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World of New Genesis
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- Moloth - The Believer is Happy; the Skeptic is Wise
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I’ve updated the Classes page on the WoNG site.
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I know the Blog has been quiet lately, but the M-Forums have been pretty hoppn’ ! Between work, school, errands and hobbies, i haven’t had much to write about… but, i HAVE been working on a new short story. Below is the first few paragraphs of “Fateless” as a teaser. I plan on using my foreshadowing and metaphorical skills into constructing this… some of you will get it, some of you won’t.
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The small wooden boat rocks softly back and forth, creaking ever so slightly. Its wood is worn and aged, but still serviceable. Its hull is nicked and scored… so much so that some would call it ugly and others would call it worn in. It wobbles delicately on the water, surrounded on all sides by a mist that is hazily lit by an early morning glow. Pale blues, misty grays and a hint of warm sunlight, far away and indistinct, shroud the small boat from everything but the immediate waterscape in morning pastels. A figure lies in the boat, reclining with his hands clasped behind his head, his brown hat placed over his face.
He grunts softly, shifting his weight for comfort and causing a subtle ripple of waves to emanate into the haze. After a few moments of half-awake dreams, he reaches from behind his head, removes his hat and sits up slowly, groggily blinking. He yawns and rubs his stubbly face. Leaning forward he pulls his legs up towards his chest a bit and rests his elbows upon his knees. Looking around, he smiles sadly, the cool mist caressing his weary face. He has no oars. He has no provisions. He has no reference for where he is, what time or day it is, or why he is here. Yet, his mind is at peace.
For all he knows he has been on this small boat, in this morning mist, for all of eternity. This could not possibly be the case though, could it? His mind focuses. He begins to think it through:
Someone had to have built this boat. Was it me? Where would I get the materials? Where would I get the tools to construct it? I don’t know how to build boats. My clothes… I must have gotten them from somewhere. I must have come from somewhere. I must have a purpose to be out here, on this water, in this mist, in this boat. There must be a reason for it. But what is it? Why don’t I already know it?
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A response to the Blasphemy Challenge:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FznbwmCmTOQ
and my response, that i personally e-mailed to Father Matthew, (please watch the video all the way through first):
Dear Father Matthew,
I am what just about anyone would call a “hard core” atheist. I have been been a part of the free-thought community with the Infidel Guy and the Rational Response Squad for years and have been involved in countless debates and discussions about religion, philosophy, morality, science, education and the nature of reality. I have seen and fought against the horrors of blind faith (ignorance, prejudice, judgment, denial of scientific fact, mistreatment of women and minorities, etc).. but, in you, i see an ally. The reason i fight so fervently against the religions of the world are very same reasons you named in your much welcomed YouTube reply to the Blasphemy Challenge. Non-believers such as myself do not wish to force ANYONE to believe (or NOT believe) in ANYTHING at all… we simply wish to be left alone and for the goal of religion to NOT be “destroy science, progress and modern civil liberties”.
I simply do not care what anyone believes in their heart of hearts. It is NONE of my business or concern. The only point at which it BECOMES my business is when someone’s (usually admittedly unprovable) beliefs are pushed onto others. This can be in simple form of peer pressure or it can take the grand form of legislation which affects an entire nation. It has been my unfortunate experience that when religion is brought up, it is used to instill fear, shame, or guilt, get people to give away their time or money for no noble purpose, or to try to discredit the observations and logical conclusions of the scientific method. Just a week ago, at my new job as a programmer, i was proselytized to.. at work. Had i not been a practiced and calm debater, things might have gotten ugly.
Which brings me back to your video, Father. You get it. You seem to understand. You seem to want faith, not to control or corrupt, but to uplift and make better. You understand that faith is not a switch than can be flipped… it involves experience, culture, upbringing and perhaps a divine spark. You are faithful, but not blinded by it.
At this point, the literal, physically reality of the tenets of Christianity are besides the point. I, personally, may have come to the conclusion that no religion thus far in my experience has enough of, or the right kind of, proof to make me have ‘faith’ in it, but that does not mean that i wish an iota of harm or ill-will on those who do believe. I simply wish to see the ritual, the faith in something larger than oneself, the hope that the good will be rewarded and the harmful punished… stay in the church and in the hearts of those believe. Not in the school rooms that are attempting to teach the provable, testable scientific facts that so many have worked to bring to light. not in the medical research labs that wish to cure disease and improve the quality of life for humanity. not in the personal decisions of a woman who must make a heartbreaking choice… and who must worry about her own life or safety because if that choice. not in the courthouses where the law of the land is supposed to treat all people as equals. not in the marketplace, where a woman can be beaten and tortured to death for the crime of being raped.
If all religions were nothing more than a personal, internal relationship with God, not matter what one might conceive it to be, and was the catalyst for nothing but kindness, understanding, healing, peace and respect for all things in this grand universe in which we exist, i feel that this world would be a better place.
Father Matthew, you are forever welcome at my table. Thank you for giving me hope.
-Scott “Moloth” Kelley-
www.moloth.com
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-=The Believer is Happy; the Skeptic is Wise=-
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(Yes… I wrote this. Its not a Copy/Paste. This is original content, godammit.)
The rusty revolver clattered softly in his shivering grip to the beat of his ragged, phlegmy breath. Eyes white and wide in sheer horror, he spun around yet again, his gas lantern causing a dreary kaleidoscope of shadows against the mildewed walls and forsaken detritus that was once a schoolroom. The moans and raspy callings of his name were never ceasing… and were somehow always closer. Pale, sickly moonlight filtered through the broken windows of the 4th story of the school house, the largest in the city. Once, children played and learned here, but now, since The Fall, only death… hungering and unceasing… stalked these halls. No more schoolmarms with their hair in buns and tales of ‘darkest Africa’ with its lions and elephants, oh no… far deadlier things now haunted the mind of Mr. Saxby.
Thumbing the oily, sweat-slicked hammer of the revolver, Mr. Saxby once again, almost unconsciously, produced his pocket watch with his trembling, convulsing hand. He glanced at it with one eye merely out of reflex, only to clumsily shove it back into his blood-stained vest, the time forgotten before it was even known. From the street below he could hear the shuffling of dozens, maybe hundreds, of his townsfolk… now slowly and inexorably coming for him, for his still beating heart and his twitching eyes and his clucking tongue within his parched mouth.
Figures, hunched and torn, made little more than slightly blacker blotches against the few remaining frosted glass windows between the corridor and the school room. Broken bones piercing putrid skin and lipless, toothy maws still dripping with the shredded flesh of their last victim danced before Mr. Saxby, the hallway now thick and heavy with the grunts of the undead.
“BACK! Back I say, monsters!!” shrieked Mr. Saxby, his voice high and cracking. He thrust out his left hand that clenched the sputtering gas lantern towards the horrors beyond the light’s reach. The grunts raised into an unholy chorus of eager, pleading moans as the creatures responded to the sounds of a living throat and the delicacies that lay within.
He himself hadn’t eaten in days… and in his wan, pale complexion, it showed. Already a thin, slight man, Mr. Saxby’s strength was now completely gone. He had been running for what seemed like weeks now and his heaving chest looked like a ribby, worn out bellows on its last leg. His companions were all killed… most eaten alive in front of his very eyes. Including sweet Bonnie. Poor, poor, sweet Bonnie. How he had planned on saving her from these monstrosities…
“Damn you all to Hell!” He screamed as he pulled the trigger on the American made Colt revolver. The cacophony of gunfire drowned out the moans of the undead for those few short moments… only to have the moans grow even louder as the creatures’ lifeless eyes somehow still functioned enough to spy him through the now shattered frosted windows. Rubbery, flaked arms clawed forward into the room, never minding the jagged remains of glass that shredded their flesh. The hunched forms surged forward, the weight of those behind pushing the closer ones through the now open gaps in the walls. Some of the shambling corpses even made the effort to climb over the short wall. Mr. Saxby still couldn’t help but wince as he watched as their soiled, tattered clothing and stringy flesh being ripped and torn by the glass shards.
In a final push, about a dozen of the once living fell into the room and began to crawl or shamble towards their next, and perhaps final, meal. Lamp jangling madly as he shook, the indistinct bodies cast insane dancing shadows upon the walls. His revolver jumping back and forth, from target to target, Mr. Saxby backed up as far as he could go… His back now pressed against the empty window frame, he glanced out and down… and saw a sea of mindless, rotting corpses coming for him. The streets of the city were packed with the undead. Shoulder to shoulder in every direction he see in the hazy, stone-cold moonlight, they shuffled forward like a tide of decay amid the smoke stacks and cathedral steeples.
Mr. Saxby slowly turned his bloodied, matted and sweat soaked head back into the room. Mere feet away now, he could hear their breathy, hollow calls… “braaaains… mhrrrrrrr… Sxxxbeeeee…. hhnngreeeeee… ”
With an unintelligible scream of fear and anguish, Mr. Saxby flung the lantern at the closest monster… and watched as it simply bounced off of the creatures’ chest, clattered to the ground and went out, its flame extinguished. In the moonlight, Mr. Saxby flicked his wrist and then stared down at the pistol. Five empty chambers. Only five, he thought, gleefully. The flicked the pistol back closed.
The ex-college professor slowly and deliberately lifted the rusty revolver to his temple, the tip of the barrel still warm from its previous discharges. Mr. Saxby, now strangely calm, looked at the decayed, putrefied countenances of the zombies that surrounded him. They didn’t stop. They would never stop. But they won’t have me, he thought. They won’t have me. He pulled the trigger.
The soft click of the pistol’s hammer striking a dud bullet sounded louder than it should by being so close his ear and it surprised him, causing him to flinch. Slowly opening his bloodshot eyes, he looked up to see the heavy, reeking wave of dead bodies fall upon him, bony, clawed fingers grasping and stained teeth clattering. His screams of being slowly eaten alive echoed throughout the night.
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Okay… You want proof that Christian push their delusional, destructive and backwards dogma on the rest of us?
Meet House Appropriations Committee Chairman Warren Chisum, R-Pampa, who used House operations Tuesday to deliver a memo from Georgia state Rep. Ben Bridges. Apparently, he’s pissed that ’secular science’ is pushing ‘evolution belief’ onto our school kids… using that darn science and those pesky facts and observations.
For more articles:
Dallas Morning News
The Atlanta Journal Constitution.com
..and people wonder why i’m angry. If you’re NOT angry, you’re not paying attention.
Its NOT a joke. Or IS it??
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By manipulating the Copenhagen interpretation of Quantum Mechanics… can you kill the other ‘Many Worlds’ quantum versions of yourself? Assuming, of course, that they too are performing the same experiment. Do 50% of your other quantum selves perish for every moment you spend performing the experiment? Are you the one that will NEVER die, because the halving of numbers NEVER reaches zero? Will you become immortal? ARE you that immortal?
Think of all the things you survived throught the day. The fact is that you could have died a million different ways a million different times by a million different causes…. and yet, here you sit. In the infinite Omniverse, how are you faring against your quantum twins?
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