Satan's Speech A Narrative Poem with Religious Themes Satan stepped up to the podium, cleared his throat, and tapped the microphone to address his legions of demons gathered with each new, human generation to discuss matters of military penetration. "It is no longer necessary to corrupt good for evil," he said. "It's quite satisfactory to distract the mind and heart from mission to resignation, carried away by the slews of sedition, soul-numbed in leisurely pursuits. Preferable, in fact. For who questions convenience? Which one of your clients challenges comfort or inspects the tools built by good intention?" "If there's one thing we know, dear friends, is how given the choice, the allure of sin is stronger than righteousness in even the nicest fellow. But sin disguised as harmless, helpful, fun, beguiled by necessity for modern life... well, that's the Trojan Horse that turns the tides of war - the break we've waited eons for." A light echo of laughter broke out across the room. Abaddon leaned in close to the mic, "If you don't understand the chuckle of your neighbor, you're far too young to understand our plight across the ages and the countless battles we've fought for control of the human heart. For even the wisest sages are penetrable in a world of distraction. We no longer need to trade truth for lies. Just simply plant alibis to embrace the easy and immediate in favor of the important and inconvenient until it becomes buried beneath a pile of endless beeps, dings, and buzzes, and they'll forget Truth was ever there to begin with." He grabbed the mic from the stand and began pacing across the stage, his powerful, intoxicating shadows dancing across the walls, magnified by the candlelight. Lucifer continued, "Could it get any easier, my friends? Remember the centuries when we'd have to convince them to pluck the fruit fully aware of their sin and our whispers slithering out of the bush?" "We now simply need to convince them that the world has grown far too large for them to make a difference, that their lives are too busy for prayer, and that reading is antiquated... far easier to keep that vile book we all abhor out of their hands than convince them it belongs in the trash." "Don't you know 'faith without works is dead'?" Belial said with a smirk. "And modern technology keeps their restless hearts so busy, they don't even realize they're dying inside." A deep, wicked, bellowed laugh amplified from the stage and an applause rang throughout the crowd. Justin Farley
I am running a one day promotion today for my children’s short story, “The Mummy in the Museum”, for free on Amazon. After today, it will be $.99. I would greatly appreciate you downloading it for free and leaving me any feedback. I would describe it as an adventure / scary fiction short story that centers around Egyptians, mummies, pyramids, and the power of mystery and imagination inside museums. “An adventure of a 9 year old child on a school field trip to their local history museum to visit the new Egyptian exhibit. Trouble strikes when the exhibit turns into a real pyramid with an ancient danger…” find the story HERE
When a unusual storm hits the Utopian town of Nod, the forces of evil are released and allow an unthinkable tragedy.”
The story can be found here.
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“A depressed man – who has long given up on his dream to become a writer and now holds a high paying, corporate job – gets reintroduced to his childhood through extreme circumstances and finds his love for writing reawakened by a Christmas gift.”
“When mysterious neighbors move in next door in the middle of the night, Katherine and Josh are sure there’s something not quite right about them – no one has ever seen them and their garage door is always shut. Josh decides to take matters into his own hands one day and attempts to investigate the house next door. Josh and his sister find out the answers to their questions, but it’s worse than they ever imagined…”
“What’s Brewing Next Door?” can be found here.
You may also be interested in my other short stories.
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“…And Then the Rains Came”
-Poem Written By Justin Farley
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I didn’t notice anything particularly strange the first time I met her. I happened to be at a college party in the early hours of morning, drinking and having a good time, when the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen (in person anyways) walked up to me on the dance floor and started grinding on me. Her beauty overwhelmed me – tall, long legs, rustic colored hair. She had a certain mysterious air, captivating my desire.
I never had too much trouble with women, but she took beauty to a whole new level, exceeding all the girls I’d ever been with. I felt like she was a little out of my league, but she seemed into me. That was fine by me, and I wasn’t going to complain.
After the song was over, I introduced myself. “Hey, I’m Nate. Can I get you something to drink?
She smiled. “Hello, Nate. I’m Rosaline. Yes, that vould be quite good.”
I noticed a strong accent, which I thought was Slavic, in her voice. “Where you from?” I asked her, as I led her to get a drink.
“Romania. Just moved here with parents.”
“Ah. I see
Her voice was so attractive and sexy. I’d never dated a foreigner before, and it was something of a fantasy of mine. At the end of the night, I asked for her number, and she gave it to me, along with her beautiful smile. I left her with a kiss and headed back to my dorm room.
Rosaline and I hung out quite a bit those next three weeks, but things began to take a bizarre twist. For one thing, she said she was in college, but I’d never seen her on campus and neither had any of my friends. Whenever I asked her for details about her life or past, her answers would be vague. Rosaline also didn’t seem to have any friends or at least none in America. I could see how it would be difficult to meet people in a completely new environment, but with her looks, she should have attracted someone by now. The strangest thing about her, however, was the weird skin disease she had. She told me she wasn’t able to ever to go out during the day, or she’d break out in hives or some type of weird rash.
But aside from all the strange things about her, Rosaline did have one thing going for her – she was smoking hot. And in my book, that made up for all the weirdness. One night we were up late talking on the phone. “Nate, told parents about you. They say they vant to meet you. Can you come over for dinner?”
The dreaded dinner date to meet the parents… of course no one likes it, but it’s something we all got to do. I agreed and was supposed to be at her parents’ place by seven o’clock the next evening.
I took extra time preparing myself, making sure that I’d make a good impression. Rosaline was a keeper, and I didn’t want to blow my chance. When I pulled up at the house, I was surprised at how classy it was. I wasn’t expecting them to be so well off, but whatever they were doing, it must have been working because their house was huge. It was a very old house, but still elegant; yet, at the same time had a spooky aura about it.
I knocked at the front door. Rosaline answered. “Vel, hello Nate. Just vondering vhen you’d be here. Come…come… I’ll introduce you to my parents. Varn you vo’, they’re little strange. Not used to America yet.”
I hardly heard a word she said. She was wearing a low-cut dress, and her hair was neatly done. I’d never seen her look so good.
Rosaline led me down the hall, past a whole wall full of family photos from Romania. I couldn’t believe the similarities between her family and her relatives. There were black and white photos from the old country, and if I didn’t know better, they looked identical to Rosaline and her family.
Her parents were already sitting at the dinner table. They both had jet black hair and the palest complexions I’d ever seen.
“Vel, how do you do?” her father asked me, shaking my hand.
“Good, nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me over. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Our pleasure.”
There was a stiffness in the air I couldn’t quite shake. Rosaline and her family made eye contact with each other, smiling like there was some inside joke I was in the dark about.
The strange thing I noticed was that the silverware and plates were set out, but there was no food on the table. I assumed it was just finishing up in the oven, but I didn’t smell anything cooking either. There was an awkward silence covering the table, so I broke it.
“So what’s for dinner?” I asked.
The family members all grinned, giving each other peculiar looks. “Vel, I’m glad you asked,” Rosaline’s father said. ” A special dish – family recipe from Romania. But it’s been awhile since ve have had it ourselves. It’s our favorite.”
I tried to act interested and sympathetic to their heritage. “Oh, that sounds great. I’m excited to have something from Romania. Never had anything from there before, but Rosaline has told me all about it. So what’s it called?”
“Fresh blood,” I heard Rosaline’s father say just before they pounced from their chairs and sucked the life out of me.
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