Saturday, September 6, 2008

Religion and all that jazz

Right, this week, lets have a look at organised religion. In prehistoric times when the knowledge of Man was limited all types of natural phenomena were incomprehensible sources of fear and terror to him. Now to ensure his continued survival, he decided to attribute the phenomena as the work of superhuman beings called Gods who had unlimited power. To propitiate these imaginary beings he dreamt up many rituals and sacrifices. Thus religion started off as away of survival against nature. Actually of course it couldn't really stop anything but it gave man a psychological boost. now in course of time the performance of religious functions became a specialised job and devolved to a class of people called priests. With the passing of time these priests got powerful. Firstly they could get anything they wanted by holding the threat of divine wrath over the heads of the multitude. Also they were extremely rich as the offerings of the people were enjoyed by them "on behalf of the Gods". Classic examples are the priests of Amon in Ancient Egypt and the temple towns of sumer. Reform movements occurred, new religions with none of the vices of the old ones gained popularity, but in the fullness of time things largely returned to the old system.
Next post: the development of organised churches
And now I am going to continue the story of last week. No I havent forgotten it and no, I still have'nt finished it.
Chapter 2
Trying to clear his head of the disorientation that follows a sudden waking from sleep, Henry tried hard to remember what he was dreaming about. It had been a very interesting dream, so clear in some places that he had really thought it to be real. There had been a man. He had been looking for a cab. Then he had started walking and had turned into an alley way. Henry remembered feeling a strange sense of foreboding when the man had turned into the alley. The man had walked forward and then hesitated. He had turned back and Henry remembered feeling oddly relieved. But the man had seen something. He had stopped and watched carefully. A creature (was it a cat? It had been so small) had fled from the shadows. The man had let his guard down and Henry had felt a thrill of terror. For from the darkness a shadow had advanced on the man and had jumped on its unsuspecting victim. Try as he might Henry could not get the image of the shadow clear. Whenever he tried his memory seemed to shut down. It was as if some unknown mysterious terror had drawn a curtain across his mind.
Shaking his head, Henry got up and looked at the clock. It was twenty minutes past ten. Henry had arrived in the city that afternoon on a plane from New York and had turned in early to get rid of the jetlag. He went to the bathroom and as he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, for the first time he noticed something unusual. A spot on his chest seemed to have turned red. Henry noticed that a small area where four parallel lines like scratch marks had appeared. Each of these lines seemed to glow a fiery red, but the glow was diminishing even as he watched. Casting his mind about he tried to think what the mark could be, and then remembered the old scar. It had been just a white patch on his chest all these years, and he had forgotten all about it. Henry remembered first asking his uncle about the scar when he was about five. His uncle had said that a cat had scratched him when he was two and the scar had remained ever since. But why would it be glowing suddenly after all these years? Henry decided that he would worry about it in the morning. He turned of the light and went to bed.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Henry woke up feeling refreshed and rested. In fact, he had almost forgotten about last nights incident had it not been for the scar still glowing away on his chest. He gave it a close examination in the bathroom mirror. It was glowing more dimly than before but the mark was still quite distinct. It looked exactly like a scratch mark and that agreed with the cat scratch story his uncle had told him. But whoever had heard of such a big cat? The marks were about an inch apart and that called for a claw very much larger than a cat’s. Still puzzling over the problem he made a simple breakfast and taking up the newspaper turned on the T.V. It was then that he received the shock. The reporter was interviewing a policeman. Below on a large banner was the line “Gruesome Death in Grove Alley” And in smaller type “Mysterious Marks on Broken Neck”. At the same time his eyes fell on the newspaper and the headlines screamed at him – “Bloody Body Found In Alley”. He listened to the reporter’s excited talk as he skimmed through the newspaper. The bloody dead-body of a middle-aged man had been found late last night in Grove Alley – a small bylane. Death seemed to have been caused by breaking of the neck. But most mysterious were the curious marks to be found on the back of the neck. But Henry received the real jolt when he saw a photo of the dead man. It was the exact same man he had seen in his dream. The clothes, the face, everything matched up. In fact, from what little he could see on T.V over the reporter’s shoulder he could even recognise the place. It was the same alley he had seen in his dream. Slowly the realisation sank into his numbed, shocked brain. He had seen the murder in his dream.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Mystery Begins

I AM BAACK! After a long break I am finally ready to renew blogging. I have decided to change things a bit so from today I will be posting parts of a story i am writing. I dint have a clue how it will end or if it will end at all. Anyway Happy readings!
Chapter I

A cold damp breeze swept through the alleys of London as Leister stepped out of his office. Above only a few stars could be seen in the cloudy sky. Leister fumbled in his pocket for his keys as he approached his car. He got in and turned the keys, the engine refused to start. Again and again he tried but the engine stayed dead. He cursed under his breath. The car had needed a tune-up but he had forgotten. Now he was late and would have to take a cab. It had been raining all day and the streets were empty. No cabs were in sight. Leister glanced at his watch anxiously and once more scanned the deserted streets. Oh, what the heck. He would walk. It wasn’t that far off. The wind picked up as he began trudging through the wet streets. Overhead the clouds closed in once more, it was raining again. Leister cursed his luck as the drops sliced through his thin coat. He decided he would take a shortcut through the back alley. But once in he found that the power had gone and the street lights weren’t working properly. He was about to turn back when he sensed that something was wrong. A shadow seemed to have flitted across the narrow alley. He looked around warily and froze. From the darkness behind a dustbin two eyes were staring directly at him. Unconsciously he began to back away, and his foot struck a can. The metallic noise echoed through the alley. The owner of the eyes gave a sharp meow and was off with a bound. Leister wiped his brow. Just an alley-cat. The weather was getting to him. He turned and was to start walking when he felt a huge weight fall on his back. He felt a sharp pain at his neck and then all was darkness. Across the city in his small apartment Henry Daimler sat up with a jerk.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Olympics and fiction

So the Olympics have finally started. Very few will say that the opening ceremony wasn't sensational. But behind the glitz and glamour lies a dark tale of abuse. Thousands have been rendered homeless as Chinese authorities have demolished their homes to spruce up the capital. Others have to go through daily life with their homes being covered over by plastics. These actions are like a housekeeper sweeping the mess under the carpet and under the bed in a last minute attempt at sprucing up the house before guests are due. China might gain a lot of prestige but its government remains dictatorial and ruthless.
On a different tack I feel that Fantasy and science fiction are more entertaining than fictional works dealing with real life. After all we all go through the daily drudgeryof our lives. While we are relaxing, it is more desirable to escape to a different world rather than poring over more descriptions of drudgery.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Starting up.

Well, this is my first step in my first attempt at blogging. As a very wise person once said, once you have started out onto the road, you don't know where it will take you. Lets wait and see. By the way, lets make one thing clear at the very beginning, Doradea is a completely fictional place and has so far existed only in my mind ( and sometimes on my PC). It is not some type of abstraction or allegory. Quite frankly I don't have a clue what i will post or how often. Might be my view on current events, analysis of world affairs, or simply outrageous thrashings of my wild imagination.