A dangerously fun, and enlightening novel.
Discover the possible, discover paradise on earth
When fantasy becomes myth, becomes reality! Creator! Where does Jesus, the Lord of the Rings, and What the Bleep Do We Know meet? Creator!
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Creator! A dangerously fun, and enlightening novel
In the days of yore when the Christian God sent his only son to save the wretched human race, the Olympian spirits had sent a saviour of their own. Unlike Jesus, the saintly pagan son was not without sin, nor error; nor would he ignore temptations, and desire. Ill-fated from the start he would not become a humble carpenter either, but one who is skilled in warfare, thievery, and deceit. He, who would begin his life without a name, or an inkling of whence he came, the last descendant of a vanishing legacy, would someday be called to perform great miracles, whether he liked it or not. Daedalus Rufus would become a creator!
In his quest to ease the torment of a secret curse, Daedalus Rufus becomes a mortal god to the people, and creates a heaven on earth. He turns misery into bliss and doldrums into merriment and games; and so, a mighty cult arises, which follows and worships him and his noble wife: the celestial pair the called "Creatus". Indeed, Daedalus bestows upon his enchanting spouse magic charms to mend the ills of civilization, and raise the dead, and create things unknown.
Yes, like Alexander the Great, the gods favour Daedalus Rufus. But, as with all the illustrious names that march into the abyss, he has also been cursed. For against all odds, he and his cult build the Olympian city they called Nirvanus. Yet danger and catastrophe lingers within and without its mighty walls, and Daedalus is left alone and powerless to defend it against the invincible might of Rome. Thus, the last stronghold of freedom must fight a dreadful, self-appointed Barbarian Emperor who, through the stolen magic charms of the celestial cult leaders themselves, endeavours to bring into being terrible legions of the dammed to conquer Nirvanus.
Michael A. Hills
C H A P T E R 1
In the days of yore when the Christian God sent his only son to save the wretched human race, the Olympian spirits sent a saviour of their own. Unlike Jesus, the saintly pagan son was not without sin, nor error; nor would he ignore temptations, and desire. Ill-fated from the start—he would not become a humble carpenter either, but one who is skilled in warfare, thievery, and deceit. To be sure, if the gods had great ambitions for their Olympian saviour, it seems they were inclined to keep him in the dark. For he who would begin his life without a name, or an inkling of whence he came—the last descendant of a vanishing legacy— would someday be called to perform great miracles, whether he liked it or not. His providence was to become a creator; and now his story will be told.
Thus, during the month of Martius, in the year 1 AD, Virginia Marius became pregnant in a very extraordinary way. She had neither a boyfriend, nor any kind of sexual relationship. Her doctor swore he had never seen anything like it before, swore she was still a virgin. Her father swore it was the work of iniquity: of the mischievous spirits of the dead. Worse still, he would see to it that the child was cut from her belly—like they did to save the life of Caesar—and exterminated.
Virginia’s father was not a sponsor of progressive medicine, an abortionist, nor did he enjoy the idea of dissecting his only daughter. He was a wealthy Governor from a respectable patrician dynasty, and since a brilliant military career had earned him the admiration of many influential officers, he was Caesar’s most important ally. To be sure, he, Gaius Antonius Marius, could not afford to waste his time with a pregnant teenager, no more than he could afford his enemies the pleasure of damaging his respected name. If word got out that Virginia had involved herself in wanton behaviour, what then? In Roman society, there was nothing that could stop a malicious rumour. Soon they would be talking in the public baths; soon the forums across the Empire would be covered with slanderous graffiti. Moreover, they would sing vicious songs, and denounce the great name of Marius in the markets, in the theatres, in the Senate! By the mercy of Fortuna, his good fortune had abandoned him at last. He had no other choice now: he was forced to challenge the gods, forced to defy the evil beast growing inside of her. Nonetheless, even though perplexing, his daughter’s condition did not surprise him. Virginia was wicked, disobedient, and blasphemous: that was why she was being punished. Gaius sustained that the gods had been angered by the sacrilegious gibbering of her wild imagination, and as retribution, they had sowed that amoral seed inside her womb. Then that thing would swell, and be born a vengeful agent of the underworld. It would strike down the shrew that bore it as sure as Jupiter poops lightning bolts! There seemed to be no other explanation. For already the sands of time warned of the embryo’s celestial genesis; in no less than a month the seed had gained the astonishing weight of a baby, and if he did not rush to remove it, that thing would gain its malicious nativity too, and his daughter; a ferryboat ride to Hades.
So he brought her to their summer estate on the island named Corsia, located ten Roman sea miles from the anchorage of Ostia. It was surrounded by high crags, and deserted of all untrustworthy eyes. It was a grand garden hideaway covering ten square miles, a realm of solitude and luxury. It was the perfect place to go about this unethical surgery in utter secrecy. Hence, everything went according to plan, that is, according to the plot of the gods.
Copyright ©2004 by Michael A. Hills ... all rights reserved.