Tag Archives: faith

New Gods Have Risen and You Are Their Target

Exactly 21 days and 4 hours ago a young lady with blue eyes created new gods. I am not sure yet whether they can truly be called Gods, but I do know that you need to be warned.

It is futile to explain what exactly I am. Some have called me a guardian. What you need to know is that I am not on your side. I am not allowed to be on your side. My duty is to be neutral. Call me a scholar, or an observer – if I am a guardian, then certainly not yours.

The only reason I am transmitting this message to you is to maintain the balance.

I do not claim to understand the reason for all things; I will not even try to approach this topic. There may or may not be an original creator God.

What you need to understand is that anything you might ever have called ‘God’ was created by humans and for human purposes. That does not make gods figments of the imagination – quite the contrary. Their existence is real; independent of any particular human.

What is not independent is their existence from all of humanity and they always retain the seed that their creator planted.

You might have heard the quote of German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche that “God is dead; we killed him.”

Nietzsche was right in so far as there are very few true believers left and many of the old gods have died. A true believer is not one that goes to church or follows common rites; a true believer is one without doubt. The human pursuit for rationality has, quite successfully, decimated this kind of human.

A god dies when he retains no true believers. The old question “Why is there evil in the world?” is simply answered by the statement that evil retains belief. Suffering and pain have an impressive influence on the human mind – they focus and target the mind’s attention. Thus of the many gods that have outlived their creator – the first believer – only the violent and vengeful gods have strived.

Suffering is created by the gods so that, afterwards, they can strengthen their believers’ faith with acts of mercy and good luck.

You need to understand the above to understand what it means to create a god. You need to understand all this to understand what Mrs. Junnila has done.

A god is created by the first act of faith. The first believer has to fulfill exactly two criteria:

  1. The first believer needs to be free of all other belief.
  2. The first believer needs to believe with certainty and impenetrable faith.

In the modern world it is rare that individuals are free of all belief. Before they become teenagers too many of your species have already encountered and partially accepted parts of existing beliefs. In the past the creation of new gods was just as common as their death. Their creation depended on individuals that had either lost all beliefs, or, through good luck, never encountered existing beliefs. The gods’ death followed usually with the demise of the individual, tribe, or culture in which the gods were first created.

Mrs. Junnila, by acts of bad luck and the deeds of two of the existing gods, lost all her belief.

The death of her first child was an accident, a mere unavoidable occurrence. Mrs. Junnila had been raised without strict belief and so, despite her suffering, did not turn to an existing god.

That angered an existing god that I, to maintain balance, am not allowed to mention. But I do dare to say that this god is currently the strongest god in the region of what you refer to as Finland.

The strength of a god grows with the number of his or her believers and it is concentrated where the number of his or her believers are the highest. This, of course, is the reason why the areas in the world that have the highest number of believers are also the areas with the highest amount of suffering. A strong god can create more suffering and thus strengthen his believers’ faith or recruit new believers.

The leading god in Mrs. Junnila’s area recently lost a significant amount of influence, which does explain – but not justify – his unusually cruel methods and his unusual focus on Mrs. Junnila.

As the death of Mrs. Junnila’s child did not lead her to new faith the leading god aimed to set an example. It is well known among gods that young women and particularly young mothers are the most fruitful targets to spread their influence.

To cause Mrs. Junnila’s belief the god decided to take her ability to move her body.

Mrs. Junnila, when told about the permanence of her condition, did not react as the god expected. Gods, as you will by now have understood, are neither all powerful nor necessarily wise. Rather, their power is limited by the number of believers and their wisdom and understanding of the world by the wisdom of their creator.

Mrs. Junnila did not pray to or plea with the god. Instead she cursed religion as naivety and lost her last remnants of faith in the existing gods and their extensions. She even lost her beliefs in superstitious behaviors such as knocking on wood and metaphysical believes, such as that the stars can predict the future, most of which are remnants of gods that for long have been crippled and been bound to the beds on which they will likely die.

In this way, Mrs. Junnila became free of all believe and thus came to fulfill the first condition required to create a god.

The leading god was angered by Mrs. Junnila’s lack of faith and sent her nightmares based on the large amounts of horror fiction that Mrs. Junnila had enjoyed early in her life.

When even this step did not suffice to convince Mrs. Junnila to regain her belief – instead Mrs. Junnila began to trust that dark creatures were following her – the leading god bundled his faith with that of two other gods of the area and struck down on her husband and two of their remaining three children.

The existing gods did not predict that their combined actions would lead Mrs. Junnila to fulfill the second condition required to create a god: the certain and impenetrable belief in a new god.

You have to understand that it was not Mrs. Junnila’s fault. She merely made the connection between nightmares and real events. When she was told about the unlikely accident and the death of her husband and two of her remaining children she fell first into a mania that lasted about 48 hours.

Exactly 21 days and 4 hours ago, Mrs. Junnila awoke from her mania with sudden clarity and the certain and impenetrable belief that the creatures she had witnessed in her nightmares are real gods.

I am not allowed to mention the particular beings that Mrs. Junnila transferred from fiction to a reality as gods. But I need to stress that this messages reaches you because you, personally, have some awareness of these gods.

I cannot stop or influence Mrs. Junnila. I, just like the other gods, have tried. But Mrs. Junnila’s faith and with it the gods she created are too powerful for us to reach her.

I am also unable to stop the influence that Mrs. Junnila had on Ellie, her last remaining child. As, after the accident, Ellie spent most of her days in the same room as Mrs. Junnila while the latter was speaking about her nightmares, she has been converted.

This, in two ways is a dangerous situation. Firstly, Ellie’s belief has hardened and will likely last her whole life. Secondly, Ellie has now returned to her primary school and has successfully converted at least two other girls to the new gods.

Yes, it is true, current gods create suffering to entice humans to believe, but no gods have ever been as brutal. And while other gods do offer some mercy and answer prayers – those gods will not. Those new gods are creatures imagined our of pure horror and they will act accordingly as creatures of pure horror.

I am writing to warn you. I am writing to warn you that the new belief is spreading; the new gods are gaining followers and thus strength. It is only a matter of time until they are able to affect more than just the small area of Mrs. Junnila’s city. If I am not mistaken it is only a matter of weeks until their effect could reach, to some degree, around the world.

That is the reason I need to warn you. You are their target. You have doubts that the creatures you read about are merely fictional.

They will attack you with cruel fates. The nightmares will come.

For the sake of yourself, for the sake of balance and for the sake of humanity, I beg you not to believe in them. I beg you not to trust the nightmares. I beg you to not even for a moment believe that the creatures you read about could be real.

If you waver, even for just a moment, the new gods will gain strength. If you waver, even for just a moment, all that you hoped was fiction will become reality.


This is my story, originally I published it on Reddit.

She is God’s Tool

“I always knew that I was a chosen one, that god had a plan for me.” Shayna smiled with the serenity of a Buddhist monk. “I never knew that it would be in this way – but I don’t need to understand his plan.”

“God told you to kill these people?” I asked.

“Yes.” She said, and her smile seemed even more relaxed.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I called him.”

“You called god?”

“Yes,” Shayna said. “If you are devout enough, if you prove your faith, then you too can hear him.”

“You prove your faith by killing people?”

“No,” she said. “Of course not. You have to give everything up. You have to give everything away and refuse all offers for more than you can eat, have to refuse all offers for a bed for more than a night. You have to be willing to be his tool, then he will grant you the privilege to be his tool.”

“That’s why you lived on the street?”

“I don’t call it ‘living on the street’. It is a pilgrimage. Like the Way of Saint James that my mother always talked about.”

“Oh.”

“And of course you also have to show your faith. You have to pray every two hours.”

I glanced at the dark rings around her eyes.

“Even at night?”

“Yes. Silent prayer during the day, prostrations during the night. That’s what god told me in my dreams when I was young. When you are young god still speaks to you. But not everybody listens. Parents and school force children to ignore the voice of god, but I listened. I listened to him every night. He instructed me how to live, how to eat, how to breathe and how to pray.”

“God told you all that when you were young?”

“Yes, he did. That’s why I ran away when I turned fourteen. I stopped hearing him. My mother said it was because I was growing older and my imagination was fading. But I knew the truth, I knew that I wasn’t living right. I had possessions. I had lust and greed. So I left.”

“And then you heard the voice again?”

“No.” Shayna looked towards her feet. “For far too long I didn’t. I tried, every night; I kept my eyes and ears open. But he was gone because I had sinned, because I had felt lust for a married man and because I had possessions. God doesn’t speak to sinners until they make amends. That’s why he doesn’t talk to many people. There are too many sinners in this world. Even the pope with his golden palace – god doesn’t speak to him. God won’t speak to anyone who has possessions.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“Because he told me so! God told me so!”

“How can you be sure if god didn’t speak to you anymore?”

“Oh, he does. He speaks to me. I prayed every day and every night. I lived the pilgrim’s life. And finally he answered; finally he answered while I was praying. I asked for him, I begged him to speak to me – and he spoke my ‘Amen’ for me. At the end of my prayer, he spoke it for me.”

“You heard a voice saying ‘amen’?”

“Not just a voice, his voice. And that was only the first word. The next day he began speaking to me; he told me that he accepted my sacrifice, that he would make me his tool when I was needed.”

“And he needed you?”

“No, god doesn’t need me. But he offered me to become his tool. He said that I would be allowed to fulfill his wish, and I was never happier in my life.”

“And then he told you to kill?”

“No, at least not at first. He told me to wait, and that he would let me know when he wanted to use me.”

“How did you know when he wanted to use you?”

“God told me.” Shayna said. “He told me by sending this man, by making him insult me. And when the man turned around god said that I should kill him. And so I did.”

Shayna smiled.

“It was easy to kill him, because god was on my side. God gave me the metal bar, and god made sure that no one would see me.”

“The voice in your head told you to kill the voice?”

“Not any voice; his voice! I recognize his voice from when I was young; it is raspy but smooth and speaks with long syllables.”

“Shayna, do you hear this voice right now?”

“No. God only speaks to me when I am needed, when he has a new task for me.”

“He also told you to kill the mailman?”

“Of course. I would never kill one of god’s creatures without his command.”

“The voice told you to kill the mailman?”

“God told me to kill the mailman.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It is his plan. I am only his tool. He commands and I obey.”

“That is all? You heard the command and straight away killed these men?”

“Yes.” Shayna laughed. “I can hear your lack of faith. God doesn’t like that.”

“You killed eight men.”

“Seven men and one woman.”

“All because god told you so?”

“Yes.”

“You never doubted his orders? Or misheard them?”

“God speaks very clearly.”

“The voice in your head is very clear?”

“Yes, as I said, god speaks very clearly.”

It was hard to look at the woman in front of me. Her wrists were bound to the chair with light brown leather straps that nearly faded into her skin tone. The curly black hair was reaching far over her shoulders. And she smiled and laughed while she told me about her murders. Over a year she killed seven men and one woman.

“Did you ever follow these people around?”

“Not for long. God showed them to me on the street. I felt the urge to walk into a specific direction, looked at the people around – and, at some point, suddenly, his voice said ‘This one!’ and I knew what to do.”

“You never saw any of these people together?”

“No. God only revealed me one of them at a time.”

“You didn’t know of any connection between them?”

“God never told me anything about them. He only told me who I would have to kill.”

Shayna’s victims appeared random: A lawyer, a mailman, a second lawyer, a female gardener, a priest, a night guard, and two programmers.

“You weren’t aware of the website?”

But one thing connected them.

“What website?” Shayna asked.

“The one where they met; where they shared their ‘work’.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know much about websites.”

“Okay, I said. It’s not important.”

Shayna nodded.

“You know,” she said. “I will always be god’s tool, no matter what you think or do. I will be his tool. I will pray and live as a pilgrim for life. And if he calls upon me I will answer.”

“Okay,” I said. “But first you will stay here for a while.”

“Sure,” she said. “If that’s what god wants.”

“That’s what god wants.” I said.

When I stepped out of the white room I had to wipe the sweat off my face. It is always hard to talk to clients, but the hardest to talk to those that don’t see their mistake.

I didn’t believe any of the things she said. But she lived on the street. She didn’t have access to the internet for years.

She couldn’t have known of the website, of the child pornography ring. And still she took out eight out of nine. And the ninth barely survived.


This is my story, originally I published it on Reddit.

Losing my Faith

I was perfectly prepared. After months without a job I knew that all my chances were on this opportunity, as researcher at a financial consultancy.

The job interview was the smoothest I ever had.

“Welcome,” said the bald, skinny man in his 50s, my future boss.

He smiled and then asked me only two questions:

“Do you smoke?”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Good,” he said. “We don’t like that here.”

He smiled again.

“Do you value your faith?” He stressed the last syllable – “fai-thee.”

The question took me aback. I thought that would have been an illegal interview question. But he looked serious, with his eyebrows raised to a frown.

“Yes sir, to a certain degree,” I replied. “I believe, but I will make sure that it won’t affect my work, sir.”

“Good,” he replied, and his face widened to a smile and didn’t change from its position until the end of the interview. “I’m Matt. And I’m glad you have faith. We need people like you around here.”

“Thank you, sir.” I said. “I really think I’m a suitable candidate because of my expe-“

Matt cut me off. “It’s okay. You’re hired.”

I signed the contract and walked out of his office, down through the corridor past a string of rooms with desks and chairs. I found it strange that nobody else was around, but it was nearly lunchtime. I made a mental note to eat a small breakfast so that I would be able to join the early lunch crew.

The next morning the office was buzzing. Fax machines, copy machines, coffee machines, a water cooler and the constant hum of an air conditioning welcomed me to my new life. Higher pay, own office, flexible hours – it was the perfect job.

My colleagues welcomed me the moment I sat down in my brand-new office chair. The black leather was smooth to the touch. I closed my eyes, but before I could lean back and relax I heard shuffling feet and saw the whole team was standing around my office door.

They all beamed with joy.

“Welcome!” Said a young, attractive woman I later got to know as Natalie. “I think you will be a beautiful addition to the team.”

“Hey,” said the company lawyer. “I’m sure you’ll do great with us!”

“I’m Candice,” said another attractive woman. “The boss said you have a faith. I really like that.”

The rest of the introduction is a blur in my memory. Too many smiles, too many kind words, and, that’s the only thing I really remember from that introduction, too many of them mentioned my faith.

I loved my new office. I loved that it was right between the boss’s office and the fire escape. I loved the brand-new computer and swivel chair, the small fake plant in the corner and the big, spotless mirror to my right.

That first day I was motivated. I was happy. I didn’t mind that I wasn’t sure of my task and that they only made me fill excel sheets. “They are testing the new guy,” I thought to myself – and the fact that they kept passing by my office with beaming smiles reassured me that I would be fine.

At first I was worried that they all went out of the fire exit to smoke. But the air conditioning worked well and I never smelled a thing. The only smell that bothered me was the smell of warm, fresh plastic, similar to that of a new car or new computer.

Despite the boring tasks the first was a breeze. They all smiled at me while they walked past, or when I walked past their desks or the obligatory water cooler.

I was nervous that first day, maybe that’s why I didn’t notice that they all avoided me. Sure, they looked at me and greeted me, but it seemed as if the conversations I had with any of them were limited to yes and no answers. I asked them questions. I offered them anecdotes and jokes at the water cooler. But they all either smiled and laughed, gave short, monotonous answers, or simply walked away. And during lunch hours they all just disappeared.

I have heard of bullying – but I never felt it like that. It was as if there was a wall between them and me. They kept smiling, but they were all in on it; even the boss. He had nothing better to do than sit in his office and, just whenever I was finished with my mindless tasks of copying data from one spreadsheet to the next he came in and pointed me to a new email or new file on my desktop or handed me a new USB-stick.

I tried to bring the bullying up with him, but he ignored what I said. He just sat, smiled, and stared at me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Once you lose your faith you will understand.” And again he stressed the word faith in this odd manner – “fai-thee.”

“For now the only thing I can offer is to raise your salary.”

And he did. I thought he would offer me maybe a thousand more – but instead he doubled my salary.

I thought the money was good and I would be able to take the bullying. I knew it had to stop at some point.

It was Natalie that finally broke the ice. She stood in my doorway when I turned around.

“Hey,” Natalie said.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

“Not long.” She grinned and walked into the room, placed her hand on my shoulder.

“I was just wondering,” she said. “Whether you have a girlfriend? Or maybe a wife and kids?”

“No,” I said. “I’m a free man.”

Natalie lost her smile for a moment. “Okay. I just thought an attractive man like you would also need an attractive partner. I just like that you have a faith.”

Natalie winked while she walked out. She too pronounced the word faith with a long, stretched “e” at the end.

That day, or rather, moment, was the happiest I had in that job. I was so sure that they all hated me that a one-minute flirt blew me away. I even did some of my work, rather than look on Reddit and read the news, which I had taken to after two weeks of constant mindless number-copying.

It was strange that the boss was not interested in my results. He asked me for them, but to my knowledge he never actually read any of the analyses I wrote. I had first just done the simple copying, and then began to calculate results that I thought might be useful. Twice I even wrote short summary notes of what I thought the company profile would be and how beneficial an investment would be for our clients.

But Matt ignored all of that. “Nice job,” he said. “I like your faith in this job.”

For the first weeks I didn’t notice the quietness of the office. I thought my room was just had good noise-insulation. The only things I heard were the footsteps of my colleagues sneaking out for a smoke, the footsteps of the boss coming into my office. Sometimes I heard the fire exit door fall shut.

But when I stepped outside my office, the moment I stepped through the door, the busy conversation began. Phones rang. People argued, laughed, talked. I could rarely make out what they were actually saying to the clients or each other, but they were clearly talking.

It shouldn’t have taken me so long, but it was the fourth week that I noticed that the noise stopped whenever I entered my office. It was like a button – I stepped outside, the noise began, I stepped inside and, I counted the seconds, after exactly five seconds the noise stopped.

No conversation, no laughter, no printers, no ringing phones. Only, occasionally, the footsteps and smiles that passed my office.

That day, with a fresh Monday-mind, I thought to join them outside for a smoke. I never wanted to smoke before, but it felt as if that was the only thing that separated us – they went all day to smoke. I never heard them go to lunch; I never heard them go to the bathroom. The only time I heard them was when they went to smoke.

I stepped outside my office, turned around the corner, and saw Natalie standing in front of me, right next to the fire exit door.

“You smoke too?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. “But you shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you just shouldn’t. That’s how I lost my faith.” A whisper of sadness hushed over her face, but instantly Natalie’s smile returned. “Would you like a coffee?”

We went to the kitchen. She hesitantly opened a new bag of coffee, placed the pat in the machine and pressed the button. The red light blinked.

“I think you need to put fresh water,” I said.

She smiled, clumsily removed the tank and refilled it at the tap. She spilled much while trying to place the tank back into its place, as if she had never done it before.

She laughed, but she didn’t speak. I drank my coffee, she didn’t even bother to make one for herself. Natalie just stood there, staring at me.

“You really have a good fai-thee.” She said.

After three awkward minutes with her I left the room. I really tried to make conversation, to continue the flirt, but all Natalie did was to stare at me. I sat down, drank my coffee, and stared at the screen.

At that point I knew I needed to see their smoking spot. I felt all my instincts screaming, but I knew I had to do it if I ever wanted to be accepted by the group.

Half an hour after my “conversation” with Natalie I got up and walked briskly out of my office – the chatter started just a moment too late. And I think in that moment I realized how wrong it all was.

I turned towards the fire exit door and heard the boss shuffling behind me.

“Hey,” he shouted. “I have more work for you.”

But I was quicker. I walked towards the door, ignored Natalie rushing towards me from the kitchen, grabbed the cold metal handle, pulled it open and stepped outside.

They were standing there, nearly the whole office. Their heads were first towards the window in the wall, and then turned to me.

It took me a moment to realize what the window was, to connect the dots between the shape of the mirror in my office and the transparent glass that they were standing at.

It took me a moment to connect the dots between window and mirror because I was staring at something else, at the smooth skin that covered what I knew as their faces.

It only took a moment, a tiny fraction of time – and their faces returned. I saw them pushing out of the smooth skin, to form features.

They stared at me; the lawyer was the first to begin running.

I rushed back through the door, saw the boss running from the side and Natalie from the front. I ran towards her. Matt’s hand missed me only by an inch.

Natalie opened her arms wide, as if she wanted to embrace me.

My fist was quicker than her. My fist pushed her features back into the soggy mass.

She fell to the side, I rushed past, heard the screams and footsteps behind me.

I sped out of the office, down the stairs, their feet hitting the floor closely behind me. I don’t know how, but I was quicker than them.

I was out on the street – they stopped inside.

When I looked back I saw Matt standing in the lobby with his face only half-formed – no eyes, no nose – only his wide smile.

The last thing I remember from running away is Natalie’s voice. She was screaming, loud and shrill, from a window.

“Stay here! I like you! You have such a good” – and this time I didn’t mishear the last word – “face.”


This is my story, originally I published it on Reddit.