Category Archives: Book 1 The Pawns of Prophecy

1.27 Room 101

Book I: Chapter 27
June 23

The marathon revelation continued for me as I watched Alan’s torture from afar. When Bill Bates as Ghaz Ma’bus instructed his servant to take Alan to The Life Labs, even the loyal Iffat froze at the thought and I saw Alan visibly shudder at the thought…

What was it about Bates’ labs that scared everybody?

I feared we’d find out soon enough.

Not wanting to upset his master, Iffat quickly recovered and got to work — after further securing Alan to the bed’s frame, he adjusted the prison bed in such a way that Alan was raised fully upright. Then, after unlocking the wheels, Alan’s movable prison was ready to go.

Bates nodded, “All set? Good. Iffat lead the way.”

I watched as they guided Alan through stark hallways, devoid of activity. Finally, after descending multiple levels, at last they stopped before an otherwise non-descript room – its only detail of note being the numbers on the door, which read Room 101.

(Hmm, makes me think of an Orwellian book I once read. Oh, sorry, guess I’m getting off track).

Bates moved ahead to provide the security codes required to enter. Once finished, he opened the door, “Go ahead, Iffat.”

When his servant hesitated, Bates chuckled, “Don’t worry, Iffat, YOU will be exiting again.”

Still frightened, Iffat cautiously pushed Alan’s bed forward.

Torch fires burned in sconces on the walls, swathing everything in stark brightness – an evil paradox to the deadly pall emanating from Room 101. Standing in the middle of the room was none other than Tony Flipflop – the infamous doctor who’d partnered with Bates on creating the Covid plandemic.

“Welcome to the Life Labs.” Dr Flipflop proudly stated (he always was someone who loved a good show).

“It’s where Tony and I ply the task given to me by my father.” Bates added.

“Which is?” Alan could not resist.

“Why, that of attempting to unlock the mysteries of Life, The Universe, and Everything.” Bates replied in a deadpan tone.

In my vision I looked past the lap dog Dr. Flipflop and into the rest of the room. Against the rear wall I noted a steel cage – understanding at once that anyone who found himself in that cell would be facing a grim future indeed. For in the center of the room were three cold-looking, metal tables; beside each was a little push cart, filled with a plethora of cutting tools – flaying knives, bone saws, and hooks – as well as situational instruments like forceps, clamps and vices. Wash stands too stood at the head of each work area. And each table had raised edges on all but one side.

Seeing Alan also looking around, Bates also smiled, “Ah, you’re noticed our work stations. You’re probably wondering why the sides are mismatched? It’s simple really — whenever Dr. Flipflop has one of my subjects exposed on the cutting board, with their blood flowing freely – and it always does – well, I just can’t stand for him to lose even a drop. But with our tables crafted in this manner, we can ensure that Dr. Flipflop ‘s participant will have their life-force flow down the slope of the table, to run off into tiny troughs waiting below to collect that precious liquid. Clever, huh?”

Alan’s knees buckled, “Why are you showing me all this? It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I’ll never help you.”

Bates overlooked that, “Prior to our tour, you asked how I planned to influence you.” And striding casually around the room, he explained, “Surely you were around during the so-called Dark Ages, right? Alas, how I miss those days. Yet, I digress. You will make a great candidate for Nail Removal. Perhaps I’ll instruct Tony to pull off a few of your toes too. Of course, you can be sure that we won’t overlook my favorite method of all – Flaying – even I get in on the fun for that!” And he demonstrated his delicate technique in the air with one of his knives. 

(BTW, for an excellent feel for what it’s like to be flayed alive, read this article from Ranker – I can tell you from first hand experience, it’s pretty accurate!). 

Meanwhile, seeing his words hit home, Dr. Flipflop goaded Alan, “You see, that’s the beauty of it all, Mr. Zarus — Dr. Ma’bus tells me that you CAN’T die! I’ve never had a subject like that and I can’t wait to experiment on you.”

“We’ll torture you forever – until you break.” Bill sneered. “And you WILL break, Lazarus.”

Alan gritted, “You can break my bones, but you’ll never break my spirit. My Lord will protect that much.”

“Even your master broke in the end.” Bates laughed.

“Preposterous!”

Search your feelings and you know I’m correct.  We had Jesus on the brink, ready to give up. You know he felt forsaken on that cross. It was his moment of truth and when he finally realized his own father abandoned him, you know what he wailed…”

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,” Alan whispered.

“’My God, why have you forsaken me.’” Bates translated in delight. “It’s true — your Master doubted himself and all he THOUGHT he was.”

“But in the end, God DID save his son.” Alan fought Bates’ logic.

“Your God broke his promise to my father! The deal was that we could tempt Jesus WITHOUT him getting assistance from Above.”

Alan did not reply – seemingly caught in his own vision of what Christ must have endured while in the limbo of Hell without His Father’s protection. 

“Christ in Limbo” by Hieronymus Bosch

(OK, I’ll admit, this was all news to me. Even though I said I don’t care, I’m not all that keen on doubting the power of God. I mean, it’s one thing for a child to complain about his parents, but the kid doesn’t usually like it when an outsider is doing the insulting, right? That’s kind of how I felt. Bill Bates was really starting to get my goat).

“Nonetheless,” Bates calmed himself, “We are patient. My Father and I know the treacherous ways of The Cursed One. After Jesus’ death, when he descended to us, we had three good days with him – but there again your God broke his promise and forced us to give up his pitiful son.”

“This is insane. Jesus descended to Hell, overcame death, and rose again in victory within three days – just as The Scriptures said.”

“Documents written by men AFTER the fact prove nothing. Talk about Revisionist History.” (OK, so he might have a point there, but when else could we have written them?)

“That’s not even worth a reply.”

“Believe what you will. But my point is this — your Christ did NOT defeat Death. And he certainly did not defeat my father. If so, why is this war not over? No, the FACT is that we let Jesus go.”

“You’re mad.”

“Perhaps. Even still, I speak the truth. After all, in your own Scriptures, didn’t Jesus repeatedly say that your own generation would not pass away before his second coming? Yet where is he?”

(Now this was hitting too close to home. If I had any power to end my visions, this would have been one I sacked. But alas, I was locked in and, like Alan, forced to keep listening to this madman).

“I tell you the real truth!” Bates said. “Your Messiah is a coward.”

Alan changed the subject, “I will endure anything you throw at me. And my Lord will give me all the strength I need.”

“I figured you’d say that. Which is why my plan is not really to have Dr. Flipflop torture you indefinitely – just to give you a taste of what your friends will feel.”

“What do you mean? Have you done something with Benedict?”

“Don’t worry about Joseph – evil men are snared by their own sin.”

“Then who are you talking about?” Alan played dumb. “What are you really after, Ma’bus?”

“Surely you know that I need all THREE Nails. And as to what I want, you know that too, Brother — I want to destroy you, I want to destroy your master, and I want to destroy all that ever was. I want to consume it all, to be ALL!”

OK, I have to admit, by this point I actually pissed my pants – and saying that was because I’m an old man is not really true – I was scared!

Thankfully, my vision finally ended, and I could get back to my bottles of Jack — yes, I said bottles – it was the only way I knew I could escape my fate… or so I hoped…

End of Book I – Continue Reading…

Call Me Ishmael (26)

Book I: Chapter 26
June 23

Just as quickly as the Witnesses came, they were gone; once more I was looking back at Alan – and his new visitor…

So who was it that entered Alan’s room?

I’ve got to say, I was a bit shocked myself when I saw none other than Bill Bates!

Look, I’m the first to admit that I hate “The News” and I believe that President Trump is right when we says that most of it is just ‘fake’ news anyway. 

But that said, even I, who hate listening to this hogwash, even I knew enough about current events to know that Bill Bates was the most beloved world-saving philanthropists of our times. To think that he of all people would show up here as Alan’s captor was beyond belief. 

(Of course, it didn’t help matters to recall that I had actually let myself believe that Bates might actually be The Sav— but arg, enough of that!)

I shifted my attention back to Alan and his visitor…

“Bill Bates? You are The Beast!” Alan averred to the man who had entered his prison cell.

(Surprised though I was to see Bates standing there, there could be no denying it was him – especially since he wasn’t wearing a face mask. I found myself intrigued by the vision and eager for answers – how in the hell did Bill Bates turn himself into Satan’s son?!?)

Call me Ishmael.” Bates quipped in reply to Alan. “Or call me Irresistible. Although I’d prefer you stop calling me by my White Privilege name and instead kindly recognize me by the more racially equitable moniker Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus.”

“Well, this is certainly a break from your impeccable image, Mr Bates.” Alan refused to use the made up name. “What would the rest of the world think of you torturing me?”

“Torturing you?” Bates sighed. “Why I have done no such thing. My team is merely holding you for your own good. I’d say that’s pretty altruistic. And as for my image, apparently the world likes me quite a bit. After all, the U.N. elected me Secretary General.” Upon seeing Alan’s surprised look, Bates added, “Oh, that’s right. You didn’t hear the news. Well, allow me to fill you in: Ki-Moon is dead – don’t ask me how, I’m sure your friend Benedict had something to do with it. In any case, I am the new Secretary General. As usual, I gave an impassioned speech at my coronation. It was a lovely ceremony. But more importantly, this is just another stepping stone in The Great Reset – soon enough I’ll be named the first World President and then I’ll control the world forever more.”

“But…but…?”

“What’s the matter?” Bates teased, when Alan didn’t respond. “Cat got your tongue?”

“What do you need ME for?” Alan relaxed back into his bonds. “In your own words you already said you’ll control the world. What else is there?”

“I want souls, dear Brother, SOULS…”

(The way Bates said his last comment caused me to feel a terrible chill – as if his was emanating malevolence. Sorry, Alan, but immortal or not, I’m glad you’re there and not me).

Fighting against this, Alan cried out, “There’s nothing you could do to make me help you! I don’t care if The Brotherhood did help you gain control of the world’s resources after your made up plandemic – clearly we underestimated how you would use The Great Reset and your Climate Change agenda. But even still, you’re nothing more than a glorified nerd. You’ve already been given more than you deserve and when I get out of here, I’ll personally see to it that you are finished. You can’t harm me and you know it.”

“I may not be able to kill you, but I have ways to influence you.”

“Such as?”

“Well, rather than have me tell you, why don’t I SHOW you, eh?” And calling back through the doorway, “Iffat, enter.”

His servant dutifully entered — head down, awaiting his instructions.

“Iffat, kindly arrange it so that our guest can go on a little tour,” Bates commanded. Then to Alan he added, “To the Life Labs.”

(Now why doesn’t that sound like a GOOD thing?)

Continue Reading…

1.25 The Third Seal

Book I: Chapter 25
June 23

My vision about Alan did not end – instead it was interrupted – by another view of the Two Witnesses.

(Want to learn more about The Two Witnesses?

I suggest you read Revelations Chapter 11.

Hey, it’s good writing if nothing else.

“The first seal has passed.” Elijah said, his body apparently free from visions for a moment, leaving him the opportunity to relax a bit.

“The Rider on a White horse.” Enoch sighed, also calm.

“He has deceived many and inaugurated the Great Tribulation.”

“No angel of light is he.”

The fiery Red horse and its rider also has come and gone.”

“And with him open warfare and civil unrest.”

But then Elijah’s agony suddenly returned, “Now is the time for the Black Horse that John bespoke of!”

“Can they resist?” Enoch raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow.

“No one can resist The Third Seal!” Elijah fell back, unconscious.

(Actually that’s true – The Third Seal is a bitch – see for yourself…)

At this point my sight of the Two Witnesses ended and I was returned again back to my revelation about Alan and his ordeal with The Beast – would his identity finally be revealed?

Continue Reading…

1.24 Brother Lazarus

Book I: Chapter 24
June 23

The next day, I got yet another vision, but instead of giving me some answers, it only added to my confusion.

Tell me what YOU think is going on here…

<CLANG! BANG!> The thundering sound caused a man strapped to a bed to wake up – it was Alan.

But just where was he? I could tell that Alan had no clue and I was unable to make out much from his lonely surroundings.

The last thing I remember about Alan was that he had collected his Nail from the CEC Catacomb vault and was on his way to see Joseph – until he got jumped by a bunch of goons.

After that I didn’t see him again – until now.

“Ah, finally you’ve decided to join us,” a metallic voice blared through a loudspeaker affixed to a nearby wall. “I trust your stay has been pleasant? No? Oh well, please feel free to take it up with management. Oh yes, that’s me. Well, your complaint has been duly noted. Thank you.”

(Now who the hell is this joker?)

“Wha–?” Alan began. “Who are you? Is this The Vatican?”

“Please save all your questions till the end of the tour.” The voice continued. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s begin.”

Alan tried to sit up – only to discover that he was bound to his bed.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that?” The voice said. “Well, that’s merely a precaution – for your own safety. Not your safety from anything to do with the virus, mind you, but for, well let’s just say…other reasons. And to answer your question – No, this is not The Vatican.”

Although he was a prisoner, I could tell that Alan was more annoyed than frightened. Did he remember the conspiracy theories he and Teri had been discussing back in Bucharest? Was he worried about the personal safety of his friend Pope Benedict? Did he think he’d been nabbed by contact tracers and taken into the shadow world of the UN Quarantine Camps? I didn’t know the answers to those questions, but I could see he was no mood to banter with some halfwit captor.  

“What do you want with me?” Alan asked.

“Master Alan Zarus, until recently, the Sef de Catadre of Bucharest University’s History Department. Prior that, you were at Antioch. And before that, Jerusalem – serving 15 years there. Then let’s see, oh yes, before that you were in the New World – at UCLA, Loyola of Chicago, and Saint Bonaventure. Nearly a decade at each – hmm, very interesting.”

Alan remained silent. (I knew he wasn’t liking where this was going).

“What I don’t understand is the timeline.” The voice replied slyly. “I’ve just rattled off a period of no less than seventy-five years – seventy-five! — yet, you don’t look a day past forty. What’s your secret, man? Are you using a mountain of Oil of Olay? Have you discovered the Fountain of Youth? No, I’ve got it — you must have the Holy Grail!”

“Clearly you have me confused with someone else.” Alan replied without emotion. “I was only an intern at Jerusalem and prior to that had no professional history.”

“Oh yes, and I am a retired investor on a pension, living here as a Jew in the twilight of my life.” The speaker quipped (are we quoting movies now?), “Come off it, man. We both know that’s a lie. If you hadn’t been so damned overconfident you would have changed your identity. You didn’t — you simply changed your locale. Did you really think we wouldn’t find you, Laz—ah, perhaps I’ll save that.”

Alan flinched, but did not reply.

“I DID see that, by the way.” The voice slithered. “But, I didn’t need that to confirm anything.” (Obviously his captor knew Alan was Lazarus. Oops, hope I didn’t just ruin the suspense for you).

“What do you want?”

“We’re not there yet. I’m having too much fun. Now where was I? Oh yes, this impresses me – you’re quite the secret society buff; and I’m not just talking research, you’re active! Let’s name just a few, shall we… first there’s the prestigious Club of Rome – ooh. And let’s not forget The Committee of 300 – obviously very selective. I’m impressed — especially since I was active in those too. But, by now, you knew that right, Brother?”

(There’s that damn Brotherhood again — don’t worry, I’ll get to that).

Alan sighed. “I can see you have quite an imagination.”

“Is that so? Then, I’m sure you won’t have any concerns about this.”

On cue, the door to Alan’s room opened. In walked an otherwise non-descript middle-eastern man, he wore a surgical mask (apparently he never got the memo about how dangerous those cancer cloths were) and was clothed in a simple black robe. Standing silently, he held a silver platter, while looking vacantly at the far wall.

Alan’s eyes went to the object on the tray – a wooden caisse about a foot long. (I’ll bet you know what that is. This is not a good sign).

Alan struggled to break free, “Damn you!”

“Ah, something finally has registered.” The speaker jeered. “Come now, did you really think I didn’t know about It?” Then instructing the attendant, “Go ahead, Iffat, open the case.”

(Ah, that’s a BIG mistake).

“NO!” Alan urged. “Don’t do it, man. It’s a death sentence.”

Iffat didn’t heed Alan’s warning, instead he opened the tiny black coffin, revealing the lone object inside – an iron rod nestled amidst red velvet.

At this point, the speaker advised, “All right, Iffat, you can close the box.” (Wise move).

The servant did as commanded and then left the room – despite his protests Alan was powerless to stop him. Yet the interrogator laughed, “Don’t worry, my men won’t touch the Nail – they know better… now. I just wanted you to know your prize was safe. Soon, I’ll have the two held by your friends… And YOU will help me get them.”

(So he wants my Nail too? Fine by me. Come and get it).

Yet Alan didn’t agree, “NEVER! I’ll never help you!”

Harsh laughter boomed from the speaker in reply.

Alan screamed, “What do you want?”

Still no answer came forth.

“Who are you?” Alan tried again.

Finally, the voice replied, “You know who I am, Brother Lazarus.”

Showing no emotion or further surprise, Alan closed his eyes and simply stated, “You are The Beast.”

At that, the door opened, and in walked…

Just then the vision ended… BEFORE I could get a look at The Beast’s face!

Who was it?

Could it really be… Joseph?

Continue Reading…

1.23 Vision of the Skull

Book I: Chapter 23
June 22

My marathon day of visions continued. After moving past the vision of Mary and Jesus, my second – and much more interesting – vision, was pretty deep — think Book of Revelations

Revelation Two Beasts

As best I could make out, I was witnessing a FUTURE event—for I was looking upon The Altar of The One True God at The Temple of Jerusalem and immediately I spied Chief Rabbi Yona Metzger, Pope Benedict XVI, the Ayatollah, and that crazy nut Bill Bates — all together.

Given the hordes of people covering the hillsides, I surmised that this was the much publicized ceremony that Rabbi Metzger was organizing to unite their religions in a new era of brotherly love. (Hogwash in my opinion, but who am I to object?)

My vision blurred for a moment, and when it returned, the entire mood had shifted; something was off – for the rabbi was now laying motionless upon The Altar — and peering closer I could see he was dead. Looking around, I also noticed three crosses in the background — they had an eerie resemblance to the ones back on Golgotha – especially since I saw figures on those crosses – crucified!

I strained my eyes to identify the victims – only to get a major shock – for the first body hanging limply on a cross was Lazarus!

I turned to the second cross – only to see Mary.

(Can you guess who was nailed to the third?)

Yes, it’s always unnerving to see yourself as a bloody corpse, but over the years, I’ve been stabbed, shot, and killed in so many ways that it doesn’t affect me much anymore. Instead what excited me about this vision was that, perhaps, just perhaps, this death would really take.

For if this prophecy was true, it seemed I was looking upon the event which I had been waiting nearly two thousand years for – my own death!

Whoopee!!

Now as I told you before, Mary, Lazarus, and I had all been made immortal so that we could stop the coming of The Antichrist. This was our Commission and if successful, we’d be assisting Jesus in his glorious return – unfortunately, it was a job at which we had failed miserably – many times.

For nearly two thousand years, we’d been on guard. At various times in the past, my friends and I thought The End Times were approaching and that the Antichrist walked the earth – yet upon every occasion we were wrong.

Now, however, it appeared that I was finally seeing a different vision – for it was the first which showed the deaths of The Immortals – which I always knew was a key to The End.

Unfortunately for the sake of The Commission, again it seemed that my friends and I had failed – for in my vision The Beast was very much alive, while we three were clearly dead. (Oops!)

Once more my vision got hazy. When next it cleared, I found myself riveted back to the altar – someone was standing there. It was a man who looks like everyman, yet no man. He was wearing a crown of thorns and blood was raining from his head. For a moment I thought it was Jesus, but suddenly I realized it was another – Bill Bates!

Or was it? For his face shifted, and I was left to wonder, Is it you, Lord? Are you really Bill Bates?

Yet there was no time to be sure, for now there was more activity over at the crosses. Something was being done to defile us — a figure in white was pushing a spear into the sides of our bodies.

That’s when I realized Lazarus and Mary were NOT dead after all – for I heard them scream as they got impaled!

Did that finally kill them? I had no time to ponder further, for now the mysterious murderer came over to me.

Entering my own body in my vision, I looked down upon my murderer, yet before I could make out his face, he pierced me too!

“YAAAWWWWWP!!!!” I wailed and even though it was a vision, it hurt like Hell!

To my horror I realized just what we had been speared by — This wasn’t the infamous Spear of Longinus, instead it was one our Nails… The Nails of Jesus Christ!

Immediately my soul began to separate from my body and I was floating away to… to?

As I felt my true self being torn from this world, my vision shifted back to The Altar.

Bill Bates was there and the figure in white was approaching him from behind.

Finally I could see his face clearly — it was none other than Joseph Ratzinger — Pope Benedict XVI!

Then it was that I made a shocking observation: Joseph was actually carrying The Nails – something no mortal had ever done and lived to tell about it.

Yet the pope was doing it — carefully he took each one and installed them in a glowing new crown – even as Bill Bates was removing his own crown of thorns.

His face a picture of <POWER!>, Bates was glowing with Victory.  Meanwhile, Joseph face showed a sly smile as he lowered the crown filled with our Nails down upon Bates’ head…

<A Blinding Light from Above!>

And the vision expired.

Breathless, I was left with but one thought..

Can it really be true? My God, Pope Benedict will be responsible for the death of Bill Bates!

Wait, which one is The Antichrist?!?

Continue Reading…

You Can’t Always Get What You Want (22)

Book I: Chapter 22
June 22

Like I was trying to tell you, today I received not one, but two new visions. Well, one was more of a memory and the other was a revelation…

At first, I was transported back in time to witness a conversation between Mary and Jesus – it must have been shortly before his death. 

By the look of the surroundings it appeared they were somewhere in the hills of the Garden of Gethsemane.

“Why do you always talk of leaving us?” Mary asked. “Ever since we reached Jerusalem, the only thing you talk about is your death!”

(Hey, I’ll bet this was that same Passover day I just thought about. Yeah, I remember now, it was about mid-day when Jesus and Mary went off;  Judas was away buying provisions, and the rest of us were preparing the room. How ironic – I was just thinking about that day, huh?)

“This is what Father has planned.” Jesus said. “It is my destiny.”

“But, what about me? Us?” Mary buried her face in his chest. “Stay with me. Together we can lead your flocks to salvation. Isn’t that what you want?” (See, I told you she wanted to be a leader).

“You will indeed have a hand in helping the world find salvation.” Jesus held her close. “But your destiny is not with me. I must be about my Father’s business.”

“You must die?!” Mary pulled back. “Your Father wants you to die? Why would he let Evil triumph over you? It doesn’t make sense!”

“Much of life doesn’t make sense while it is happening.” Jesus wiped Mary’s tears. “This is not The End. Once it is finished, you will understand.”

“So you are just going to let The Pharisees… kill you? You’re going to desert your disciples? Desert me? Desert the world you came to save?”

“It is the only way.” Jesus laid a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not!” Mary pushed his hand away. “It’s not the only way. It’s YOUR way. I don’t agree!” (Ah, Mary, always the Drama Queen).

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” And more softly still. “Or what you want, Mary. The Son of Man must obey his Father’s will. You KNOW this is the case – Gabriel told you so.”

“Don’t tell me what The Angel said! Those visions are my own; given to me so that… so that… I can change the future if need be!”

“This is not one of those times, Mary.” Jesus cautioned. “Gabriel’s words are a gift. And later I will bless you with another gift. You will use them in the future to help this world. But, on this occasion, there is no action for you to take. What will be, will be.”

Mary’s shoulders slumped; even I could tell her heart was breaking.

“Please don’t leave me in my time of need, Mary.” Jesus extended a hand out to her. “I DO need you.”

The pain was evident in Jesus’ eyes as Mary looked at him. I watched as she began to reach out to take his hand, but then…

I would guess that here Mary realized that no matter what she did, it would not stop Jesus’ death and the thought of him being crucified was apparently too much for her to bear – for Mary suddenly cried out in agony and ran off – racing to escape her sorrow.  

Jesus did not chase her.

Mary sought out the secluded confines of the stone hills to lament the situation – perhaps trying to work out a plan to change Jesus’ mind?

Whatever her plans may have been, as it turned out, Mary would not see Jesus again until he was captured and then crucified – and by then it was too late.

Suddenly I wondered – did she ever forgive herself for deserting her Lord?

For a brief moment I actually felt sorry for Mary.

For a brief moment I actually felt sorry for Mary. 

But then I remembered a great song by The Rolling Stones and opened up a bottle of one of Budweiser Copper Lagers – that took my mind off Mary and put me in a better mood. 

Unfortunately I couldn’t enjoy myself too much because I still had to tell you about that other revelation…

Continue Reading…

A Bad Rap (21)

Book I: Chapter 21
June 22

So today I got MULTIPLE visions, abo–

Eh, what’s that — you have more questions? But don’t you want to hear about my vision? Oh, all right, go ahead, ask away…

If we are all immortal, why are Miriam and Alan so much younger than me?

That’s a damn good question – have you seen me lately? Does this look like it’s any fun?

Why am I so old?

I have often asked over the years.

A better question is – why in hell did Miriam and Alan get to remain so young and good looking while I had to grow old and haggard?

Ha, if only I knew the answer. Again, I go back to me supposedly being Jesus’ beloved and yet this is how he blesses me? Sounds like a pretty raw deal.

Was it Jesus who gave immortality to all three of us?

Yes.

When did he make Alan immortal and why?

As for the When – here’s another opportunity for you to read that great book I was telling you about – The Gospel of John. Open it up to Chapter 11 and you’ll see when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. But surely you already know that story, right? 

As for the Why, I would have to say for two reasons:

  1. First off, Lazarus was very dear to Jesus. We all liked Lazarus and his two sisters Mary of Bethany (not to be confused with Mary Magdalene) and Martha. All three of them were always kind to us whenever we stopped by. Lazarus even traveled around with us for awhile.
  2. But probably the real reason is that Jesus wanted Lazarus to help Mary and I with The Commission and I guess Jesus figured Lazarus would be the brain power behind the operation.

If that’s not correct, then your guess is as good as mine.

When did he make Miriam immortal and why?

Gee, let’s not get too obvious with our questions, huh? Well, this one is a bit trickier – at least for me – because, like I said before, Mary and I were never all that close — despite the many centuries we have known each other.

I’m sure she told me her story many times, but for whatever reason I just can’t recall it now. (Hey, I’m an old man, we’re allowed to have selective memory, right?).

Was there ever something romantic between Jesus and Miriam?

Honestly, I don’t know. Even though He did spend a lot of time with her (especially at the end), Jesus never gave us ANY indication that He was nothing but a perfect gentleman. In spite of my personal grievances against our Lord, I still believe He was 100% a man without sin and that, even if He was tempted, He never succumbed.

That being said, there are a lot of people and conspiracy theories to the contrary and I’m sure you can find them if you search a bit online, but don’t expect me to go peddling any.

Was Mary of Magdala a prostitute or the adulteress whom Jesus saved from stoning?

OK, I guess now I DO feel a little sorry for Mary on that account, because she really has gotten her name muddied up over the years.

Here are the FACTS:

  1. The woman you likely know as Mary Magdalene was a person whom Jesus did cast out seven demons from.
  2. She came from the village of Magdala (a city on the southwest coast of the Sea of Galilee).
  3. After Jesus exorcised her demons, Mary followed us around – however, unlike most of those He cured who eventually left our group, Mary continued to stay on and got more involved.

As for Mary’s reputation as a woman of ill repute, I know the stories as well as you. She was associated with ‘the woman in the city who was a sinner’ (Luke: Chapter 7), and even more so, many people still believe that she is the adulteress whom Jesus saved from stoning in my gospel (John: Chapter 8).

In point of fact, Mary is NOT either of those women and there really isn’t any evidence in The Bible to support those associations. If you want to know more about this topic, read an article a friend of mine wrote…

So how did Mary get such a bad rap?

Well, here I must confess that I am partly to blame – along with James and Peter. We were the early leaders of a new religious sect called The Way and it was pretty chaotic after Jesus left us. We did the best we could trying to keep things organized as we spread The Good News and gained more followers, but Mary had her own designs – no, let me correct that statement, she wanted to be our new leader!

Ah, heeeeellll, no — I’m not following some upstart woman! And the rest of the apostles agreed.

But Mary wouldn’t listen. She went off and recruited her own disciples. She even went so far as to write her own Gospel!

What could we do? We had to stop her.

So we came up with some rumors to discredit her. After all, the city of Magdala was a hotbed for prostitution back in our day, so if Mary became guilty by association, well, it just made our job all the easier.

Unfair or not, our plan DID work and Mary was discredited. But look here, the end justifies the means in my book – after all, The Way turned into Christianity and thereby did we spread Jesus’ message to the world.

Do I feel bad about destroying Mary Magdalene’s reputation?

Not really.

Just to set the record straight, I will say a few more GOOD things about Mary to show you that I can be fair and balanced. In fact, Mary was one of the few who stayed around to witness most of the events of Jesus’ last days – especially his passion and crucifixion. She was there at the mock trial, she heard Pontius Pilate agree to the death sentence, and she saw our Lord beaten and humiliated by the soldiers and the crowd.  

Additionally, along with myself and Jesus’ mother, Mary Magdalene stood on Golgotha to try to comfort Jesus while he was dying on that cross – even whilst all the other disciples fled for their own safety.

“The Crucifixion with the Virgin Mary, St John and St Mary Magdalene” by Anthony Van Dyck, c 1619

Furthermore, Mary was actually the first person to witness the resurrection of Jesus and it was she who came back to tell me and Peter about it. In addition, I will admit here and now that Mary was also present when the Holy Spirit descended upon us all at Pentecost.

Given all this evidence, it’s pretty safe to say that Mary was one of the Chosen.

If she just didn’t cause so much trouble, then perhaps things could have gone better for her. But, as you know by now, Mary is not one to keep her opinions to herself. Too bad for her. Oh well.

OK, let’s stop this charade. That’s enough questions from you!

Let’s get back to our reason for being here – He’s going to be very angry with me if I don’t tell you about these prophecies.

I’ve got more revelations to share so pay attention, please.

Continue Reading…

A Good Man (20)

Book I: Chapter 20
June 22

I pouted for a couple days — tinkering around in the garage working on my… project.

As I told you before, I’m currently living in upstate Pennsylvania – in a town called Williamsport to be exact.

Now if you’re wondering what there is to do in Williamsport, let me answer you – not much. I migrated here over fifty years ago because I wanted to live in a secluded town where I wouldn’t be bothered. For the most part, that’s still the case.

 The city (if you can call it that) is located in the northern part of Pennsylvania, a little east of center. When I moved here back in the 1950’s it was still a pretty small town, but since then it has grown to about 30,000 or so – some of that started with an influx of supposedly rehabbing criminals that were shipped from Philly in the last couple decades of the twentieth century and then even more came after the various Covid Health Rezoning and Racial Equity Redistribution Plans that started back in 2021 and 2022. To encourage Williamsport to accept these fine new citizens, the state paid the city a bunch of money for so-called sustainable community projects; it wasn’t a fair exchange. This place used to be a decent country village with respectable people who lived in harmony with police and other first-responders, but that all went to pot when they let the BLM and Antifa agitators take over.

These ‘peaceful’ protesters (as the #FakeNews always called them) were naught but goons too stupid to realize they were being used as pawns to support the higher agenda of The Great Reset. The new regime was never going to give BLM and Antifa the equality they claimed to be fighting for, but most of the protestors didn’t care about that anyway – instead, because they were allowed to do what they loved best (loot, pillage, and spout their madness at all hours of the night), they happily played the part assigned to them – spreading terror as part of the 2020 Election-Steal campaign in order to try to make our people vote against President Trump.

The hard-working, blue-collar people of this area knew Trump wasn’t really responsible for the anarchy and thus we voted in droves to reelect President Trump and his ‘law and order’ policies. Unfortunately, like people in other other swing states, we learned too late that our votes didn’t really matter. President Trump was never going to be re-elected, no matter how many votes he got because a cabal of well-funded powerful organizations from around the world had worked together behind the scenes to decide the matter beforehand.

In PA we witnessed the stolen election first hand. On election day, President Trump was the clear winner by an overwhelming majority – just like he was in Michigan, Georgia, and other swing states. After watching President Trump wipe the floor with Biden on Election Night, I went to bed certain of Trump’s relection. Oh how foolish I was. Like many others I watched in horror as the fine folks in Philly and Harrisburg assured their overlords not to worry about the overwhelming support for Trump in rural communities like Williamsport, and true to their word the cabal and their agents ‘found’ all the mail-in votes and computerized ballot dumps they needed to steal the state of PA for their candidate instead – taking as many days as they needed to change the result in their favor – just like their partners did in other swing states.

And that, my friends, is how you steal an election in the twenty-first century.

Unfortunately they left the ‘peaceful’ protesters to continue to plague us. Worse yet they also defunded the police and other social services. As a result, the Antifa goons have pretty much taken over the city proper and they’ve continued to cause havoc as part of the new socialist government’s agenda to keep the people cowering in fear and begging for martial law to protect them. Williamsport, as it once was, is now a thing of the past – like so many other towns across The New CCP America.

I’d prefer to think of happier times instead.

Hey, did you know that in the late 1800s Williamsport was actually known as The Lumber Capital of the World? Or that Williamsport once had more millionaires per-capita than anywhere in the United States at the time?

I doubt you know any of this or even care. In fact, if you’ve heard of this town at all, it’s likely because it was the birthplace of Little League baseball and it’s the home of the Little League World Series

I guess I should say it USED to be the home of the LLWS – like so many things Covid cancelled that event (in the name of public safety, of course). There was talk about it trying to make a comeback in 2022, but with youth sports destroyed by the pandemic Health Regulations (especially in uber-socialist states like PA) and with domestic and international air travel so severely limited by vaccine passports and the like, The Little League World Series never really had a chance.

It pains me to remember what once was and what the plandemic’s public health policies stole from us.

Seeing a baseball game in person is one of the things I miss most.

I love baseball and while I never played (the game didn’t even exist when I was in my youth), for whatever reason I could never get enough of watching this pastime. Sure my favorite team is the Phillies, but being that they are three-plus hours away by car, and given all the Covid Health Regulations you have to comply with to see a live game, I don’t have the option anymore.

Prior to Covid, if I wanted to see some live ball, I had a couple options – I used to be able to drive into town and watch the local minor league affiliate of the Phillies called the Williamsport Crosscutters, or I could have gone to any number of local Little League games and see the sport in its purest form.

All of that is gone now – again in the name of public health.

While the government still allowed for professional sports (they were after all the modern day opiate of the people), everything below that level has pretty much become relics of a bygone era. I still remember the time when nobody cared about viruses or ever considered snitching on their neighbor for not wearing a mask. I remember life before mandatory vaccines or Freedom Passes. I even remember the pre-Covid age of neighborhood cookouts and fun. And little league baseball was a big part of that.

Believe it or not, I wasn’t always a crotchedy old man. I even used to volunteer as a coach at the Brandon Little League that played in a local park across the street from my friend Frank Stoppa’s house (yes it’s true – I really did have friends in my life). I enjoyed my time as a little league coach and I was a stalwart at the Brandon Little League for over two decades. Unfortunately, in the late 80’s, I started to feel under-appreciated by some of the parents, and later on I started to get questioned as to why an old geezer like me was so interested in helping out with young boys and girls who were not related to me. Eventually it just wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. (Gee whiz, it’s not like I was recruiting some kid to be my catamite. I simply loved the game – is that such a crime?).

As for my friend Frankie, he was quite a pal. With a shock of black hair ever-filled with Brylcreem, he was a greasy-haired Italian-Pollock who was one of the few people in the world I’ve ever met who truly got it.

It was Frankie who introduced me to my faithful friends Jim and Jack (Reeves and Daniels that is), as well as to such beer classics as PBR, Genesee, and Yuengling. And it was Frankie who also turned me on to country music. Many a night it was that the two of us would put away a case of beer or a few fifths of whiskey listening to Jim Reeves, Conway Twitty, or Hank Williams.

Yes, Frankie understood that life was pretty much pointless unless you could find some way to enjoy it.

He was quite a character – as gregarious as I am quiet – and for over forty years we made quite a team. Unfortunately for me, Frank passed away back in 2009 and things haven’t been the same since.

He was my last real friend. He knew my secrets – and he took them to the grave.  Funny enough, I was there at his funeral mass when his grandson gave what I consider the most fitting eulogy of all time – not only was the talk filled with humorous stories about Frankie’s life, but at the very end, (right there in a Catholic Church mind you), his grandson cracked open a can of Pabst and sent Frankie off with a toast of ‘one for the road!’ I can’t imagine the balls it took for his grandson to stand up in a catholic church and make a toast with a beer can. I heard after the fact that the priest was none too happy about it. 

And yet, I don’t have such a luxury — I’ll never get a eulogy like that because I’m stuck here. Despite the fact that I still enjoy my baseball, and my booze, and my music, I’d gladly give it all away if I could only die like my friend Frankie.

I’m just oh so tired of being alive. Can you understand that? I doubt it.

There’s a section of King Solomon’s Book of Ecclesiastes (Chapter 12) which comes close to what I’m feeling. Let me read it to you,

“…The years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them.’ When the sun and the moon and the stars grow dark. When old men rise up at the sound of birds, but all their songs grow faint. When even the grasshopper drags himself along — for desire is no longer stirred. Then shall the dust shall return to the ground it came from, and the spirit to the God who gave it. [But for me] Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”

If you open your Bible and read that book, you’ll notice that I did NOT add that last section about Life being “meaningless” – Solomon himself wrote those words and he was supposed to be the wisest man who ever lived so if you got a problem, take it up with him. In any case, his words sure as hell apply to me.

But, what more can I do?

I can’t die, and yet I don’t want to keep on living. And so, I am forced to suffer a meaningless existence – unless I can figure out a way to change my fate. Covid couldn’t kill me, neither could the mRNA vaccines that killed so many others. But not to worry, because that’s what my Project is all about.

I’d love to finally tell you about something IMPORTANT – like my Project – but alas, right now I’m supposed to talk about my visions… again.

Continue Reading…

1.19 American Idol

Book I: Chapter 19
June 20 (and a time long past)

Having just witnessed unwelcome memories from nearly 2,000 years ago I was ready for a break. 

“Ha! ‘Surely Mary won’t wait around forever?’ Eh, Peter?” I quipped to myself as I remembered what my friend said and took another sip of my iced tea (yes it was a Long Island).

“Well, it seems we were wrong about that, for hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?”

Still on my porch, I snickered to myself with chagrin – for as I pondered the situation in hindsight it seemed that nobody got what they wanted:

  • Lazarus never did get Mary.
  • Jesus never accepted Mary’s advances.
  • I’m still here rotting in this worn out husk of a body.
  • All of our dreams have been dashed.

“Why have you cursed us like this, Lord?” And I threw my glass down on the porch – watching it smash into countless pieces, even as the remaining liquid quickly seeped through the floorboards. Overwhelmed with shame, I cried, “I am worn out calling for help, God. Will my life never end? Even if I end up in the land of gloom and shadow – even still I will go if it means I can only escape this so-called life!”

As if on cue, I noticed the radio was playing yet another one of my favorite songs – the Jim Reeves classic, “Am I that Easy to Forget?”

Guess I could find somebody, too. But I don’t want no one but you. How could you leave without regret? Am I that easy to forget?

I was about to let myself be drawn deeper into the song, when… “We interrupt this broadcast,” came the urgent words of the announcer, “with a special report about the assassination of UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon…”

“NO, not again – what about my Phillies game?”

I stewed as the Special Report was delivered — no less than thirty minutes of rigmarole about how, as yet, no one knew who had assassinated Ki-Moon (although I had a pretty good idea); that an emergency meeting of the UN had already taken place; and that William Henry Bates III (Bingo!) had already been elected as interim Secretary General.

After this, there was a short audio clip from Bates’ acceptance speech in which the beloved philanthropist explained that while his first inclination was to advise he was not worthy of such an honor, in fact he agreed to accept the nomination – at least on a short term basis – because he realized that the world needed him, and therefore he promised to do his best to lead the planet to prosperity.

Bates took the opportunity to remind people that he’d continue to work hard to help himself and others like him overcome their White Privilege disease, and as proof of his commitment to promoting BLM and Critical Race Theory goals he announced he was changing his name to the Muslim-inspired moniker Dr. Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus. (Just like Teri had warned Alan about – although Teri missed the part about Bates taking on the “Dr.” title – apparently stealing a page from the puppet president Joe Biden’s wife’s playbook on how to give yourself fake credentials). Next this new Dr. Ma’bus explained how he would use his UN platform to protect the world from Climate Change disasters in the hopes that building a more sustainable world would eventually put an end to the never-ending cycle of pandemics that had plagued our planet since 2019.

Bates nee Ma’bus’ message was one of hope and freedom for all people in the world and he the more he talked the more he promoted himself as the People’s Savior.

Now as odd as this might sound, during the initial newscast I was quite dour – especially when Dr. Ma’bus was talking about the UN Agenda 2030 propaganda pawns like BLM, CRT, and Covid, and about his silly new name. Yet the more the Bates/Ma’bus audio clip was playing, the more I found myself getting inspired (just a bit) by Bill’s passion when he proclaimed himself to be our savior as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus. It was a contagious sensation that I could not shake and soon enough a smile began to form beneath the scraggly curls of my beard the more I listened to Ma’bus smooth voice.

His voice beckoned me.

And then, as if the shackles of two thousand years of lethargy were suddenly released, I jumped up and looked to the Heavens. “Could this really be The Time?” I was actually hopeful. And in spite of myself, I began to praise, “When my soul is downcast within me, I will remember you. O Lord, have you returned to us in the person of the Muslim Savior Ghaz ‘al Ridwan Ma’bus?”

Meanwhile, Dr. Ma’bus continued to talk – encouraging the world to unite in brotherly love across every race and religion — and my Hope sprang even higher!

“Lord, are you him?” I desperately clutched my radio, hanging on the savior’s next words.

But then it happened, for as the applause from the crowd became so overwhelming, Ma’bus himself could no longer be heard.

“Noooooooo!” I collapsed in despair. “Don’t desert me again!”

Yet, my protests were to no avail. And when the regular newsman’s voice came back over the speaker, my newfound inspiration evaporated; once more I felt as if I was nothing more than a worthless sinner who had yet again been forgotten and abandoned.

Pity?

I don’t want your pity.

You can stuff your sorries in a sack, Mister!!

If there were any last vestiges of hope, I quickly beat them down. 

But then a small, still voice inside me seemed to say…

“John, John, why do you forsake me?”

Yet I refused to listen. Instead  simply reached towards my radio, and clicked the dial.

A lone tear trickled down my cheek, as I resolved to go inside and get into bed – to put an end to another miserable day.

As for me, it’s always the same – I am scorned and disgraced. Shame has broken my heart and left me helpless. Why do You forsake me so?”

And trudging along the porch, “Let the world take care of itself. Or let Bates’ Ma’bus persona do it. He doesn’t need me. You don’t need me, Lord. Nobody needs ME anymore.”

And with that, I went inside and closed the door – leaving even my Phillies to fend for themselves.

(Bummer, huh?)

Continue Reading…

1.17 The Great Harvest

Book I: Chapter 17
June 17

Let’s just say I wasn’t successful in drinking myself into oblivion to end my visions.

God learned how to overcome my little tricks a long time ago.

But don’t think He got the last laugh. 

The fact is that, visions or no visions, my hot tub and a few bottles of Beam are always a big help – let’s just say they help to ‘clear up’ the revelations a bit. 

Ahhh. Bring on the prophecies – I’m ready for ’em! I may not remember them, but who care, right?

Now where were we?

Oh that’s right – Miriam.

OK, so my vision continued as I watched Miriam break away from Gabriel, “But, why must people a thousand generations or more removed from Adam still have to suffer for his sin? Is God such a begrudging lord?”

(Sing it, Sister! Finally she says something intelligent.)

“Miriam, why must we debate this so often?” Gabriel replied. “You know the difference — the sacrifice of The Christ provided for the ultimate forgiveness of all men’s sins. HOWEVER, the Lord has not taken away Free Will. And despite forgiveness, there will always be consequences for sin.” And before Miriam could interrupt, Gabriel spoke on, “This is not to say that ONLY 144,000 will enter The Kingdom and that the others will be barred forever, just that only those few will be raptured without pain; while the rest will be disciplined for their transgressions. It is a discipline given out of love, in an effort to teach the wayward about the Righteous Path.”

“Descent of Christ through Purgatory” by Andrea da Firenze

(I’ve heard the whole ‘Purgatory’ argument before. In the past I used to buy in to it, now I call it hogwash).

“But even with Purgatory as an option, not everyone will make it.” Miriam stated. “Because not all will repent and accept, will they?”

“Ah, even I do not know the answer to that. Yet understand that The Story of Redemption goes beyond just this planet. For our God is the Lord of ALL the Universe — every universe. And whilst each universe may have differences, in the end the Lord’s goal is the same…

“To glory in the creation of ever more souls made Holy as a result of Free Will – for whenever a soul freely chooses to worship The Lord, all of Heaven rejoices!”

(OK, I realize this is pretty deep. If you understand, great, if not, just don’t worry about it for now. After all, when are YOU going to be travelling to another universe? Just worry about yourself, cupcake, that’s hard enough).

“And now the Time of Truth has come for Earth.” Miriam concluded.

This is the day the lord has made, let us be glad and rejoice!” Gabriel praised. “Indeed, millennia ago, your world was sown and cared for. When The Christ came, he began the process of pruning. And now, The Earth is finally ready – for only with the pains of harvest can the crops finally be served – which is their true purpose. Such is the case for souls everywhere – none can reach The Lord without The Great Harvest.

“The Triumph of the Lamb” by Matthias Gerung

“And this happens on every world?” Miriam asked.

“Not every world goes through the same life cycle. Oh, be certain that Lucifer and his minions are active in every location, however not always with the same results. Some worlds never know the stain of Original Sin – for the souls there rejected Lucifer from the onset – when it was the easiest to resist – and thus they have been in Harmony with God for all of their existence. Oh how these worlds shine! Yet, just the same, there are other worlds in which Lucifer’s allure was apparently irresistible, and upon those locales, nearly all of the souls have been lost. These are horror filled, forsaken places…“ Here the angel paused.

Miriam too shuddered at the thought of such hell-worlds.

Eventually Gabriel found his voice again, “And yet, it is worlds like your Earth that The Lord takes the most pleasure in — for the balance of power between Good and Evil is ever changing, and the final outcome is uncertain – which makes the Battle here all the more important.” And fixing his gaze ominously upon Miriam, “Do not underestimate the significance of what is happening here. And, do not underestimate the part that YOU are playing. The Heavenly Host needs YOU. Succeed in your mission — help Mankind make the right choice.”

“But how? I don’t have the worldly prestige to influence so many, and time is running out.”

Commit to the Lord whatever you do and your plans will succeed, Miriam.” The angel reminded. “Don’t allow The Beast to reveal himself to the world – for if he gets the opportunity to glorify himself on the world stage, his allure will be nearly irresistible, and I fear that your Earth may be lost forever. If that happens, then you won’t be complaining about man-made pandemics or vaccine deaths or even about only 144,000 being saved – instead we’ll be lucky to even harvest 4,000.“

“Oh my — save us, Lord!” Miriam clutched her Book of Life, sheltering the names inside. “But, Gabriel, even if we do stop The Beast, what will it mean in the grand scheme of things – beyond just our world?”

“In the end, what happens on this planet will mimic The Ultimate Story of Redemption only if Man realizes the error of his ways and freely chooses Life with God — for only then will you be able to reconnect with your true purpose in life – to serve God. Whether they know it or not, it is this form Redemption that ALL of Creation is seeking – even…The Dark One himself.”

“Satan.”

(Yes, there IS a Force of Darkness. Call him ‘the devil,’ or ‘Lucifer,’ or whatever you want, but He does exist. If you don’t believe me, then it’s YOU who are the fool).

“Indeed. On a grand scale, Mankind’s tale is a microcosm of Lucifer’s – for the end goal of the Ultimate Revelation is not the destruction of man, and especially NOT of Lucifer, but instead, The Lord seeks to purge Lucifer’s evil nature away in the hopes that he will repent of his sins and eventually reunite with God Himself. For only when such an event occurs can Creation truly be made whole again…Yet, whether or when this will happen, who can say?”

“Oh, but this all goes so far beyond me.” Miriam lamented. “What do my efforts really matter?”

“Can you fathom the mysteries of God? You are a part of Creation. A member of the Great Play. Your part IS critical.”

“What if I can’t fulfill my duty?” Miriam cried.

“What if you never try?” Gabriel softened his tone again. “When you come to the end of all the Light you have, Faith is knowing that when you take the next step either you’ll land on something solid or else you’ll learn how to fly.”

(He did NOT just make that up. I’ve heard that quote before – I think it was coined by a fellow named Edward Teller).

“For you, O God, tested us.” Miriam prayed. “You refined us like silver. But you brought us to a place of abundance.” And yet, still she hesitated. (Typical Miriam).

At last the Angel could take it no more. And so, rising up to his full height, he unveiled his awesome wings and roared, “Enough! Now is the time. I command you — Fly, Miriam, FLY!” Gabriel’s words thundered so loud that even I was taken aback by the they held.

(Thankfully my vision ended on that note and I was given a measure of peace, so I turned up the bubbles on my hot tub and sank deeper into the steam. Ah, Heaven – the only kind I’ve ever known and guess what, it ain’t half bad. Hey, you gotta take what you can get in life, right?)

Continue Reading…