Excerpt for The Devil in Religion by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.





THE DEVIL IN RELIGION. Copyright © 2017 by C M Brantley. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Digital Copyright © Edition April 2017

ISBN: 978-137-021845-5















My Uncle

My Devil’s Brew




My Mother

Root Revealed




The Tip

Damn Car


Love Thy Mother

Fine Tuning







The writing of The Devil in Religion, making its book, and preparing its manuscript for publication were solitary efforts. The actual content presented was through the help of many.

I owe a big thanks to my family. Without them, I would not know the other side of the spectrum. The side that is outlined in this book and that has the potential to help many in my community and communities alike. While it would seem unfitting, their efforts without question, have unlocked a truth that has burdened so many. Some of those individuals have been convinced not to say a word, but desire freedom more than anything.

The remainder of my thanks goes to my child, even with his naiveite to the world. The questions he has asked, his childish dreams, and my desire to give him better than I had is the sole purpose for this book. The truth in it is only a catalyst to his understanding and a stronger foundation than the one left for me.


This is a true account of my journey from childhood to an adult and the struggles associated. Particularly, my struggles with family secrets, lies, and ties within a secret organization that would eventually be used against me. It is not intended to persuade you, it is only intended to give you the truth I have come to know.

The rationale for taking the time to put my thoughts into words are simple. My story has the potential to help another. The conspiracy suggested within this book were designed specifically for me and while simple once broken down, have the potential for greater confusion if unknown. The influence and reality of what my family was willing to do to me with these devices, under the deceit of one man, were real.

To the individual unaware or ill-equipped, these vices have the potential to do irreparable damage psychologically, spiritually, and/or physically. My Mother, Father, and numerous family members have been driven to drugs, drinking, and violence as a result. Some counts will be discussed and others will remain secret because of my lack of information.

This is the struggle, the oppression, or demon if you will, that plagues my family and some communities. It was not a white man, the government, a woman, or some fictitious character coming to visit me during the night, but a combined effort of the ones closest to me for “seemingly” selfish gain. I have also witnessed the same practice performed on larger scales, where individuals are attending the very church that is creating unnatural influence in their life. I am not religious nor do I belong to this organization or any other. This is merely my account.


But the Spirit saith expressly, that in later times some shall fall away from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of demons, through the hypocrisy of men that speak lies, branded in their own conscious as with a hot iron; forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by them that believe and know the truth. For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be rejected, if it be received with thanksgiving: for it is sanctified through the word of God and prayer.

If thou put the brethren in mind of these things, thou shalt be a good minister of Christ Jesus, nourished in the words of the faith, and of the good doctrine which thou hast followed until now: but refuse profane and old wives’ fables. And exercise thyself unto godliness: for bodily exercise is profitable for a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life which now is, and that which is to come. Faithful is the saying, and worthy of all acceptation. For to this end we labor and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all men specially of them that believe. These things command and teach. Let no man despise thy youth; but be though an ensample to them that believe, in word, in manner of life, in love, in faith, in purity. Till I come, give heed to reading, to exhortation, to teaching. Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of hands of the presbytery. Be diligent in these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy progress may be manifest unto all. Take heed to thyself, and to thy teachings. Continue in these things; for in doing this though shalt save both thyself and them that hear thee.

1 Timothy 4:1-16


Growing up, as far back as I could remember, I have always felt out of place in a sense. As a result, I tended to respond in the most unlikely ways. This feeling stemmed from of lack of understanding, frustration and a demand for the truth.

I started out with a temper that slowly moved to fear, then to a search for answers, and then knowing. I must say the knowing part is the trickiest because from there you must control your responses. It's a safety tactic.

If I told you there were people who knew the laws, people, and the mind on a deeper level, most wouldn't believe me. These groups also have ties in different places that are for good reason. Others are intended to make things uncomfortable and support a select few. The only way to explain this and trump my confusion is to tell my story.

I come from a family that for lack of a better explanation, lives by a different set of rules. Eat or be eaten. Some are doing it for answers, others for survival, those doing it in vein, and few for good. I have found fault in all and in myself as well. For me, it was always the conflict of fighting or peace.

As a child, I would fight for what I saw to be wrong, but I was also considered a good kid, a thinker. There were things that I did that I knew to be wrong and some that would surely leave you on the fence about me. Better explained the things that they allow some to get away with and others are not offered the luxury. I had gotten into a few fights in school at a young age, just being a normal kid. I also had an unsuccessful attempt at stealing. The story behind it…….

A friend and I wanted to go fishing. At the time, we didn't have the fishing equipment or bait. For some reason, asking wasn't a part of our conversation and we decided to go to a convenient store, in search for what we needed. I will say, we may have over did it and had gotten more than just fishing equipment. It probably would have worked out, but our pockets were bulging out and we had zero consciousness for cameras or antitheft systems. Young and stupid would be the best explanation, but we could not have been more than five-six years old at the time.

With all the evidence against us, I still managed to conjure up a lie and tell the store clerk I had nothing in my pocket. My Uncle, coincidentally walks into the store and asks, “What’s going on?”

This was my first heist and the team was going down midway through. I felt shitty about it afterwards. Yes, because I got caught, but more importantly I hadn't considered anyone else in my decision. When it was explained to me, it felt even worse. Since I was making good grades in school, after my incident with stealing, I felt it best to leave the stealing to those better suited. One lesson learned, another one coming.

My simple childhood would take a hard shift the day my mother killed a man. The story is, after a family friend had come to visit, my sister would later tell my mother she had been molested. When my mother got the news, she didn't visibly get upset, but she did give the guy a call. I'm thinking she would talk with him to get the truth and may have, but I wouldn't get a chance to witness that part. The date is set and he would be coming over.

That night, I pretended to sleep on the sofa, but “something” kept me up. My mother has a brief conversation on the phone and afterwards, goes to the kitchen. She opens a drawer for what I didn't have a clue at that time. I then hear the garage door open and my mother goes into the garage. A few words are exchanged. Afterwards, I hear Michael grunting and things being knocked around. The grunting slowed down, but it was merely because she continued to stab him repeatedly until he collapsed on the easement in our front yard.

My mother came back in the house rinsed off, what I now knew to be a knife and called the police. She let them know what she had done and waited. So, did I.

I think one would agree that killing can be bad or for a greater good. In her case, I assumed it was for the greater good however in the eyes of the law it had another sentence. Even with prior convictions of molesting young girl(s).

Another relevant part of this story is, my mother, accused my step grandfather of molesting her. While I wouldn't find this out until later, it would leave one to question. Yes, it's still a question because in my world lies and deceit run deep.

The affect this incident had on me was three-fold. First being, my view of right and wrong may be a bit off. Second being, I would be separated from my mother. The last being, a reaction without conscious is not an option for me anymore. Most would say how could a five to six-year-old kid process that much. I will tell you I remember it all like it was yesterday. I will also say that it has influenced many of the decisions I have made in throughout my life.


After my mother’s incident, we were taken in by an Aunt in Jacksonville. It was a tough adjustment for me because I surely didn't mind standing up for myself, even without help. I remember one day my Aunt Button asked me to do something and I told her, “No.”

That day Aunt Button let me know who she was and ultimately, no match just yet. I got my first ass whipping that day. I told her I want my mother and that I would tell my mother what happened. Her response was, “Call her and see where that gets you.”

That taught me a huge lesson and that was whoever is in control makes the rules. Right and wrong don't matter. I mean that stung, it was like being imprisoned.

We stayed in a remote section of Jacksonville with much of nothing visually to be happy about. To paint the picture. We lived in a shotgun house, no hot water, no a/c, but we did have portable heaters and fans. We took baths in a clothes basket to save time and money associated with heating water on the stove. The neighborhood we lived in had a total of eight households in a one mile radius. Of the eight homes, three were our immediate family. The other important note is this was a completely different culture.

North Port, the city we lived in before my mother’s incarceration was more of a suburban layout, a little more to appreciate visually, and the community was easy going. Our community in Jacksonville, on the other hand, was rough, remote, and the people were "hard," for lack of a better word.

My first few days of school I ran into this kid who wanted me to do his homework. In fact, he told me I was going to. He didn't know me and I hadn't quite figured myself out. The answer was simple for me and I told him, “No.”

He was willing to fight for my defiance. That day after school he hit me and I froze. This, for me, was for as few reasons. The most apparent were the complete change in environment. The least apparent being my adjustment to my mother’s actions and consequences. I can laugh today, but it wasn't funny then. My brother jumped in and hit the kid just before everything was broken up. He would go on to yell at me for not fighting for myself. I didn’t care because he wouldn’t understand where my hesitation stemmed from.

That wouldn't be my last fight with this kid. He was persistent. The next time we got into it, my back was somewhat against the wall. The fight this time would turn out different. Pride now involved, he is ready for more and poking for his next opportunity. In my mind, it was damned if you do, damned if you don't. I will say it made me more concrete in myself.

I couldn't question anything at home and forced to fight outside. I didn't like it, but I couldn't change my life, only work toward the future. There were fights two- three times a week, either during or after school. Much like the UFC of today, these kids enjoyed watching and getting into fights.

Throughout it all, I was trying to get a grip on my temper. With my new environment, it was being provoked but I was forced to control it even more. There were times, however when I couldn’t hold it in. There was one incident in school where I got so pissed off I started throwing chairs in the library. The teacher didn’t know what to do with me. My Aunt did. She showed up to the school and politely asks the teacher, “Do you have an empty classroom available?”

She wore my ass out! With a piece of a water hose. Still pissed, I go back to class and put my head down. I guess Aunt Button had the teacher ask me a question. I didn’t respond and immediately after I hear everyone in the classroom say, “ooooooooh.”

I turn around and see my Aunt is behind me with the piece of water hose laid across the desk. I go on to answer the question, but I wasn’t happy.

This really struck a chord in me because someone or something was trying to break me at an early age and it felt like more than God. I was told God could do no wrong. On top of that, I couldn’t give explanations, no one cared about what my place was or if I wasn’t the one to start the fight. This was some hard shit to deal with as a child. It is the sole reason for my reserved nature.

I made a conscious decision at that time to keep to myself and not bother anyone unless I was backed into a corner. As good of a plan it was, trouble always seemed to find me, especially with a brother with sensitive feelings and a hair trigger temper. The part I couldn't figure out was, how most of my family praised this boy and came down on me for avoiding conflict or fighting for my brother. Better said, I was willing to go to the grave against wrong but not sensitivity. He fought, it was my responsibility in their eyes to fight for him regardless of fault. If I didn't there were consequences and he used that to his advantage sometimes.

My brother and I were sometimes forced to fight each other by family and my brother enjoyed it. I will say I always took it easy on him for two reasons. He was my brother and I knew him. Loosing took him to a place that wasn’t good for him. I concluded during that time that I had no one. Having a mind of your own and not following the norm made you weird. Weird made you vulnerable.

I still had somethings to learn though. It was no secret Aunt Button, Juanita was her legal name, took care of my siblings and me out of necessity for the family. I will admit, she made us go to church every Sunday. You can imagine the trick that played on my mind. I am not saying I don't understand where the hardness came from, but it took years to understand it.

I must say church helped me to keep everything in order internally. It also kept me optimistic toward building something for the future. That’s where my dream was born. I, of course, had similar dreams to every other child my age of cars, a big house, money to go places, and everything else that comes with success. My dream included everyone having a stable piece and the ability to enjoy life too.

Time went on and I made decisions that would shape my way of thinking and humbled me altogether. I could remember at seven or eight being peer pressured by a group of teenagers from the neighborhood into getting my younger cousin to sodomize me orally. While I only did enough to say, I did and ran out of the room before they could say anymore, I felt sick to my stomach. Somehow the family found out, but I had already taken the lesson hard.

I knew then that gay was not me. I didn’t expect anyone to believe it, but I couldn’t get that out of head for weeks. Had nothing to do with my family’s response and everything to with it feeling wrong to me. That was also the time I found out there were a lot of kids that wanted to live that life and would not because of our environment.

Things would start to change for me as I got involved with sports. Football would be the first organized sport I play, starting with a semi organized team. I would soon after play for my cousin, Glendale. He was hard on us, but I enjoyed playing for him and so did everyone else. One thing we liked about him was, even though he was “crazy,” he loved just as hard and more importantly, the game never trumped his want to make the man. The other side to that was the way we played for him brought people to the games.