Read Online The Holocaust Opera by Mark Edward Hall - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Edward Hall
Ads: Link
a drowning accident there in 1979. Forensic tests on the skeletal remains were inconclusive, however.
“I swear, I didn’t know it was him yesterday until he mentioned my parents,” Jeremiah said. “He didn’t look like the thing in my bedroom, but it was him. I’m sure of that now. Somehow, he’s come back in human form. He’s evil, I tell you. He’s some sort of shape-changer, but he’s worse than that. Somehow, he can move freely between the world of the dead and this world. He can become different things and different people. I can’t explain how, but I know that it’s true.”
“No, no, Jeremiah,” I said, shaking my head. “You must be mistaken. That was Mengele at the pet shop yesterday, wasn’t it? In the flesh? I mean, alive. That was no trick. He wanted you to know it was him.”
“Yes, he wanted me to know it was him, and no, he wasn’t alive.”
I shook my head again. “That man yesterday wasn’t dead, Jeremiah,” I insisted. “He was very much alive. He somehow escaped death. We saw him. We talked to him. I touched him. Isn’t that right? Isn’t it possible that he somehow survived?” I was grasping like hell for a sane explanation to this nightmare, even as the memory of touching that man’s hand made my skin crawl.
“No!” Jeremiah said with finality. “He’s dead. At least the mortal part of him is. If you went there today, you’d find a music store, not a pet shop. It was all a trick.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because my father killed him,” Jeremiah said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “My father, Aaron Gideon, he’s the man who killed The Angel of Death.”
* * * *
I blinked, staring at Jeremiah. “My God, Jeremiah. Why? How?”
It was a long moment before Jeremiah replied to my inquiry, and even then he didn’t answer me directly. “Do you believe that a human being can be inherently evil, Roxanne?”
“Christ, I don’t know.”
“Evil comes in many guises and has called itself by many names,” Jeremiah said. “Lucifer, Cain, Grendel. Every faith has its name for evil. The victims and the survivors of Auschwitz—my father included—believed Mengele to be the earthly manifestation of Azrael, the true Angel of Death. The Talmud, the Jewish Holy Book, has references that equate The Angel of Death with Satan, implying that he is evil rather than good. Azrael in Hebrew means, ‘Assistant or helper to the gods,’ thus, angel. It is said that he is ‘forever writing in a large book and forever erasing what he writes.’ What he writes is the birth of man, what he erases is the name of man at death. This is what Mengele did at Auschwitz. He erased the names of millions of good human beings from the earth.”
“What does this have to do with the music, Jeremiah?”
“Magic,” Jeremiah said. “Everything was based on magic. I don’t know how it works, but I do know that it’s real. The entire philosophy of the Third Reich was founded on an occult order using ancient, esoteric knowledge and practices. Everything that defined the Nazi party had its roots in the supernatural. From the Order of the SS to the Swastika, every element was motivated by esoteric teachings inspired by the occult writings of Aleister Crowley, Nostradamus, Helena Blavatsky, Eliphas Levi, and John Dee to name just a few, along with the magical elements that they believed to be contained within the music of Richard Wagner and Wolfgang Mozart.”
“Jesus, Jeremiah,” I said stunned. “How do you know all this?”
“After I found them dead like that, and realized what they had been through, what my father had done, and what I was now being compelled to do, I felt that I had no choice. It was pure survival.”
“You still haven’t explained the connection to the music.”
“From the time Josef Mengele was old enough to listen to and appreciate music, he was totally enamored by Wagner. He came to believe, as did Hitler, that there was a secret and magical
“I swear, I didn’t know it was him yesterday until he mentioned my parents,” Jeremiah said. “He didn’t look like the thing in my bedroom, but it was him. I’m sure of that now. Somehow, he’s come back in human form. He’s evil, I tell you. He’s some sort of shape-changer, but he’s worse than that. Somehow, he can move freely between the world of the dead and this world. He can become different things and different people. I can’t explain how, but I know that it’s true.”
“No, no, Jeremiah,” I said, shaking my head. “You must be mistaken. That was Mengele at the pet shop yesterday, wasn’t it? In the flesh? I mean, alive. That was no trick. He wanted you to know it was him.”
“Yes, he wanted me to know it was him, and no, he wasn’t alive.”
I shook my head again. “That man yesterday wasn’t dead, Jeremiah,” I insisted. “He was very much alive. He somehow escaped death. We saw him. We talked to him. I touched him. Isn’t that right? Isn’t it possible that he somehow survived?” I was grasping like hell for a sane explanation to this nightmare, even as the memory of touching that man’s hand made my skin crawl.
“No!” Jeremiah said with finality. “He’s dead. At least the mortal part of him is. If you went there today, you’d find a music store, not a pet shop. It was all a trick.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because my father killed him,” Jeremiah said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “My father, Aaron Gideon, he’s the man who killed The Angel of Death.”
* * * *
I blinked, staring at Jeremiah. “My God, Jeremiah. Why? How?”
It was a long moment before Jeremiah replied to my inquiry, and even then he didn’t answer me directly. “Do you believe that a human being can be inherently evil, Roxanne?”
“Christ, I don’t know.”
“Evil comes in many guises and has called itself by many names,” Jeremiah said. “Lucifer, Cain, Grendel. Every faith has its name for evil. The victims and the survivors of Auschwitz—my father included—believed Mengele to be the earthly manifestation of Azrael, the true Angel of Death. The Talmud, the Jewish Holy Book, has references that equate The Angel of Death with Satan, implying that he is evil rather than good. Azrael in Hebrew means, ‘Assistant or helper to the gods,’ thus, angel. It is said that he is ‘forever writing in a large book and forever erasing what he writes.’ What he writes is the birth of man, what he erases is the name of man at death. This is what Mengele did at Auschwitz. He erased the names of millions of good human beings from the earth.”
“What does this have to do with the music, Jeremiah?”
“Magic,” Jeremiah said. “Everything was based on magic. I don’t know how it works, but I do know that it’s real. The entire philosophy of the Third Reich was founded on an occult order using ancient, esoteric knowledge and practices. Everything that defined the Nazi party had its roots in the supernatural. From the Order of the SS to the Swastika, every element was motivated by esoteric teachings inspired by the occult writings of Aleister Crowley, Nostradamus, Helena Blavatsky, Eliphas Levi, and John Dee to name just a few, along with the magical elements that they believed to be contained within the music of Richard Wagner and Wolfgang Mozart.”
“Jesus, Jeremiah,” I said stunned. “How do you know all this?”
“After I found them dead like that, and realized what they had been through, what my father had done, and what I was now being compelled to do, I felt that I had no choice. It was pure survival.”
“You still haven’t explained the connection to the music.”
“From the time Josef Mengele was old enough to listen to and appreciate music, he was totally enamored by Wagner. He came to believe, as did Hitler, that there was a secret and magical
Similar Books
