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Children of the Seed

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The following is part of the evidence of the raid on a strange, previously unknown cult in the old abandoned Boston Ice Company warehouse in the Newmarket Square area of the city. Even our source was unable to specify which medium the text was written on. The text has come to baffle theosophical societies all over the world and Occult specialist Bernd Becker was quoted to say: “Extraordinarily unlike anything ever seen even in the darkest and most obscure circles of the occult.” There has been no comments from the authorities but policemen have been seen being escorted out of the warehouse shortly after entering and many have been reported missing. It is unclear what caused the raid in the first place but there have been some mentions of an anonymous tip reaching one Howard B. Prince, an officer who was, at that time, patrolling the area of the warehouse.

Boston Ice Company

Picture of the Boston Ice Company warehouse.

Man does not remember his heritage, his mind too fickle to co-exist with the realization of his insignificance in the face of the universe. A tiny bug in its own unimportant ecosystem. Yet, as there are those who are fascinated by the puny, mindless larva living in the rotten stump I found interest, a fascination of sorts, with mankind.

I descended upon him when he was very much simplistic, animal in mind and in body. I sampled, I preserved and I studied him, I was intrigued. He began to worship me with names changing from place to place. He gave me many faces, many properties and I embraced them all, malevolent and benevolent as they were.

I took no pleasure in the mating with the females, and neither did they when they would realize the fullness of my reproductive cycle, yet, some survived, slowly breeding forth my offspring from a great number of generations. The males I annihilated as their genes would only serve to mutate what I was about to bring into this world, some, of course, were saved for my personal studies.

I found it quite amusing to find that the book of one of my religious incarnations would even reference this incestuous breeding in the mating of mother and son, also drawing inspiration from my extinction of the inferior. There seems to be speckles of memory left upon the frail glass that is man’s mind after all.

I watched as wars were waged in my honor, both sides cradling their misconceptions of creation and creator. I watched as the enlightened would step forth to challenge the faithful, and I began to marvel at the lengths man would strive to find his source, to know me, truly. I even attempted revealing the truth to a few of those I found most promising. Their feeble minds broke at the mere sight of me, their father.

As man rose his constructions high I decided to approach him as he was, not as he had been, my image, my flesh. This time my message was received; some laughed, others staggered and fled, but a few, a very select few, listened. In this act they became my servants, bound to me in flesh as in spirit, yet they knew nothing.

For the first time since the birth of my first child they knew me, they followed, they reveled in my truths. They named themselves Children of The Seed and named me Father, Birth Giver, God. I reproduced with their women, some died, as the first time, but those who lived carried the first step toward the reconstruction of what man had become, so unlike me, so without my splendor.

Once the offspring had been birthed a few turned on their father, horrified by the sight of my true children. They were expendable, as they all are. Shortly after I rid myself of the men some of the women would resist me and so I integrated them into my consciousness, their bodies the vessels of my young after all, not entirely indispensable, but still.

My children are growing stronger, readying themselves to wage war upon their inferior siblings. And so, once again, the true breed shall come forth and vanquish the inferior, but this time, none shall be spared.

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