Pin It

The Kill Illuminati Chronicles (alternative opening)


a novel by

Anthony Moore

© 2015


The six-year-old boy ran frantically through the unfamiliar woods on what was an ominously pitch-black night.

Not far behind him was a man who looked very youthful for his close-to-forty years of age. He yelled to his eighteen-year-old son, “You let him get away! I told you how important this is! This definitely ain’t something we can afford to mess up!”

The eighteen-year-old responded, “How was I supposed to know he was going to run! You know how kids can be unpredictable! Weren’t you the one who said most little kids are at best a step or two above a dog in training?”

“Just find him!” the man retorted.

Moments earlier, during a brief instance when he thought his father was distracted, the eighteen-year-old had told the six-year-old to run as far and fast as he could. He told him it was a game of hide-and-go-seek and that the only way he’d win the prize was if he didn’t come out until he heard the secret password. He instructed the boy to not come out of hiding under no other means. He made it clear to the boy that if they found him on their own, he wouldn’t win the great prize they had for him.

Although the eighteen-year-old had been thoroughly convinced of the necessity of sacrificing the six-year-old, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it—at least not without giving the little boy some chance of survival, however slim it might be. He hoped that his father would give up the search for the young boy. He would then report the boy missing or come back for him himself if he got the chance. The eighteen-year-old realized this wasn’t a well thought out plan, but he accepted it was the best he could do given the circumstances. It wasn’t like he had time to intricately plot out his plan, he thought to himself. He saw an opportunity and he took it. He concluded he was doing the best he could with what little prospect for survival the boy had. He had also accepted the likelihood that it wouldn’t work. Yet, he figured some chance was better than no chance, and that at least he was giving the young boy just that—a chance. If the boy somehow miraculously survived, than it was meant for him to survive. If not, the eighteen-year-old determined he could be content that at least he tried to do something, however futile or ill-conceived. He supposed he could live with that.

The eighteen-year-old had been trained by the group he came to know as the Illuminati for as long as he could remember. Yet he still was uncomfortable with sacrificing a child. He had participated in a number of animal sacrifices but had yet to do one for an actual human. His father, who’d wanted to spare him from such an act until he was older, knew this had been a mistake. Hindsight convinced him it would’ve been better if he’d exposed his son to human sacrifice when he was still a little boy. This would’ve likely better conditioned him for it. In any case, it often was a crapshoot as to how people responded to witnessing their first human sacrifice, no matter what age. Although lots of people would act calm at the actual sacrifice, their true reactions would usually be revealed in the following days, especially in moments where they thought they weren’t being watched.

Given the hesitancy he’d discerned in his son when he very first mentioned the impending sacrifice, the father realized his son might not be up for the task. So when he was told the six-year-old had gotten away, he knew his son had intentionally let him get away. Even so, he decided to give his son one last chance to prove himself. He hoped it would dawn on him that leaving the six-year-old in the woods to fend for himself could be a crueler fate than the sacrifice they’d planned. To add insult to injury, they wouldn’t gain anything from such an unfavorable fate for the young boy—making what would probably be a much crueler death go to waste.

He told his son, “I hope we find him. Because if we don’t, it’s a good chance he’s going to suffer a much crueler fate to these woods than he would to us. Even if we were to get a team of professionals to hunt him down, if we can’t find him now, it doesn’t seem likely they’d be able to get to him. At least not before these woods got the best of ‘em; and probably in a way that wouldn’t be too kind, if you get my drift.”

Gathering all the courage he could muster, the young man said to his father, “Well if that’s the case, why not just leave him and let fate decide. If he does somehow survive, it’s probably what was meant to be?”

The look of disappointment on his father’s face in response to his statement said it all. He had hoped his father would force him out of the Illuminati if he showed himself unworthy, but he suddenly had a gut-wrenching feeling that this wouldn’t be an option no matter what.

His father then pointed off into the distance and said to him, “Look, there he is!”

When the young man looked in the direction his father was pointing, he didn’t see anybody. When he turned back around, it suddenly felt like he’d hit a brick wall. He immediately saw a huge flash of light right before everything went black.

As the young man lay unconscious on the ground, his father and another male companion were standing over him. His father was holding the stainless steel flashlight he had just used to knock him unconscious. After glancing at his son he told his companion, “He’s my son, so I’m responsible for his shortcomings. He’s proven himself not worthy, so it falls on me to take him out of his misery. It’s better to die than not live up to being the great person you were born to be. I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t make sure he was delivered from the shame of not measuring up. No one will be able to question my commitment to the Order. Looks like we’re going to be doing two sacrifices. Let’s get that little kid so we can get out of here.”

His companion looked at the gadget he was holding, which pinpointed the location of the six-year-old boy using the tracking device that was attached to him. Neither the little boy nor the eighteen-year-old knew about this device.

The man finished tying up his son and then set out to get the little boy. As he looked back at his gagged, bounded, and still unconscious son, he said out loud, “What a waste.”



LETTER FROM the Omnipotent Chronicler


Most conspiracy theories are loaded with excess information. Untruths are provided to bury actual truths. This is further complicated by how truth can be a relative thing when it comes to humans. Although truth is absolute, humans have such a skill and inclination for twisting the truth that one could hardly blame Christ Himself for questioning just how absolute truth is (at least when it comes to the human version of it). To tell the truth, I could blame Jesus Christ for some things, but that’s not one of them. Anyway, back to the subject at hand, the subject of conspiracy. Consider the collapse of the Twin Towers in New York on 9/11. Or the notion that JFK’s fatal shooting could have been done by one man acting alone. What about the role that the sinking of the Lusitania played in bringing the U.S. into World War I? Better yet, let’s ponder the uproar symbolized by the fervent use of the guillotine during the French Revolution.

Ah yes, the guillotine. I miss it. If the modern world used it, maybe it’d drive home the point a lot better. Maybe then, capital punishment would actually be a preventative measure. There’s something about chopping a person’s head off that sends the message home. Modern-day humans might just need to see a head freshly detached from its body—especially with the body still there, visually implying: Hey don’t forget about me, I’m where that head came from. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that heads dripping with blood don’t grow on trees.

Such a graphic scene might just be what the more civilized humans need if they are to ever be awakened from their collective states of apathy and passivity. Seeing freshly squeezed blood might just be what the doctor ordered for them to recognize the blood on their hands. Of course, back during the guillotine’s heyday, the technology had yet to be harnessed to bring about gizmos such as the electric chair, or calming measures such as lethal injection. Plenty of people were lethally injected in past centuries, but it wasn’t with this modern use of needles that seems to emphasize comfort over killing. By that standard, I guess you can say the lethal injection of past ages was much more primitive, yet every last bit of it was effective. Of course, in past ages, lethal injection usually involved the steel of a sword being injected into a person’s body. Not exactly lead poisoning, but why poison with lead, when you can lead with steel? Steel that upon entering a person’s body opened up a righteous path for blood to run free. Freed from being a prisoner of the body that held it captive. Freed by lethal injection performed by those who knew how it needed to be done; when how it needed to be done was injection by razor sharp pointed steel. Goes to show that just because modern technology replaces things, doesn’t mean modern technology makes things better.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. I’ll try to stick to the point without the side commentary. This can be challenging since the never-ending self-destruction of humankind provides ample fodder to be commented upon. Humans. They’re their own worst enemy. Sometimes it’s a challenge to objectively talk about them without being compelled to provide basic yet often ignored helpful hints. Hints that could maybe stop them from sowing their own seeds of destruction for a change. Anyway, I digress. Back to the points about conspiracies.

When it comes to the tendency of conspiracies to contain extra information that obfuscates the truth, it’s ironic how this tendency is defied when it comes to the Illuminati (the organization believed to be at the root of many far-reaching conspiracies, such as the ones mentioned). When it comes to the Illuminati, as opposed to there being an abundance of red herrings, a lot of the popular folklore pertaining to it is true (or at least has elements of truth). Yet these widely contemplated notions are but a subset of bigger dynamics that very few contemplate, because very few know about them. This is because contrary to all the widely held and debated speculations, the little known truth is that there’s the “earthly” Illuminati and the “real” Illuminati. Both often give tremendous wealth, power and fame to people of marginal (if any) talent.

Yes, that human tendency to confer success for reasons other than merit and ability; coupled with the very human tendencies of such unqualified and undeserving recipients. You know, the tendency to be too stupid, delusional, and self-centered to recognize the unqualified and undeserving hacks they really are. That’s one of the many lessons of nature that humans have discarded to their detriment. Imagine a lion becoming king of the jungle just because Daddy loves him. Or better yet, because Daddy wants a living heir to take his place to remind people that he ran things once upon a time. Of course, even in the midst of never-ending nepotism, plenty of talentless people who are of no relation (or concern) to the powers-that-be are routinely given fame, money and seeming influence so they may serve as the disposable tools these powers anoint them to be.

But back to the original Illuminati and its mutated offspring. The earthly Illuminati has direct influence over powerful religious bodies (think the Vatican), great superpowers (think the U.S.), and omnipresent financial institutions (think the Federal Reserve and IMF). Yet, throughout the ages, the earthly Illuminati has ultimately been subject to the real Illuminati. This is by design. Even so, the earthly Illuminati by and large is unaware of such control, as most in the earthly Illuminati (even the highest ranking members) are unable to explicitly discern the real Illuminati’s activity; even when they do, it’s usually after the fact, when it’s too late to do anything about it. This is due to the real Illuminati’s esoteric maneuverings, such as how it does things such as:


1) allow certain people to inhabit the body of others;
2) use distinctive entities such as “demons” and the dead to communicate messages that only the initiated can fully appreciate;
3) compel a person to compete in a chess match where although the chess pieces look conventional, they have the unconventional impact of drastically altering the lives of actual (often unknowing) people.


These are just the proverbial tip of the iceberg in how the real Illuminati continually engages in more and greater extremes of transcendent activities.

Both the earthly and real Illuminati have caused great carnage and warfare. But only the real Illuminati has direct control over an ancient line of beings who—thanks to their superhuman abilities—have defeated giants spoken of in the Bible. See, the thing is…the Illuminati was originally put on earth to manage humans for their own good. But due to humans’ greed, corruption, vices, selfishness, and other weaknesses, managing humans can be about as delightful as managing rabid dogs. It can be even more challenging than managing animals in the wild, since humans are often more unpredictable and destructive. At least if a pack of wild wolves parades through a forest, they don’t take the forest with them when they leave. But when humans parade through a forest, if they don’t take the forest with them when they leave, it’s only because they’ve torn it down. Plus they leave their trash behind. And when it comes to the type of trash that humans like to leave behind, too bad that unlike a forest, things such as condominiums don’t take care of themselves.

It is because of such a misguided lack of respect and appreciation of nature that the real Illuminati often has to intercede in the actions of the earthly Illuminati. It’s fortunate that the real Illuminati is able to employ things such as time travel, superhuman beings, demonic creatures, alternative universes, and others things most humans would deem unfathomable. It’s fortunate because these things are often necessary for humans’ own good because (as anybody who knows humans can attest to) you often have to use trickery and manipulation just to get them out of their own damn way. This is also attributable to how the earthly Illuminati still manages to gain control over the masses even without (for the most part) harnessing the superior powers of the real Illuminati. As a result, the earthly Illuminati often doesn’t give the real Illuminati much to work with—at least when it comes to less violent or manipulative forms of mercy.

To put this a slightly different way, since the real Illuminati’s preternatural powers ultimately only operate within the constraints of the all-to-human earthly Illuminati, mercy that’s free of violence or manipulation often isn’t an option—thanks to humans’ actions toward one another. Of course, given how they disrespect and don’t appreciate nature, is it a surprise they mistreat one another? Humankind (often due to manipulations derived from—if not directly orchestrated by—the earthly Illuminati) in the end always destroys, and at best ignores, those of its kind who are truly righteous and look out for their collective good.

I know what you’re thinking (of course I do, I’m the Omnipotent Chronicler after all). If the real Illuminati is infinitely more powerful than the earthly Illuminati—as well as humankind as a whole—why does it operate in a way that seems reactive to the earthly Illuminati? If the real Illuminati has all these extraordinary powers and resources at its disposal, why doesn’t it use these powers to stop all of man’s atrocities if it in fact has humankinds’ best interests at heart? This is because despite its great and supernatural powers, the real Illuminati is ultimately only able to use its powers in the context of human free will.


CHRONICLE I: Walking in My Fellow Inmate’s Shoes



Tutu found himself face down in a puddle of his own blood, forced to breathe through his mouth. It felt as if the blood in his nose was blocking the flow of air through his nostrils. He pointlessly clutched the left side of his stomach. He futilely hoped that it would stop the pain he was feeling from broken ribs, among other things. As he struggled to sit up he felt totally like the victim he had become. He longed for the days when he was a child and crying brought sympathy. But he was in a place with no sympathy at all. At least none that anybody dared show. He realized crying in the place he was at was as useless as not having any drugs but still expecting to be the first person visited by a dope fiend who’s just gotten money. In fact, it was actually less useless as it only reminded others of the victim that was there to be victimized. There was no place for sympathy, just opportunities to get the better of a man who was vulnerable. As opposed to being frowned upon, kicking a man while he was down was virtually a mandate—both literally and figuratively.

As he came to, Tutu suddenly realized he was in the prison’s infirmary, lying in a hospital bed. Plugged into machines through various tubes, he realized he had blacked out although it felt as if he’d dozed off for just a split second. His feelings of self-pity also didn’t miss a beat, as his uninterrupted thoughts of victimization made it seem like he hadn’t blacked out at all. Totally immersed in feelings of helplessness, he found himself longing to be rescued by one of his fictional childhood heroes from one of his favorite cartoons. He then thought about the closest thing the prison had to a cartoon character, the inmate everyone referred to as the Voodoo Doctor, more often calling him Dr. V for short.

Tutu recalled how one time Dr. V offered to cast a spell on his behalf. Dr. V told him it would help solve the problems he was having with KP. Tutu, like pretty much all the other inmates, dismissed the Doctor as just another prisoner who was either just running another con, or even worse, genuinely crazy. Even so, in what could be considered a self-pitying extravaganza, Tutu childishly fantasized about what if Dr. V was actually like a character from one of the fairy tales he loved as a child. What if Dr. V actually was a magical figure who could cast a spell that solved all his problems?

“Too bad life ain’t like them damn fairy tales they con us with when we little kids,” Tutu said out loud to himself.

Tutu’s anger then shifted to the many cartoons and movies he saw as a child. He blamed them for making children believe that magic and happy endings were real. Then suddenly, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Dr. V was right there in front of him mopping the floor. At first he thought he might be dreaming but once he was sure he was awake, he couldn’t believe it. It was if he had literally thought up Dr. V.

Tutu sneeringly asked, “Since when did you start mopping floors? I know a lot of people consider that Voodoo stuff garbage and all, but dude, that don’t mean you have to live up to it by being a janitor!”

Dr. V continued mopping as if he was oblivious to Tutu’s statement.

Still hurting from his freshly administered beat down, Tutu realized it wasn’t in his best interests to make any more enemies. In an attempt to clean up his brashness, Tutu reiterated, “What I mean is that when I think of Voodoo, a mop and bucket really don’t come to mind.”

Dr. V. responded, “That’s why it is very important that we don’t limit our thinking. We only blind ourselves to the possibilities.”

Not able to help himself, Tutu responded, “The possibilities of mopping prison hospital floors?”

Dr. V. replied, “Sometimes when we use sarcasm to defend our fragile egos, we pay with the price of limiting our limitless power. It’s often easier to run from our greatness than face it.”

[tune in later for additional content]

Speak Your Mind