About the Secret War
I first encountered Baphomet’s undead minions when I was just a kid growing up in Brooklyn, New York during the late 80s. My friends and I loved playing in abandoned buildings. We fancied ourselves urban explorers.
One autumn day we were playing man hunt, which is just a tough name for hide and seek. There were five of us and everyone’s hiding place had been discovered, except for Ismael’s. After an exhaustive search of the derelict brownstone we were in, the only place no one had searched was the basement. After a quick contest of “Odds and Evens” I got stuck with the duty of going down there to look for Ismael. With my unwelcomed task at hand I really wished I hadn’t seen Evil Dead 2 the week before. I could still hear the evil dead creature in the movie saying, “Someone's in my fruit cellar, someone with a fresh soooul!” I shook the dreadful memory of that movie out of my head.
Armed with only a lighter I descended the creaking dilapidated staircase. The air was thick with rot and decay causing me to breathe through my mouth. I figured an animal had made its way down into the basement and died. I was glad that a bit of sunlight, which came in through the brownstone’s busted windows, found its way to the basement doorway lighting my way down. The graffiti strewn walls actually brought me a bit of solace in knowing Ismael and I weren’t the only kids stupid enough to climb down into the cellar of this vacant building. When I got to the bottom of the staircase I looked up to my friends. Silhouetted by the daylight at their backs they seemed so distant.
“Hurry up chicken shit,” Luis yelled down.
“Just letting my eyes adjust to the dark asshole,” I yelled back. Although partly true, I was also very hesitant about stepping out of the sunlight that made its way to the cracked and pitted concrete at the base of the stairs.
Remembering the lighter I flicked it to produce a frail flame which made the surrounding darkness recede just enough to reveal the debris and refuse that littered the cellar. A rust covered furnace and hot water heater were revealed a few feet ahead of me. To my left was a worktable stacked with rusted paint cans, plastic and metal jugs of what I figured was turpentine and paint thinner, and bottles of spray paint. Scattered throughout the rest of the cellar were moldering cardboard boxes, stuffed to overflowing with old newspapers, magazines, and other garbage.
Not wanting to venture any further I yelled, “Hey Ismael the games over, come on out you crazy bastard, you won.” I was answered by a loud clank from behind the furnace.
“Ismael, quit fucking with me, your not scaring anyone, come on out,” I managed to say as I ignored the voice in my head that screamed for me to bolt up the stairs out of the cellar. I knew what would happen though. My friends, including Ismael, would all laugh at me for being a pussy.
Determined not to let Ismael make me look like a punk in front of the other guys I charged behind the furnace with the lighter held out in front of me. “Games over Ismael you…” was all I could say before my eyes could make out what was taking place behind that furnace and my mind could comprehend the horror. Ismael was behind the furnace, but he wasn’t alone. Squatting over him, with his glistening entrails clenched between gnarled clawed hands and cracked teeth were two gaunt walking corpses. Pus white eyes looked up at me, and from their gore and blood caked mouths they issued one word, Baphomet. They then stood up causing me to back peddle in panic careening into something hard that smashed into the base of my back. As I fell my lighter slipped from my grasp, and darkness hungrily enveloped me. Cans and boxes fell all around me as I prayed the fiends would have as much trouble as I did seeing in the gloom of the basement, but I somehow knew that was not the case. As slow as they were the sound of their shuffling feet steadily grew closer. Looking toward the rays of light that descended the stairs into the basement I saw not only my escape, but also the lighter. As undead hands reached towards me out of the darkness I flung myself in the direction of the stairs. Gripping the lighter in my left hand, I grabbed a hold of one of the legs of the worktable with my right, and pulled with all my might. The worktable tipped over sending paint cans and containers crashing to the ground between me and the shambling horrors that killed my friend, and sought to devour me. I flicked the lighter and as it produced its flame I saw its twin reflected in a spreading puddle issuing from the containers and cans that had crashed to the ground. Instinctively I joined the flame of the lighter with its twin in the puddle, and the two gave birth to a conflagration which caused the darkness in that basement to retreat. I was quickly overcome with terror, however, as the two ghouls shambled through the burgeoning blaze as if it were but a mere inconvenience. I screamed as hands grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and pulled. I realized though that I was being pulled up the stairs, and the hands belonged to my friends. Once at the top of the stairs we closed the door to the basement, and haphazardly barricaded it with anything we could find before the smoke became too much for us to bear. We ran out of the brownstone and cleared out before the fire department showed up to put out the blaze.
When they searched the rubble they found the remains of three people. They figured that two of the bodies were homeless people, and they later identified the third body as Ismael. Ismael ended up getting blamed for starting the fire and to this day I feel guilty my friends and I didn’t tell the grownups the truth. But now we’re the grownups and we know the truth. We know the living dead exist, and we know something named Baphomet is behind it. We’ve since taken matters into our own hands.
Horrible actions and events are reported daily in the news, and we’ve unfortunately become so accepting and desensitized to the violence in our world that we refuse to acknowledge the signs that humanity is succumbing to the dark machinations of an evil older than time itself! Some think it’s the Devil, but it’s older than Lucifer, and according to some ancient text the Vatican has hidden away it is even credited on occasion with Lucifer’s corruption and fall from grace. Over the course of my research since my first brush with the undead I have come to view this greater evil as an Anti-God which brings death and corruption instead of life and purity. Although history has confused the Anti-God with the host of the fallen angels my research has discerned that the title of Baphomet is perhaps the most accurate label that can be placed upon this Necro Domine, or Death Lord. Although there have always been Death Cults in service of Baphomet it has always preferred the services of minions culled from the ranks of our dead. As Baphomet’s influence in our world has increased it has been able to breathe anti-life into our dead in alarmingly greater numbers. It is from Baphomet’s undead that our legends of antiquity, such as ghouls, ghosts, and vampires come from. Unfortunately, many of the living also are susceptible to Baphomet’s influence, and some madmen even become aware and secretly worship Baphomet when he blesses them in their dreams for the acts of desecration they have committed upon their fellow man. I fear Baphomet’s influence is increasing as I’ve encountered more of his living as well as his undead followers. I can’t do it myself though. So anyone out there who is willing to patrol their little section of the world, keeping their eyes and ears open for signs of Baphomet’s blasphemous corruptions, please use this forum to keep others apprised of your discoveries. If you are willing to take direct action please be careful, and above all be prepared. Be aware that by getting involved you might put those you care for in danger, however, I think all of mankind is already perilously close to a rude awakening to the dark machinations that take place in the dark corners of our world.