Jesus was not the only god believed to have been resurrected and thereafter ascended into Heaven. One of those gods was Hercules.
Like Jesus, Hercules was the son of the god that ruled Heaven. Like Jesus, Hercules descended into Hades where he wounded Hades, the god of the underworld, whom we know as Satan.
After being cursed by an enemy, Hercules suffered from an inner fire. Thus tortured, he built his own funeral pyre and set himself on fire.
When the flames reached Hercules a cloud descended from Heaven and amidst thunder and lightning, the beautiful, young god disappeared to live with his Father in Heaven forever.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT EBOOKS
DESTINY'S DAMNED and SATAN'S SCAT are now available as Ebooks.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
IN A CAGE-THE CREATION OF A SERIAL KILLER?
Alternately whimpering and begging, the tears in my voice garbling my words, I was terrified. Like a wild animal, I began to circle, looking for a way out, repeatedly scraping my knees and hands on the hundreds of edges of iron.
“Please, Daddy, I won’t do it again,” I kept crying, as I circled.
But he and Grandpa were busy working around that piece of plywood, attaching the steel bars together, making some kind of an arch with the wheel in the middle. “What’s that, Daddy?” I called, when they were finished and I gave up circling to watch.
Peering into the cage, getting his face as close as he could to mine, he answered. “The wings that will take you to hell.” His eyes were like stone, his face like blank paper, and I knew there was no hope for me.
Excerpt from DESTINY’S DAMNED.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
“Please, Daddy, I won’t do it again,” I kept crying, as I circled.
But he and Grandpa were busy working around that piece of plywood, attaching the steel bars together, making some kind of an arch with the wheel in the middle. “What’s that, Daddy?” I called, when they were finished and I gave up circling to watch.
Peering into the cage, getting his face as close as he could to mine, he answered. “The wings that will take you to hell.” His eyes were like stone, his face like blank paper, and I knew there was no hope for me.
Excerpt from DESTINY’S DAMNED.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Sunday, April 20, 2008
HEAVEN'S TEMPERATURE
If hot air rises, why isn't Heaven as hot as Hell?
Half-jokingly a friend of mine asked me that question, today.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Half-jokingly a friend of mine asked me that question, today.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Thursday, April 17, 2008
What If the Christian Church Is Not Legitimate?
What if the Christian Church as we know it doesn’t have any authority to speak for God? Doesn’t have any authority at all from God? What if the Church is not legitimate? What kind of evil would that spawn? How would the Church protect itself? What would become of its trusting members?
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Friday, March 28, 2008
DESTINY'S DAMNED: A PRELUDE TO MURDER
The stray cat on the bedroom floor, sleeping over the crack, was
purring, the steady, familiar rattle soothing, as Judy Bowers lay stiff
in her sub-floor coffin., grateful for the company. Sneaking in the
house through some opening, probably in the basement, the cat was a
loyal companion, coming back immediately after each of her visits,
comforting her as she calmed, her wounds unattended. “You my kitty?”
she whispered. A triangular-shaped head, half distinctly black, the
other half fire and stone, the mottled colors of the earth, peered
through the crack as the tortoise shell female purred perceptively
louder. “Got somebody to feed you?”
He was there just that morning,
impatient with Judy because he forgot her food, in a hurry because he
had some kind of meeting with a friend, rushing, not getting a rise
from himself and, in anger, sodomizing her with a broom, hurting her
like he had never hurt her before.
Though he had not brought her
food for more than three days, and though she bled from her rectum for
what seemed hours after he left, she was peaceful, knowing he would not
hurt her again, at least until tomorrow.
Bound at the wrists and
ankles, while staring blankly at the tortoise shell’s fir, wishing she
could make some physical contact with something alive other than him,
she became aware that something cold was crawling up her arm.
Occasionally hesitating as if there to inspect her skin for edibility,
it then continued. Near hysterical, she shuddered. Rolling her
shoulder, bumping her body as best she could against the underside of
the floor, she tried to shake or knock the thing off. Strength a luxury
she did not have, her effort was useless. The tiny feet crawled onto
her neck. Bound tightly, the only defense left to her the movement of
her head, she twisted quickly, and the muscles of her spine unraveled.
“Oh..h..h,” she groaned, unable to fight further. Straining her eyes to
see the creature that now crawled across her cheek, she was horrified.
Through the blur, was a long, shiny creature with pincers.
Fear
turned to lust, and as the creature ventured further, she opened her
mouth and turned in its direction. Catching the scent of her breath,
lured to the fleshy cavern, the creature changed course and crawled
inside, to be instantly trapped and eaten.
Much later, possibly
an hour or three hours later, the instance with the insect lost in a
fog of other memories, she slept. Not realizing the cat and her purrs
were gone, she took a peaceful breath which while descending down her
throat stopped and went no further. The front door was closing. Heart
pounding, breath trapped inside her throat, she listened as the feared
and familiar footsteps came toward her.
“Hey, bitch,” he called, words slurring, anger seething. “Where’s my dinner?”
Confused,
her world more nightmare than reality, she accused herself, reviewing
in her half crazed mind a conversation that never took place. Dinner.
My God, whydidn ’t I fix him dinner. He told me he’d be back. He told
me he wanted roast beef, rare,.and scalloped potatoes. But, where’s the
refrigerator?”
Excerpt from DESTINY'S DAMNED.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
purring, the steady, familiar rattle soothing, as Judy Bowers lay stiff
in her sub-floor coffin., grateful for the company. Sneaking in the
house through some opening, probably in the basement, the cat was a
loyal companion, coming back immediately after each of her visits,
comforting her as she calmed, her wounds unattended. “You my kitty?”
she whispered. A triangular-shaped head, half distinctly black, the
other half fire and stone, the mottled colors of the earth, peered
through the crack as the tortoise shell female purred perceptively
louder. “Got somebody to feed you?”
He was there just that morning,
impatient with Judy because he forgot her food, in a hurry because he
had some kind of meeting with a friend, rushing, not getting a rise
from himself and, in anger, sodomizing her with a broom, hurting her
like he had never hurt her before.
Though he had not brought her
food for more than three days, and though she bled from her rectum for
what seemed hours after he left, she was peaceful, knowing he would not
hurt her again, at least until tomorrow.
Bound at the wrists and
ankles, while staring blankly at the tortoise shell’s fir, wishing she
could make some physical contact with something alive other than him,
she became aware that something cold was crawling up her arm.
Occasionally hesitating as if there to inspect her skin for edibility,
it then continued. Near hysterical, she shuddered. Rolling her
shoulder, bumping her body as best she could against the underside of
the floor, she tried to shake or knock the thing off. Strength a luxury
she did not have, her effort was useless. The tiny feet crawled onto
her neck. Bound tightly, the only defense left to her the movement of
her head, she twisted quickly, and the muscles of her spine unraveled.
“Oh..h..h,” she groaned, unable to fight further. Straining her eyes to
see the creature that now crawled across her cheek, she was horrified.
Through the blur, was a long, shiny creature with pincers.
Fear
turned to lust, and as the creature ventured further, she opened her
mouth and turned in its direction. Catching the scent of her breath,
lured to the fleshy cavern, the creature changed course and crawled
inside, to be instantly trapped and eaten.
Much later, possibly
an hour or three hours later, the instance with the insect lost in a
fog of other memories, she slept. Not realizing the cat and her purrs
were gone, she took a peaceful breath which while descending down her
throat stopped and went no further. The front door was closing. Heart
pounding, breath trapped inside her throat, she listened as the feared
and familiar footsteps came toward her.
“Hey, bitch,” he called, words slurring, anger seething. “Where’s my dinner?”
Confused,
her world more nightmare than reality, she accused herself, reviewing
in her half crazed mind a conversation that never took place. Dinner.
My God, whydidn ’t I fix him dinner. He told me he’d be back. He told
me he wanted roast beef, rare,.and scalloped potatoes. But, where’s the
refrigerator?”
Excerpt from DESTINY'S DAMNED.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
Thursday, March 20, 2008
PAGAN CROSS IS RICH IN SYMBOLISM
The symbolism of the cross goes much deeper than what the Christians assign to it. The Christian symbol of the cross incorporates only part of its ancient pagan meanings. Pagans attached a much greater significance to it.
The cross symbol originally represented fire and looked like a swastika. As the sign of life, the cross was always associated with fire and the sun. The cross was also the symbol for several pagan gods. The vertical arm of the cross symbolized the masculine forces of the sky, the horizontal arm the feminine forces of darkness. When used to symbolize a god being crucified it might have, above the god’s head, an upside down crescent moon symbolizing death and resurrection. The crucifixion of a god represented the sun’s passing through the equinoxes. In the spring, the sun reaches the vernal equinox and is resurrected. In the winter, it descends in the sky until the solstice when it stops or dies for three days, then on December 25th, moves north and is reborn.
The cross symbolizes the threshold between time and eternity. Death and resurrection. The cross is the threshold over which a soul leaves this earth and enters eternity. It is also the threshold at which the soul comes back from eternity and is reborn. It is a gateway between life and the afterlife. A god on the cross signifies his control of that gate, symbolism less obviously adopted by the Christians.
In the celebration of Easter, an outgrowth of ancient pagan festivals, we should remember the cross’s much greater heritage and symbolism.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
The cross symbol originally represented fire and looked like a swastika. As the sign of life, the cross was always associated with fire and the sun. The cross was also the symbol for several pagan gods. The vertical arm of the cross symbolized the masculine forces of the sky, the horizontal arm the feminine forces of darkness. When used to symbolize a god being crucified it might have, above the god’s head, an upside down crescent moon symbolizing death and resurrection. The crucifixion of a god represented the sun’s passing through the equinoxes. In the spring, the sun reaches the vernal equinox and is resurrected. In the winter, it descends in the sky until the solstice when it stops or dies for three days, then on December 25th, moves north and is reborn.
The cross symbolizes the threshold between time and eternity. Death and resurrection. The cross is the threshold over which a soul leaves this earth and enters eternity. It is also the threshold at which the soul comes back from eternity and is reborn. It is a gateway between life and the afterlife. A god on the cross signifies his control of that gate, symbolism less obviously adopted by the Christians.
In the celebration of Easter, an outgrowth of ancient pagan festivals, we should remember the cross’s much greater heritage and symbolism.
© Shawna Ryan
Author: thrillers DESTINY'S DAMNED & SATAN'S SCAT
available:
www.pilchuckpublishing.com
amazon.com
books stores and libraries
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