Ryan's Psalm
Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4 · Chapter 5 · Chapter 6 ·
Chapter 7 · Chapter 9 · Chapter 10 · Chapter 11 · Chapter 12 · Chapter 13 · Chapter 14 · Chapter 15 · Chapter 16 ·
Chapter 17 · Chapter 18 · Chapter 19 · Chapter 20 · Chapter 21 · Chapter 22 · Chapter 23 · Chapter24 · Chapter25· Chapter 26·
Chapter 27· Chapter 28· Chapter 29·


By printing in the Infernal method, by corrosives, which in Hell are salutary and medicinal,
melting apparent surfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid.
Prophesies of Blake

Only the truly devout imperil their eternal souls for the salvation of the world.
Gospel according to Judas the Sicarios

August 12, 1870

God's words often blinded Donegal Ryan, obscuring his vision to the world around him. On this day in August 12, 1870 while
traveling on a wagon and stagecoach trail leading to Flatbed, Utah, he stopped still and trembled at the power of God; like Saul on the road to Damascus. His mule, used to these sudden halts walked off the path and began to graze on sagebrush.

Letters, bright and bold in a gleaming sapphire, standing some fifteen feet tall swam before his eyes in a coruscating whirlwind dance. Usually God's words spun and twisted rapidly before his view reminding him of newspapers running through a press.

It did not matter how fast or slow the words traveled, Donegal Ryan knew the words as they appeared, seeing them clearly was not required for they were printed into his soul and mind.

God's newest testament came to him in proverbs, laws and dogmas which only he was allowed to see and interpret. Donegal Ryan was God's last prophet and chosen printer, and he had been anointed by God's burning words long before he and his blood brothers had executed the heretic and heathen Poul Ichabod.

Ryan was certain that it had been proper and divinely ordained to have tied Ichabod to a makeshift cross and dismembered him by gunshot.

Had not Ichabod mocked Ryan's personal relationship with God? Had not a burning ecstasy enveloped Ryan and his blood brothers when their traitorous blood brother, Ichabod had been killed?

Had not his visions and divine conversations increased since Ichabod's death?

Had not God gifted he and his brothers with various stigmata demonstrating
God's mark was upon them?

Ichabod's death had been a modern auto de fe!, one of many to come, Ryan hoped.

Ryan absently rubbed the swathe of rigid blood blisters across his forehead. They had risen when Ichabod's blood had splashed across his face. Ryan usually wore a ten gallon hat over his forehead to hide the marks, for it was not becoming for the heathen to view a miracle of God.

Before becoming a prophet of God, Donegal Ryan had been a printer. Not a mere printer, that was like saying Leonardo was a mere portrait painter. Ryan was an unsung genius whose attempts at revolutionizing the printing industry had met with scorn and rebuke. His ideas and inventions had been received with laughter, thus proving his theory that this industry was in Satan's hands.
What ended his career as a printer was his devisement of a new type of ink, based in mercury. It was fast drying and easy to clean, yet the printing industry refused to buy it. They claimed that it was far too expensive and that it required far too much ink to print even the smallest of jobs.

Ryan had used much of his capital to make a supply of these inks. Ryan relied on these mercury-based inks for about five years. He also used lead type. Many was the day his hands would become so saturated with the inks and lead type that an ever present metallic flavor was in all his foods.

Ryan had found himself in greater financial straits with every year that passed. The cost of his inks soared beyond belief and he began losing customers as he failed to meet deadlines and began acting most erratically.

Ryan knew that the Satanic Printing Industry was to blame for his downfall. Their jealousy of his genius and craftsmanship had driven away his clientele. Ryan felt few regrets at having left the printing business, God had other plans for him. He gave Ryan respite from the enemies who plagued and mocked him.

The Holy Spirit would at times possess Ryan enabling him to speak in tongues. God's language would sound to the unenlightened like animal sounds, as bird hoots, jackal cries or baboon cries.

When the creditors were ready to take possession of Ryan's business, God commanded him to leave the printing business, yet not to allow the heathen sustenance at his expense.

God told Ryan to purge himself of his old life and to become renewed by fire, to be re-forged and cast a-new.

On the evening of February 29, 1870 Donegal Ryan nailed the foreclosure notice on the door of his print shop and tossed a lit kerosene lantern into the shop. Sitting on his mule, across the street he watched flames engulf the business he had given everything to for ten years.

The fire's baking heat could be felt from across the street. When the chemicals inside the shop ignited a fireball burst into the night, shattering all windows up and down the street, spewing glass in a glittering rain which shimmered in the moonlit street, Ryan giggled The blast had nearly knocked Ryan off his mule.

A hyena's laugh ripped from Ryan's throat as the fully involved fire enfolded nearby buildings and brought them into it's incalescent grasp. Most of the block was afire when a wildly laughing Donegal Ryan rose his mule out of Epiphany, Kansas.

Donegal Ryan's combination of memory and divine revelation ended as suddenly as it had began. From the looks of the sun, three hours or so had passed. He urged his mule back on road, eager to reach Flatbed before nightfall.

Home · Ryan's Psalm
Chapter 2 · Chapter 3· Chapter 4· Chapter 5· Chapter 6·
Chapter 7· Chapter 9· Chapter 10 · Chapter 11 · Chapter 12 · Chapter 13· Chapter 14· Chapter 15· Chapter 16·
Chapter 17· Chapter 18· Chapter 19· Chapter 20 · Chapter 21 · Chapter 22 · Chapter 23· Chapter24· Chapter25· Chapter 26·
Chapter 27· Chapter 28· Chapter 29


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