The Strangling Hand Ch 1 Pg 25-32

The Strangling Hand
by Karl Hans Strobl
translated by Joe E. Bandel
Copyright Joe E. Bandel
The Strangling Hand Ch 1 pg 25-32

He appeared entirely absorbed in himself, unapproachable, unmoving like the statue of a god, behind whose stone face wild lechery lurked and whose body was completely filled with a tense power. Out of the rich treasures portrayed in the works of the poet which she had inherited, was an image that seemed to attach itself to this man, this emissary. It was the image of the Asian despot, ruler over millions of slaves as he crowded them closely together in order to transport them.

The curtain moved a little, the stranger glanced in her direction and without embarrassment gave up his comfortable posture and stood up.

“I was not announced, gracious Frau, my name is Rudolph Hainx.”

Frau Emma forced herself to nod, and then with a smile in which the corners of his mouth only lifted a little, he continued:

“I am not a journalist. I must say that first, and when I found a gentleman from the press here I immediately took the opportunity to get rid of him so he would not bother you any more. For that service I must ask you to hear me out.”

“I am prepared to listen to you.”

In the most privileged quarter of our city, there, right where the countryside presses against the city, stands a large garden and villa, one filled with every luxury that there is. The steps are made of Paris marble, and rambling  Goldilocks climb upon the walls. The furniture is designed by Riemer-Schmidt and delivered from workshops in the United States. The glasses in the credenza are from Tiffany’s in New York.

In a small room, whose window shimmers with all the colors of the rainbow, you will find a chest, whose drawers protect jewelry created by Lalique. A front room, which is like an atrium, a quadrangle cut from the heavens, is cooled in the summer by one of Hermann Obrist’s elaborate fountains. Now, I know that you love paintings, so I must not forget to say that scattered through separate chambers are paintings by Bocklin, Thoma, Manet and Leibl. The stairs and front hall are filled with acrylics, and one room is decorated with original Hokusai paintings which you love so much. And for evening twilight, to inspire your dreams, is a cabinet with portraits and etchings of genuine Rembrandts.

All of the great arts are allowed to stream through this princely home. You will find a music room and a rich library with rare printings and incunables. There is an ancient Roman bath and a horse stable with English and Arabian race horses. You would not exhaust the riches of this house in an entire year. There are other collections as well that I can’t forget to mention, a weapon collection in one hall and a well organized collection of postage stamps in another.

When you go through a flight of chambers, it is like wandering  through the styles and cultures of all times, from ancient Assyrian to the Epoch of Biedermeier, and I will add that the furniture and appliances in this house are not copies, but original working pieces. The gardens around the house consist of individual partitions, in which you will be enchanted by gardening arts of the past. You will find replicas of the hanging gardens of Semiramis and the intricately interlaced and precious Bosketts of Trianon. A crowd of servants will fulfill your every wish.”

“I have listened to you; why are you telling me all of this?”

“On an island in the Adriatic ocean, which has never known winter, is another house which contains all the wonders and hot freedom of paradise, built in the Grecian style. From the columned entrance you can see the ocean, which is more beautiful there than anywhere else, more moody, more moving, with  many sleepy colors that awaken to play in the morning and evening. A balcony, high above the rustling tree tops, gives a free view in all directions, and the most difficult and urgent longings will find wings and become more easy and joy filled there. Nothing prevents you from living there in luxurious solitude or reveling with good friends in a Hellenistic kingdom. There in view of the ocean and the heavens you can once more find undespairing joy and build a new radiant temple over the ruins of the past. A boat floats in a little harbor, and reddish purple sails shimmer through the tips of the pines. This boat is similar to the grandness of the ship Agrippa, and like it contains rare luxuries collected together in the smallest spaces.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I come to offer you this house in the city and the one on the island.”

Frau Emma reeled under the thought, in which she appeared to fall to ruin, torn by blind and senseless forces from the solid stronghold of her newly made plans. What kind of image was this? How could this confusion of colors and brilliance be her future? Really, the description of this magnificence was dangerous. And this offer was not a joke, she could see the seriousness in the unmoving mask of this man, as he now pulled a long paper out of his breast pocket and laid it out on the writing desk.

“It goes without saying, that I would not make this offer without being prepared to also offer you the money needed for all possible trivialities that would allow you to live such a life without a care. Just name an amount, which you think will suffice, and don’t be shy. My offer has only one limit down below, but none above. Speak your fantasy, to arrange a fairy tale of gold. I am authorized to make this check out for any sum which you name.”

“You offer me an immense treasure. I must admit that this has me all confused. What do you want of me? You speak of a contract. What is this contract? Look around you , and you will see my past. What do I have to offer that is worth such a future? Is your offer a gift? Whose gift? And what ... My God!...”

“You can call my offer a gift. What is needed is so simple, that there shouldn’t be any problem. Many others would not even stop to consider it, if they were offered millions upon millions. Before I tell you what is needed, I will give you something else to think about. Do the memorials of our past depend upon objects, real things, or rather much more upon tender and incontrovertible memories of real life experiences that can’t be erased? 

If Caesar had lost his fame as a warrior, would his glorious past be extinguished; if the manuscript of his memoirs over the Gaullish war had been destroyed in fire; if a thief had stolen the suit of armor, which the commander had worn in the battle against Vercingetorix? Would Tamerlane’s career have been altered, would he have not won as many victories, if the skulls of his demoralized enemies had been allowed to fall from the spear tips, decay and turn to dust?”

“Be silent, be silent, I sense...”

“You have promised to hear me out. I know from the newspapers, that your husband’s will contained a strange order concerning his head. I also know that Eleagabal Kuperus has the capability of fulfilling this wish of the dead. My offer stands therein, to offer you all of these things, which I have previously made an effort to describe to you, in exchange for that head.”

The trembling fingers of Emma played around the heavy bronze sphinx, which lay upon the writing desk. But the eyes of Rudolph Hainx suddenly lit up like flaming stars and forced her glance back down. She didn’t dare look him in the eyes anymore and allowed him to sit back down at the writing desk, pick up the quill and prepare to write. The quill, with which a poet had once written a difficult sonnet, now stood at a steep angle in the hand of this stranger.

Emma had never seen such a hand. It was a cold, scrawny hand, whose sinews suddenly sprang out from the wrist as if they could not wait to elongate into fingers and transmit their command. The fingers were crooked and pointed, and on the wrist, clusters of hair grew in rocky fissures of the wrinkled skin down to the yellow knuckles. It was a gentleman’s hand, that was soft and delicate, with beautiful rounded curves , yet without the gentle swelling of fat that would hinder its grip. It was the hand of a master that lay upon the paper, which stretched tautly, prepared to write down an endless series of numbers. Evil eyes burned like perishing stars over this decisive moment.

“You say that you are making this proposal for someone else. Won’t you tell me who this contract belongs to?”
“I see that it is important for you to know this. You should know that my client has the power to fulfil his promise, but also, that it stands in his power to make being disobedient to his wishes very taxing. He has commanded me to reveal his name in only the most exceptional case. I show you the honor of realizing that your reluctance is so heavy that this exceptional case is needed.”

“– Herr Bezug has sent me to you.”

At that the Frau sprang up to the messenger, tore the quill from out of his hand and threw it to the floor with such violence that it remained stuck upright in a black splotch.

“Get out!” She screamed, “Get out!”

And now she dared look him in the eyes; now he had no more power over her. Rudolph Hainx took his dusty gray gloves from the chair and picked up his hat.

“You will regret this!”

Frau Emma looked around, as if searching for a weapon to use against him. Then she ran to the door of the courtyard and leaned against the iron railing that sagged beneath her weight. She appeared prepared to call the entire house for help against the messenger, to set all the neighbors against him. Rudolph Hainx stepped past without her seeing, an envoy whose deal had been broken, and went forth in order to declare a war. His smooth, immaculate  elegance framed the dirty walls of the stairs for a moment as he climbed down, only to once more come into view before crossing the courtyard down below and disappearing out the wide mouth of the main house door.


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A New Age Of Humanity

4000 years ago was the age of the rational atheist and the invention of reading and writing. 2000 years ago was the creation of the watcher self or soul, individual consciousness and the age of the social enforcer. We are now entering the age of the organic Gnostic who is able to span the entire spectrum of existence in a multi dimensional way for the first time.

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What Is Natural And What Is Taught

The more life experience we have, the more wisdom we develop. We are learning that we have been lied to and that wisdom is not going to go away! The MSM has been so transparent in their attempts to sway opinion that no one treats them seriously any more. We have learned things that can't be ignored any more!

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The Prison Of The Mind

We are prisoners of our own thoughts and beliefs. At times we need to find ways of thinking outside of the box and the only way to do that is through interaction with outside catalysts. These videos are an effort to help people think outside the box and come to their own new conclusions and new self empowerment.

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Can An Individualist Be Unselfish

Being an individualist is being authentic and allowing others to be authentic as well. The individualist can be unselfish in giving their love and time to those they choose to have in their lives. It is our uniqueness as individuals that makes us interesting and special to others and its the uniqueness of others that makes them special to us. Do you share because of the love in your heart or because its the politically correct thing to do?

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The Dangers Of A Moral World

We are heading toward a world of lowest common denominator morality determined by politicians and social activists! These laws will be enforced by unfeeling computers. There is no place in that world for the individual conscience or path of the heart. We are going in the wrong direction! 

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The Eye Of The Beholder

This world needs people to stand up all by themselves for what they believe in and then others will find the courage to stand up as well. The thing that's needed most is for you to stand up as an individual for what you believe in because no one else will know exactly what is right for you!

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Gaia Ascension Update The Astral Planes Have Split

The war in heaven is over and the forces of light have won! The astral planes have now split into two realms and our non physical bodies, our souls, have found their way home!

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The Isolation Factor
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Creating A Moral World

Do laws determine what is moral and immoral? This is the battle that is currently taking place within our society. It has become fashionable to reject the still small voice of conscience that dwells in every human heart and instead proclaim the ultimate authority of law  as the one and only external authority over all others.

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Morality Versus Spirituality

Spirit used to be the highest power and now it is being replaced with man made social morality. Social morality is becoming the highest goal for a struggling humanity. But what about the Christ Spirit within the human heart that speaks through the still small voice of conscience?

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Welcome To The Borg

The Hive Mind of collectivism is the old way that humanity has followed for thousands of years. Individualism is something new, an evolutionary leap into individuation! It is the next quantum leap for humanity!

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The Isolation Factor


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Going Crazy

Why is being politically correct so important in today's world? I think its time we seriously investigated what it means to be politically correct and whether it is healthy or a type of brain washing.

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Sexual Alchemy Is Normal

The Isolation Factor

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Never Good Enough

This was a hard day and this is a hard video, but I've tried to share from my heart even when it hurts because we are all hurting these days. But there is a need to realize that we are good enough, good enough to create this new world.

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I Cherish You Because

We all want to be loved for who we really are inside and we want to love someone else with the same intensity or do we? Often our fear of getting to know someone else too deeply ruins our chances and truly rewarding relationships. What is more important, our mask or being vulnerable enough to really share ourselves with someone else?

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To Be Ourselves

We all contain a divine spark of God within our hearts and we are divine  creators. What have we created today? We live in the present moment and if our present moment is not a heaven on earth, then we can choose amongst the infinite possibilities within our present moment to open a pathway to that heaven on earth! The time of action is now, because tomorrow will always be tomorrow and yesterday is already gone.

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The Strangling Hand Ch 1 Pg 17-20

The Strangling Hand
by Karl Hans Strobl
translated by Joe E. Bandel
Copyright Joe E. Bandel
The Strangling Hand Ch 1 pg 17-20

When she came back to her house, the night was almost over and in the lit basement window of the bakery she saw a young boy swinging his arms as he stood waiting while the stout Master Baker counted out rolls for the morning route. Already animated noises were beginning to arise here and there in the wide and ranging building in which she lived. There was the sleepy maid with her unwillingness to work and her outrage over everything that would not leave her alone and allow her to stay in bed. On the third floor she was frightened by the cobbler’s apprentice, who suddenly appeared from some maid’s chamber of forbidden pleasures.

Then she unlocked the door to her apartment and was greeted with the ostentatious odors of funeral wreaths, frankincense and laced with the terrible odor of beginning decomposition. She opened one of the bedroom windows and allowed some of the fog filled winter morning air inside along with the first soft sounds of street traffic. Sitting in the large easy chair, in which the deceased had rested, she once more relived the experiences of the past night. No longer protected by the closeness of Eleagabal Kuperus, it all seemed miraculous and terrifying. She thought back on little incidents, which had left behind impressions like those of a gruesome dream. The servant with the head of a wolf, whose stealthy step felt like a lurking danger behind her, the head of the negro, whose skin appeared like violet velvet in the red light, and the mummy with the crumbling yellow bandages and the wrinkled and blackened forehead.

And suddenly the bleak, wasted, monotonous melody was there, whose ceaseless and rising tone was like a murderous fear that could not be tolerated. She became determined to rid herself of it, and tried to think back upon where it came from. The words, the words... She couldn’t understand the words, they must be words in a strange language. Yes, they were Latin words, and now she recognized what it was. These were the words of the Psalm, which the stubby cheeked, pious  priest had sung at the coffin of her spouse while he sprinkled the corpse with Holy water. These words were echoed in the Cathedral, this melody was the voice of the empty church, an endless litany of the terrors of the dead, which promised eternal life to the living soul. But no one was certain of it, didn’t know when their ears would suddenly hear this loud and threatening melody, when their mortal body would perish. They never knew when these melancholy words would arise, impress themselves upon the walls, permeate the furniture and clothing, and take over the entire room. When they would mix with the perfume of funeral wreathes and decay, as they proclaimed victory over life and diminished it through the incessant memories of the dead.

The tired arms of the Frau hung over the arms of the chair, in exactly the same  posture, as those of her spouse had done. When she noticed this, she shuddered, leaned back and moved into a different position. Then she fell asleep. But outside the life in the streets kept growing louder, more penetrating and increased in the power of its demands.

When the servant rang, Emma was sleeping so heavily that she didn’t immediately wake up. Frau Fodermayr soon began to fear that perhaps the widow had done some harm to herself. Her imagination was filled with some fantasy from one of the illustrated magazines which she had read, filled with fearful family drama and a lot of blood. She finally opened the door. Frau Fodermayr, with a pale face and petrified fingers gripping the door, greeted Frau Emma like a loyal hound. The eyes of the widow were still shut from sleep, and her limbs had grown stiff from the uncomfortable position in the easy chair. But something warm entered into her. The genuine concern of her servant did Emma well. She stirred enough to answer questions about her condition. Then Frau Fodermayr offered the consolation of an old woman, that man can never know, when God will take up the heavy burdens of the dead and protect them. Today Emma found these words in strange agreement with those of Eleagabal Kuperus. Since her visit with him and her heavy sleep, her experience with him seemed much more distant, like a fairy tale or legend. It seemed totally unbelievable and at the same time so full of possibilities, and of wonder that she had really found the courage to bring her burden to him and that she had actually been in his house for one hour.

After that she washed herself, did up her hair, and then stepped out onto the wooden gallery, that went from door to door around the entire courtyard in the center of the massive quadrangle building in which she lived. In this quarter of the city rental houses were built like barracks and this was one of the largest and most beloved. A hundred and twenty renters each had their own apartments. There were all kinds of apartments here, from the studio apartments of the poor to the relatively common comfort of Emma’s apartment with its up scale trappings and comfort.

This building, four square and massive, had been built with the permission of the city, and enclosed in its courtyard was a noisy republic of children. In the summer the courtyard was never empty of drying laundry, hung out on long cords that stretched from one of the stunted little trees to the next. The tree trunks with their rough bark were marked with deep scars from the abrasive ropes. Today, the fog became entangled in the moist, untouched roofs high above and sank down to the plaster of the courtyard in layers, where the children played in the corners with the wet remains of the melting snow.

This house had been her home for such a long time and these people were her neighbors. Her husband, the creator of many beautiful words, had not been able to offer her a better world. But it had always been a home. What would it become in the future? She still hadn’t thought about it, about what would happen to it or to her. A heavy and rising fear climbed through the rubble of her happiness as she sought to dispel the superstitious words of Frau Fodermayr. Emma went into the workroom of her spouse and paced restlessly up and down, taking up a book from out of a broad, well used book shelf and then setting it back in its place without even looking at the title. She was surrounded by ruin and there was not a breath of new life anywhere.

I am currently translating this book a few pages at a time. I will be posting them as I translate them. If you enjoy this story and type of literature please support me and become a patron. Translation is hard work and takes a lot of time. Consider donating $1 a month to help out. This book is over 500 pages long! You can donate at my website:

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The Sacred And The Profane

The Higher Self and Shadow Self are secondary personalities that need to be integrated into the healthy human ego. The Higher Self contains personality traits that we desire but can never find within ourselves and the Shadow Self contains personality traits that we find within ourselves but reject and wish were not there. Both are distortions of reality and only by integrating these distortions can we achieve true spiritual, mental, emotional and all around well being.

Anyone that contributes $1/month or more through my patreon account will also have access to a weekly video and special reports that are specifically focused on soulmates, divine counterparts and hidden factors of Gaia’s ascension.

Special Patron videos now posted at the $1/mo level:

Sexual Energy Vampires

Sexual Power and Spiritual Power

Sexual Alchemy Is Normal

The Isolation Factor

Special Patron videos now posted at the $5/mo level 

(includes those at the $1/mo level):

Magical Egregores

You can donate at my website:

http://thelastrosicrucian.is/wp/

or my Patreon link: https://www.patreon.com/anarchistbanjo

Comments are welcome! Please share this link with others! 

Organic Gnostics

Organic Gnostics are able to integrate both spiritual and physical experiences by living in both worlds at the same time. They have become multidimensional and able to work in the non physical worlds to affect change in the physical world. They are magical! They are here to make this new earth into the Garden of Eden that it has always been meant to be.

Anyone that contributes $1/month or more through my patreon account will also have access to a weekly video and special reports that are specifically focused on soulmates, divine counterparts and hidden factors of Gaia’s ascension.

Special Patron videos now posted at the $1/mo level:

Sexual Energy Vampires

Sexual Power and Spiritual Power

Sexual Alchemy Is Normal

The Isolation Factor

Special Patron videos now posted at the $5/mo level 

(includes those at the $1/mo level):

Magical Egregores

You can donate at my website:

http://thelastrosicrucian.is/wp/

or my Patreon link: https://www.patreon.com/anarchistbanjo

Comments are welcome! Please share this link with others!