Rosengoltz came to Abkhazia to spend his summer vacation in Sochi with his daughter, Yelena, who was sitting in the first row. She kept looking through big field glasses lent her by Basil and at the same time nibbled chocolates brought by Michael. Yelena was a joyous and beautiful girl with big, black eyes and natural golden-red hair. It was tied in a heavy knot on her neck, which was white as marble, speckled only by a few freckles. When she laughed, as she did often, she wrinkled her cute little nose, and opened her full scarlet lips, fresh as a Caucasian Georgian cherry, and showed her white teeth. She was plump, but not fat, with small, girlish breasts. She was not yet eighteen and still growing, but looked more mature than most girls her age. Yelena was already a very sexy, bright young woman, probably still a virgin, as is often the case with girls from good Jewish families where the mothers had been brought up in very religious households. Her father was a strong-minded Commissar and known as a splendid administrator. He was an Old Bolshevik who had fought in Moscow during the Revolution. For some years, he had ruled the Donbas with a strong hand. One of the most eminent Communists and a member of the Central Committee, Rosengoltz was later appointed to the Soviet Embassy in London. He stayed there until 1928, when he returned to Russia to work for the Government. He was the father of three children. Yelena, the youngest, was his beloved daughter. He was proud of her and did not let her out of his sight. Not only he, but the two young officers., Basil and Michael, were always at Yelena’s side. One did not have to guess that Beria had abnormal inclinations toward very young girls, as rumors about his peculiar tastes circulated freely among his acquaintances. One could be positive that Lavrentry Pavlovich, now trying his best to be interesting and gallant, would not hesitate to do anything to make love to her.

A few days later, Nestor Lakoba invited Beria to his country house for an afternoon cup of coffee, intimating between the lines that this would be a sort of stag party. When Lavrentry arrived at his friend’s villa he was surprised to see there were only two other men present. They were Lakoba’s two cousins, Basil and Michael; the only female guest was the charming redhead, Yelena. Beria did not ask his host what had happened to his previous plans for the party and why this time the girl was not accompanied by her father. Anyway, the party was nice and clean. The gramophone played, the young lady danced waltzes, tangoes and fox-trots, with the two lads taking turns as her partner. The refreshments were also very elegant, with pastries, tea, Turkish delight, candy and wines. But when the girl excused herself and left for a short while “to powder her little nose”, one of the young Chekists winked at the other men and poured some alcohol into her wine goblet. When Yelena returned, the gentlemen toasted her as Queen of Beauty and urged her to drink her goblet in one gulp. Soon afterwards the girl felt dizzy and hot, and asked to go out to get some fresh air. Beria and the two young gentlemen offered to escort her, suggesting a stroll in the garden surrounding the house. Two of the men linked arms with her and went out, led by a third. In one of the shaded alleys the girl felt faint, so her escort helped her to a bench and sat her on it. She was too sick, however, to sit up by herself. They laid her on the grass. One of them started undressing her. At first the girl did not realize what this was about. She probably thought they wanted to loosen her tight clothes to help her breathe more easily. Then, when she understood their intentions, she tried to shout for help. But it was too late. The man on top of her was pressing her to the ground with all his weight. She tried to fight him off, but it was hopeless. She was raped by all of them in turn.

The girl was overpowered and used. But what would happened when she got home and told her father the truth? One of the young Chekists put his hands around her throat and pressed. Harder and harder.

Back in the house, Lavrentry went to Lakoba’s studio. From there, in a sober and dry matter-of-fact voice, he telephoned the investigations magistrate, ordering whoever was then on duty to come at once with his assistants. In a short time, investigating officials arrived. The Chief of the Secret Police in Georgia, Beria, informed him that, after having had a few glasses of wine, the girl became hysterical and ran away to the garden. They had followed her, calling her to come back, but she did not listen to them. Soon they found her dead. The hysterical girl had committed suicide. No autopsy was needed.

SOURCE: Excerpted from Commissar: The life and death of Lavrenty Pavlovich Beria by Tadeusz Wittlin, MacMillian, 1972 (ISBN-13: 9780207954801, ISBN-10: 0207954801)


“Ellie giggled insanely as she sat upon the rug of the affluent traditionally decorated house on the outskirts of Osaka, naked and covered in semen, as the torment sat on the floor several feet before her pulsating with a slow, sickening glow which illuminated the shaded room, lit only by the glow of the amulet and the haze of the late afternoon sun filtering in through the narrow slats in the windows…”

Several Japanese businessmen sat around her in a semi-circle in states of half-undress, their expensive suits and slacks laying in heaps on the floor along with their briefs, though most of them still wore white undershirts and some of them still had on their dress shirts though the buttons and ties were in states of no small disarray.

Within the churning prai oil of the amulet Ellie and the others in the room could see the spirit of the torment swirling in a state of anti-gravity, her hands alternately raised above her head in the gestures of dance and running them over her own celestial body in a state of sensuous rapture. At times the spirit would open her mouth and the communication would come through telepathically into Ellie’s mind in the form of a sharp pain between her eyebrows, followed by a shower of energy which rained down around her after bursting from the crown of her head in a sparkling cascade. The men sitting around her and the amulet experienced neither of these questionable dispensations from the torment but instead heard a small but fell whispering of indistinguishable language each time the entity opened its mouth and the rustling of a foul current of air which could only have been the product of supernatural phenomena, given the fact that the room was closed and sealed off to the outside both externally and internally.

Ellie raised herself to her full height and stretched languorously – as she did so the mouths of the businessmen congregated in the semi-circle peeled back in a rictus of horror. Their seminal fluid which coated her face, breasts, legs and posterior visibly glowed with a golden hue and as she turned her gaze toward them they saw that her eyes had receded into their sockets and in their place a similar golden shimmering was present, much brighter and much more violent than that which emanated from the torment itself. A feral snarl emitted from Ellie’s pursed mouth as it slowly peeled back into a hideous and insane grin.

As suddenly the room went dark, the rays of the earthly sun from outside and the erstwhile glow of the torment being subsumed in the pitch blackness that had been created from the internal potency of Ellie and the torment so combined. Distressed cries arose from amidst the few congregants, soon replaced by the sounds of grotesque gurgling, the snapping of bones and the sound of blood splattering upon the walls.

When the light returned the businessmen lay splayed here and there in indiscriminate fashion, bowels and organs sitting beside bodies with their limbs spread akimbo and features mutilated beyond all knowable recognition. Ellie crouched in one corner of the room covered in gory rivulets of crimson, the torment clutched to her breast and the blood of her former attendants slicked down her back slowly seeping and staining outward across the paper wall upon which she leaned and which beyond lay worlds beyond worlds for her and the torment to discover, together.



“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita. Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty, and, to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, ‘Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.” – J. Robert Oppenheimer

This chanting of the Hare Krsna mantra is enacted from the spiritual platform, and thus this sound vibration surpasses all lower strata of consciousness – namely sensual, mental and intellectual.

There is no need, therefore, to understand the language of the mantra, nor is there any need for mental speculation nor any intellectual adjustment for chanting this maha-mantra. It is automatic, from the spiritual platform, and as such, anyone can take part in vibrating this transcendental sound without any previous qualification.

Chanting of the Hare Krsna mantra produces transcendental ecstasies, which are eight in number.

  1. Being stopped as though dumb
  2. Perspiration
  3. Standing up of hairs on the body
  4. Dislocation of voice
  5. Trembling
  6. Fading of the body
  7. Crying in ecstasy
  8. Trance

SOURCE: Oppenheimer quote regarding Trinity nuclear test. Excerpt regarding the transcendental ecstasies of chanting the Hare Krishna mahamantra from The Science of Self Realization by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Bhaktivedanta Book Trust.


Hare Krsna Hare Krsna Krsna Krsna Hare Hare / Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare



“In context to the sinistral path however, a nexion is a tendril leading to that abysmal source of backwards darkness. A direct death-line to the hungry furnace of Hell which can be tapped and brought into the causal realm.

One who has passed through the jaws of the devouring demon who is known by the numerical code of 333 will become a physical nexion in the flesh, having tapped into that abysmal source of backwards darkness and thus from that point forward, radiating that same black energy like the after-effects of a location which has experienced a nuclear disaster – being forever stained for the rest of their existence.

In like manner and further referencing the example of a nuclear disaster, a physical location which has through strenuous ordeals and feverish black rites, absorbed the currents of this down flowing stream, also becomes ‘stained’ – transforming into a physical point of contact. In this event an uprise of disasters, criminal activity and other such ‘negative motion’ will begin to take place in the surrounding area as the radiation of the location reaches out and touches those around it.

As such, when it is said that an individual, group or location is a nexion it means that they have become a direct link or line of contact to the supernal forces of Evil – the ever hungry darkness which is alien to this causal world. Through becoming a ‘walking nexion’ ones becomes a DEMON IN THE FLESH – thus – evoking through that direct line or umbilical cord to the Abyss – the acausal energies into this world causing disruption, madness and ultimately working towards the establishment of HELL ON EARTH.”


“Let go. Be afraid. You all taste so much better when you’re afraid.”

SOURCE: Excerpted from Nexions – An ExplanationLiber 333, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2014 (ISBN-13: 978-1492282204, ISBN-10: 1492282200) Graphic image from 6 July 2015 correctional training regimen, Commissar NSK presiding, Black Lodge Discipline Center.



“For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if possible, they shall deceive the very elect.” – Matthew 24:24

“Oh my Father, Lord of Silence, Supreme God of Desolation, though mankind reviles yet aches to embrace, strengthen my purpose to save the world from a second ordeal of Jesus Christ and his grubby mundane creed. Show man instead the raptures of Thy kingdom. Infuse in him the grandeur of melancholy, the divinity of loneliness, the purity of evil, the paradise of pain.”

“Nazarene, charlatan, what can you offer humanity? Since the hour you vomited forth from the gaping wound of a woman, you have done nothing but drown man’s soaring desires in a deluge of sanctimonious morality. You’ve inflamed the pubertal mind of youth with your repellent dogma of original sin. And now you absolve in denying them the ultimate joy beyond death by destroying me? But you will fail, Nazarene, as you have always failed. We were both created in man’s image, but while you were born of an impotent god, I was concieved of a jackal. Born of Satan, the desolate one. Your pain on the cross was but a splinter compared to the agony of my father. Cast out of heaven, the fallen angel, banished, reviled. I will drive deeper the thorns into your rancid carcass, you profaner of vices. Cursed Nazarene. Satan, I will avenge thy torment, by destroying the Christ forever.”

SOURCE: Excerpted from the script for The Final Conflict, David Seltzer, 1981.



But the more unyielding the boy being questioned was, the harder he would be hit, and with increasing frequency. The interrogator slapped the youth’s left cheek with his right hand and his right cheek with his left hand. At first Beria did it as the simplest method of getting the needed information. Then he discovered it gave him a peculiar pleasure. Being an intelligent person, he soon found that the enjoyment he felt came not from the action of beating, or from seeing the victim bleeding and crying with pain. In other words, Beria was not a sadist. The pleasure generally had its roots in his consciousness of the tortured one’s helplessness, and in his certainty that none of the victims would dare attack the interrogator, even in desperation. The realization of the prisoner’s helplessness when he entered Beria’s office was for Lavrenty more pleasant than the beating itself.

The schoolgirls, when interrogated, were not hit on their outstretched hands. Nor did they have to be especially stubborn to get beaten. But they had to endure some suffering to scare them into telling everything they knew. They were ordered to take off their shoes and lie on the floor with their face to the rug, to lift their skirts, and to pull down their underwear. Then Beria put one foot on the victim’s neck and started horsewhipping the girl. The poor child was allowed to weep, but was warned beforehand that should she try to cry aloud, the punishment would never be stopped.

Spanking the girls excited Beria sexually, and not only because they lay half-naked in front of him. Of course, a partly undressed girl was exciting to a man twenty-one years old, as Lavrenty was at that time. But this was not the main reason Beria’s senses were affected, for after the first few strokes of the horsewhip the victim’s body turned purple, started bleeding, and finally, when their system was unable to bear the pain any longer, the call of nature had to be answered. This sight was not pleasant, and the odor was disgusting. The true reason for the pleasure was the girl’s youth. The more helpless and innocent the young girl was, the more exciting and desirable she became, and the greater the pleasure.

SOURCE: Excerpted from Commissar: The life and death of Lavrenty Pavlovich Beria by Tadeusz Wittlin, MacMillian, 1972 (ISBN-13: 9780207954801, ISBN-10: 0207954801) Graphic image from 6 July 2015 correctional training regimen, Commissar NSK presiding, Black Lodge Discipline Center.


SATURNYAN – The Cruel Empress

“Bitter night winds of winter rushed through the grim landscapes, audibly shrieking against the tips of the cragged mountains and down through the ancient hardwood forests. The hooting of the owls was lost among the symphony of night triumphant as the limbs of the wood creaked in evil rejoicing of the dawning of the dark.

High atop a particularly ghastly mountain stood a black castle built entirely of onyx – its forbidding shadow structure built upon the very face of the rock. Thousands of years ago, vast tunnel systems had been built leading from the castle into the very roots of the mountain below the earth.

Down these horrid corridors were dungeons deep and dark, their prisoners lost and forgotten and silenced by the endless night.” – The Cruel Empress

SOURCE: Musick by Saturnyan, TOB. Text excerpted from The Cruel Empress, Liber 333, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2014 (ISBN-13: 978-1492282204, ISBN-10: 1492282200)