Typhon

Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away. (Matthew 28:20)

I sit, watching the world continue at its leisurely pace, spinning closer and closer to its unknown fate, to a fate engineered by me. Watching, waiting, knowing, yet still transfixed.

Perhaps it is because I am reaching the end of my physical life, and as an old man, I yearn not to be forgotten - not that I could be. Maybe it is the knowledge that this is my last, my only chance to tell the world the truth of my existence and the part I have played in the events up to now and those that will follow.

For a long time now I have contemplated writing my tale. In truth it has been ... no, let’s not start with dates, just know that it has been a long time, a very long time. I don’t actually know what is driving me to write now, or why I have been stalling for so long a time. What has prompted me to begin now - of all times?

Perhaps it is because for such long periods I have chosen to be encased in various bodies of flesh and bone that the true me has been, and still is being influenced far more than I would care to admit. I really don’t know. All I do know is that, as I sit here, my mind is brimming with a passion. A fire has been re-ignited in my being which I had for so long forgotten existed. I find myself physically compelled to write, to share my experiences, my knowledge, my wishes to an unsympathetic world, to commit for all time the history of my undertaking.

Of course, nothing of what I say or write will make any difference. My tale is not new. In multifarious forms it has been in circulation since the dawn of man. Its variants have featured a myriad of different characters distorted from the original, warped by the desires of the story-tellers, and always missing the core truth. My tale has been spread through fables, spoken in hushed voices around fires, committed for all time as history and used to create seats of power through distortion and bastardisation in the form of organized religion. It has been used to justify the biggest atrocities and praised for creating harmony. No one has ever questioned the motive, or the message. No hidden meaning has ever been sought. And now it can never be found.

Why? Because my history is your history, my story is your story. It is one shared with the world, and built into the very soul of every man, woman and child who has ever lived. They are one and the same, being so intertwined that it is not possible to tell one from the other.

My story belongs with the likes of Aesop, Homer and Apuleius. It is not meant for this modern unbelieving world. My history, or more precisely your history, is one of myth, and magic, of superstition and guile, of gods, demons, angels and men. It can be seen as a fairy tale, a fiction, the nonsensical rambling of a deranged mind, or just a story. This is wrong, and dangerous, but simply I am too tired to argue. Do what you will with this, my final testimony.

My time is at an end. The world will make of me what it will. Who I am will soon be forgotten, and my legacy will go the way of many before, but what I have set in place will last till the end of time. I wish for understanding but shall get none. I wish for forgiveness but deserve none. I wish for friendship but can hope for none.

For so long my name has been known as the cause of all good and evil in the world; synonymous with great compassion and love, but also with destruction and famine. I am the one person whose actions do not dictate my immortality, I do not pander for infamy, nor do I seek understanding or compassion. Judge me as you would your fellow man, I no longer care.

You are probably thinking of me as a bitter old man now, and you would be right. But, I do get so tired of people blaming me for their actions. For an age now people have used me as a scapegoat for all manner of sins, refusing to accept that maybe no one but themselves influenced any of their thoughts or actions. Martyrs have been made in my name for acts of great courage, and demons made for acts of despicable cruelty. This excuse has been so excessively used as to become laughable.

But now is the time for you to learn the truth. To realise finally that anything you do is your own doing, not that of the gods. To learn that, the devil made me do it can no longer be tolerated as an excuse for your actions. For my part, I am far too busy with my own future to actually care about anyone else’s.

I am sure that, given time, you will come to realise that through this book, through my journal, that neither the Devil, nor God, have ever forced anyone to do anything. Neither of them has ever thought on so small a scale. They have no need for one man to kill his family or for another to declare war on another religion. The actions of man are the same as the actions of ants, miniscule and irrelevant. Interference has only ever happened in order to steer the whole planet towards its eventual destiny. If this has involved man, then it has involved him on a global scale. Millions of changes have happened that seemingly don’t affect man, and have not needed their involvement. At all of the turning points in your world’s history, I have been there, watching, guiding, and over-seeing. The petty affairs of man mean almost nothing to me. Your pitiful struggle for existence has become an annoying inconvenience. I have always done what was necessary and important for myself.

This is an opportunity for everyone to discover what has been done, what has been created, what has been lost, and what has still to happen.

This is not bitterness talking, just frankness about the way of the world today. I am not some embittered person, wanting revenge. I am the holder of the truth, the beacon, the light bearer. This is my curse, my punishment, my life. I am giving one last gift to the world, the word of God, written by God.

So, kindly, just let me rant on, let me tell my tale and then disappear. When I am gone you can ridicule me, curse me and cast this book down to spend eternity in the bargain bin of some forgotten book store. Let it gather dust, unread, uncared for and unremarkable.

All I want is the chance to write it. What you do with it afterwards? Who knows, and who cares!

Exodus

I am that I am (Exodus 3:14)

There is something almost sexual about a blank page. It represents the unknown, which for me is supremely exciting. A plethora of opportunities open themselves to you when you pick up a pen. Will you write the next bestseller, will it be fiction, will it be fact, will the hero get the girl, will it be historical or futuristic, crime or romance? Until you start who knows, and even when you do, the story starts to write itself, taking on a life of its own, leading you in directions you hadn’t dreamed of, or to recount experiences you hadn’t meant to share. The book becomes life, and life becomes the book.

In the case of this book, I intend it to be a brief sojourn into the many lives and experiences I have had, some you will like, some you will not. Some you will find laughable and petty until you see the overall effect, and still others will seem to have no relevance whatsoever.

So, if you are looking for a nice story filled with humorous events, all sown up into a happy ending, I suggest you go and find another book. There is enough choice on the market nowadays with brat sorcerers, or goblins, or comic fiction about other worlds. This book is about this world.

This book is not fiction. It contains just a few of the darkest deeds done in humanity. There is no happy ending. There are no humorous incidents. The guy does not get the girl. It is, plain and simple, a description of history detailing my ultimate plan. Just a plan and the path it followed. It will just be little old me, dark, cruel, loving, and downright obsessed.

I am an old man, and have no knowledge of, nor care for correct prose-writing. This is a book for me and me alone. I may ramble on and off the subject, I may carry on conversations involving people who are not there, I may rave on and on about topics that strike me as important which will mean little or nothing to you. And I may stray from the first person, to the third person with little or no warning and most of what I say will make little sense to you.

But, I do have a story to tell. One that if read as fact will scare a sane person to death. I ask that you grant me some leniency and come with me through the ages, right to the end.

I imagine that if you are still reading that you are either happy to listen and learn, or intrigued at what rubbish I may spout. I do not mind which, it is enough that you are reading. So, if you are ready, let’s begin, but let’s start at the beginning and work our way forward. That way you will be able to see right away that I do not make idle promises or threats. I am that I am, I do what I do, and I make no apologies.

The world is a very different place from the one I first knew. Understand I am not speaking just geographically, although the change there has been phenomenal, but more the essence of the world has altered. Humankind has evolved, changing the world around it.

I come from a time without man, without the world, or stars, or the universe. I come from a void, a place of nothing, and a nothing of a place. Nothing is a state you cannot comprehend. You may look up into the night sky and think, There is nothing. But there is not nothing, space is literally jammed full of something. No, when I say nothing, I mean nothing. No space, no air, no light, nothing. Nothing. Simply consciousness. Many, many consciousness's.

Let me try to explain who or what I am. It will not be an easy task. For one thing, I am getting less and less sure myself. For another it will be next to impossible for you to understand. Memory plays tricks on you, more so in the old than in the young, and I am old in body as well as mind.

I am not a natural being. Not human like you, not beast like an animal, but something more. I am the essence, the being, the alpha, omega, some would call me a soul but they would be wrong. I am a being born of pure awareness. Born of nothing, made of nothing and existing as something more.

Now, again bear in mind I am not talking of a soul, there is no soul of that I am positive. Humans posses, neither as an individual nor as a race, any form of spiritual being. You are beings of matter, that’s all. Humans possess no ability to trans-substantiate. In other words, once you die, that’s it. Sorry, but that is the fact of the matter. There is no higher plane, no heaven or hell. So, whatever you do with your time, it doesn’t matter. There is no judgment, no punishment or reward, nothing. The concepts of God and the Devil are just mankind’s creation that you have needed to justify your own existence.

I know this because I made you, or at least I helped.

And as we didn’t know what a soul was, we never created one in you. Maybe, unseen to me, over time and evolution, you have changed, improved and now have the distinction between body and soul. But I do not believe so. You were created perfect, free of defect or issue as a grand experiment. Your very being was woven out of elements of my being and my kin.

Throughout the time of Man you have needed a way to make sense of things that you didn’t understand. So you invented gods, higher powers that seemed better than you, whose sole function was to explain away the frightening things that made no sense.

To start with, the gods were for simple things like the wind, rain and sun, but as mankind has progressed, so have his gods. As your intellect increased, you had no need for gods to explain why the sun rises and sets. As more and more questions were answered your minds started questioning deeper things. You invented gods to explain why you are here, what your purpose was and to answer all the dark questions of Who? What? Where? and Why?

You would whimper and cry like infants when your God didn’t answer you or put an end to hunger, disease or famine. And in the same breath, rejoice in praise when seeming miracles occurred.

Well, here is a question I can answer for you. You wonder how it is that your God allows suffering and injustice to continue in the world? I can explain why. It’s because there no longer is a God. Not one bothered by your petty struggles anyway. Because of man’s recklessness and greed all the true gods have ceased to be. There is no one left who wishes to fill the role. I am all there is. One being, who with all the religions in the world, continuously changes roles to be a part of them all. And I care little for man’s destiny or struggle. He is following his own path, his own destiny. This one being, the only one of a kind left is me and me alone.

I am a being totally unlike anything anyone has seen on this planet. I can choose between my spiritual body, totally invisible to your eyes, which is large enough to encircle your planet, or I can take on any physical form of my choosing.

I now possess so much power, given to me by man, that by thought alone, I can influence tides, create wind, and block out the sun. I control every aspect of the Earth. But in my spiritual form my power is limited to a global scale, I cannot directly influence you. If I need to push you in a certain direction I possess the ability to create a corporeal body, and to take my place amongst you, to interact with you on a personal level, to guide and direct you where my fancy takes me. Of course, there are advantages and disadvantages of both states.

When in my spiritual state, as I said, I cannot influence or interact with you. I am trapped surrounding the planet only able to watch. When trapped in a body of flesh and bone my abilities are reduced, I can no longer influence the planet as a whole, but I can influence you. I can introduce new ideas, mould generations of men to continue my work and I can produce offspring, who will share my purpose, and maybe my fate.

Leviticus

Then the glory of Adonai appeared to all the people. (Leviticus 9-23)

Many times I have taken form, and each time to fulfill a particular task. And during every life I have deepened my resolve for the task I have chosen. One, so essential, so important, that everything I have done in the last 2000 years has been done to facilitate its success.

Another problem I have been faced with when taking a form is that I have to start just like you, at the beginning. I cannot just assume a fully grown adult form. I need to be born, and develop, in the same manner as you. And I cannot ascend back to my original form until I have died a mortal death.

As inconvenient as this is, it is nothing compared to the annoyance that until my body and mind have fully matured, I am unaware of who or what I truly am. In other words, until the age of about 30, I am human, exactly the same as you. I am one of you. In each life I will reach a time when I can withstand the endowment of my complete being. I will have access to all my knowledge, and a high degree of my power.

But, once I have regained all my knowledge, I still suffer from the frailties of the flesh. I can be killed, I can feel pain, and I have the same urges as man. Because of this, I have taken many partners, strayed from my path, felt compassion for you, been executed many times in many different ways, suffered abuse the likes of which would be considered inhuman. And I have loved. You perhaps find that strange that a being like me can love? The emotion of love is a physical sensation, powered by the nerves and synapses within the human body, because of this I can suffer the anguish of love, just as powerfully as you. Being a creation of body and bone, I carry within all the senses, and responses of mankind. Your human responses are so complex, so utterly enveloping, that I have fallen into their traps many times, and probably will continue to do so.

Humans thrive on their emotions. They use them as a guide, as a teacher, as a control. When I am in human form I fall prey to these same emotions, when in my spiritual form I do not suffer from these responses. I can still love, but in a different way. My thoughts are not encumbered by the needs of the flesh and I can clearly see the path that needs to be followed. When we were many our minds were linked. Each of us intimately knew the other, and all our thoughts and passions were as one. As our numbers dwindled, each of us felt the loss of our partners in a way you cannot know. Each time a voice died an empty cavern was left, leaving us lonely and confused.

But I get ahead of myself. Let me go back to the beginning and explain.

My name is Typhon. I have been known by many names. I am still called by a number of them, Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, Shiva, Siva, Mithra, Yahweh, Jehovah or a million other names. But Typhon is the name I call myself.

This is not the name I am currently known by, but it is the first name I was given, the name man first attributed to the first God, the name