The Cauldron By Charles Goodwin Chapter 3

The Founding of Chiron

Chapter 3

Visions and Dimensions

‘Rebecca, come to me. Do not be afraid. Come!’

Rebecca clearly heard the voice echoing through the deep recesses of her mind - a voice of authority - yet resonating such sweet kindness and warmth.

‘Do not resist - drift to the light. Come!’

Rebecca could ‘see’ before her a long dark, ethereal vortex being formed. A distinct and whirling, circular opening, penetrating through the grim and gloomy clouds of astral matter.

She watched with baited expectation.

The far end of the ‘tunnel’ suddenly opened to a pulsating and luminous golden light. A Super Nova of creative brilliance.

Rebecca gasped with elated excitement. The shining radiance of colors burst forth down through the tunnel in an efflorescent rainbow of abounding love. Her eyes transfixed to the light. A strong compulsion to move forward and upwards saturated her spiritual body.

‘Do not resist - drift to the light. Come!’ the gentle voice repeated.

The empowering words assisted her to surrender her sense of attachment. She let go of her burdening fears. And with the release of limitations came the state of etheric buoyancy - she began to drift. Slowly - up through the tunnel of love - up - higher, towards the effulgent attraction. Her body felt weightless and supremely calm. Total peace and serenity engulfed her being.

‘Keep your eyes focused on the light. Do not look to the sides,’ prompted the guiding voice.

‘I must be dying! But oh, this feeling is so beautiful.’ Rebecca’s solitary thought arose from a distant part of her consciousness.

She continued drifting, higher, ascending always towards the light.

And finally, emergence.

Absolute bliss, permeated into and rejuvenated, each and every atom of her spirit - totally overwhelming her with sacred love. Her moist eyes, at first shyly shielded, gradually became accustomed to the powerful illuminating energy. She could ‘feel’ celestial music. Loving natural vibrations, creating exquisite melodic chants. An indescribable infinite spectrum of bright colors, appeared to be dancing in a constant celebration of creation, in exquisite harmony with the music.

Rebecca cried with intense gratitude - and her gratitude was showered with boundless joy.
She felt to be separate, yet at the same time, there was an experience of intrinsic oneness. Immersed in a kaleidoscope of intense loving, spiritual creative energies. A total awareness of the cosmic wholeness of the Divine Creation.

In this near perfect state of being, Rebecca’s thoughts seemed to originate from far, far away.

‘I am home - I am.’

Her bliss overflowed as the realization imploded in her. The nirvanic realization that the ‘I’ in the ‘I am home’, no longer had validity. There was only ‘being, awareness and bliss’. The purest enlightened state of non-duality.

‘Now walk towards me, Rebecca.’

And upon hearing the gentle command, her spiritual eyes automatically adjusted back, back to the lower, denser level of existence. The intense feeling of loss was like being torn violently away from the state of heaven and cast down into a rat filled sewer.

She immediately understood in her heart, the sacrifice that is offered by higher souls, when they reincarnate into the physical dimension to serve and guide the sleeping and lost souls of our Earth.

The astral smog cleared.

Gradually she saw him. He wore a white robe and was beckoning her to him. And her heart began to throb with the devotional love of a Bhakti.

Wakonda stood in a small clearing by a river, in natural bushland setting, only two hundred metres from the community he had formed.

The exquisitely beautiful Australian Blue Mountains presented their healing majesty to Rebecca, acknowledging that the Earth Mother is also a form of the Divine presence - the largest and most ‘permanent’ physical form experienced by human souls.

The air felt clean and crisp.

Eucalypts towered over the wattles as the sun blessed the varied colors of the foliage through the cloudless azure blue sky, creating the perfect balance of dancing shadows and shimmering white lights. Kookaburras chortled in a springtime chorus with the multi colored rosellas and finches.

‘Thank you for coming Rebecca. Welcome to Chiron. Please do not attempt to touch me. Believe me, you are not dreaming.’

Rebecca felt an instant heart felt connection. She was struck with both awe and profound humility in Wakonda’s presence. Her eyes flowed tears of supreme joy.

‘I know, I understand,’ Wakonda spoke in the most sympathetic and understanding voice that Rebecca had ever heard.

The intense feeling of love flowed from this great spiritual Master like the waters of the Ganges in flood. An incarnation of the Divine in human form, once again on Planet Earth.

Rebecca gazed deep into Wakonda’s clear brown eyes.

From his youthful and beautiful, thirty year old face shone incredible compassion and purity.
His long shiny hair and wispy beard reminded Rebecca of the paintings that had portrayed another Master two thousand years before.

She remained speechless, trembling, not with fear but with overflowing devotion. Devotion, earnestly trying to explode from the centre of her heart.

‘What...what do you want with me? Am I dead? I.. I don’t understand.’ Rebecca finally, etched out the words, and then she added, ‘Wakonda, I am feeling so much love.’

‘I know,’ he repeated softly, as cleansing tears of devotion streamed down her cheeks once again. As he spoke, an aura of etheric hues beamed outwards from his body, expanding far into the infinite ethers.

‘Rebecca, you are love. Love is your all pervading essence. The sensation you are feeling is your own expression of unrestricted love.’

‘But... Wakonda...’

‘No not now, our time together is limited. Please listen carefully.’ Wakonda’s voice changed from the motherly to the paternal aspect.

Rebecca nodded respectfully.

‘The Celestial Guardians from the most high asked me to assist you to astral travel through the hells to the lower spiritual realms, where you could experience the nectar and Divine love of the heavenly spheres.

‘Through the lower hells!’ Rebecca gulped. ‘Is that why you instructed me not to look into the sides of the tunnel? What would have happened?’ she flashed, her Mercurial curiosity kindled.
Wakonda smiled at Rebecca’s inquisitiveness, and his smile radiated into her spirit, blessing away lifetimes of karmic dross.

‘The fear and depression corresponding to that vibrationary level would engulf your spirit. Your personal vibration rate would slow and begin to adjust to the lower level. Your awareness would become entrapped in an illusion of despair and enslaving sensual desires.’

‘Sounds familiar - similar to the physical plane - I mean,’ offered Rebecca, noticing the correspondence.

‘Quite so. As above - so below,’ replied the Master, and then added, ‘It is extremely difficult to release yourself from the attachment of fear gained in the lower hells. The hells are a most unsavory place for an extended visit.’

Rebecca shuddered. ‘I can imagine.’

‘Neither, could I allow you to proceed into the higher spheres. Your spirit would have been unable to cope with the increasing awesome power of the Creative Divine Light. Like a prisoner entrapped in a dark dungeon for centuries, released into the bright sunlight would be blinded, you too require a patient readjustment. But be assured, that which you experienced as supreme bliss was only the periphery. Far ‘higher’ realms and spiritual treasures await you.
These experiences were offered to you, so that you’ll be able to retain your courage through the dark trials and tribulations ahead for Mankind.’ Wakonda spoke with an authority that completely negated any reservations Rebecca may have had.

‘Wakonda , but why me,?’ she asked humbly, and as she whispered each word, waves of ecstatic love trembled from her crown chakra down through her body.

‘Rebecca I can only answer your question allegorically. The words I am about say will be most difficult for you to comprehend.

The symbolic struggle that began when the ‘Angels’ were cast out of the higher realms, believing passionately they were able to utilize the power or force of the Divine, without accepting the existence of the personal Creator from whence all power is derived, thus turning the power of creation into the powers of darkness, is now close to the final conflict.’

Wakonda paused, allowing Rebecca to take in the immense ramifications of what she’d just heard.

‘By final conflict, do you mean the much prophesied end times for the planet have now begun? Are you saying the new age of love is about to commence?’ asked Rebecca, choosing her words carefully, and speaking with enthusiasm rather than horror.

Wakonda’s reply was strong and absolute, yet still charged with compassion.

‘You must understand, the parables and the prophesies to which you refer, are symbolic. They have to be. The languages of the world have insufficient words to explain the unexplainable.
But know that, the physical existence you experience from day to day is but an illusory dream of your true reality.’

She nodded and sighed inwardly, and thought of the many times when life had seemed to revolve around her like a huge carousel. Each pony representing an ever changing period of her life, while her inner self remained silently undisturbed in the centre. Her consciousness shifting from pony to pony as she’d grown older - yet realizing that she was also the whole carousel in the eternal ‘present’.

Wakonda gazed to the heavens as he continued. ‘As the expanse of space appears infinite spatially, similarly, the different dimensions of being are also infinite. Humankind is beginning to fully comprehend that size and distance are both relative and limitless, yet science still needs to understand that dimensional reality is also limitless. The long awaited breakthrough into spiritual enlightenment, when our scientists will prove extra dimensional existence, is now not far off.’

And then Wakonda made a statement that rocked Rebecca’s consciousness, like an earthquake measuring 7 on the Richter scale.

‘Rebecca, know this next statement as truth absolute.’

She nodded with expanded awareness and anticipation.

‘The entire perceived universe, is but a bubble on the ocean, compared with true reality. That is, all that science could possibly perceive, is akin to a small isolated bubble on the surface of the Pacific Ocean, compared with the magnitude of infinite reality. The mind cannot cope with this immensity, but know that it is true. And consciousness, which is all pervading, is even far beyond this limitless state.’

His words imploded in Rebecca’s heart. The realization flooded her being, that she would never be able to comprehend the absolute via her limited conditioned mind - that she would have to discover another pathway to self awareness - the pathway of direct heart experience.

Wakonda’s patient instructions continued.

‘This potentially catastrophic struggle I speak of, has its roots in dimensions of existence, past even the astral regions. And neither will the catastrophe be restricted to the Earthly species. If the Earth is allowed to die, the whole of existence, encompassing all the myriad dimensions, will be affected. The harmony and balance of the cosmos is a required natural law at all levels.

Perhaps you have heard it said, that a butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon, could result in a cyclone being created in the tropics?’

Rebecca remained star struck. Her head twitched a slight nod.

‘Well the Earth dying of suffocation from astral darkness is the flapping of the butterfly’s wing. Can you imagine, even for a moment, how destructive the corresponding ‘cyclone’ across the infinite reaches of dimensional space will be?’

'No, I don’t think I can imagine,' answered Rebecca solemnly, and her mind begged the question once again: Why am I being told this?

A magnetic smile came to Wakonda’s cheeks as if to infer he’d understood her transient thought.
His electrifying response was direct.

‘A ‘lost sheep’ named Paul, a person to whom you will soon re-connect in a most profound and loving way, is an important balance in this final conflict. Like the ‘lost sheep’ of the well known parable, Paul is a near enlightened soul, unaware of his close spiritual awakening. He is as vulnerable as a strayed lamb amongst a hungry wolf pack. The wolves are those who embrace the powers of darkness and have planned to conjoin the lower hells with the Earth as their kingdom. To underestimate their powers and evil intent would be tragic. The entities of the never worlds use the Divine gift of ‘freedom of choice’ to the ultimate, for the fulfillment of their selfish desires and for the destruction of all virtuous actions and motives.’

‘I don’t quite understand, Wakonda,’ she asked, ‘There seems to exist a contradiction between freewill and destiny. How can freewill and destiny co-exist?’

‘One is the opposite polarity of the other. Like two sides of one coin. Freewill creates destiny. Our will is the master - the creator, and our thoughts and mind the servant As the will, fed by our thoughts, creates movement in the cosmos, an equal and opposite reaction is also created to balance the change. Thus destiny co-exists with the expression of freewill.’ Wakonda paused to allow Rebecca time to digest his words.

‘I think I’m beginning to see,’ she said, meditatively.

‘The freedom to make choices allows each of us to exist as a separate consciousness upon our individual karmic paths to enlightenment. Our choices forge our karma and our destinies. Even at the most elementary level, you Rebecca, may choose to breath deeply and enjoy health in abundance, or choose to breath shallow and suffer the reverse. You may choose to eat correctly, or to think pure thoughts, or you may choose the opposite. At the highest level, this natural law manifests itself into the self awareness that humans are truly made in God’s image.’

He held out his arms with palms cupped upwards. ‘We are all Divine co-creators of this magnificent universe! But use this creative gift of the will selfishly, for evil instead of service, then destruction or correction become the fruit of such actions.’ He paused for a bare second and she knew that the psychic link was about to be severed.
‘Rebecca, be as a good shepherd, and help lead Paul away from the shadows of suffocating attachments and into the light. And be on guard always! Follow the path of discrimination, rather than the path of foolish judgment.

In turn I will guide and instruct you, in various ways...’


Paul gazed wondrously at the alluring features of Rebecca as she lay temptingly upon his bed in the luxury suite of the Amstel.

Her serene face emitted an auric vigor and a composed self assurance - qualities that seemed to unleash within Paul, a distinct yearning of security - and warm sensual desires.

He smiled with cheeky delight as he studied the cute dimple in her chin and her few remaining childhood freckles. Her long natural eyelashes, perfectly matched the auburn highlights in her shoulder length hair.

Rebecca’s eyelashes began to flutter. Her eyes opened.

She was aware that someone - a stranger - was watching her. She turned and stared into Paul’s beaming boyish face.

‘ I,’ she whispered. She gazed magnetically, deep into his Aryan blue eyes - as if in some strange hypnotic way, she was able to see past his facial features and into the repressed depths of his being.

And then she heard Wakonda speak once more.

‘Look Rebecca. Observe!’ the penetrating voice although audible, sounded distant.

Her sense of consciousness remained expanded far past the extremities of her physical body.
Her eyelids closed gently.

Rebecca’s pituitary gland began to stimulate her psychic senses. The myriad dancing atoms and particles of pranic light energy, miraculously grew denser and took form. Time appeared to reverse years, in seconds. She felt, not an awareness of traveling ‘back’ in time; but rather a re-direction of her consciousness, from one defined period of an illusionary play of creation to another.

Back, back to a point in time, she’d eventually realize as being 30 years previous. Slowly, yet with clarity, an ethereal vision unfolded before her third eye. A vision of a bizarre and unfamiliar darkened office in Vienna.

She felt her consciousness pervade into the room = like an uninvited and unwelcomed, invisible spirit ‘from the other side’, gate crashing a séance.

A wave of depressive, icy energy engulfed her.

She trembled, and with the trembling, a vibrating evil shudder ran up her legs to her lower spine. A stabbing pain in the back of her lungs hurt like cold liquid splashed onto a sensitive tooth.

The over-sized extravagant office, although expensively furnished, felt miserable and drab. Classical gilt framed portraits with menacing eyes, hung morbidly on aging oak paneled walls. Blood red, deep pile carpets insipidly matched the heavy scarlet curtains that were drawn shut, blanketing the natural light.

Two bronze statues, depicting ancient mythological devils, were placed on carved mahogany pedestals either side of the double entrance doors. An old chandelier dangled threateningly from the centre of the ornate ceiling.

In short, the room stank of evil and tasteless proficiency.

And behind a studded leather topped office desk sat a conservatively dressed and wrinkle faced businessman.

Rebecca watched with morbid fascination as he hastily cleared files and reports from his work area, as if preparing for the arrival of an important visitor.

She felt his ragged nervousness and agitation.

And she knew instinctively that this haunched distraught person, with his wispy moustache and thinning gray hair, was Heinrich Ravenscroft the First, Paul’s grandfather.

Three resounding knocks on the door rang out. Rebecca jumped with fright.

The heavy oak doors were violently flung open before even the plaintive words, ‘Come in’, could be uttered from his pursed lips.

Heinrich Ravenscroft was visibly scared, if not terrified. He rose to his feet and rested his hands on the desk to avoid losing his balance.

A large ominous figure of a man, wearing a flowing black gown stood glaring in the doorway. A hood partly shielded his face and his hands clutched an ebony cane with a brass devil’s handle.

The atmosphere went frigid cold as the sinister being entered.

Rebecca felt paralyzing fear. She tried to swallow but her mouth felt as dry as a fiery lime pit. Her pulse raced.

Naked evil, emanated from the stranger’s presence to a degree, that she wouldn’t have conceived plausible.

Both her mind and body became mesmerized and controlled.

And she felt a perverted, sensual fascination engulfing her. A powerful feeling asserting that ‘even all base desires demand experience’ overwhelmed her being. Repressed frustrating desires became exaggerated. Her nipples stood erect and her root chakra vibrated with lascivious passion. Red charcoal fires of intoxicated lust demanded gratification.

A chain with the heavy silver medallion, containing the familiar Peace Keepers’ logo, the circle with the inverted pyramid and panther’s head, hung ignominiously around his neck.

She stared seductively, deep into the amorphous facial area under his hood, as if she was offering her body as an entranced sacrifice. His face appeared to be non-physical - and as powerful as a fully grown male panther.

A dark and lifeless yet sinister feline ‘vacuum’.

A rescuing omniscient thought flashed through the ethers. Rebecca suddenly remembered Wakonda’s warning,

‘The fear and depression corresponding to that vibrationary level would engulf your spirit. Your personal vibration rate would slow and begin to adjust to the lower level. Your awareness would become entrapped in an illusion of despair and enslaving sensual desires.’

She empowered the strength of her will to force her enslaved mind to centre upon the selfless love she’d experienced in Wakonda’s presence. Her will demanded the ordained right to ‘choose’ her own destiny.

And the seductive spell instantly shattered.

‘Please... welcome, ehm...Do come in,’ stuttered Heinrich Ravenscroft.

The stranger with intimidating reticence sat down on the high backed carved chair opposite the desk. He scrutinized Heinrich who’d re-seated and now remained silent.

Seconds seemed like an eternity, before Marduk, the Master of the Black Arts finally spoke.
Rebecca’s heart quivered with spiny tension.

‘Heinrich, you have been a most devoted and loyal servant. And may I remind you, over these past years, you’ve been justly compensated for your unquestioning loyalty.’ Marduk hissed with all the epicurean cunning of a sadistic viper.

The piteous Heinrich, his eyes lowered, only nodded.

‘Yes indeed, utilizing my occult abilities, you have, reaped the monolithic benefits of immense wealth and power.’

Marduk leaned forward at Heinrich. ‘Now my friend, as my ultimate plan and destiny unfolds for the world, I want you to know that even greater wealth and power lies ahead for both you and your son.’

The occult master spoke in a potent, deliberate voice of intensity.

‘My staunchest enemy, one who already walks upon this Earth, is the catalyst who could bring about the destruction of my plans. Plans that had their auspicious beginnings at the time when man as a multi dimensional being, first descended to rightfully claim the steward-ship of Earth.’
The enemy he refers to must be Wakonda! thought Rebecca excitedly.

‘Heinrich, it’s utterly imperative, my enemy’s mission be thwarted - whatever the cost.’

Rebecca felt the fierce hostility venting in his face.
She gasped!

His facial features changed dramatically as his anger intensified. A hideous black panther face with bloodshot cat eyes could now be clearly seen.

‘But....of course Marduk, as you said, I am your devoted servant. ‘Whatever the costs.’ But how.., how can I help?’ interrupted Heinrich meekly.

Marduk ignored the question but noted dementedly, Heinrich’s unquestionable agreement relating to the ‘costs’. ‘An Esoteric Master’s or world spiritual leader’s mission is preceded by a harbinger, a messenger. In occult spiritual law this must be so. The messenger prepares the way through words and ritual, to awaken the hearts of the spiritually dead. A spiritualized vortex of manifested energy, through the astrals, and into the consciousness of man is created. The messenger’s work is to pave the way for the Avatar’s or Messiah’s mission. Each different Earthly dimension occupies the same ‘space’ as the other dimensions, so a circuit or link has to be manifested before the channel from the ‘higher’ to the ‘lower’ realms is possible.

Rebecca thought of John the Baptist.

Marduk paused and glared ferociously at the pitiful Heinrich.
‘A baby born nine weeks ago, within these borders of Austria, is destined to be the prophet to precede my enemy’s mission on Earth.’

‘That’s easy, we kill the baby,’ enthused Heinrich.

‘Ah, you unenlightened fool, if it were only that simple. Only the body can be killed! His mission would proceed in the astrals and be even harder to influence.’ Marduk head wafted sideways, he peered about the room as if sensing a foreign presence.

Rebecca felt that he was now aware of her presence - or her psychic interference?

‘No killing him is not the answer,’ he retorted.

‘But what then? What can be done?’

‘Listen carefully to my words,’ The voice lowered to a repugnant monotone, ‘Remember you agreed a minute ago, that ‘at all costs’ we must succeed - well you too will have to make a small personal sacrifice!’

Heinrich clenched his eyes - his face hardened to granite - as if awaiting execution before a firing squad.

Rebecca heard the crazed delight of sadism in Marduk’s voice as he continued..
‘Your pregnant daughter in law will have a miscarriage. She will lose her baby in 6 days time.’

‘No, please I beg you! Please,’ he pleaded, his eyes bulging from their sockets in graven misery.

‘I am sorry Heinrich. The miscarriage is unfortunate, but most necessary. She’ll accidentally slip in the shower. I assure you no permanent harm will come to her, but she’ll no longer be able to bear children.’

‘But why? I don’t understand. I need an heir,’ he cried, and his sordid and dark heart sank deep into the quagmire of despondency.

‘That’s right you do need an heir. However, no grandson will be possible. But wait, first hear me out.’

Ravenscroft’s face quivered with uncertainty.

Marduk reached under his robe and handed a piece of paper to Heinrich. His venomous instructions seared razor sharp.

‘Written on this card is the location of a cabin in the Austrian Alps where the baby is to be located. Send three of your most proficient agents to execute the mission. Once inside the cabin, your men are to throw the protective Christian symbols they find there, into the fire. Only then, will my disciples in the astrals be able to assist. The parents of the child are to be murdered! Robbery and lust must appear to be the motive. Afterwards, your agent’s car will plunge into the lake. They will be found dead, together with damning evidence linking them to the murders.’
Ravenscroft listened passively, stupefied like a cornered rabbit.

‘There will be wide media coverage of the double murder and the orphaned baby. Out of ‘sympathy’, and in exchange for the adoption of the child, your son will offer a large donation to the orphanage. Naturally the anonymity of the adoption must be a pre-requisite of the donation.’

A psychotic gleam crossed Marduk’s face, and then he thundered, ‘Do you understand the importance of these orders?’

‘Your instructions will be carried out,’ stammered Heinrich, his nerves now at snapping point.

‘The adopted child will be raised as your grandson. His destiny will be changed. He will be conditioned and taught to be one of the Son’s of the Earth. By the power of the rituals and the occult teachings, he will embrace and accept the powers of darkness. Complete victory will be finally ours!’ An abhorrent hideous laugh filled the room. The creature’s murderous instructions drew to a close.

‘Yes I will be pleased indeed, if he ends up as effective in the art of disintegration as the prophet of darkness that preceded my coming. Also an Austrian - he who gained power on the symbol of the swastika!’


The scene faded. Rebecca’s consciousness began to drift.

But the vision was not over.

Rebecca could see a small but cozy log cabin, set on the slopes of the beautiful Austrian Alps. Snow gently fell, and the wispy smoke from the chimney silently levitated, to merge with the low fluffy clouds. Dusk was approaching, and the blackcocks and hawks began flying home to the warmth and safety of their perches amidst the forests of spruce, pines and beach trees.

In the far distant valley, a small village could be seen, with its Catholic church steeple serenely pointing to the heavens.

And inside the home, the baby lay sleeping peacefully in a crib in the upstairs bunk area.
The husband, a woodcutter, his day’s toil completed, rested in his favorite rocker by the fire meditatively reading the local paper.

At the other end of the cabin, Rebecca heard the woodcutters attractive young wife humming as she put the washed and dried dishes away in the cupboards.

Over the fire place hung a bulky wooden crucifix. An opened worn, well read bible still laid on the simple dining table, after the evening’s reading.

A loud impatient knock on the door broke the serenity.

Rebecca’s heart stopped. Her profound horror and repugnance intensified. She realized she was to be a witness to the vicious, odious double murder, so coldly planned by its perpetrators.

‘No!’ she cried.

She felt total helplessness. Yet the visions were so real. Disparate images crashed her mind into submission. Her soul cry wailed unheard into the molecular ethers.

Both the young parents looked up startled. The woodcutter glanced anxiously at his wife. He crept to the door and gingerly slid back the iron bolt.

The door crashed open into his face.

Rebecca watched devastated.

The karate knuckles from nowhere, smashed into the unsuspecting woodcutter’s stomach and head. The boots crashed into his shins and groin. He collapsed bleeding to the wooden floor.

The 3 unshaven agents pounced.

He struggled, trying in blind desperation to scramble to his feet. A steel reinforced boot cracked into his rib cage shattering his ribs. With the force of the blow, pieces of rib bone pierced and ruptured his internal organs.

His wife screamed with white terror.

A long dagger was creased into her husband’s Adam’s apple by the tallest of the attackers. The other two, one with a crescent shaped scar across his face, and the other, who had the appearance of a hairy Asian orangutan, bound his legs and hands.

‘Please, take anything, we are poor. We have nothing of value!’ he pleaded in intense pain.

‘Shut your mouth!’ The reply came curtly in German. A heavy fist thudded into his left eye.
The three men turned to the hysterical sobbing wife. They laughed sadistically and shuffled towards her.

‘Guess what we intend doing to you?’ sang the orangutan.

‘No, I beg of you. Please don’t hurt me!’ she sobbed, her hands clasped together in steadfast prayer.

The scarface grabbed her long braided hair and yanked it cruelly back, forcing her face upwards. His other hand clawed at her breasts. She screeched with sharp pain and humiliation.

Her legs were violently pulled out from under her, jolting her frail body to the floor.

The taller of the trio, ripped the crucifix and the pictures from the wall and flung them into the fire.
And as the orange flames quickly took hold, the Bible was in turn, ritually torn and placed into the grate. The fire consumed and devoured the protective Christian symbols.

And the baby cried shrilly from his crib.

Rebecca in paralyzing horror, now witnessed the possession of the trio, as the satanic black master had foretold.

Their faces became hideously distorted. They began laughing hysterically and foul blasphemous language filled the cabin. Disgusting, putrid smelling green slime began to flow from the sides of their mouths as they shouted their contemptuous obscenities.

Rebecca could feel the room temperature drop to a frigid zero. She felt numb with fear and cold - and she smelt the stench of rotting leprous death.

Articles and furniture began shaking and vibrating. Doors opened violently and then slammed shut.

And as the cabin rattled with evil, the battered and bound dying husband screamed and shook insanely from the floor - forced to watch helplessly, his wife’s brutal ordeal.

Now semi unconscious, the attractive young mother, was systematically stripped of her clothes till she lay ashamedly naked. Her legs forced wide apart by the three monsters from the hells. Their faces now so grotesque they were indescribable in human terms. Their walk was now the haunch of a chimpanzee.

Between the haunting shrieks and laughter, they communicated to each other by hissing and murmuring in low monotones, like an old cracked 78 record on low speed. The orangutan’s appearance had mutated - now more like a fly blown rabid black wolf.

One after the other, they repeatedly raped and bashed their sobbing, dazed victim. She was subjected to all manner of indecencies. Her body brutally flailed and probed.

Rebecca’s stomach squirmed. She felt deliriously sick as the horror before her unfolded.
She kept repeating the words. ‘I am dreaming. This can’t be real. I’m having a nightmare.’ And yet....

‘Heat the knives in the fire,’ Rebecca heard one of the monsters drawl, as another crawled over to the grate in abeyance.

The wife screamed in mind splitting terror. Her eyes clenched tight. She heard the chanting of some evil ritual as she felt the burning knife sear into her supple flesh.

And the demonic chanting grew louder.

Rebecca’s psyche vibrated explosively. Her terror filled eyes cemented to the evil repugnance.
The human-beasts now gouged bloody, occult satanic symbols into the mortified woman’s white breasts and then into her stomach and inner thighs.

The energy in the room intensified with the chanting. The evil presence magnified. Rebecca sensed an horrific channel into another dimension was opening.

The chanting reached crescendo.

The young woman, her desire for living and survival now extinguished, cried out to her God to take her. She felt the red hot knife again slicing into her chest. She grabbed the hairy slimed hands that held the dagger. With one almighty heave and with all the energy she could muster, she thrust her fatigued body upwards, into the deadly knife.

‘Jesus, I give my soul to you....,’ she gasped, dying - victoriously denying the sadists from any further evil pleasures.

The vile murderers hissed with venomous uncontrollable anger. They leapt like starved panthers onto the praying woodcutter.

He closed his eyes with surrender.

A ritualistic slash across his throat became the last sensation of his earthly sojourn.

And even as the clotted blood flooded his lungs, his spiritual unbiblical chord severed.

Rebecca watched the ethereal miracle. Tears of thanksgiving filled her eyes. The woodcutter’s spirit of light consciousness, could clearly been seen conjoining with his wife’s spirit - merging in a sparkling ecstasy of love. And linked together, ascending through the same lit tunnel amidst the vile darkness, and up into the brilliance of the heavenly spheres.

The light refracted into itself and disappeared in a split second. The cabin was now pitch black.

Absolute icy silence!

Suddenly Rebecca realized why the cabin’s stifling energy had intensified.

The phenomenon began as a whirling fluid mist. Wave particles crossing the illusion of time and into her vibrationary rate Eerie mist that danced and vibrated and became denser. Mist that seduced her soul into providing a villainous link. Mist that formed at first into a ghostlike steam image.

Mist that was now as solid as ice.

The manifested Satanic Black Magician stood just one metre away and directly in front.
Marduk stared into her petrified eyes. And he kept staring. With those morbid nightmare eyes. Powerful enslaving eyes.

Rebecca trembled uncontrollably. He seemed to penetrate her every cell - physically, mentally and spiritually: His hellish panther face - his blood dripping eyes.

‘No!’ she cried.

‘No!’ she screamed.

‘Wakonda, Wakonda - please help me.’

‘You will never escape from my power, Rebecca.’
‘You will never escape from my power, Rebecca.’
‘You will never escape from my power, Rebecca.’

The words echoed with stark penetration into her being, sowing the seeds of germinating fears.
And the vision faded.

Her consciousness drifted, back through the spiral flux of time, and dimensional reality.

Rebecca knew in her heart of hearts, she had experienced the heights of nirvanic Heaven and the pits and the depths of the tormentuous Hells.


‘Paul.... Oh Paul Ravenscroft,’ she uttered, and this time her frightened eyes gazed at Paul with compassion and understanding.

‘You’ll be all right now, you’ve fought a terrible fever,’ replied Paul softly.

And his virgoan mind grasped to understand, how this captivating woman lying there before him could have possibly known his name.


Copyright 2004 – 2006 © Charles Goodwin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, storage in a retrieval system or otherwise, without the prior express written permission of Charles Goodwin.

All characters - other than obvious historical figures - in this book 666 The Cauldron are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Prospective publishers with expressions of interest are invited to contact Charles Goodwin at


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