Children of Baal
BOOK 2 - The Diaries of Nero Calatrava
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As mentioned - 9 months after we revived the Children of Baal website, we have heard from Nero Calatrava. He was kind enough to approve our efforts and has asked us to publish chapters from his second work. We now see the writings are from 2016 and we're making them available here as we receive them. When appropriate we are adding our own comments below Nero's entries.
Nero Calatrava Diary Entry - (Realeased to us March 2025:) I confess there are times when I have thought the same thing myself. Yara is the most infuriating, most infernal being I have ever encountered. Could she be anything else, given that I love her? But in my more rational and honest moments, I cannot bring myself to denounce Yara on the basis of a medieval superstition. Perhaps the Christians are right, and I am truly damned. But I would rather go to hell with her, than enter heaven alone. It appears more likely to me, however, that it is Christianity itself which has erred – erred by demonising the feminine. Paradoxically, this tragedy was compounded by the Protestants, who, in their zeal to restore the purity of their Messiah's message, condemned the Catholic sympathy for Jesus's mother as a form of idolatry. The Sacred Feminine was not missing from Christianity to begin with. The cult of the Blessed Virgin channeled earlier pagan traditions, including those of Artemis and of Cybele, and kept alive the ancient power of the goddess, albeit in a somewhat distorted form. It was the Reformation that finally put paid even to this watered-down kind of feminism. The so-called modernizers turned out to be the ultimate patriarchs.
So, while the Suffering Servants have proved to be our most immediate threat so
far, I fear that a worse foe lies here, in Protestant America. The Evangelicals
are focusing their prayer networks upon the Children of Baal. They are
determined to extinguish all traces of this ancient god. I pray to Baal they
will not succeed.
Nero Calatrava Diary Entry Chapter 1 - (released to us late March 2025) Nero’s diary – Birzeit, Friday 15 July Yara and I celebrated the publication of Children of Baal by going out for a meal at Andiamo Café. It was a little garish, and only served a selection of pasta dishes, but it was the only restaurant in Birzeit, and it was just a ten-minute walk from our little rented house.
“Well at least the truth is out there now,” said Yara. “The Suffering Servants have been trying to keep it hidden for a thousand years, and now we’ve beaten them.” “Don’t speak too soon,” I said, looking around me nervously. “They are probably looking for us right now.” “Let them look!” snapped Yara, tossing her head back contemptuously. “They’ll never find us here in Birzeit. I doubt they would ever imagine we were hiding from them right under their noses, in the Holy Land.” “I must admit it was a clever idea of yours,” I said, smiling at the fire in Yara’s eyes, the spirit of defiance that I had become so fond of over the past few months. “But it was also very lucky that Professor Harb had a house here. We didn’t have to draw attention to ourselves by looking for a place to rent.” “Was it really just luck, Nero?” said Yara, chiding me playfully. “Don’t you think Baal might deserve just a little of the credit?”At that moment the waiter arrived bearing two plates of steaming pasta. Yara tucked into her spaghetti with gusto. I feigned a look of astonishment. “Wow, look at you! Looks like you are eating for two!”Yara shot me a suspicious glance. Then she seemed to shift gear, rolling her eyes. “Very funny, Nero. To be honest, I’m surprised I can eat anything after reading about those poor children killed yesterday in Nice.” I paused for a moment and nodded. “Yes indeed,” I said, sadly. “It’s horrific.” I recalled the moment I had learned about the attack on the radio that morning. Witnesses said the killer had swerved from side to side in an attempt to murder as many people as possible as he drove the lorry through packed crowds on the Promenade des Anglais. He was apparently unknown to counterterrorist agencies, and may have been radicalized just a few weeks prior to the attack.“Islamic State is losing territory in Iraq and Syria,” interjected Yara, “so they are turning their wrath on the far enemy. On France above all.” “Why do they hate France so much?”Yara froze for a moment, her pasta-laden fork poised in front of her open mouth, and gazed at me with incredulity. “Are you serious, Nero? You really don’t know why France is the prime target for Islamic State?” I tried in vain to scour my mind for an answer, and shook my head sheepishly. “It’s the crusades, stupid!” sighed Yara, looking faintly exasperated by my ignorance. “The first crusaders all came from France. Even later, when Englishmen and Germans joined in, the Arabs continued referring to all crusaders as the Franj – Frenchmen.” “But that was nine hundred years ago!” I exclaimed. “Nobody fights any crusades these days.” “Don’t they? What about George W Bush? Remember what he said back in 2001?” “No. What did he say?” “Five days after 9/11 Bush walked on to the south lawn of the White House and called the war on terrorism a crusade.” “Well that was just a very ill-judged remark,” I scoffed. “The US didn’t invade Iraq on religious grounds, so you can’t really call it a crusade. It was about neutralizing the threat posed by Saddam Hussein.” Yara almost choked on her spaghetti. “Come on Nero!” she spluttered. “You don’t buy all that bullshit about WMD do you?” “Of course not! It’s clear now that Saddam didn’t possess any WMD. But that was the reason Bush and Blair gave for invading Iraq. They didn’t claim any religious warrant, regardless of Bush’s unfortunate reference to the crusades.” “Maybe not,” sneered Yara, “but they played right into the hands of al Qaeda. By invading Iraq and killing thousands of Muslims they gave bin Laden just what he wanted – ammunition for his recruitment campaign. Photos of dead Muslims. Photos of Muslims being tortured in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay. Videos of American jets bombing mosques. They allowed bin Laden to control the narrative. They gave him all the material he needed to portray the Christian West as embarking on a new crusade against the Islamic world.” “Bin Laden is dead.” “Yes, but his offspring are more powerful than ever. Islamic State grew out of al Qaeda in Iraq, and they are a thousand times more bloodthirsty than al Qaeda ever were. And you know how Islamic State refers to Westerners?” “No, I can’t say I’ve read any of their publications,” I said defensively. “Well perhaps you should,” said Yara. “Know your enemy, Nero. I suggest you start by reading their glossy magazine, Dabiq.”Now it was my turn to stare open-mouthed at Yara. “You’ve been reading this shit?” I gasped. “Yes,” said Yara, settling back in her chair, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. “It’s all available online. And the term they use to refer to all Westerners is…” “Crusaders?” I interjected. “Precisely,” said Yara. She was looking at me intensely, as if searching my eyes for a flicker of enlightenment. “It’s all very sad,” I said, shaking my head. “History repeating itself. It’s like we haven’t learned anything from our bloody past.”“Speaking of history, did you know this is a very significant date?” “No. Tell me.” “It was on 15 July 1099 that the knights of the First Crusade breached the city walls of Jerusalem. They poured into the Holy City in wild ravening packs, just a hundred meters east of Herod’s Gate, and indulged in an orgy of bloodletting. The defenders retreated to the Haram al-Sharif, where the Dome of the Rock and the al-Aqsa mosque stood gleaming in the fierce sunlight, but the crusaders rode them down until their horses waded deep in Muslim blood. Even six months later, Jerusalem still reeked of death and decay.” “Well, thanks for lightening the mood!” I said, reeling from Yara’s graphic description. Yara let out a little giggle. “Anyway, that’s enough death and destruction for one evening. I have some much happier news to tell you.”The sudden change in Yara’s mood caught me off guard. A feeling of apprehension descended on me, and I was momentarily lost for words. Eventually I recovered my composure. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s the good news?” “I’m pregnant,” she said.Her words hit me like a hammer blow. Everything around me seemed to go dark for a moment. My head began to spin as if I was drunk. I struggled to control myself, but I could feel a terrible rage burning in my heart. “Whose baby is it?” I mumbled. “I’m not sure,” said Yara, still smiling, “but I think it might be Baal’s.” At this remark I lost any remaining self-control and banged my fists down on the table. “What the fuck are you playing at Yara?” I shouted. “I’m tired of your bullshit! Tell me who it really was.” Yara’s smile was gone now, and she looked at me stonily. “I’m telling you the truth, Nero. I haven’t had sex with anyone. I’m still a virgin.”
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