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A Letter from the Risen

A letter from the risen

Estimated reading time — 11 minutes

[To Whom it May Concern]

Hello Friend,
If this letter has fallen into your possession, take it as a sign that our Lord, the one true
God, has found you to be worthy of His legacy. Repent! Become one of the Risen and
experience His glory first hand! Do not fear! I was once as you are now— trapped within
the confines of flesh and bound to the earth— but hear my testimony and know that I
speak the Truth, for a new path lies before you. For just a few moments of your time,
you can inherit the roadmap to Paradise…

But first we must venture back to a dreary Friday night when Father Abel called for a
late crisis sermon. If the Almighty saw fit for us to hold chapel at 1AM, then I wouldn’t
have a word to say against it, but we were only there because Billy Mathers and Mary
Johnson couldn’t keep their pants on. This time they got caught fornicating in the
hayloft, but Father liked for everybody to learn from everybody else’s mistakes—
especially us young ones.

He was reading from Exodus that night— his face beet red— and those purple veins
were bulging all over his neck and temples again. The last time that happened was
when Gary Shepherd stole from the kitchen and ended up getting 8 lashes. I never had
to face the whip myself; that punishment was only for adults, but I spent six hours in the
sinner’s closet once, and that was enough for me.

This time was different, though. You see, we who live above the flock must adhere to a
higher standard. If our way was easy, how would we weed out the wicked Pretenders
like Billy and Mary? They were allowed to stay after their previous offenses because
parents are responsible for minors— kids will be kids, after all— but Billy had just turned
18; he had to be judged on his own merits now, and everyone knew he’d been talking
about taking Mary to have their baby in a heathen hospital. You heed my warning,
friend, technology is nothing but devil magic. Mankind sold their soul to the Dark One for
a taste of his power, but you can still renounce him; it’s not too late!

But, as I was saying, Billy was excommunicated, and his parents were made to pay
Mary’s parents restitution for her ruined reputation. Since she was only twelve, her
punishment was reduced to one week in the sinner’s closet, and her parents were
placed on probation. The Almighty even showed His approval by ensuring Billy’s
punishment continued in the outside world.

The chapel doors opened with a loud, creaking groan, and every head turned towards
the latecomers. Hushed whispers spread through the congregation like a wave as two
law-men approached the Father and two more waited at the entrance. I’d never seen
the law come to the compound in the middle of the night, and I certainly never saw them
interrupt a sermon… Granted, they couldn’t have known we were gonna be holding a
service that late on a Friday night…

Regardless, while it was clear to us that the Lord had guided their hands, the law-men
were wholly ignorant to this fact; they claimed to be there due to an anonymous tip,
but— whatever they wanted to call it— the result was very much the same. The point is,
they put Billy in a cage and we never saw him again. It turns out the heathens have
even stricter punishments for premarital relations than we do— though they were
admittedly more fixated on Mary’s age and than her marital status….

Now, this is where things start to get a little tricky… Mary found she didn’t care to live in
disgrace as a single mother, so she swallowed a bottle of pills and shed her earthly skin
instead… If she was expecting to see the Almighty, then she was sadly mistaken; what
Mary experienced was plain, old, sinful death, and she was no doubt thrust right back
into the cycle of rebirth. You see my friend, life as we understand it is nothing more than
a test; a trial— a marathon; if you aren’t ready to Rise by the end of it, then you have to
start over in a new life.

You gotta remember, she didn’t just end her life, but that of her unborn child’s as well;
members born into the Family are untainted by the heathen world and therefore the only
ones deemed worthy to assume leadership roles— or at least that’s how it used to be;
obviously, things are different now that we’ve Risen, but I don’t mean to jump ahead.
Due to the circumstances surrounding her demise, Mary couldn’t be buried in our
Family crypt; the only options available were a heathen cemetery or cremation— which
clearly isn’t much of a choice at all. Well, sir, soon enough her ashes were sitting in a
pretty silver urn atop her parent’s mantle, and life moved on— for a little while,

[Finding Judas]

Three months is about how long it took for social services to check up on Mary. They’d
been trying to reach her parents ever since the law-men took Billy away, so they were
particularly upset to learn of her passing— especially when there were no remains to examine… From that day on, nothing was the same; people from the government were
all over the place— folks from the news were there pretending like they didn’t work for
the law-men… They kept asking the grownups questions and trying to trick us kids, but
we weren’t having it; Father Abel taught us all about their devil games on the first and
third Sundays of every month.

They were convinced Mary was murdered; they treated us like common criminals even
though she was the one who committed an unforgivable sin. For the government to
interfere was a violation of their own constitutional guarantee to the right of separation
between Church and State! But they didn’t care if they were breaking their own rules;
heathens have no honor.

Once they accepted we couldn’t be fooled, they came back with a search warrant. They
took Mary’s ashes, and— even worse— they found a diary hidden beneath her
mattress… One her parents had known nothing about… The whole congregation was
up in arms over that little book— and rightfully so, too— but I’ll get to that.

Until then, all the questioning had been done at the compound, but that night they
interrogated the Johnsons at the station. Dave Simmons was the best lawyer in the
state, and— as a member of our Family— he was more than happy to accompany the
still grieving parents. They couldn’t be questioned together— and Mr Simmons couldn’t
be in two places at once— so Mrs. Johnson went first. They talked to her for almost two
hours before moving onto Mr Johnson for nearly three, but— thanks to the great
attorney— they were both allowed to return home at the end… We thought we had won
the war, but the real war had yet to begin.

Upon returning to the compound, Father Abel was updated, and a crisis sermon
convened; there are no secrets in our Family— not even from the young. Mary’s diary
had painted us in a mighty poor light; the law-men used select passages while
attempting to make a case for child abuse, but Mr Simmons was a step ahead of them
at every turn. Good had prevailed over evil, and all that tension dissipated as quickly as
it came because there had been no mention of our monthly contributions to the Holy

Or so we thought… Never forget, the devil is sly as a fox and slippery as a snake. Mary
had written plenty, and it made those law-men extra cautious; they wanted to get all
their little ducks in a row before they pulled the trigger. They let us get comfortable— let
us fall back into our old routines— and then they sent one of their serpents to poison us
from within! All because of our very own Judas— Mrs Charlotte Johnson! Well, like I
said before, Mr Simmons couldn’t be in two places at once; when Mr Johnson went in for his interrogation, he instructed his wife to wait in the car— only that’s not what she
did. On her way out, a law-lady offered her some coffee; after all, it had been such a
long day…

But once the cup was poured, the sugar container was conveniently empty, so the
law-lady set off to fetch a new one… It only took a second for another woman to decide
she’d like a cup as well, and this one was dressed as a civilian. She’d been sitting in the
waiting area nearby and introduced herself as Shelly even though her real name was
Detective Barbara Pierce… She had an elaborate story about how she was there to file
a complaint against one of the Sargeants for harassing her at work; it was actually quite
the convoluted little sob story, but I won’t soil your honest mind with such heathen swill,
no sir, not me, my friend.

Of course, Mrs Johnson— being the delicate, gullible type that she is— fell right into the
devil’s snare. By the time that law-lady got back with more sugar, our dear sister was
having a full-blown gossip session with the enemy. Naturally, Mrs Johnson also divulged
her own reasons for being at the station, and— wouldn’t you know it— Shelly’s preacher
just so happened to perish in a car accident the previous month, and his replacement
was chasing away the entire congregation with perverted liberal views. It’s the worst
kind of heathen that believes the word of their God needs “interpreting”; this woman
knew just what buttons to push.

Those two ladies gabbed away through Mr Johnsons’s entire interrogation, but the desk
clerk was suddenly ready to take Shelly’s complaint not two minutes before he exited
the station doors; by then his wife was waiting patiently in the car. Had she even hinted
that the strange woman existed, Mr Simmons would’ve immediately understood what
happened, but, instead, she brought the serpent into our home. She even introduced
Shelly as an old college friend because she knew suspicion would fall on anyone met
under such circumstances, and her poor friend had “already been through so much.”
Wednesday was our Visitor’s Day, and Father Abel just loved saving souls, so people
were always bringing coworkers, relatives, or anyone they could convince to wear the
visitor’s badge. The Father’s success rate wasn’t the highest, but— these days— it’s a
miracle to save even one. Most folks never came more than once, but if they returned
Sunday morning for open house service, you had a live one; Shelly was a live one

She came to those two services for three weeks in a row— always bright-eyed and
eager to learn— but she didn’t seem interested in going any further. She was simply
content to observe from the sidelines. Of course, that’s because she didn’t need to risk further exposure; Mrs Johnson had already made a fatal mistake, and she chose to put
herself before the Family…



You see, it’s true; Mary wasn’t murdered…. But we did carry a heavy secret— one the
heathen law would use to lock us all away should it be discovered. It’s the reason we’re
so careful about who we let into our Family— the reason background checks and
surveillance are conducted on each candidate.

Friend— brother— or sister, since it is the Almighty who speaks through me, I have no
hesitation in telling you the truth. Most folks don’t understand how dire the Holy War has
become; if extreme measures are not taken, humanity is going to destroy itself! In order
to prevent this worst case scenario, we must all do our part in the fight against evil.
That’s why our militia was responsible for tracking and capturing the worst dregs of
society. Once a month, a new criminal, addict, or degenerate was chosen as our
sacrifice to the Almighty— to prove our devotion— to give our children hope for better
tomorrows… A hope that lives on even now… We couldn’t afford a full scale investigation into Mary’s death lest they discovered the entrance to our catacombs!

No, friend; that’s exactly what we were trying to avoid. Of course, we knew the
eventuality was inevitable, but the more sacrifices we made unto our Lord— He whose
true name is impossible to pronounce— the stronger our souls would be for the Rising.
As you have probably ascertained by this letter’s very existence, our Rising was
successful, but we all— holy and heathen alike— tend to imagine having more time at
hand, do we not? Now, I know what you’re thinking… What gave us the authority to
participate in the War while still trapped inside our earthly flesh— right? What sets us
apart from any other religious organization?

Well, it’s because— unlike all those other groups— we know the Truth. When the
version of the Bible you’re familiar with was written, vital pieces of information were
misinterpreted because the minds of men were simply too small to comprehend it.
God’s true name— as I stated before and no doubt to your utter confusion— is
impossible to form with our mortal tongues, and the sounds required to make it do not
exist in our alphabet. That’s why our ancestors shortened it.

Countless millennia ago, the Almighty traveled to our solar system from a distant galaxy
and selected earth as the planet he would breathe life into. It’s how His kind— our
kind— reproduce. They are such complex, powerful creatures, they cannot simply mate
and bear young as we do now in our primitive age; instead, they venture far out into the
universe to begin their cycle anew.

They tend a barren planet until it’s ready to sustain life, and then they see those
life-forms through infancy— past the dark ages of poverty, plague, and war— and
further still into an era of peace and enlightenment. Only then can humanity begin the
final stages of our ultimate evolution— beyond the need for bodies made of flesh; our
souls will be free to move about untethered until such a time as we are ready to merge
with the earth itself, and— together— we will be born again in the image of our father…
Therefore, the faster we dispose of humanity’s bottom feeders, the faster they will be
reborn to try again! Don’t you see? Yes, yes, of course you do; I can feel it.

Oh, I apologize, friend, perhaps I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. Here, let me finish
telling you about Mrs Johnson before I discuss the rapture. You see, unbeknownst to us,
Shelly found bloodied clothes in the Johnson’s home during one of their little brunches,
and you know how these things go once those law-men have something to call
“evidence”; one thing leads to a surveillance warrant, which leads to a search warrant,
and— next thing you know, a member of your Family is talking witness protection…
After that, SWAT teams and FBI vans surrounded the compound, and we knew the time
had come to leave our flesh.

Our militia was over 100 strong, and the law-men wanted to make a good show of trying
to end the encounter peacefully, so we had plenty of time to make our final
preparations— including one last sacrifice. Each ritual takes anywhere from six to eight
hours, so this was no small feat. We aren’t murderers; it’s merely a complicated process
that takes patience and dedication.

Each offering was stripped bare and washed before being taken to the catacombs and
laid upon the sacred altar. A vertical incision was then made from chest to sternum and
the rib cage pried open. Next, the heart was carefully removed without causing damage
to the actual organ; it must be whole when placed into the Holy Flame lest the entire
ritual be tainted.

Once the eternal fire was fed, the sacrifice could be emptied of its remaining fluids, and
a drain at the base of the altar ensured the earth received its share of the harvest. The
rest of the organs were then taken to the kitchens; by consuming part of the sacrifice with the Almighty, we further proved our devotion while simultaneously strengthening
the bond between our souls and the Holy Spirit.


When only the bones remained, they were placed into an ornate wooden box and taken
to the Hall of Sacrifice— the deepest chambers within the catacombs. There, the box
was labeled and placed among its predecessors on one of the long shelves dug into the
earthen walls— never to be forgotten.

Knowing that sacrifice was to be our last, the cooks prepared the resulting feast with a
very special extra ingredient… One that would release the body’s hold over our souls so
the Lord Almighty could accept us into his army or cast us into the cycle of rebirth. Do
not worry for me, friend; as a child, I was one of the first to partake, and my reward has
been worth every agonizing second it took for the poison to dissolve my earthly chains.
I hadn’t been prepared for such violent vomiting and diarrhea— and the muscle cramps
that followed were probably the worst of it— but then everything went numb and tingly.

When the darkness came, it was only for a moment; then I was suddenly in a bright
room with the rest of my Family, and He was with us. It’s impossible to describe the
feeling of such euphoric serenity…

In total, our chapter sacrificed 408 heathens between 1989 and 2023— a mere 27 less
than the chapter before us, but that is the way of a world with ever-evolving
technologies; it’s much more difficult to avoid detection these days… Fear not, friend,
these factors were taken into account during our judgment, just as they will be in yours.
The Almighty sees that which lies behind our actions; He sees our potential. You need
only remain true to the cause and you will be rightly judged.

Just as Noah was chosen to build the ark and repopulate the earth, so it will be with our
Family should the worst come to pass… Only this time it will not be a flood of water—
but of fire and brimstone. All living beings will be eradicated in the blink of an eye, and—
from the ashes— new plants will grow; new beasts will be born, and— when the earth is
once again ready to sustain human life— our Family will return to repopulate the lands
with new sons and daughters… We want you among us if that day comes, my friend.

Now that you are well on your way to joining us, we are able to impart with you the
metaphorical keys to our earthly kingdom! That is, the key is metaphorical; the kingdom
is quite real. To take your first official steps on the path to enlightenment, please mail a
Good Faith donation of $5,000 to our law firm at PO Box 7473 Topeka, KS. 66603, and
be sure all checks are made payable to CASH.

Don’t forget to include your full legal name, social security number, current address, and
at least two phone numbers. This will allow our legal team to begin transferring the
necessary deeds to your ownership. Once our earthly facilities are at your disposal, the
Almighty shall bless upon you the sacred scriptures that will guide you through next
steps to beginning your very own Heavenly Risings chapter. Be strong, my friend, the
times ahead will be trying, but your rewards will be eternal!

Faithfully yours,
One of the Risen

Credit: Page Turner

Official Site

Please Note the Author of this Creepypasta does NOT give permission for it to be used for any podcasts or narrations

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