Unus_Mundus_Nephilim_Skull_cinematic_visual_02_small_Nicholas_Shea

Krew is telling it…

The brethren are sleeping. The abbey lies still under the stars, its crystalline edifice rising from the valley like a masonic shard of ice. The distant crags might be the snow-capped peaks of the Caucasus, for I hear the eagle of Zeus calling on the winds, returning to torture that long suffering Titan, Prometheus, whose terrible cries haunt the cloisters and shake its crumbling arcades.

I fly to the abbot’s camera and swoop through the lancet. All is dark and deserted; the fire is out and the hearth moans with desolation. This is a chamber of madness; the floor is strewn with bloody bandages, chicken bones and broken glass. The bed has been stripped of its coverlet; the shelves are empty, and the desk is cleared…

I pass through the trap door and dive into the deep. Down, down I go, beneath the nave, into the catacombs of plague, and the ossuary of deformity. A labyrinth of tunnels lead off in all directions. I float amid candelabras of misshapen men and slide upon the basalt beds of giants…

The Titan’s skull glows wan amid the stalactites, its mighty cranium lit from within, like the dome of Alexandria. Torchlight flickers through the orbits and the temples lustre like parchment. I hear babbling voices and paroxysms of wonder: the chatter of Lilith and Adam. I enter a suture and watch…

By Apollo! The cranium has been turned into a bed-chamber, decked with rugs and books! And I must say, it looks very cosy. Very cosy indeed…

The right middle fossa has become a table, covered with arcane drawings and cabbalistic spells. An astrolabe rests on a parchment of conjunctions, with sigils, signs and calculations; there’s a skillful rendition of the heavens, scribed in gold with the planetary orbits. A large bronze compass lies in the groove of the superior petrosal sinus. On the other side of the cranial floor, the left middle fossa has been turned into a comfy bed, adorned with sheepskins and cushions.

In the median area of the skull, the floor is formed by the sphenoid bone, where the sulcus chiasmatis leads on each side of the optic canal. Immediately behind the sulcus, the upper sphenoid is shaped like a Turks saddle; and here the abbot sits, rocking back and forth, his legs dangling over the edge.

Three torches stand in various foramens, all of which I could describe in great anatomical detail, but dare not, lest I get accused of oiling my tongue…

Father Janus wrestles with Lilith who squawks from the back of his head:

‘I will fly away!’

‘Fly away? You mad strix! You have no wings!’

‘My spirit goes hither and thither! Even when you sleep, I flee to nether realms. I know secrets you cannot possibly imagine. ’Twould be unwise to cut me out. For am the greater part of you. Who found the souterraine? Me. Who found the Titan? Me. I am sick and tired of this conversation. You threaten to cut me out – and then you beg for forgiveness, because you realise you cannot live without me. You will do as you are told in future…’

‘No! You will do as you are told, or I will stitch your filthy mouth with flax! For I am the greater part of you! What did you intend, telling the brethren that they prayed beneath a whore? You will get us both killed. Is that what you want? Now we must hide down here, lest they stab us in our sleep!’

‘’Twas a foolish thing to make this sconce your chamber. These bones are soaked in evil.’

‘What nonsense. Besides, I can think better here: this cranium of Elysium inspires me with visions.’

‘Visions? What do you see?’

‘My restitution.’

‘I am your restitution. Accept it.’

‘Be silent! I’m trying to think!’

‘I don’t like it down here. I prefer to see the stars.’

‘Do you want to return to my camera?’

‘Yes.’

‘And awake with a sword in your mouth? The brethren will chop off our head!’

‘Oh, they can’t kill me. Sluck! I’m immortal.’

‘Immortal? Oh yes, I forgot. You’re immortal. Of course you are… How foolish of me. You mad harpy; you’re as mortal as I.’

‘Pah! My dear Adam, how many times do I have to tell you? We parted long before the Fall. I escaped the curse of death which overtook you. Which makes me the first immortal in history. Oh, no, no, no. Sluck! They can’t kill me.’

‘You’re still the lesser part of me, and you will do as I say.’

‘I will never be subservient to the likes of you. Sluck! Just who do you think you are? How dare you insult me! Lesser part? I am no daughter of Eve. Oh no, no, no! Sluck! I was created before Eve. She was made from your rib, but not I. Eve is subservient to you, for she was formed from your body. But I was created from mud, like you. The lesser part? Oh, no, no, no! The greater! I am the greater part!

‘Ah! But the Lord God used filth and sediment to make you, whereas I was made of pure dust – which makes me a clean spirit. Whereas, you are a demoness, like your sister Naamah…’

‘How can you be pure of spirit? Your mother was a harlot and abomination of the earth!’

‘Leave my mother out of it!’

‘Methinks you were made from a very poor dust indeed. Dung! Admit it: your seed is corrupt, and no magic will restore it. You are not writ in the book of Life. You are a measly little worm, without any hope of redemption.’

The abbot beats his head with his fists:

‘Oh Lilith! Why do you torment me so? Your only pleasure is in wounding my heart!

She sniggers.

I listen to them quarrel for a good ten minutes, during which time Lilith spits a tirade of abuse from Adam’s head. Adams screws up his eyes, shakes his fists, and runs about the cranium like a dog chasing its tail. And as I survey this perverse contradiction of Nature, one thing becomes perfectly clear: there can never be a meeting of minds; their bodies are conjoined, but their souls and wits are irrevocably divided. Like Acrisius and Proetus, they were quarrelling for precedence even in the womb. At length Adam sighs, and says:

‘Do you not see, ours is a union between two natures which are one at the root, but diverse in manifestation? We must learn to live in peace.’

‘Live in peace! Chance would be a fine thing! How can we live in peace, when you always sleep on top, with me on the bottom and my face in the pillow? Do you want me to suffocate? Why must I lie beneath you?’

At this, the Janus jumps from the Turks saddle and lands in the basilar part of the occipital bone. Then he paces round the foramen magnum, and gesticulates with mania:

‘Ugh! Ugh! How I long to be rid of you! Free of your wretched curse! Free to think and dream in peace. Do you know what I dreamt last night? Do you? Do you have any idea? Hmm? Hmm?’

‘No. But please, enlighten me…’

‘I dreamt of the Universe – of its mysterious construction, and how it might be solved–’

‘Pah!’

‘…Of the true nature and destiny of Man. And I beheld the Holy Essence – the source of all things, emanating above and below, without beginning or end, pervading all matter, from the unimaginable periphery to the invisible and incomprehensible centre! The true Essence – the unmanifest Absolute; the supreme source of every power that ever was; and by whose activity this world was thrown into being, projected by the power of His divine will and imagination… I myself was the minister of Nature, holding the rays of the sun. The sun! That holy orb of Light and fire: the universal source of all matter, whose atoms give birth to corporeal flesh! Ah, yes, I remember it now… I knew the secrets of the flesh, the flesh, yes, for I had the keys to its operation; I could fabricate all its properties and virtues; by dissolution, compaction and coagulation. All the seeds of life were submitted unto me; and all operations of the body were subservient to my will. Salt, sulphur, mercury – and their many decoctions; and by their mysterious workings, I gave rise to my perfected self! Within my bubbling athanor were streaming stars, exploding in a myriad of colours! Then God spoke to me. He spoke! “Adam, my son! You have shown yourself worthy of my favour; and to you I shall reveal the great secret of my Creation.” But just as God was about to reveal His secret, you woke me up!’

‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Secret of the Universe! You complete lunatic!’

‘Ugh! Damn you Lilith! I was so close! Ugh! A hair’s breath away; nay a split hair… Ugh! The unthinkable was almost within my grasp: the Holy secret of God. But you woke me up with your incessant nymphomania. Ugh! Ugh! You repugnant monstrosity! How I long to be rid of you!’

‘And me you, sluck! Then I could fly to the Red Sea and return to my demon lovers…’

He paces round the foramen magnum:

‘Oh! I’ve heard that one before. You and your demon lovers. You lascivious whore. Go then, leave me foul spirit – fly to the Red Sea, and conjoin with your own kind…’

‘I shall! I shall bed them night and day. Oooo! I will bear children at a most prodigious rate: more than a hundred lilim a day!’

‘Poor Lilith. You forget one thing.’

‘Er, and what is that?

‘Well, if you went to the Red Sea, the angels would seek you out and drown you.’

‘And you forget that I am immortal and cannot die. Besides, the angels are not allowed to drown me, for God has given me orders to take charge of all newborn children.’

‘You never cared for mine. In fact, methinks you turned them into monsters…’

‘That was your own doing: your seed is corrupt! Sluck!’

‘Is it my fault these hills teem with incest?’

‘Albinism is the first sign. Did I not warn you to stay clear of pale skinned maidens with red eyes? Now your line is polluted beyond all redemption. Sluck!’

‘It ends here – with these Pre-Adamite bones! Think! With this Titan skull and the blood of my seventh son, I shall rectify my fallen state!’

‘You’re always chirping on about your seventh son. What of your sixth son? Did Ricon not figure in your mad plot? Or was he just another member of your degenerate Adamite sect?’

‘Do not tear at my heart, Lililth. How Ricon ended up down here, I shall never know.’

‘Shall you not even bury him? After all, he was such a good Christian.’

‘Silence!’

‘Ah, you loved him after all.’

‘Aye Lilith, I loved him; and I shall miss him dearly.’

‘A pity to let him rot in the souterraine.’

‘Perhaps future generations will find him – just as we found the Titan. Shall man decrease in size perpetually? Our buildings are paltry compared to the Cyclopean temples of old. I have seen them: great stones, sixty cubits high, and cut with such skill, no mortal mason could match. With each generation we shrink in stature and wits. I have often wondered how tall the human race will be, ten thousand years from now. I fear no more than two feet high!’

‘Pah! If your wits are anything to go by, no bigger than a rat! A plague of rats, destined to be eaten by cats!’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Lilith? To see mankind wiped off the face of the earth.’

‘Oh yessss! The human race is such a terrible mistake.’

‘God does not make mistakes.’

‘Ergo: the Devil made you.’

The Janus stops circling and climbs the groove of the sigmoid sinus. A moment later he sits at his table on the right middle fossa. He riffles through his spells and removes a drawing of Adam, surrounded by angels. He stares in silence then says:

‘Matter is full of imperfections. Ever since The Fall, the line of Adam has been corrupted through breeding. As the scribe errs in his transcription, so the seed errs in its fusion with the egg. How perfect were the Nefilim – progeny of the Bene Elohim and the daughters of men! They were powerful, healthy and tall. Genesis calls them the Gibborim [mighty men]. And Deuteronomy tells of the Rephaim – giants of immense height that settled west of the Jordan in pre-Cannanite times. They were in that land in Abraham’s time – with the Anakim, another breed of great stature who dwelt west of the river Jordan. Such giants have been found amongst various peoples, the whole earth over. They were: princes_of_olden_days[the princes of olden days]…’

He finds a scroll of papyrus and points to the name. Lilith scoffs:

‘Your poor knowledge of alchemy is matched only by your ignorance of Hebrew. Sluck! They were not princes at all. They were savage brutes, in league with the Shades… ’

‘The Shades?’

‘Yessss! The spirits of the dead. Sluck!’

‘You’re trying to trick me.’

‘Nay Adam. I tell the truth. The Titans of which you speak were fierce and witless monsters, bereft of reason – insolent spirits who rebelled against God. They turned against Creation and devoured mankind. They sinned against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and devoured their own issue, eating their children and drinking their blood…’

‘Liar!’

‘– But in your folly, you call them The Princes of Olden Days, as if they bore relation to the angels of Enoch: who_guided_the_world [i] [those who guided the world]. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing…’

‘I refuse to listen. As usual, you want to spoil everything – just when I’m getting so close. The rite is almost upon us. Even now, the moon is filling her horns with light. I have it all worked out, down to last second of transmutation…’

‘You are mad to think you can lay your yoke upon the neck of this giant. The rite will fail. It may even kill you. Heed me. The Nefilim of which you speak were not noble princes at all. Nor where they children of the Bene Elohim. Oh no, no, no. They were sired by the fallen Watchers, who lusted after the daughters of men.[ii] Why do you attribute your corruption to the Fall of Adam? Sluck! Your original sin stands not in the line of Adam, for his sin is limited in its effects to him alone. Nay, your original sin stands in the evil engendered by the Watchers [iii]. Their disembodied spirits are watching even now…’

The abbot’s mad eyes wander round the shadows. He shudders and says:

‘You know nothing. Your wicked tongue is out to deceive me. The Hebrew text does not lie. See here: who_guided_the_world [iv] [those who guided the world].’

His head swivels like an owl as Lilith studies the parchment, her black eyes scanning right to left whilst she mutters in Hebrew. At length, she says:

‘You stupid ass! As usual, you have misinterpreted the text.’

Adam gasps and turns back round, snatching the scroll:

‘Where? Show me!’

‘I refer to verse seven. You will see the scribe has made an error in transcription, as scribes are apt to do. For the final samech [Samech], is in fact a shin [Shin], followed by a line for an abbreviation, which gives the word: who_ruined_the_world[v] meaning “those who ruined the world”. Your princes of old didn’t guide the world at all, they ruined it by violence: ruined_it_by_violence [vi] Sluck! And that is why God caused the Flood, to purge the earth of the wicked; to destroy the legion of giants and imprison the rebellious Watchers in the nether realms of Hell. Which is where we are now… Sitting in a Watcher’s head. Sluck! Sluck!’

‘You wicked whore! You trace all evil to the lust of the Watchers, and forget your own licentiousness. My corruption is naught to do with Watchers, but the fallen seed of Adam. You fear my cure, because it means your own destruction.’

‘How many times must I tell you, you ecclesiastic ass: I am immortal! Sluck!’

‘Pah! You’re stark raving mad, that’s what you are. I’m sick and tired of your insane gibbering. Leave me in peace. I have work to do… Shut up or I’ll gag your mouth!’

‘You hate it when I speak the truth…’

Adam bites his knuckles in torment. Trembling, he pours himself a goblet of wine and gulps it down. Then he grouses:

‘Like a demon, you mix truth with lies. You attribute all earthly evil to these Watchers whom God has already judged and destroyed.’

‘Yes, but the great evil set in movement by their sin did not end – even after the Flood. Sluck! For their offspring became disembodied spirits – demons who still work moral ruin over the face of the earth.’

‘Speak for yourself. If sin originated with the Watchers, then where do you fit in exactly? Eh? Eh?’

‘Sin did not originate with the Watchers, but with the Satans they serve.[vii] Evil originated in the angelic world with Satan himself – your lord and Master…’

‘The lord God is my master.’

‘You serve two masters.’

The Janus beats his head furiously with his fists and cries:

‘Out! Out! Out!’

Lilith lets rip a hideous cackle: it echoes in the chasm and rings down passages of impenetrable dark. Delirious, Adam clambers from his desk and reels across the cranial floor; he stumbles round the foramen magnum then climbs up the other side, and slumps on the left middle fossa where his bed awaits. Exhausted, he crawls under a sheepskin and groans:

‘I am tired Lilith. So tired. Have pity and let me sleep…’

‘Yesss! Sleep First Adam! Close your eyes and dream… Dream of the Essence; dream of Man. This fallen world is but an Illusion, a gross and filthy realm, far flung from Paradise and your rightful estate. Here all material things sink into darkness and Death; all flesh putrefies and is resolved into the dust from which it came. Alas, First Adam, you will always be a wretched man of clay. So dream—dream of the Second Adam and your glorious restitution…’

i. The Jewish Encyclopedia.

ii. The Book of Enoch, translated from the Ethiopic and Greek text, by R. H. Charles. Clarendon Press. Oxford, 1912. General Introduction, p xci. Chrysostom declares that the story of the fallen angels and the daughters of men rests on a false exegesis, (Homil. in Gen. vi. 1), and is a blasphemous fable.

iii. Ibid. section 1, Introduction, p.3.

iv. The Jewish Encyclopedia.

v. Ibid.

vi. Enoch 7: 3-4; Ibid.

vii. Demonology distinguishes two classes of demons:
a) The fallen Watchers or the angels who fell from their first estate, referred to in Jude 6 and 1 Pet. 2. From the time of their first judgement anterior to the Deluge they were kept imprisoned in darkness. They were subject to Satan.
b). The demons which went forth from the souls of the giants, who were the children of the Watchers and the daughters of men. These demons are disembodied spirits, and work moral ruin on the earth, without hindrance, until the final judgement.

Copyright © Nicholas Shea 2010 (including Nefilim image montage)