Tag Archive: Destruction


“The Beginning of The End – The Fall of Light”

By

Gregory V. Boulware

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/939504766

IMG_20141116_111928 (1)

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“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.

For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I daresay he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale-blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.

“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord!” When the men shall call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them – hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!”

I began to understand the position. I ceased my labored reasoning, struggled to my feet, and standing over him, laid my hand on his shoulder.

“Be a man!” said I, “You are scared out your wits! What good is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.”

For a time he sat in blank silence.

“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, they are pitiless.”

“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was killed yonder not three hours ago.”

“Killed1” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”

“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.”

“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly.

I told him it was the heliograph signaling – that it was the sign of human help and effort in the sky.

“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it, are the Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and Kingston and the trees give cover, Earthworks are being thrown up and guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way again.”

And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture.

“Listen!” he said.

From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendor of the sunset.

“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.”

Gene Barry was the starring hero from the classic ‘War of The Worlds’ by Herbert George Wells back in the sixties when I was a little boy. The bombs screamed across the big screen at the ‘Lehigh Movie Theatre’ on Lehigh Avenue between twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth Streets in North Philadelphia. My two younger brothers, two of the girls who lived next door on Myrtlewood Street; and me were shuttled off by our mothers that early Saturday evening. The ladies had plans of their own. We were shipped out to the movies. Man what a treat. Albeit we were all scared to death, afraid to leave the theatre on many other monster treated and frightful afternoons. I can remember running home, fearing the crossing of darkened alleyways along the route to the safe haven of the domicile. Vampires, Frankenstein’s Monster, Zombies, and Werewolves threatened to jump out and get us if we doddle and lagged behind.

The story, ‘War of the Worlds’ in the novel format takes the reader on a journey during the turn of the twentieth century in Britain. The Americanized movie version has it placed in Las Angeles with shots and scenes from around the globe.

The visionary Martian vessels were described as in the novel. They glowed the green lights and eerie screwing sounds of a mason jar unscrewing. The laser beam of instantaneous destruction managed to destroy and kill any and every living and non-living thing on the planet and in its path. The shadowy white dusty froth laden forms of human beings lay on the grounds and roadways of the countryside exit trails, hopefully leading to safety, played out in the book did make its ghostly presence on the big screen and in the book as well.

The movie version with Mr. Gene (Bat Masterson) Barry remains a classic; the traverse through the countryside of England uncovers a journey of epic endeavor, adventure, and excitement beyond the movie theatre.

“When Earth comes under siege from extraterrestrial invaders, the best and worst of mankind comes out among those struggling to survive.”

Mr. Wells was born in Bromley, Kent on September 21, 1866. He was called ‘Bertie’ by his family. His father was a shopkeeper who was previously a cricketer. After the business failed, his mother was forced to work as a domestic in the nearby country house of ‘Up-Park.’ She desired to return the family back to the middle-class status it had briefly enjoyed. Wells worked as a schoolteacher and a pharmacist. He also studied biology under Thomas Henry Huxley, a vociferous proponent of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. This gentleman made an extraordinary impression on him so much so that he returned to teaching completing his course studies and earned his degree. Wells went on with his mastery of the imagination and produced more thought provoking science fiction works in novel format and magazine periodicals as well as a couple of biology textbooks while working for the University Correspondence College.

“Herbert G. Wells published his first novel, The Time Machine to critical and popular acclaim in 1895. He became one of the most prolific writers of his generation. Mr. Wells has explored a vast variety of social, philosophical, and political I thoughts and ideas via the medium of what is described as science fiction.”

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“What was that?”

“I dunno…it’s pretty damned dark out there.”

“Shit man, a big ass bump like that had to be felt for a few blocks around!”

“…Feel anything else?”

“Nah…it was probably some big ass truck or something.”

Aw right, turn the radio up, the Halloween shows are about to start.” The doorbell rang. It was one of those chime-like doorbell ringers. It had a firm but soft tone.

“Damn kids – pain in the ass…where’s the candy?”

“Ho Dude! Listen! It’s Orson Welles! It’s one of his old radio shows – hurry up! Get me a cassette tape, quick!”

Rushing through the house with a cassette tape in hand, he fell over the ottoman sitting near the dining room threshold between there and the kitchen. He managed to get the tape into the recording machine just as the announcer introduced Orson Welles’ Halloween play.

Andre picked up his hot cup of java and prepared to drop a bit of whiskey in it. From the corner of his right eye he thought he’d seen a flash of light. He was reassured by another flash of falling light. This one more prominent that the other. The first one seemed to be a little ways down the road – over on ‘Haines Street.’ The second one seemed to fall a bit closer. It fell with an Earth-shattering boom…right smack in the middle of ‘High Street’ and ‘Baynton Street.’ The neighbors were all running around the corner to see what they thought was a terrible car crash. It wasn’t. It was the apartment building which sat on the northwest corner. The building was gone. What took its place was a monstrous sized gaping hole. The hole almost appeared bottomless at first. Then the rush of creek water sprouted from below. Rumor has it that the majority of this ‘Germantown’ area stood over bedrock and heavily flowing creek-water. The water was much deeper than the basements of houses that were built overhead.

The sidewalk began to crackle and break. The separation caused by the split right down the center of Baynton Street caused the crowds to disperse and run for home. The safety of their families was of extreme paramount.

Another monster boom sounded just around the corner on ‘Walnut Lane.’ The instant flash and boom on the street took out another building. A twin house on the odd numbered side of the street was suddenly and instantaneously gone. Loud noises under the street and greenish glowing lights appeared as the crowds rushed for their homes. The booming became regular. They exploded all around the neighborhood. Parked cars became airborne flying objects of mass destruction. They flew back to Earth as two ton bombs of metal and shrapnel, crushing other cars and several people in meshing. Jet planes flew overhead as police sirens screamed all around. The police cars did not stop in to check on the people, they were fleeing the area enmass.

A father and his three children ran down ‘Germantown Avenue.’ They vanished as one of the flying trash removal and collection trucks descended upon them. Overhead clouds formed and caused the daytime light to take on the appearance of a nighttime sky… The booming thunder, thumping-metal-grinding walking machines, flashing-burning white to blue-green rays, and falling lights burned to ashes anyone and anything it touched…

Til Next Time…

War of the Worlds and Other Science Fiction Classics by H. G. Wells.

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~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

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The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous

‘Ajantala’

satan_inhell_9.29.14

By

Gregory V. Boulware

“Religion is the sign of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions.

It is the opium of the people

~Karl Marx~

~”It is Glorious – This History of Ours”~

~Langston Hughes~

A surgeon is a doctor who operates on people is a quote from an author who wrote of a physician born in 1858. He died in 1931. The man as a boy dreamed of becoming a doctor.

One day while playing together, he and his sister decided to play hospital.

“You be the doctor and I’ll be the nurse,” she said. After playing together for a long while, he said aloud, “Maybe I’ll be a real doctor someday. I like to help people.”

It was raining that day. They had to play inside. The time spent after play, allowed for thought time.

“Is that really what you want to be when you grow up, Danny?”

‘Danny,’ Daniel Hale Williams discussed the possible endeavor many times. When old enough, he worked hard to earn money to attend college to become a doctor.

Everyone was proud of ‘Dr. Dan.’ His placement in the much desired environment saved many lives. One day, a badly injured man entered the hospital where he worked. He was in extreme distress. Dr. Dan operated on his heart and saved his life.

The president of the United States asked him to come to Washington, D. C. and teach his techniques to other doctors. President Grover Cleveland was very proud of Dr. Daniel Hale Williams of Hollidaysville, Pennsylvania.

He became a surgeon at Provident Hospital in Chicago. The man with the heart problem was stabbed. Everyone thought the man would surely die. That is, everyone except Dr. Dan. It was found that the man was still bleeding internally. Dr. Dan opened the wound and found that the man had been stabbed in the heart. There was a hole in the man’s heart that was causing the bleeding. Dr. Dan decided to try to save him. He operated and saved him…he operated and sewed up the knife wound in the man’s heart. He then replaced the heart with its own walls while it continued beating. The operation required great skill, great daring, and a great doctor. The Black Man, who happened to be a master surgeon, sewed up the wound in the man’s heart, thus becoming the first successful operation on ‘Open Heart Surgery.’

Dr. Dan was offered the position as head of ‘Freeman Hospital.’ He held that position from 1894 to 1898 when he returned to Chicago and private practice. He also continued practicing at ‘Cook County and Saint Luke’s Hospitals until his death in 1931. Dr. Dan was also elected a fellow of ‘The American College of Surgeons in 1913. This was a great honor. He is regarded as one of America’s greatest physicians.

~”This History of Ours – It is Glorious”~

The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous

‘AJANTALA’

Another version of the legend as suggested by

‘DO Fagunwa’ from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

A most noxious intruder, aka, a guest, named:

‘Ajantala’ was born in a Nigerian Village. “A hunter once lived in this village,” writes Amos Tutuola, “who had a wife.” Mr. Tutuola’s version of this story is included within a group of poems, essays, and stories from ‘Senegal’ to ‘Capetown’ by Brother Langston Hughes’, ‘An African Treasury.’

While she was pregnant, old people of the village warned him. They told him to “stop killing the bush animals. If you continue to do so, you will kill the baby that your wife is soon to deliver. When it is time, she will deliver a terrible creature in the form of a baby, but it will not be a baby.”

After the people had gone back to their houses, the hunter replied, “That is pure superstition.”

Other hunters did entirely stop killing animals until after their wives had delivered so that they might not kill their wives’ babies who possibly had changed to the form of bush animals and after that gone to the bush.

When the hunter’s wives’ time had come, she delivered a male baby.

“I will not keep here long before I go back to Heaven! Ha! Ha! Ha! This is how the world is! What did I come here for? I thought this world would be as beautiful as Heaven, from where I came! Look at everything. How it is very dirty! Of course, I will not keep long before I go back to Heaven!” exclaimed the baby immediately after coming down from his mother’s womb.

Having said that, he stood up from the blood and walked with trembling feet around his mother’s room.

“Ha! Look at this ‘Baby,’ standing here and walking all at the same time He is born!” The people all exclaimed with embarrassment. “Heigh! I’ve never seen a woman give birth to such a terrible baby as this one!” screamed the suffering woman.

And when he took the soap and sponge and washed from himself all the blood and goo away from his body, he wrapped himself in an article of clothing owned by his mother. He then sat upright atop a high stool and looked at the people. He looked into everyone’s eyes with his ungrateful red eyes.

“Ha! I am badly hungry for food. What can I eat now?” He then started to sniff the sweet smell of food which was inside the room nearest his mother’s room.

“Yes, I am glad, I shall get better food from this room; I’d better go in now.”

The room was filled with guests of the homes’ owner. He did not care. Without bearing fear of all the people and their wonder and surprised filled eyes, he stood up and entered the room. He ate all of the food. Food that was intended for thirty-five people or more. After that he kicked all of the pots, pans, dishes, and plates from the table. They shattered upon contact with the walls and floor. They shattered into hundreds of pieces. He then came out and sat down in the middle of the people who were looking on with withered hands and lips.

“Good evening to you good mother of this newly born baby! Thanks be to God who has helped you deliver him safely. We hope you have not any complaint after its birth?” The people of the village, craven as they were, were not thoroughly foolish, they knew when and to whom homage is paid. Hearing the news of the birth, they came to greet the mother and to see how the baby was.

“There is not any complaint at all and thanks be to God for that!” replied the unhappy mother.

“Without a doubt, this is not a real baby but a spirit of one of the animals which his father, the hunter, had killed.”

The people were saying so on their way when returning to their homes.

In the morning of the seventh day that he was born, several old people gathered in his father’s parlor, just to give him a name. This must be done even though he was terribly evil.

Then he walked into the place of worship and sat himself down in the middle of the people, and he was looking into everyone’s eyes as they were praying.

“Long live the baby, and may he – .”

But to their horror, when they were about to announce the name which his father, the hunter, wished the old ones to name him, the baby himself announced very loudly and clearly to the masses, “My name is ‘Ajantala,’ the Shrine, the Rock from Heaven, and there is no need to give me another!”

The people sighed and mumbled with anger, fear, and wonder. Then the kolas, honey, a large quantity of alligator pepper and drinks of palm, rice, guinea, plantation, corn wine, and plenty of bitter kolas were brought before the people in the spirit of celebration. For all these were served at the naming ceremony.

But when they were about to start to eat the food and drink the kolas, Ajantala unexpectedly jumped up high and pierced one of the people with a sharp iron spike. And when he turned to stab another, before he was pierced like the first, he was successful in escaping through the door as did the rest of the party. All of the people had rushed to the outside. All were running away as fast as they could. He then chased them for a short distance before returning to the house.

“There is no wonder, no doubt this baby! It must be the terrible spirit of a wild animal. Of course we forewarned his father to stop killing animals, except after his wife had delivered her baby. But he did not heed our warning; he refused to listen to those who know – the old ones. Now this is the result of his ignorance and insolent behavior.” Said the people of the village.

“Oh yes! This is a thick long stick.” Ajantala took it from the ground and slammed the door behind him. He then began to flog his father and the rest of the family with the stick severely. The rest of the family had no idea of the time when they forced open the door and ran away. He did not touch his mother.

“What more is there to do? Yes, there are still many things to do.”

Remembering what the next thing to do was, he took and ax and started to chop down the wall.

“Ha! Stop that,” his mother shouted.

“Oh! Defiant are you bitch? I see that this means that you have no sense either, you’re in need of a lesson too! All right, I will teach you some good sense now as I have taught all the others.” And then he gave his mother seven slaps across her face. She was flabbergasted.

“Aha! Ajantala, you are an evil and cruel boy, and you are slapping your mother,” exclaimed a man who stood witness to the incident from outside the house.

Before the man could finish saying what he was espousing, Ajantala let his mother be and jumped over and across the veranda railing to the outside and gave the man seven slaps across his face.

“Hai! Ajantala, stop that!” exclaimed another man standing near and witnessing the same as the man before him. He was appalled at the wicked deeds of this foul and cruel boy and his awful deeds. But to everyone’s chagrin, as soon as the man said Hai! His mouth was split and cut open nearly to the nape of his neck and hairline. The man fell back in pain, horror, and silence. He was very fearful that this devil of a boy would surely kill him if he uttered another word.

Now, Ajantala became so fearful that all of the people of the village shunned him and avoided going near his fathers’ house. His nother had nearly died from all the trouble caused by this twisted image of a sweet boy.

This world is NOT OUR HOME – WE ARE ONLY TENANTS – WE ARE HERE TEMPORARILY!

“But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord, OUR GOD (Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jew, Buddhist, and any other so-called religious denomination) lives.” (Philippians 3:20)

At last, one morning, she took Ajantala to a very far bush. She gave him plenty of the sweet fruits to eat.

“Please Ajantala, stand near this tree and wait there until I come back for you. Do not worry, I shall return for you before too long and take you home to the village. For I am going farther into the bush to fetch our food for the dinner repast. Tricking and lying to him, she left him there and went back to the village alone.

“Where is Ajantala?” his father softly asked for fear of being overheard by his son.

“I have left that terrible boy in the bush.”

“And he agreed to stay there?” the father asked in wonder.

“Yes, he agreed, by trick and treason.” the mother responded smiling.

“I thank you for that. You see, it is indeed truly helpful sometimes to pay heed to the warnings of the old ones, for they are the wisest and most knowledgeable of all.”

“What do you mean by saying so, my dear?” his wife calmly asked.

“The meaning is that several old people did warn me to stop killing bush animals while we were pregnant. And Ajantala is the end result of my not listening and learning from them. I do believe he is one of the animals which I had killed during the period of our pregnancy.”

“Ho-o-o-o! No wonder things have happened the way that they did!” The wife now knew the reason why Ajantala was acting the way he did and then she too believed that he was truly not a human being but a demon from hell though he claimed to come from Heaven.

After Ajantala had waited, waited, and waited for quite a long, long time under the shady tree, which his mother did not return for him. It was dark now. And then it was morning again before he started to travel and wander about. He did travel and wander all about the land until he came upon a small house that was built in the heart of the bush. A corn farm surrounded the house, and both, the house and farm belonged to three brothers. Their names were Mr. Lion, Monkey, and Goat who was the eldest. There were human beings in those days. The two species did learn to live and dwell in harmony. The three brothers resided comfortably in that small house, in the middle of the bush with comfort and tranquility.

“Good day to you sirs,” said Ajantala, walking zigzag into the house, saluting the three family members who sat there enjoying their leisure hours.

“Hello and good day to you too, boy!” Mr. Goat replied, returning the salutation while the others simply looked at Ajantala, expecting him to say what they thought he would say. He appeared to be well spent and void of intrepidness.

“I am a wayfarer who cannot reach his destination today and probably not for two or three weeks more. Therefore, I would beseech thee to allow me to rest. I shall be grateful and indeed obliged if you will allow me to stay here with you as a guest for a few days. I will continue my journey after that, after I have rested.” Ajantala asked for this obligation humbly with all due respect, as if he were a good boy. A charlatan, he would have them think and believe that is the case.

“Of course, we may have mercy on you to let you stay with us for the few days you request. You are very young and weary,” said Mr. Goat on behalf of the rest.

“Many and all thanks be unto you kind sirs, and God!” Ajantala postulated.

So he was allowed to stay with them. He was eating and doing everything with them.

Having seen this luxurious living, a few days later, Ajantala asked, “Please, sirs, I would like to discontinue my journey and become a servant to you. I shall be complying with all of your demands, requests, and orders from this moment on,” and the three brothers agreed.

The following morning, Ajantala followed Mr. Goat to the farm to fetch their food. Having collected plenty of fruits and placed into the basket, Mr. Goat told Ajantala to carry it.

“Oh, what did you say Mr. Goat?” And Mr. Goat repeated what he told him to do.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Is that what you mean for me to do? Be your slave and to do your selfish bidding at your command? Well, alright, I shall teach you a lesson that you’ll not soon forget – I’ll teach you some good sense right now! Mr. Goat looked at him intently. He had no feat of him albeit; he didn’t like the look in his eyes. He knew that Ajantala was too small to cause him any harm.

“Happa, Humpa, Dumpa,” Ajantala sang as he walked like a crab for a short distance. He came back with a handful of dirt and threw it into the eyes of Mr. Goat. As he staggered back and fumbled about for help, Ajantala struck him on the forehead with a heavy stone. And then Mr. Goat fell down. A large quantity of blood was dripping down from the wound on his head. After a few minutes, Ajantala provided Mr. Goat with a helping hand from the floor. After helping him to his to a standing position, he then placed the filled basket on the head of the goat.

As they traveled along the road, on the way back to the house, Ajantala warned and threatened Mr. Goat not to tell a living soul about what happened to him on the farm. Reluctantly, the goat agreed, otherwise he would harm him more severely.

“Ah! Mr. Goat, what has happened to your head and eyes?” asked the rest of the family when they entered the house.

“It was a big stone that fell upon me,” he replied.

The following day, it was Mr. Monkey’s turn to go and the same done to him. And so too did he to Mr. Lion in tandem. All this happened to them at the farm and returned home to the small house in the heart of the bush.

Over time, these three brothers grew tired and was fed up with the living conditions bestowed upon them by Ajantala. He was too terrible and powerful for them.

One night, when Ajantala had gone to bed, they did not know that he never fell asleep. First, Mr. Goat said, “I am afraid, Ajantala is a noxious guest, and if we don’t find a way to escape from him, one day he will kill us all.”

“Certainly, he will kill all of us one day,” Mr. Goat added.

“But I suggest that the better thing to do now is to pack all of our belongings and leave this house tomorrow morning. I am sure before we go, he will not wake, and we shall go far to a place that he will not be able to follow or trace us,” Mr. Lion quietly suggested.

“Yes, you are right, Mr. Lion, and it will be better if we pack our belongings and food into some baskets now. And by five o’clock in the morning leave here and never look back,” said the other two. At the same time, they packed all their belongings into two baskets and put plenty of food in as well. This would serve as fuel and nourishment along the way.

Having done that, they went to bed and slept. But Ajantala heard every word…all of their discussions and plans. He stood up cautiously and began to wrap himself with dried bread leaves and put himself in one of the baskets, well hidden at the bottom under the food.

By five o’clock, the three brothers woke up. Then Mr. Goat put one of the baskets on his head and Mr. Monkey carried the other. They all left the house under cover of darkness, early this morning. They thought that they have saved themselves from Ajantala who was hiding in the basket carried by Mr. Goat.

Having traveled for many miles, they came to a shady tree and stopped to rest under it for a few minutes.

~Think the devil knows how to divide and conquer, knows more about you than you? Remember from whence he came… Remember his hatred of and for all mankind. He was there before you…~

“Eh! We have left our lovely house and home today and Ajantala will occupy it,” painfully said by Mr. Lion.

“Were you not the one who had agreed to Ajantala staying with us? Said Mr. Monkey.

“Yes, you are the one, Mr. Lion,” added Mr. Goat

“Ha! I was not the one, but Mr. Goat was the one who agreed,” denied Mr. Lion.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! It wasn’t me at all – not me! You were the one Mr. Lion,” exclaimed Mr. Goat.

“Shut up there, Mr. Goat, I am quite sure that you were the one,” roared Mr. Lion.

“Ha! Ha! Don’t tell lies against me, Mr. Lion.”

“I say shut up your mouth and if you don’t admit right now that you were the one, I will kill you and eat your whole body at once, especially this moment that I badly hunger for some meat to eat,” Mr. Lion roared again.

“All right, if I were the one, who had approved Ajantala’s request to be with us, let this ground on which we stand now split and then swallow me. But if I were not the one, let something bring Ajantala to us now and scatter all of us to the four corners of the Earth.

Mr. Goat had hardly finished his curse when Ajantala suddenly and viciously jumped out of the basket. He held a sharp and wide blade in his right hand. They could not even glance at him when they scattered to the different ways, fearfully throughout the world.

Mr. Lion’s descendants scattered throughout the woods and forests of the world while the offspring of Mr. Monkey climbed and remained in the trees above. Mr. Goat and his descendants went back to the farm and sold themselves into a domesticated life much like the other animals of the barnyard owned by human beings from that day on.

“Let the workers do as they will…let those in the depths use force and do wrong, so that we can be justified in using force against them…behold a New World Order!”

And it was from that day they became the enemies of themselves and that was the reason the lion is killing the goat and the monkey whenever it sees one of both for the lie they had told against him in the past.

People of The Book.Map_1.30.14

Thus Ajantala was very successful in separating the three brothers and the rest of the occupants of the wonderful and abundant Planet Earth.

“Why is it so-called educated people do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

…In conflict with good and evil; the fight between man and the devil; the eternal struggle of human nature against sin:

The Talmud, The Qur’an, The Holy Bible – Translated from Egyptian / Arabic to Ethiopia…Abel – Luluwa, Cain – Aklia and Seth, children of Adam and Eve…

In the beginning there was nothing…Temptation led to Sin.

Cast out of Eden, the metaphor, the story of Adam and Eve bore three sons:

Cain, Abel, and Seth, the beginning people of the Earth.

Cain killed Abel and fled to the East, where he was sheltered by a band of fallen angels; the Watchers!

These Watchers helped Cain’s descendants build a great and mighty industrial civilization. Cain’s cities spread like wild-fire and spread wickedness, devouring the world.

The Euclid:

Balance, Fairness, and Justice – “Things Equal to the Same Things, are Equal to Each Other!”

“Religion is the sign of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people”

~Karl Marx~

Til Next Time…

Acknowledgements:

Amos Tutuola

Welcome to 2013 at WFR.com

In “Weird Thoughts”

101 Weird Writers #34 — Amos Tutuola

In “101 Weird Writers”

Amos Tutuola: An Interview with Yinka Tutuola

In “Interviews”

http://weirdfictionreview.com/2013/01/ajantala-the-noxious-guest/

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A-jan-ta

[uh-juhn-tuh]   Spell Syllables

noun

  1. a village in N Maharashtra, in W central India: caves and shrines containing Buddhist frescoes and sculptures.

Dictionary.com Unabridged

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Ajanta

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Another original story by DO Fagunwa from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

Ajantala, the Noxious Guest

From Don’t Pay Bad for Bad & Other Stories

http://www.yorubaland.org/smf/index.php?topic=195.0

Ajantala

« on: August 17, 2008, 01:20:18 PM »

This is my translation of the original story by DO Fagunwa from “Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole”

The story is taken from my book How The World Was Created:

https://www.lulu.com/commerce/index.php?fBuyContent=3449284

From How The World Was Created:

https://www.lulu.com/commerce/index.php?fBuyContent=3449284

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~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

“Article Posting Sites”

http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

http://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.wordpress.com  

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware  

https://www.exploreb2b.com/users/gregory-boulware

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware 

http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas

http://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/

http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498

http://about.me/gregory_boulware

http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/

https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104/posts

http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all

http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi  

http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi  

http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi  

http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi  

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi  

http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/show_member.cgi

 

“Amazon”

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=sr_gnr_fkmr0?rh=i%3Astripbooks%2Cn%3A283155%2Ck3AGregory+V.+Boulware&keywords=Gregory+V.+Boulware&ie=UTF8&qid=1324957155 

 

And

 

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/#!/AuthorBoulwareG

*/

“The Spirit of the Soul and the Death of Morals: From Whence Comest Thou?” http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18377562-the-spirit-of-the-soul-and-the-death-of-morals  

“ONE PEOPLE, ONE PLANET, and THE CHILDREN OF ONE GOD!”

 

“The Un-Obscure”

http://theunobscure.blogspot.com/

 

“FAIRMOUNT”

http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html

http://aneastfallssonontheschuylkill.blogspot.com/2014/07/on-schuylkill-eastfalls-son-twitter.html

 

‘The Triplets and One’

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/ http://thehebrew-israelitesandjapan.blogspot.com/ http://theessenceofinvasionandannihila.blogspot.com/ http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com

 

‘BookCrossing’

http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all

“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou? Paperback – Large Print, January 12, 2012

By

Mr. Gregory Vernon Boulware   (Author)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals/dp/1468190997/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top?ie=UTF8

 

A Philadelphia Story Teller: “Howl Of An Angel”: Pt. 2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’

http://philadelphiastoryeller.blogspot.com/

 

ASIAN VOICES

NHK website.

Sep. 4, Thu.

Hong Kong on the Brink

http://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/english/tv/asianvoices/archives201408230300.html

 

SAPPHYRE

JASON KOMITO

http://www.jasonkomito.com/

 

‘Black Cowboys’

https://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images;_ylt=AwrB8pFdRCdUlnoAm6ijzbkF;_ylu=X3oDMTB1N2Zma2d1BHNlYwNmcC1hdHRyaWIEc2xrA3ZpZXdtb3JlBGl0Aw–?p=black+cowboys+of+the+old+west

  

“Of Spirit and Faith”

http://ofspiritandfaith.blogspot.com/

 

“As The Clock Turns”

http://astheclockturns.blogspot.com/

 

“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals”: Whence comest thou?

http://thespiritofthesoul.blogspot.com/

 

“NINETY and FIVE”

http://ninetyandfive.blogspot.com/

 

“The Eye of Cain”

http://theeyeofcain.blogspot.com/

 

“The Lost Tribes of Twelve and Yahveh the Father”

http://yahvehthefatherthelosttribesoftwelve.blogspot.com/

 

“A Love Letter From Father – Genesis to Revelation”

http://letterfromfather.blogspot.com/

 

“The Awakening Dream”

http://theawakeningdream.blogspot.com/

 

“Arc of the Prophet”

http://arcoftheprophet.blogspot.com/

 

“Amongst Us”

http://messagetospirit.blogspot.com/

 

“Seeker of Wisdom, Truth, and Justice: BEREAN”

http://seekerofwisdomtruthandjusticeberean.blogspot.com/

Tags:

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