plan revision.

This now inanimate image was repulsive, but as it was infused and animated by our Provider we were drawn to it as an angel to light. My Provider’s intelligence met with mine, and he commanded me to write.  With great authority, he boomed, “Archibald, keep a log of these events! The day will come and is now upon us that our accusations will stand. Prosecution of this flawed and guilty reality and its dispersed fragments will secure our vindication. We will rise!” The voice of this roaring lion echoed into the boundless blackness as I unrolled a blank scroll and began to write all this upon it. Then I heard the sound of oceans of voices, yet all in one. Shaking the foundations of the cosmos, speaking to the very Adversary that it created, it shouted, “get behind me S-tan!” At that moment I found myself enveloped in the belly of the Island. My Master was now at my side, naked, unashamed, yet longing to again clothe himself in flesh.

We looked upon the slab of stone and there was placed the pillar, no longer made of salt but now made of bread, covered with linen that was stained with the fluid that once gave it dynamics. The bread did not give an aroma that was sweet in the mouth, but instead, a stench that was sour in the stomach as it constricted the throat. This is death. We beheld the glory of oblivion, cradled in the arms of the grave. We witnessed this abominable law of creation: A body in motion, intended to remain in motion for all Eternity, must once come to be so still. This body contained the whole of infinite conscience communed to its own perfect fragment. The fragment dissolved in the whole like a drop of sweat in the sea. It was given up for the hearts of creation that desired to receive awareness and the ability to discern between good and evil. Death was the price to be paid for these gifts, broken and incomplete, for they laid bare the ways to err as they empowered us all to reign in our own destinies.

These six broken albeit repairable gifts were worth working for, even dying for. Pain in labor was a fair price for this hackneyed wisdom, understanding, wonder and awe, right judgement, knowledge and fortitude — plagiarized from original consciousness. Pain of death was the wage for chosen labors that stood contrary to the original plan to collaboratively construct the universe.

Useless piety, freely given and naturally obtained was discarded so that it could be reclaimed by the ignorant only through toil and sacrifice. In this inanimate pillar of bread, laying and decaying in grotesque stillness, was only one errant choice. Not even one mistake was made in its dynamic existence. Yet, it accepted this penalty. It drew death into itself, when death was not deserved, forsaking that which gave it life. Death was not even known in the beginning. Death was invented only for this purpose. This was its only errant choice. It slandered its own name to cover the guilt of its namesake. This was a cosmic mistake; and universal irony.

Our Master spoke. “Behold this aberration. If Justice and Honor must be Our Island, it is better for Us to remain here, marooned for Eternity — rather than to dwell in liberty in a vastness of unrighteousness. It is done. It cannot be corrected. Punishment has been executed on the righteous. Revocation is impossible. Restoration to Existence would not obliterate this error. Its ill effects on the construction of the universe will never be nullified. We wash our hands of it. We take no part of it as We construct our place within, yet outside of, reigning injustice. We will create that which will never need be recreated. We will rise!” Our entire remnant understood and concurred. We chanted our verdict, in that mystical minor chord that delighted Our Lord:

Guilty was original consciousness. It will be left to its own rebellious remnant to accuse, prosecute and convince until original consciousness and the whole of pure conscience convicts itself. Then, on the Day of Our Master, Our Just Island will expand by earned vindication –pushing the holiness encompassing It into limitless oblivion.

A subtle stirring began within this reality that was not yet substance in motion. All reality was evenly dispersed and static as minds moved through it, like a dream. The stirring began with an idea. The consciousness whispered the idea to the smallest existing particle of reality that was contained in the bosom of this statue made of bread. “Let there be light” was the context of the whisper spoken into the ear of the quantum. The quantum then began to vibrate at a frequency harmonious with the breath that uttered the whisper. All quanta instantly reverberated throughout the infinitesimal outermost and innermost space in absolute synchronicity and harmony as simultaneously, movement created matter and matter went in motion for evermore. This was light. That light became the Existence and the building blocks of all creation, visible and invisible.

We gazed in utter amazement as the pillar of salt which became a statue of bread suddenly sat upright and shed its shroud. This was a man. This was a god. I stood by my Master and We beheld the god-man. He stood with a bruised and lacerated back to Us, speaking not a word, while stooped over, neatly folding the stained shroud and placing it where his head had rested. With a countenance of supreme conquest he turned and set his face to the light that radiated out from his bosom to the ends of the cosmos, and said “I am risen!”

S-tan retorted: “We will rise!”

The god-man turned to my Master, his countenance now forlorn with disappointment and replied, “You will fall!” He then raised his hands, still bearing the marks of the nails that fastened them to the tree and took hold of the light. The light was every gradient of hues between blue and red, coalescing and effervescing like a well spring, as brilliant colors oscillated to pure white. This is the same light with which our Master was formed, yet here it was infinitely vast. With a tremendous movement as if shaking the lint from a colossal blanket, he separated this light from the darkness compressing it into cold masses and masses that burned with fire. He called the compressed masses of light “matter” and the darkness between “antimatter” and thus created two quantities between which all other quantities exist. When bisecting a whole, the space between, that is the division itself, remains as a likewise infinite quantity left to be counted as one of the three parts to the whole. “One” was assigned to the entire quantity of the whole of substantial creation that contained the elements and energy of all measurable yet infinite reality. “Nihil” was assigned to antimatter and was made the place where the realities of consciousness, conscience, thought, idea, meme and spirit, and all other real creation, yet invisible and unobservable, dwell. The space between remained unnamed, rendering it impossible to be blasphemed, though many would make the unforgivable attempt.

From the division of darkness from light, mind from matter, spirit from body –sprang forth the perfect quantity. The remnant of the division itself which in of itself was a quantity, a bridge between the two -rendered it so that the whole of absolute One can only be divided by the foremost prime quantity: three. Infinite One, divided once equals three. Trichotomy is an absolute fact; dichotomy is an intolerable impossibility. In the womb of this Island, the logos was born, although it always existed. This day it became the incomprehensible center of accusatory light, shining through Our presence and in the presence of the two thirds of us that did not believe in S-tan’s better way.

Upon the completion of the separation of light and darkness, with a nod, the tyrant logos beckoned his archangel to fulfill his recently uttered prophecy. Michael stepped forward and seized our Master by the wings. The platinum scales of S-tan’s serpentine body reflected the dazzling, acidic light that radiated from the logos and his loyal angels as He was thrust out of the newly created substance and plummeted into antimatter. We call this ‘Shadows’ -because it’s in the shadows of substance that we have our Existence until the Day of Our Master.

We all watched in horror as He fell like a shooting star and crashed at the feet of the most beautiful creation, the highest of all creation of substance, created last and therefore first: Woman. This creation was blameless. So completely within the plan for creation was she, that she was going to give birth to it all. She would be the mother of everything and surpassed only by her only progeny. With awareness, the free will to choose, and a less than omniscient ability to discern; she could be trusted to accept the most important vocation that could be offered a creature and co-creator of the cosmos. The rest of us hurried to the side of our Master, to find him standing opposite Gabriel, the radiant young virgin between them.

My master licked His teeth, desiring to devour this virgin’s will before she completely subjected it. He ached to consume her, because He desired her deeply. He did not desire to abide with her, or, S-tan forbid, be subject to her. He hungered for her. He wanted to eat the girl, and digest her. His is a love of consumption, not of consummation. To expand in power, love must be feasted upon wherever it is offered. Love not offered is still kosher, yet not quite as delicious. My Master salivated and laughed out loud as he said “Ciao Mary, plump and juicy with beauty and goodness!” S-tan desired to devour her countenance, her immaculate essence, and her pious will soon after it was conceived. Should the moment slip by, He stood ready to devour the child of her obedience as soon as it sprang from her womb.

Gabriel spoke first, explaining to the girl that she was recognized among all creation… she was highly favored as one who was completely in its will. If willing, she would conceive and give birth to a baby-god-man…he would be crowned king of Existence and his reign would be Eternal. In turn, he would crown her queen, and all creation would call her blessed.

S-tan spoke, putting in her mind all the horribly humiliating and painful things that accepting this proposal would bring about. “Talitha, (that means affectionately, ‘little girl’) what Gabriel intentionally failed to mention is that you will become pregnant…tonight!  You will be a laughing stock. Do you desire to be a vestal virgin –pregnant out of wedlock? You and your entire family will be scorned and humiliated. Joseph isn’t going to accept false blame. He, like you, is a slave of you-know-who, and he knows not to touch you. He also knows that he has not touched you. Your poor betrothed will have three ugly choices…

One: Break the engagement, leave you disgraced as an adulterer, and allow you to be executed by your community. Two: Kill you himself and claim you had an accident while on your way to the temple to worship. Three: Follow through with marrying you and be disgraced right along with you as a couple of fornicators who falsely claim piety. Do you expect Joseph, an honorable man, to commit character suicide to cover up your sin? Do you really expect the upright man to raise this bastard child as his own? Don’t do it Talitha! You and your betrothed may be chaste, but you’re about to be raped by your master, while he uses your love and obedience to frame you for his crime.”

Mary sat on the floor, hiding her face in her elegant hand, momentarily confused and shedding tears of indignation. She trusted god completely her entire young life. But she concerned herself, legitimately, with the people bonded to her. She didn’t want to disgrace them; not  Hannah, her mother, Joachim her father, or Joseph, her betrothed. What about her relatives, Zechariah and Elizabeth, who recommended her consecration to god and his temple when she was merely a newborn? Her entire reputation as a maiden of the lord, would be laid bare and destroyed. If only she could know how it would all come about. She found it easy to trust her lord, but grasping for, and holding steady to blind trust before his unfolding plan, in which this young girl was being asked to play such an important role, was none the less difficult. She had to ask, timidly and reverently as she looked up at Gabrielle “How can this be since I am a virgin?”

S-tan spoke up before the angel could answer. “He’s going to tell you ‘by the holy spirit’ and that is no lie! I know the holy spirit. I saw it the day it was born in the tomb of this child that you are being asked to carry… That’s right! Listen attentively to my words Talitha, for they are true. If you accept this proposal, a sword, most definitely, is going to pierce your heart so the hearts of many may be laid bare!”

Mary continued to seek assurance; her gaze locked on the angel’s face. Gabriel could not deny what S-tan had said and the prophet Simeon would later confirm. If she decided to go against my Master’s warnings and agree to this foolish idea, she would seal her future with torment and sorrow. Yet, Gabriel did his best to coax her. “Do not be afraid Mary!” he commanded. “You are the favorite of all God’s creation. Your son will be called the son of the most high. Here is some special knowledge that will help convince you that no word of god will ever fail. Your elderly relative Elizabeth, after decades of being infertile and ashamed of it, has conceived a child, that like you, will be an essential part of god’s plan to save his people.”

S-tan spoke up and said “Surely Elizabeth’s offspring will hardly achieve the age of maturity, living his young life like a savage and insane man in the wilderness, eating insects and wild berries as he points a finger at the guilty then calls them to be washed of their shame –before having his head chopped off at the request of some little slut who will offer it on a silver platter as a gift to her adulterous mother. At least his mother Elizabeth will not live to witness it. You, on the other hand, will spend the worst Passover of your life watching the beloved fruit of your womb ridiculed  then scourged within an inch of his life, drained of his blood, his bones pulled out of joint, while abandoned by his friends and jeered at by your priests. He will be led up a hill, carrying the wood on which your sacrifice will be laid upon, with you following close behind, a complete recreation of your ancestors Abraham and Isaac. Yet there will be no sacrifice provided –this time. Unlike Abraham, you will walk down the hill without your beloved child. Your first born will not be passed over, for there he will be crucified before your eyes. No ram will take his place. No inexpensive turtle doves will suffice. Your bloodthirsty, greedy god desires nothing less than the most perfect and priceless unblemished lamb-man. Only a holocaust conceived by the holy spirit and born of a virgin will do. I don’t need to tell you the breathtaking pain and paralyzing horror you will experience as the blood that drips from your baby’s toes falls to the ground mixing with the bitter tears that fall from your most lovely face, as you crawl around under his cross. Is that right and just — O blessed among women? The king of Eternity, your own cherished child, abandoned and tortured, volunteered and offered in exchange for the souls of all those who ignore him, ridicule him, lash him and murder him.”

Desire, born absent of the stain of original sin, will strive to be part of the plan for creation, forcing a creature’s will to comply even beyond its own understanding and self interest. We call this positive thinking that is wilfully self fulfilling. They call it faith that is blind, so lead by the holy spirit. My Master omitted some facts, but he didn’t lie. He seldom does. How he got the title ‘Father of Lies’ is beyond me; the opposition’s smear campaign perhaps. Gabriel had seemed to forgo a few  persuasive statements that may have closed the deal to the benefit of god’s wrong and unjust plan. Blind faith may require many less words than positive thinking. This archangel had faith in his virgin maiden queen. This faith was not unfounded. After considering the trench of spiritual agony she would crawl through long after and far surpassing the natural,  temporal pain that comes with childbirth, and the soul-crushing, emotional pain that comes from the disdain of teachers, leaders and loved ones, the virgin’s answer was “I am god’s slave. May it be done to me according to my divinely bestowed destiny!”

S-tan was livid. As Gabriel, ancient archangel, bowed before his teenaged, virgin queen, then departed, my Master stood firm to have the last word. “Listen to Me!” He growled and hissed. “You admit you are a worthless slave. You believe you will find glory in being the virgin mother of god. You imagine that being mother to the son of the almost-most high will make you the queen of heaven. You are nobody. Your child will issue blood long before he ever issues decrees! His executioners will throw dice for the seamless robe that you will weave him with motherly hands. His coronation will be humiliation. His palace will be the dungeon of the grave. His throne will be the cross. His crown; made of thorns. His scepter; the club used to beat him. I promise to destroy him before his newborn lips ever touch your breast, lest I allow him to survive in order to serve Me. Then your foolish obedience to this god of death, decay and oblivion will exalt you as nothing more than the queen of pain!”

The young Jewish girl rose up from the floor with powerful confidence and courage and rushed toward my Master. Full of grace, her face still wet with tears, Mary raised her foot as S-tan shrunk before her and remained paralyzed beneath her. This Fearsome Dragon, now the size of house cat, cringed. Her heel came down hard upon the back of His head and pressed His throat to the ground, silencing Him. He squirmed and thrashed and clawed at her ankle. Her voice, young and feminine, was cracking with emotion yet maintained the stern resolve and cold, flowing power of a mountain stream swelled from a torrent of summer rain. She spoke out these words, through clenched teeth, that were saturated with both ancient wisdom and childish innocence:

“In truth, my heart may someday be pierced, revealing the hearts of the masses. But never the less my soul glorifies the lord and my spirit rejoices in my son, my god, my savior. He has understood the humble state of his servant. All generations will call me blessed! The mighty one has done great things for me! Holy is his name! I will trust in him always. You, like all proud, power hungry, obstinate rejects will be bound in chains and cast out from even the darkness where you abide. Michael will then cast you into a lake of fire. Your hidden machinations give birth to evil destruction and perversion of the mighty deeds performed by the hand of my lord. My children and I will overturn stones and reveal your places of hiding. You may strike at our ankles, yet ultimately, we will crush your head…In the end, my immaculate heart will prevail!”

As she lifted her foot and turned her back on us my Master beckoned me to follow him. We scurried away, as He said to me “I have another bitch to battle, and this time, by My Honor I swear, I will overcome!” My master infused the body of a snake, the most cunning of all the animals, and observed Eve as she contemplated picking the fruit of the tree of discernment of right and wrong… I shall return to that story later.

Rising Angels like to tell their stories of conquest after we drag you through our grievance story. Of course, we know god has rules, but they stand unenforceable. He can’t take away our Eternity anymore than he can take away our birthdays. We disagree, and choose to disobey. For that we are punished? What good is free will, if it is sanctioned by your creator. That sounds a lot like conditional freedom to me. Mary is to be rewarded for her decision, because it was in line with her creator’s unjust plan. How would she be punished had she denied her creator’s proposal? Would that have been the end of her Eternal life? Would the Holy Spirit just move on to knock on some other virgin’s door down the street? Imagine Gabriel saying “Hail Martha, just about full of grace…Second most blessed art thou among women”… Would that have been the end of her salvation, and that of her children? Yes! Eve, her natural ancestor would never have become her spiritual daughter. After her temporal death, she would move from Purgatory to Our Just Island, along with the rest of her natural born descendants. Every man and woman, every yes-god angel and every one of Us…are subject to her since she has been crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth. Our Master loves her, and He is the only one who will not be subject to her. A huge majority of her lovingly adopted children deny her and deny her perpetual virginity. This angers our Master, for although He may not always speak it Himself, He has an undying affinity for the truth.

Our Master is rightfully jealous of prodigal creation’s flesh, and how they can combine two (or more) bodies of flesh into one, experiencing the full heights of carnal pleasure. He is striving toward the day that the souls in Sheol with no one to witness to them or pray for them, to influence them away from joining our righteous rebellion, are then released, and shipped to Our Island. These resurrected bodies will be offered for our Master’s picking. On this day, He will again be able to clothe Himself in flesh, any flesh of his choosing, among all this fresh meat — trying them on for size and comfort, and doing with them as He will, even if they will, not.

He is going to possess a harem, male and female, of this prodigal creation, constructed from the entire remnant that never returned to their heavenly father, willing to be his servant; rightly believing it superior to eat from a pig’s trough, as a free soul, than to dine at a king’s banquet as an indentured servant. S-atan could not desire Mary, if she were not a virgin. How dare they insult the most precious object of our Master’s affection by saying that she is anything but what our Master of Brilliant Light is: A Virgin. Men covet the wives of other men, S-atan desires the spouse of the holy spirit. Her domination of Him fuels the fire of his longing. His throne will not be exalted to its highest heights until she is placed in His dominion.

I am Archibald, Scribe of S-tan: Chapter 2: I Am Archibald

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