Chronicles of the
Children of Destiny
‘Terra Chronicles’
by
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
http://noahidebooks.angelfire.com
© 6174 SC (2010 CE/AD)
Stories:
1. Terra Chronicles
2. The Song of Eternity
3. The Garden of Eden
Terra Chronicles
‘Origins’
0
SC
(SC
= Since Creation)
‘AND NOW, LET US MAKE MAN IN OUR IMAGE,
AFTER OUR LIKENESS.’
The gods – the angels of glory – all
caught in a moment of time – with only the children of eternity to remember how
creation came to be, the memories being vanquished from the other angels – with
Logos and Memra, the words of infinity and eternity, and Metatron overseeing
the whole work – the gods spread their hands towards two angels. Two angels, male and female, who were to be
the image of the firstborn. And from the rest of the
angelic images, the blueprint for all the children of mankind – all in the
image of the gods – the elohim.
The two selected angels were Krystabel,
7th of the female Seraphim angels of eternity, and Saruviel, 7th
of the male Seraphim angels of eternity.
Eve and Adam would be formed on their very own images.
And so, the power of the divine – the
power of the Almighty – the infinite power which brings all things to life –
surged, grew and erupted into the hearts of all the children of God. And when that great day’s activities were
complete, truly, all the Morning Stars sang together, and the Sons of God
shouted for joy.
* *
* * *
Realm
of Eternity
Saruviel
& Krystabel
Saruviel, sitting next
to his twin Krystabel in Kalphon, was at peace.
For both of them, creation had been an intense experience. God had chosen the two of them to be the
primary creators of Adam and Eve. For
the life of him he could not fathom why God had made such a choice as himself,
given his reckless past, yet the grace of God had chosen Saruviel and
Krystabel, and they had fulfilled their duties gladly, Saruviel acting as the
Father’s image for that encounter.
Sitting there,
enjoying his sister reading some poetry from a book by Uriel, he heard a noise
over at the side of the lounge room and saw the Cherubim Beyonce coming into
view – queen of the Numerology.
She looked at them
both, with a big smile on her face.
Brother, sister. I have some
really amazing news. Saruviel looked up
at his younger sister, curious as to what could be so important.
‘I have been doing
some research into you and Krystabel’s name and I worked out the number in
which you find perfection together.’ Saruviel was mildly interested, but had
not really gone into the Gematria studies other angels had taken to. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘What is that number?’ Beyonce began nervously. ‘Well, your number is 107 and Krystabel’s
number is 112. Adding them together
comes to 219. That is your ‘Twin’
number. ‘Saruviel nodded, already
knowing that. Beyonce continued. ‘Well, the 7th principle for
Gematria is ‘Perfection’, whose number is 111.’
‘Why is it 111?’ asked Saruviel.
‘Numerical equivalents make Perfection equal to 111 if you take A as 1
and B as 2 and so on.’ ‘Yes, that is
right. I was forgetting.’ Beyonce continued. ‘It’s very complicated, but basically the
number for when you two have perfection is 219 times 111.’ ‘Sounds big,’ said Krystabel. ‘What is it,’ she asked,’ her curiousity
aroused. ‘This is the amazing
thing. It is 24,309.’ Saruviel looked at her for a moment, thinking
on the number, then it just hit him the
significance. The current year was
14,309 – creation of mankind beginning on the year.’ ‘But that would mean,’ began Krystabel. Beyonce nodded. ‘That is right. At mankind’s 10,000th birthday,
you celebrate your year of perfection.’
Saruviel looked at Beyonce for a few moments, and then turned to
Krystabel, a slightly stunned look on his face.
After a while he spoke. ‘That….is actually kind of interesting. Isn’t it sister.’ Krystabel looked at him. ‘My my. Perhaps there is something to this Gematria
after all.’
* *
* * *
Realm
of Eternity
Georgia
& Zac
0
– 1500 SC
Georgia
and Zac. Zac and Georgia. 777th twins of the Cherubim. They were born, both at the same time –
together made in a single moment in infinity.
They had both been in God’s heart for a long time. A very long time had he contemplated and
considered just what he would bring forth for the 777th of the
Cherubim. In destiny – in the later
destiny of the children of Adam – the 9th from Adam, Lamech, would
live 777 years. Lamech would be the
Father of Noah – Father of the children of Noah and the latter day Noahide
movement. Both Georgia and Zac would be
instrumental in the life of Lamech. They
would watch over him from their responsibilities, nurture him, and teach his
spirit the lessons needed to raise the one who would
be ‘perfect in his generations’.
Throughout her life in
the realm of eternity, Georgia had often felt that her God and Father would
make a greater use of herself one day.
He had never said so specifically, but had placed within her spirit and
heart, so she sensed, a plan – a destiny – a work – of great importance for
this child of God.
After the creation of
mankind, Georgia had taken an interest in the life of Methuselah. He was an interesting human. His father, Enoch, she had met as he had been
taken to the Realm of Eternity at the age of 365. And then he had been shown his
responsibilities towards mankind in the future paradise they were to
inhabit. She herself, having visited the
outer rim of Kalphora, had been curious about the ‘Portal’ – the first of what
was planned to be many. This Portal was
a link – a doorway – a passage – a vortex – to the ‘otherworlds’. Beyond the rim was the nothingness – but, so
Davriel and Gabriel had informed the community – out in unimaginable numbers of
cubits beyond the nothingness – there existed a number of new worlds. New realms, new planets,
new domains and dominions.
Presently, there were 7,000 such places.
These were the firstworks – the first of what would be new homes. At Zaphon, Michael had presented the scroll
which listed the new names. They had
been studied by many of the community.
Michael had entrusted Cindradel and Georgia to be responsible for learning
the names of the new realms, for the purpose of assisting Enoch, when necessary,
in his administrative responsibilities.
It had been given to
Enoch the work of Administration, Overseer, and head over the 7,000
realms. The very first of these realms –
Kaluvia – was where Enoch would be based and begin his work.
The Portal was the
avenue through which these realms were reached.
It was not overly complicated to use the Portal. In front of the Portal was a stand with a
series of keys upon them. These keys
were each of the Angelic letters, and a number of other important symbols. To bring the Portal to life, the letters of
the realm desired were pressed in the right order and the portal was
activated. It was quite easy to use.
The Portal would then
start to glow and after that all that was required was to walk through. Coming through the other side was a mirror of
the Portal in the new realm. This was
identical, apart from decoration, to the Realm of Eternities portal, with the
same functioning.
For many years since
the creation of the Portal, which was put into place on Adam’s 140th
birthday, a huge amount of Angels had gone out to explore the various new
realms. Unsurprisingly, Kaluvia was the
main realm visited. Under Enoch’s
guidance, a huge number of Angels had taken, passionately, to the task of
building these new empires and realms. For they well understood, now, the purpose which they were at work
for. Their responsibility,
entrusted to them by God, was to prepare a place for mankind at the latter day
resurrection. In God’s planning, mankind
was to rest in Hades or Sheol, the netherworld, a place of sleep and slumber,
until the great day. At that point the
resurrection would occur and the 7,000 realms would begin to be settled. Of course, humanity procreated. This the angels knew
oh so well, and had been often jealous.
But, that night of Adam’s 140th birthday, after the
announcement had been made regarding the portal, another announcement which had
shocked the entire realm of eternity had been made. Each angel. Each child of God. The entire Angelic community would, one day,
appear in human form. Each would spend a
time amongst humanity and learn the ways of mankind. After that, unlike non-angelic humans, the
angelic humans would return to the Realm of Eternity upon their death with the
ability – then – to procreate. The Rest
of mankind would come at a later time.
Throughout the 7,000 realms, so God had stated, many angelic communities
would then be formed. But the number of
realms angelic community would not be so large by the time of the resurrection,
that non-angelic humanity would not have room.
Indeed, so it was planned, they were to receive the greater proportion
of land for their communities. And, as
had also been announced that night, at a later date – at a time in the dim and
distant future – well beyond the resurrection – more realms would come to
be. But the number then would not be
7,000 – but 7,000,000. All these realms
were connected together – all of them becoming the realm of eternity.
* *
* * *
Terra
Daniel
the Cherubim
3384
– 3450 SC
The prophet Daniel sat
down in his abode within the palace of Shushan.
As he had done so for the past several years, he had been composing a
series of legends about the ancient kings of old Israel, to the purpose of
inspiring his fellow Israelites in exile.
Of course, the list was fictional, mainly intended to inspire and
delight others, not meant to be taken as historically correct. Today he had
reached the 45th king amongst the great and grand list – the king
which bore his own moniker – Olde King Daniel.
Sitting at the desk which Nebuchadnezzar had had made for him, he picked
up his quill, dipped it in some ink and, taking a leaf of papyrus, began
writing down his latest tale.
‘In tymes past, ye Olde King Daniel, the great and
revered Kinge of Olde Israel, saw to it that a record of his great and many
magnificente adventures and tales be recorded – at least, so he felt, somewhere
in the grande and great scheme of things.
So, having thus reached such a conclusion, after much and greatly deliberate
forethought and mental cogitation (interrupted, mind you, by many strange and
great dreams – dreams of devils and dragons, beasts and empires, angels and
saints, kings and queens, and much other similar dreams of such ilk – of which
Daniel fervently prayed to the Great and Wise God of Truth for such things to
departeth from him), Daniel took it unto himself, with the help of his great
and wise assistants, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, to make a grand and great
library within the domains of the Realm of he who is the Most High – seeing to
it, as natural reason would conclude on such an issue in relation to the said
individual, that the library met all desired objectives (presently thought of
mind you), with the desire to house, home and store, with all proper
accoutrements, the records of his great, grand and magnificent accomplishments.
The said library, the great and grand library of the
Keep of Zaphon, within the domain of the firstborn of the Archangels, first of
the Kings of Old Israel, Mighty Son of God – Michael, brother of the emissary
of the Most High, the respected Gabriel, was, as Daniel understood upon his
consultations with the most revered and respected Gabriel, to be an extension
to the established library of Zaphon – being judged to be within reasonable
limits, due considerations being given to the nature of the realm of Zaphora,
and the natural aesthetic principles to also be considered, of the boundaries
of Zaphora – so that, upon approval of the most high, and the approval of the
divine council, the noble King Daniel could record his great and victorious
accomplishments.
Daniel judged that the number of
scrolls should be – in total – a number of appropriateness in relation to symbolic,
spiritual, mathematical, scientific and many other such Knowledge-Based
principles of the education of such knowledge.
The number he arrived at was based on the accepted decimal system of
computation, established by his forerunners of ancient days – attributed to
mighty King Cimbrel (He being the Tenth Kinge of Israel – the 35th
Kinge before Kinge Daniel – he being the 45th Kinge since the
ancient one of ancient one’s – King Michael), that number being 1,000. The first 400 of these scrolls were,
naturally, of special significance, recording the crux of his tales in
life. The latter 600 recorded various
other notes, observations, philosophical questions, prayers, psalms, humorous
anecdotes, and many other such textually scribable ideologies and thoughts,
that King Daniel felt were appropriate to have written. The number would be 1,000. That would be appropriate, sufficient, and
complete. To swerve from such a number
made no real sense, all things considered.
And so Daniel took it unto himself to begin work, being
in his 46th year, of which he expected to last unto, perhaps 70,
perhaps just a little bit more.’
Daniel finished off
what he had written. ‘Yes’, he thought
to himself. That should prove an inspiring
and extraordinary beginning to what should be a most eventful of tales. He would show it to his friends Hananiah,
Mishael and Azariah to gain their insights.
Hopefully the legend would be well received.
* *
* * *
Realm
of Eternity
Michael
& Gabriel
Michael smiled a
little. Gabriel had just handed to him
some of the writing’s of the Prophet Daniel, their Cherubim brother Daniel who
had now tasted human flesh, about the ancient Kings of the Ancient realm of
Olde Israel. ‘45th,
huh?’ Gabriel smirked. ‘Yeah, Michael, 45th.’ ‘But how the heck could he come to such a
number. I mean, the co-incidence is
amazing.’ ‘Yes, I know Michael. Daniel is the 45th of the male
Seraphim, and the prophet who bears his moniker has placed him as the 45th
king in his tales.’ ‘I think, brother,
that our Father has had his influence on this prophet.’ ‘So he is under the influence of the
Spirit?’ ‘I would suggest as such,’
responded Michael. ‘Yet I was under the
impression God would not interfere with our human sojourn in any great
degree. I see he has perhaps altered
that.’ ‘Not so much altered, but
amended. Anyway, I think,’ said Michael,
‘that we should visit this particular prophet.
To give him particular knowledge of certain future events Father has
shared with us. And I think you should
be the one to speak to him Gabriel.’
Gabriel looked at Michael, considering his words, before responding. ‘That is highly irregular, Michael. Father always speaks with prophets directly
himself through the power of his spirit.
It is why they record their writings in ‘The name of the LORD.’ ‘I know, Gabriel. So I would ask you to ask this Prophet to not
state in any way that these words are the words of the LORD. Instead state that they are written in the
book of truth.’ Gabriel looked at
him. ‘The book of
truth? Do you mean the Torah of
truth?’ ‘No, Gabriel. That is Father’s work. The book of truth is a work that a number of
us Seraphim have been working on.
Davriel, Rophiel and a few others have been collaborating with myself on this work.
We have Father’s permission to undertake this work and it is in harmony
with the destiny he has laid out for us.’
Gabriel stared at him, astonished.
‘But, what is it? What is this
book of truth?’ Michael looked at his
brother, considering his words. ‘I will
not share that with you at this time, Gabriel.
There are only 7 of us who are privy to its details.’ Gabriel’s face expressed a look of
disappointment, but acceptance as well.
‘Well, can you tell me who the other 4 Seraphim are?’ Michael thought on his response. ‘Yes, I suppose. They are Daniel, Cimbrel, Elenniel and
Krystabel. I will ask you, though, to
not ask them for specific details regarding its contents. They will share what I have shared, but will
probably not divulge more than that.
Now, in regards to our Cherubim brother Daniel the prophet, I wish you
to share these specific details with him.’
Michael continued then detailing to Gabriel various events which were to
take place on earth in relation to the people of the prophet Daniel.
* * *
* *
The Realm of Infinity
‘You are the Devil himself, Samael. You are the Devil himself.’ ‘Order,’ proclaimed Sandalphon from the chief
seat of justice. Sandalphon turned to
Logos. ‘Logos is out of order. He will withdraw the comment, or be removed
from council.’ Logos looked at
Sandalphon, returning his gaze to Samael, his most bitter opponent. ‘I withdraw the comment. Turning to,’ he
began, quickly turning to the Code of Parliamentary Conduct, leafing through
the voluminous volume, coming to page 1138, he gave the page a cursory look,
remembering the section then, resuming. ‘Code of Conduct – Page 1138. It reads ‘If a member, upon recalling
incidents of a length superior to 100 years, uses inflammatory innuendo,
language, or other mannerisms, in an attempt to deride opponents in the Hall,
with reference made to incidents beyond the reasonable memory of the
Parliament, that being the said 100 years; being references that are not
written within the Parliamentary writings, or historical records of the Realm,
or that can be readily justified within the living memory of the community at
large; then such language shall be deemed as out of order and the member shall
withdraw his comment or be removed from the Hall.’ Sandalphon nodded, checking the page in front
of him. He turned to Samael. ‘The member of the opposition is correct. You shall withdraw the comment in relation to
incidents pertaining to the Saruvim and the Ecclesia.’ Samael looked at Logos and grinned
a wicked little grin. His allusion to
the so called hidden lusts of Logos towards the Celestyel’s, and Logos casting
them out so that Logos could ultimately bed them, was – in truth – an extremely
devilish and malicious comment. ‘I withdraw
the comment,’ he finally responded.
Semyaza, firstborn of the 70,000 Oraphim
of Nadrazon, known as the Silver City, located beneath Azion, the Golden City,
smirked a little at Samael’s comments.
As Samael had become famous for in the Council of Infinity, that court
of law which ruled Azion and Nadrazon, he had displayed scathing and ruthless
words of attack – designed to intimidate, thwart and defeat his opponents. The Council, now, had three major parties. The Democrat’s, headed by Sandalphon as
Chairman of the Party and Samael as Chief Minister of the Party. There main opponents were the ‘Conservative’
Party who, as time had passed, and some of the Democratic ideals of the
Democrats were gradually, in a very conservative fashion though, but gradually
looked upon as acceptable in forms of Government. A main idea based on ‘Democracy’ that the
Conservative Party had adopted was the notion of the ‘Republic’. The Republic was to be a form of Government
not necessarily based around just one main leader, but in what the
‘Republican’s’ called a true and proper democratic structure, administered in a
hierarchical fashion, with degrees of responsibility and differing roles given
to each main minister. Thus, the Conservatives
were often also known as the ‘Republican’ Party. Logos, in a spirit of generosity and mercy,
had allowed as much individual freedom to be displayed amongst the party
faithful and, in a philosophy he had developed based on Sandalphon’s democratic
ideology, he had called this idea of individual freedom ‘Liberty’ and thus the
Republican party were also known as the ‘Liberals’. Samael often commented that their side of the
bench did the real work, especially in developing proper and true democratic
ideals – ideals which, under the oppression of the Logos and his authoritarian
outlook they had ‘Laboured’ for, and thus adopted the unofficial title of the
‘Labour’ Party as well.
Semyaza was a diehard Democrat. In its ideology he saw the freedom and peace
which could be granted. And, in this
thinking, he had developed his own ideology of ‘Communism’ which, in its
ultimate intent, was to unite those who believed in Democracy to share their
own individual commitment to a united cause of freedom – a united cause in
which each was cared for contributing to the welfare of the community as a
whole.
In truth, as time passed, similarities
and almost apparent contradictions, inasmuch as they often reflected their
opponent’s ideology, came forth. Yet, as
many commentators voiced, it was the passion of pride in Logos and Samael that
caused the tension between them to be constantly at loggerheads, each trying to
outfox their opponents.
Yet, whatever else, a day in the life of
the council, for so many, was an unforgettable experience.
* *
* * *
Many years had now passed since the
formation of Council – nearly 10,000 in fact.
In that time Terra had come to be, and the angels, while curious about
men, paid little attention to mere humanity at first. Yet a number of angels, including Sandalphon
and Samael, had dwelt with men for a while, mainly for the pleasures of the
physical flesh of women. Yet for this
they had been rebuked
greatly and barred from Terra, it now forbidden to them.
Logos, who now resided within Akalon,
the Diamond city, many cubits far above Azion – a place which he had first
inhabited before the other angels of Infinity had come to be, and after his
tenure with the Word of Eternity ‘Memra’ and Metatron at ‘Home’ with God, yet
had not used for a great deal of time, due to his interactions with the Angels
of the Realm of Infinity – was within his private and personal abode of Akalon
considering life in the Realm of Infinity.
While the essential basics of life had not really changed that much, in
any great degree, the realm, now, was so very complex in the infrastructure and
technology inherent within it.
Through Council, and their advances in
law and administration, and through the knowledge of science, an advanced
civilization had sprung forth.
Inventions called ‘Computers’ and the ‘Information Portal’ which
connected every computer to a central database were foundational within both
Nadrazon and Azion, key updates to information being processed on data-discs
transferred between the realms on regular intervals.
* * * * *
Sandalphon was brooding. It was time.
It was now time, and he felt no need to wait
any longer. It was time to claim the
Realm of Infinity. He would speak with
Samael, tonight, and they would be bold.
They would bring to pass the culmination of their work and take hold of
the council completely. It was time to
reject the authority of Logos and bring to pass complete democracy. It was now time, no point in waiting any
longer.
* *
* * *
Samael argued with Sandalphon for a
week, and then relented. Logos position
and the laws he had brought into council, while bothersome, were able to be
lived with. And for the sake of unity
Samael encouraged Sandalphon to let the status quo remain – they could achieve
their objectives in time, no need to push it.
But Sandalphon was insistent and so, because of this, the rebellion
began.
After 3 months of talks they were secure
in their position and it came down to a day of council deliberations in which
Sandalphon had prepared his words carefully. Taking to the dais to start council
discussions for the day with the mandatory prayer, Sandalphon began.
‘Brethren. Today is a great day. Today is a glorious day.’ He signalled to the angels at the side of the
room waiting his signal and they began moving forward into the chambers. ‘Today we claim the realm.’
And then the rebellion fostering all
those millennia climaxed and the angels in league with Sandalphon and Samael
came forward and seized Logos and the ecclesia and the other angels in their
political party.
‘Were are you
taking us?’ Logos asked Sandalphon.
‘Why, to the throneroom. Were else. We are asking for the final judgement. God has been absent long enough, but he has
watched us. And if we can not have our
way now, if after all this time he is not willing to yield to our requests, we
would have done with the situation.’
‘What do you mean?’ Logos asked
Sandalphon.
‘It is time to bring a resolution to
matters, brother. Delay is no longer
possible. We want something resolved.’
‘Very well.’
And so the fateful congregation were
escorted to the throneroom and Sandalphon’s fearful agenda was coming to
play. He had made a gamble, had
Sandalphon, and was willing to risk it.
And his gamble was that his father would remain silent and not speak. And if that were the case, he would achieve
victory. For God’s silence would condone
their rights and then they would have all they had long desired and be rid of
Logos authority for Good. It took
something decisive, but the time was now right.
* * *
* *
‘And so, friends, brethren, you have
heard our plea. You have heard for so
long now our desires, freedom from Logos interference and full democracy down
to individual liberty which is our fundamental right of existence. And now,’ he said, turning to the throne of
Glory which had not spoken for millennia.
Sandalphon began, as formally as he
could.
‘Eternal father. God of glory. I beseech thee. If you object to our claiming our liberty, as
is our birthright, speak now. Speak
now. We beseech thee.’
Samael looked on. For a long time now he had been carefully
manipulating his protégé Sandalphon to ensure he said what Samael had really
desired. And now, him
still in the shadows to a large extent, the freedom they had long desired would
now be theirs. Yet, a voice spoke. A voice long gone from them returned, at the
most unexpected of times.
‘Sandalphon. I see you have not changed. I see that in truth. I had long hoped you would have amended your
foolishness, but to no avail. Nevertheless
you will learn in time. But I know what
dark power motivates you. I know
that. Samael, stand before me.’
All the angels were in shock at hearing
God speak again, and Aphrayel at the back of the crowd was thankful her father
had returned to give his judgement, for she had feared her brothers were about
to do something most foolish.
‘Samael, you are the power behind this
rebellion. This much I know, for I have
watched your heart for so long now. But
it will not succeed, son. For you have
not yet learned some of the lessons you really should have known by now. But, you will. You will.
Samael, stand before me like a man, and do not cower.’
Samael straightened up.
‘You are banished, mighty Onaphim
angel. You are banished to earth, there
to remain upon my good pleasure. For you
will taste the glories of the heavenlies no longer. Not until your heart and soul knows what it
is to be truly merciful. And I name you
Samael no longer. For you are Satan, in truth, an adversary to us all. Be gone from us, vile child.’
At that moment Karanasius, shadow angel
of the realm of eternity, came forth from the throne of God, dressed in black,
hooded and face hidden, and surrounded Samael. And then he dragged him downwards, ever
downwards, plummeting down to earth.
And falling, like lightning from the
sky, the fall of the devil had come to be.
* *
* * *
Later on, after much weeping, Logos was
consoling his sister Aphrayel. ‘In the
end, Aphy, I was not that surprised.
Samael has long been pushing God’s mercy. You must have known that. And his judgement has finally come. But don’t worry, dear sister. Destiny has a funny way of working things
out. Trust me on that, ok. Trust me on that.’
Aphrayel looked at him through teary
eyes and managed to nod. She would now
have to put Samael into the hands of fate.
Really, she had no other choice.
* * *
* *
3970 – 4000 SC (0 to 30 AD)
And the realm of
Infinity returned to its regular life and, just a couple of centuries later, the
primal manifestation was at hand. Logos, at his father’s decree, was to become
one with Jesus of eternity, and the incarnation would come to be.
* * *
* *
Terra
Logos
And Logos was
born. And Logos was seen by men. And Logos was crucified. And Logos was resurrected. And Logos, inhabiting the Cherubim Jesus, was
one with this angel. The Logos – the
Word – was One with Jesus the Son of God – the two
were one – of one heart and one mind.
And Memra, likewise, became one with Mary Magdalene, Oraphim angel of
Infinity. And the two words became one.
* * *
* *
Terra
Samael
5687 SC (1707 AD)
Two
thousand years. Samael – Satan - thought
on that number. He had now been living
on earth, banished from his heavenly home of the Realm of Infinity for two
thousand years. The current year, under
the Christian calendar, was 1707AD. In
293BCE, which was the date as best as he could remember, given the information
he had gleaned from the history books and the best of his memories of the passing
years, was when he had been banished from his heavenly home.
That
time had been pivotal in Satan’s life.
The final conflict between his forces and the Logos’ forces had come to
its fruition. In the thousands of years
prior to then in which their God and father had not, apparently, been present
in the realm of Infinity, apart from the burning flame in the throneroom of the
Golden City which had apparently marked his faithfulness to his children (or so
it had been commonly assumed), the tension had grown between Samael and
Logos. Logos, as head of the Ecclesia,
had assumed a mantle of authority and rulership within the Realm of
Infinity. But not everyone had accepted
that authority. And as the centuries had
passed, Samael and Sandalphon had influenced many leading up to that final
assault on the Logos, Michael, and the other angels, climaxing in the meeting
in the throneroom of the golden city.
And then, right at that point in which Samael had felt he may achieve
his ultimate goal, their God had returned.
And Logos, filled with the eternal spirit, had cast Satan down to earth,
banished from the heavenly realm.
It
had been dear Aphrayel who had come to visit him a few days into his banishment,
for a solitary visit to explain to him the terms of his exile. She, Aphrayel, would be his final face from
his home for the time being. He would
not see her, or another, again for a fair while. He had asked how long his exile was to be –
whether it was permanent, or whether he would one day
be allowed to return. Aphrayel, though,
had been cagey in her response – not really giving him any definite reply. And because of that, Samael had realized he
would perhaps be spending a great and long time in his exile. A great and long time to
suffer the partially human, partially divine, condition that he had found
himself in.
For
most of the last millennia he had been living in Sherwood Forest in
Nottinghamshire. Robin of Locksley was
one of, if not the main, reason Satan had remained in Sherwood Forest. Just before Robin’s passing in his old age,
Marian ever-faithful at his side, Satan had revealed his true identity to the
one who had become a close friend in his later years. He had met Robin many times during his
twenties and thirties, always disguised as a commoner of the land. In a sense, Satan had been one of the merry
men on brief occasions, but not in the traditional sense which had come into
English lore. There were the well known
characters infused in the mythos, but there were around 50 or so other merry
men who had been in Robin’s entourage from time to time. These were, in some ways, mercenary merry
men. Warriors who had
joined the crusade for a time being, but had later parted company. On a few brief occasions, Satan, calling
himself ‘Jimmy the Hand’, due to his great accomplishment at theft and
pick-pocketing, had been in the band of merry men. He had gotten to know Robin, as all the merry
men did, over the 15 or so years he had known him. But Satan had eventually parted ways with
Robin before his lack of ageing became too obvious to him. But he had come to Robin’s abode when he had
been nearing death to wish him well. He
had hoped that Robin would not recognize or remember him, but his wish had not
been granted. Robin had risen, despite
his great age, and insisted on an explanation.
Satan had, frankly, told him who he was.
But Robin had said, in response, laughing that whoever he was, that he
could not believe he was the devil.
Satan had stayed around the small hutlet in the forest were Robin lived,
until the hero had passed. After that,
the last of the merry men had parted company, and the legend began.
The
shack he lived in within Sherwood Forest was amongst a thicket of trees, just a
short distance from where that hutlet had been.
Satan had, prior to this, travelled widely throughout planet earth, but
had decided, in Robin’s honour, to spend a long and great time in Sherwood
Forest as his tribute to his former friend.
This, although the primary reason, was not the only
reason for this choice. He liked
Britannia, as he called it, and felt at home with the people of the land. The Celts, Saxons, Danes, Angles and other
people who had come to call this place their home gelled with Satan. His own physical appearance was essentially
the same as any one of them. Of course,
he recognized the various ethnicities of earth, reflecting the diversity of his
angelic home. Because of this, it had
been no great surprise that he was occupied mostly with the people of Western
Europe.
Prior
to his banishment, Satan had usually taken little if any interest in the
affairs of mankind. They, in the realm
of Infinity, had not been aware of the initial creation of the earth, but had
become aware at a later date, when Logos had announced the discovery of the
universal realm and of planet earth. In
hindsight, Satan had understood when the creation of the universal realm had
occurred in relation to the history of his own realm, which with his knowledge
of earth’s history, seemed to be around the time when Logos was absent from the
Realm of Infinity for a period of seven months.
Upon his return Logos had not understood the queries everyone had put
upon him. All he had said was that, as
he thought it, he had gone to sleep one night and woken up the next day. When everyone had told him that he had been
gone for seven months he had continually stated that he simply had no
explanation for what had happened. He
stated again and again he simply had no memory of any events from that time
period. Satan knew, now, that Logos had
been involved, in some way, with their Fathers work of creation in the
earth. And, now having read the New
Testament countless times, he perhaps understood what Logos may have been
involved with.
Of
course, that issue of creation he had not yet resolved, and, with the advent of
Christianity, the nature of the deity itself had challenged Satan. He remembered conversations with the Logos
about the Logos’ own nature and his relationship with their Father. The Christian religion seemed to give
explanations to some of the questions Satan had about the issue – yet questions
still remained. The Trinitarian notion,
which was the most common Christian doctrine relating to God, seemed, from
Satan’s perspective, not quite right. He
understood the divine nature of the Logos and how he partook of the Father’s
spirit, but much of the Trinitarian dogma, he felt, did not fully understand
the Unitarian nature of his divine father.
A key problem, Satan felt, was the notion of ‘eternally begotten’. That was, as far as Satan understood from his
conversations with the Logos, not quite right.
The Logos had a beginning, prior to which the Father alone had
existed. The Logos partook of the Father’s
nature, but was not that Father, nor equal with him. This information Logos had shared with
Satan. And of course,
the notion of the Holy Spirit as a separate identity from God himself, totally
confused Satan. He questioned
whether these Christians had received some sort of revelation from his God that
he had not been privy to. But in the end
he had concluded probably not. He had
always understood that the spirit of God was, in a human-thinking sense, the
Fathers divine body – the substance he was composed of. It was not really separate from the Father,
but was what the Father was composed of – his spiritual nature. And having reviewed the writings of the New
Testament often, he felt that, just perhaps, even the later Trinitarian
doctrinal thinking did not really understand its own foundational writings.
Christianity
had caught Satan by surprise. With the
people of Israel, Satan had never really taken much interest. He had been aware of the various events
within that community, especially legends which supposedly involved himself,
which he laughed at. But in laughing at
those legends, Satan had taken a little interest in the ‘Book of Daniel’ from
his heavenly domain. It mentioned his
Seraphim brothers Michael and Gabriel.
But it stated of them responsibilities which were not their own, nor
ever had been. Apparently Michael was
the Prince or Guardian angel of the people of Israel, which his younger
Seraphim brother had never had anything to do with. And Gabriel had never visited the prophet in
question. Satan had become aware of
legends involving the prophet Daniel when he had visited Israel shortly before
Jesus’ birth. He had spoken with a
number of Pharisees and Sadducees regarding the book, and they had maintained
the correctness of its authorship and the events contained therein. One Rabbi had produced another scroll which
Daniel had recorded, containing conversations between himself and Gabriel. This Gabriel had spoken of ‘The Realm of
Eternity’ were the Seraphim and Cherubim lived in harmony. He had spoken of their home ‘Zaphon’. Of the realms of Zaphora
and Terraphora, amongst others. And other angels, including the dreaded ‘Saruviel’.
All
of this information had puzzled Satan for centuries. Why had it been called the ‘Realm of Eternity’
and not the ‘Realm of Infinity’. Why were only the Seraphim and Cherubim
mentioned? And why
such a fuss about Saruviel? He
had never been that prominent an angel in Satan’s time. And finally, what exactly were Zaphon, and
Zaphora and Terraphora? It seemed
strange, oh so strange, to Satan.
Obviously, as they had the correct names of angels, the scrolls must
have had some sort of divine inspiration.
But why were the details so confusing?
It was a quandary which Satan had continually puzzled over.
And
then, with the arrival of the Christian religion, and in those days after the
resurrection in which Satan, living in Jerusalem at the time, met again with
Logos, who had not revealed who he was but had simply called himself Jesus the
Christ, new stories about the Angels had begun, and Satan himself had become
the ‘Archenemy’ of the Christians. That
reality had not impressed Satan, but he viewed it as his punishment from
heaven. God was now delivering the
reward to him for his rebellion.
But
he wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, his exiled brother who had never returned
to the Realm of Infinity – the head of the 7 Saruvim angels, the angelic being
of evil whom the whole Realm had grown to despise, the one who had raped his
sister Gemrayel, the one whose true name was Satan, whom he, Satan, formerly
known as Samael, had been renamed to by God just before his exile began,
renamed to show just what God thought of his son Samael – he wondered if this
Satan, the angelic being who truly was the epitome of evil to himself, was
perhaps a being who had been involved with the people of Israel in oppressing
and opposing them. He wondered if it was
his younger Saruvim brother who was the real subject of Christianities disdain. He wondered this because he had felt that,
just maybe, he had sensed his exiled brother’s spirit while living in Jerusalem
from time to time. Not only his, but
other of the 7 Saruvim spirits he felt he may have sensed occasionally. He had usually dismissed this as his memories
interfering on his life, but he did wonder.
But,
whatever was the truth of those legends, Satan would ponder another day. Today, being the date he celebrated his
exile, if such a thing should be celebrated, he had made a decision. He would go on holiday, as it were. For many years now he had been slowly
acquiring wealth, in the form of various gold coinage,
and had a reserve of gold coins in two large chests stored underneath his bed
in the back room of his shack. Satan did
not really need money in any major way.
He did not really need to eat food or drink water in his semi-spiritual
condition, thus, after his shack had been built and he had acquired the few
items he really did need, he had continued in the stance he had stuck with of
not being overly concerned about finances.
But, as he had realized, they were useful from time to time, and made
certain aspects of his exile on earth a little more bearable. And this coinage he had acquired could be put
to use in travel and various other expenses.
In
his occasional visits to various towns, he had come across news of a prodigy in
Austria. The son of a certain ‘Leopold
Mozart’ was showing outstanding talent in composition and performance. Satan had never quite gotten around to
learning the harpsichord, and had decided that perhaps now would be a good
time. He had decided that he would visit
Germany, were the young Mozart was often touring, and seek lessons from
him. He would see what all the fuss was
about and, given that he had great resources in what he could afford to spend
in hiring his tutelage, afford a number of lessons from the new prodigy. Apparently, young ‘Wolfgang’, as he was known
as, despite being only 13, was known to tutor various German and Austrian ‘Lords’
and ‘Ladies’. With his substantial funds
available to him, Satan felt that, if he were to learn the harpsichord, perhaps
there may be no better teacher than this new Austrian talent. And, with those thoughts in mind, Satan began
planning out his trip to the mainland.
*
* * * *
Arriving
in Hull, the port he had decided upon to depart for Germany for, Satan traded
some of his coinage in for the fare. The
ship, known as ‘The Old Warrior’, was transporting goods from England to
various ports along the western coast of Europe. One of the ports they were to stop at was
Bremerhaven on the German coast, which was ideal, as he was headed for Hamburg,
not far from there, where he had received news that Mozart was currently
living, giving performances and tutoring.
His father, Leopold, was managing his son’s affairs, so he would seek
him out upon arriving in Hamburg.
The
trip would take a few days, giving Satan plenty of time for conversation with
the other passengers, a hobby of his to stay abreast with world affairs. The night of his first day, he had introduced
himself to an old Jewish man named Abraham.
The man had revealed his first name of Abraham, but had not shared his
surname of Rothchild. Abraham had lived
in Germany for a number of years, but had recently emigrated with his wife,
children and grand-children to England were he felt, so he said, his destiny
lay. He was returning to Germany to
finalise some business arrangements, primarily regarding the sale of his final
property. Abraham had become wealthy
over his life. His God, so had had said,
had blessed him in his German homeland.
But it was time to move on – time to start again at a different
place. Abraham, so he had said to Satan,
had felt he had been given the ‘Call’ of Abram, and had thus moved himself and
his family to England which would be his new homeland.
* * *
* *
‘Master
Salieri, we have a visitor.’ ‘Yes. Who would come to us at such an ungodly hour.’ ‘He calls
himself Radric Durander.’ Salieri looked
at the grandfather clock against the wall of his bedroom. 5 past 11.
Yet, sleep had fled him this night, so he rose to greet this new guest.
Coming
down the stairway, in the hall of his abode stood a man, dressed in black, face
turned to the bookcase near the entrance of his abode. Salieri descended the last few steps and
approached his guest. ‘Yes, may I help you.’ ‘Master
Salieri. In the good name of Christ I
greet you. I have travelled from fair
Britannia, having arrived in Hamburg just this morn. I have been seeking out Master Leopold Mozart
for an audience with his young prodigy.
I was told you were in contact with Leopold, having regular audiences
with himself to discuss various subjects pertaining to composition of
music.’ Salieri nodded. ‘That is correct. You would, I take it, be seeking an audience
with Master Wolfgang?’ ‘That is
correct. I am in the process of
undertaking a new endeavour to learn piano from musical masters. I have heard, in England, news of young
Master Mozart and felt I would seek him out to, perchance, undertake within his
tutelage lessons in relation to the piano.
Your name was mentioned, upon inquiry, as an appropriate avenue through
which to contact the Mozart’s.’ Salieri
considered this. ‘Perhaps, if music you
are considering taking up, I could give you a few pointers.’ ‘That would be most welcome, master
Salieri. Naturally, I would pay for your
services. I have gold and silver. Of course, I have failed to introduce
myself. I am Mr Durander. Mr Radric Durander. Now, can we begin at once. I am most eager to undertake this new, most
passionate, passion of mine.’ ‘Mmm. The hour is
late, Mr Durander. Could not such
passion wait until a more appropriate hour.’ ‘Passion, Mr Salieri. Passion is a spirit in life. When men of propriety, brevity, gravity and
maturity, in good Christian spirit, reciprocate to the most earnest desires of
their colleagues, a fervent spirit of communal bliss most regularly ensues.’ Master Salieri considered that thought. A most enticing, most enigmatic, statement of
spiritual realities he had not considered in such depth seemed to have emanated
from the new personage presently his company.
‘Very well, Mr Durander. I will have Bernard bring us some
refreshments. You have an hour of my
time. At the stroke of midnight we will,
for the benefit of my required sleep, retire for the night.’ Mr Durander nodded.
* * *
* *
Satan
studied the piece in front of him. One
of Salieri’s, entitled the ‘Golden Eagle.’ He had been, quite slowly, playing through
the piece. It was of an early grade of
music. Grade Two. Satan, in earlier times, had learnt a little
of piano, and was capable of attempting a grade two piece when under the
tutelage of a master.
Salieri
had been advising him, noting his various strengths and weaknesses and Satan’s
own musical style which appeared to have developed. He noticed similarities in his own
techniques. This Mr Durander did appear
to have potential. It would be, it
seemed, not in vain the tutelage with which he could impart from his experience
and education and learning.
‘This
piece, master Durander, is a joyful ditty.
It begins boldly, expressing its theme, if I do in fact say so myself,
with the most eloquent and delightful of expression.’ Mr Durander nodded. ‘Destined, this piece is I feel Master
Salieri, to on a future day prove quite popular. Quite popular, I would suggest.’ Salieri nodded gracefully at his guest’s kind
compliment.
Satan
practiced that night. He practiced
carefully, paying close attention to his teacher and noting his teacher’s
wisdom. In fact, he had 3 hours of
Salieri’s time, so enwrapped they had become in each other’s company, and in
that time Satan learned of the wisdom of a truly great musical master.
He
failed, after that, to really feel the necessity of hunting down master Mozart for lessons.
He did see him play on occasions, but felt it unnecessary to pursue in
any more detail the furtherance of his musical knowledge. Something Salieri had said spoke to him. ‘We can, of course, learn so much from
others. But originality, born from our
own inspiration, is the heart and soul of any musical piece.’ And with those words Satan had decided one
teacher was sufficient. The rest he
would learn himself, knowing already the basics of notation and how to
read. He would practice, now, at his own
rate.
However,
he did purchase a harpsichord in Germany, and had it shipped home with
him. And, returning to his old shack,
Satan began practicing the small number of pieces Salieri had given him and,
with a dedicated mind, began his own works of composition, endeavouring to
bring forth that which was original and born of his own inspiration.
* * *
* *
The Realm of Eternity
Meludiel
5900 SC (1930 AD)
Meludiel sat lost in
thought. It was time, now. Time to start thinking over
the last part of the Song of Eternity for the male Seraphim. The Song of Eternity, in her planning, was to
eventually have parts not only for all the 140 male and female Seraphim, but
eventually, which would almost take eternity itself, parts for all 1,400,000
Cherubim male and females as well. A truly daunting task.
But for now, with the
first 69 parts now complete, she could turn her attention to the 70th
Male Seraphim, Davriel. She, as of this
stage, had no idea what type of theme she would use for Davriel, but she wanted
something memorable. Something
to mark the end of the first major section of the Song. Something unique.
Sitting at the
Vibronic in the choir room of Zaphon she was oblivious to Daniel the Seraphim
who had entered the room and snuck up on her.
‘Boo,’ he said, and
she jumped.
‘Daniel! Watch it!’
‘Sorry. Hey, you want to get something to eat.’
Meludiel looked at
him, unsurprised. Ambriel was currently
away from Zaphon, a time Daniel usually surfaced in her life.
‘Ok then. I am a bit hungry,’ she replied.
Sitting there in the
dining room of Zaphon, Daniel talking about some of the latest plot ideas he
had for some of his Angel books which he wrote quite a lot of, Meludiel thought
on her song. And she thought on Ambriel
who was currently away from Zaphora at a conference somewhere out in
Terraphora. She thought on his theme and
suddenly it came to her – a recapitulation.
Yes, Ambriel’s theme, redone, in a different way, for Ambriel. Yes, that was a good idea. But how? How would she do that?
‘Anyway, after they
defeat Azazel, Saruviel finally shows himself and the War comes to a great
climax. I haven’t figured out really how
it will end, but I am working on it.’
‘Huh,’ said Meludiel,
who had been lost in thought, not listening to Daniel’s conversation about some
of his Angel books. ‘What did you say?’
He looked at her,
frustrated. ‘Off with the fairies, were
you?’
She smiled. ‘Very funny. It is just that I have a lot on my mind.’
‘I’ll bet.’
‘Well, continue what
you were saying. I’ll listen, I promise
you.’
Daniel shrugged, went
back to his dialogue on his books, and despite Meludiel looking intently at
him, her mind drifted off again, thinking on melodies and harmonies and grand
conclusions to the Song of Eternity.
* * *
* *
Terra
Davriel
5910 SC (1940 AD)
‘His
name is Adam. In
honour of the father of us all.’
Rebecca looked at her husband Elihu.
‘That is a fine name. I am certain
he will grow to appreciate it. ‘Yes, he
will. His future will be bright. I am sure of it. Now that we are free from that Aryan devil
and back in our homeland, Adam can look forward to being a free man. Living in a world were
he is not judged by his race or the colour of his skin. Living in our blessed
homeland of Israel.’ Rebecca
nodded knowingly at her husband’s comments.
Having
seen firsthand the plucking away of her fellow Israelites by the Nazis, their
numbers growing thinner and thinner every day, Elihu had moved his family at
what was possibly the last and only opportunity that they would have, through
false passports, papers, and carefully chosen words, away from what had become
Nazi Austria, back to their beloved spiritual promised land, Palestine, which
they called Israel. His parents had been
taken the week before – off for detention and investigation, the Nazis had
said. Elihu knew that his time was short
– that to escape the trap that had been set for him, he must act quickly. To escape the gathering
darkness.
They
had some close friends in some Dutch people who had been horrified at the way
the new Nazi movement had been acting.
Horrified, but to frightened to speak out. They had prepared the necessary documents for
Elihu and his wife, and had assisted them with some finances to get them were
they needed to be going.
And
that destination, they had decided, was to be Israel. Elihu believed that, no matter what happened
throughout history, his people would only ultimately be accepted in their
promised land. His God, so he felt,
desired that to be the homeland for the seed of Avraham. He had considered France, or maybe England,
and even America. But there was
something which spoke into his heart late one evening. A quiet, gentle, yet
persistent voice. A voice which
reminded him of who he was – what he was – and were he should be. It spoke not in literal words, but when the
thoughts entered his mind and he had reviewed them, he knew it was his
God. And he knew – he KNEW – that he
must obey his lord and king and return to the place which was the inheritance
of the children of Israel.
Rebecca
had been firm in her support. She had
agreed very quickly, as probably from Elihu’s perspective, simply being glad to
leave their current persecution. But she
had said that ‘Israel’ to them, their family, had always been special. That it had an inexplicable draw on their
heart because of who they were. And thus
she voiced no dissent when Elihu designated Israel as their ultimate destination.
Fortunately,
their voyage had been smooth and generally uneventful. The various authorities had accepted their
papers, inquisitorial as ever, but had in the end let them pass. They had been believed. Elihu felt it was the work of God in granting
them safe passage. The ‘hand’ of the
Almighty, he had said to Rebecca.
They
had constantly stated they were meeting with relatives in Cyprus. That they intended to stay
with them in Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, for a number of months before
eventually returning. Having
arrived in Cyprus, they purchased a fishing boat, with the money their Dutch
friends had given them. Elihu had
learned how to sail when he was younger, and was sure he could guide them
safely from Cyprus to the Palestinian coast.
The trip from Cyprus had been dramatic.
A wild storm had come, threatening to tip them over a number of
times. But Elihu had worked hard all
night during the storm to keep them upright, and calm gracefully followed the
next day. When they reached the Palestinian
coastline Rebecca gave a silent prayer of thanks to God. He had guided them safely home.
Elihu
had purchased much gold before leaving Austria.
He felt it was the most sensible of assets that they could use in
establishing themselves in Israel. Palestine had been a conquered nation, as it
had been for nearly 2000 years now, but there was still a small faithful
remnant of Israel at home. And he hoped
and believed that soon – very soon – Israel would be reborn.
One
year after arriving in Israel, through difficult negotiations with various
Palestinians, they had purchased land and begun their new life. Adam was born a few months later – a joy to
the heart of Elihu was his first child.
Since marrying Rebecca at 19 years of age, they had constantly tried to
have children. But it had never
eventuated. Now, in their early
thirties, God had finally blessed them with the child ever descendant of
Avraham yearned for. And
no ordinary child. No ordinary
child at all.
Adam
bar Elihu, from the tribe of Yosef, was the Seraphim Davriel, 70th
of the male Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity.
His manifestation, as he had known in heaven, had been at hand. He had been born into, according to his
destiny, a scattered Israelite Samaritan family. Davriel’s family had lived in Samaria and
followed the ancient customs of their sect for centuries before, a century prior, Adam’s great grandfather had left for Germany. Adam’s father, Elihu, had known he was a
Samaritan yet had, through his new Jewish contacts in Germany, adopted a more
traditional orthodox faith. Yet the
Samaritan roots were not forgotten. And,
as time passed, and Israel was reborn as a nation, Adam bar Elihu, of the tribe
of Yosef through Ephraim, started to become aware – intimately aware – of just
how important those Samaritan roots were to himself.
* * *
* *
Terra
James
5943 - 5970
SC (1973 – 2000 AD)
The
seventh born of the Children of Heaven, the archetype of ‘War’, James was born on
the fourth of September, 1973, at St Benedict’s Catholic Hospital in lower
London. James David Castelton was his
birth name, son of Alastair and Elizabeth Castleton. James grew up quite a handsome young
man. Blonde hair in
youth, which gradually turned darker as he came into his teens. At 19 he was quite tall – 6 Foot, 1
Inch. He felt he would likely grow no
taller, which proved to be still true at 21.
His parents had been quite wealthy, his Father Alastair a banker by
trade. James had known a good
upbringing. Alastair had seen to it that
James, if he continued with his studies with the aptitude he had shown, was to
attend Oxford University. James didn’t
disappoint and graduated top of his class in English Literature in 1995. His father had keenly inquired into James
plans for his life. ‘A
writer, Father. Probably an author. Maybe newspapers and magazines for a while – but ultimately my own
projects.’ His father had
accepted his son’s decision.
James
had been inspired by the classics. Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, C S Lewis and even Tolkien. They were intimate friends of his. James read books – voluminously so. In fact, sometimes he felt the longer the
tome, the greater the challenge – yet greater the satisfaction in the
accomplishment. For James various styles
and genres were appealing. Drama,
Fantasy, War, Detective and even occasionally a spiritual book, though they
were more his Mother’s taste.
His
goal, though, was the ‘Epic’. The ultimate story of life.
The novel to end all novels.
Since
formulating this idea in his early teens, he had considered many concepts. He had written numerous short stories, a
number published in various journals of the land, and had completed his first
novel, ‘Rose and Thorn’, a thriller, at 19.
It remained unpublished, and although the publisher he had sent it to
had stated that it was not quite what they were looking for, his potential had
been noticed and he had been strongly encouraged to persevere in his work.
He
had indeed persevered and his second novel was now complete. ‘The Dark Side’ was a gritty crime and action
drama. James was happy with it – very
happy. It reminded him of the character
in the ‘Punisher’ comics he read when he was younger. Frank Castle had been a hero of his – fighting
the bad guys with their own tactics. His
main character, ‘Davro Steele’, bore reminiscence to the Frank Castle of his
youth. The book, James felt, should
almost be published. It was an
improvement upon ‘Rose and Thorn’ in character depth, consistency of plot,
theme and purpose. He had learned much
since his first novel and felt he now knew, essentially, how to write the
novel. No longer a
quick rush to put down what was in the head at any one time – but a carefully
plotted out storyline, with the necessary characteristics which made a story,
hopefully, compelling.
The
first person to read it apart from himself was his wife of six months, Kate
Geraldson. She had been extremely
expressive in the criticism she had given of it, as he had liked. She had commented on every possible aspect of
the book – both good and bad points. In
the end, she had smiled. ‘It should do
well James. It should do well.’
James
trusted his wife. And sent it again to
‘Unicorn Books’ not far from where he lived, to see if they likewise
agreed. They had, this time, assented to
publication. ‘Much better,’ his agent at
the company, Terry Smythe had said. ‘You
have improved a lot.’
In
a sense, our tale really begins shortly after those words of Terry. James had just left the office of Unicorn
Books and was just leaving the lift at ground floor, when destiny called on
young James.
‘Excuse
me. This might sound strange, but could
you please hold on to this briefcase for just a moment.’ The blonde lady of about 20 held out to James
a briefcase, an anxious look on her face.
‘Uh, okay,’ replied James, not really knowing what else to say, as he
took the briefcase from the stranger.
‘Thanks, whoever you are. Got to run.’ The
blonde lady immediately ran to the front sliding doors, looking behind her
towards the stairwell doorway. The front
doors opened and she quickly dashed out onto the sidewalk, across the
street. Soon she disappeared into the city
haze. James was perturbed. What about her briefcase? Would she be coming back? He decided to sit down at the leather lounge
just near the entrance to the building.
Perhaps she would shortly return.
He had had such good news today, that this inconvenience was only the
slightest problem.
Mulling
over how happy he was, the stairwell doors bursting open suddenly startled
him. A man dressed in a black suit, with
sunglasses, barged through, rushing towards the exit. He gave James a casual glance, but didn’t
really consider him. James watched him
intently as he stood on the sidewalk, his eyes scanning all over the immediate
vicinity. Eventually he moved off,
heading across the road, roughly in the direction the lady had gone.
James
was a little shocked. Now that kind of
thing didn’t really happen every day.
Almost like the start of a great detective novel, he thought to
himself. But he was sure there would be
some reasonable explanation.
He
looked down at the briefcase. It was
dark brown, with a triple number lock on each lock. A pretty flimsy one as
well, by the looks of it. ‘Well,
should I?’ he
thought to himself. It was human nature
of course. But curiosity did kill the
cat. Various thoughts entered his head,
but he decided to take the risk. He
tried the lock catchers. They both
opened immediately. It looked as if they
had not been jumbled. Carefully he
opened the briefcase and looked inside.
Greeting him was a solitary folder with a title emblazoned over it. ‘Project Dark Side’. James jumped at the title. ‘You have got to be kidding me’, he thought
to himself. If that was a coincidence,
it must now hold the record for the most audacious.
He
picked up the folder and opened it.
Inside were a number of pages in a language he didn’t quite recognize, although
looking at it he felt it was quite likely a middle-eastern language. It wasn’t Arabic or Hebrew. But it had a feel to it of that area.
He
counted the pages – 7 in total. All, by the looks of it, in the same script. Of course, he spoke English, could speak and
read a little French and Gaelic, but really did not know any other languages,
although he recognized most foreign scripts.
He couldn’t read it, so placed it back in the folder and returned the
folder to the briefcase, closing it.
He
sat there for a full hour before concluding that the lady, whoever she was, was
not coming back. The building had 45
floors, with numerous offices and businesses.
She could potentially have come from any one of them. Taking it back to her office did not seem
that practical as he did not know were to really start and concluded that it
could possibly take the rest of the day.
He summed up that she could, in the end, likely replace the briefcase
and papers if they were stolen, so he should just leave them in the foyer.
He
placed the briefcase next to the lounge, and looked at it. He didn’t know why – that old curiosity again
– but something said to him, ‘go on, take it. Your dying to know
what it says. You may as well. Someone else might, so it may as well be
you.’ He caved after a few moments and
concluded that, yes, his curiosity had been piqued. Whatever was on those papers, he wanted to
know. Just to satisfy himself. He picked up the briefcase and thought that
maybe, just maybe, he might regret it, but continued on any way. Leaving the building, he walked off down the
street to catch his bus.
* * *
* *
‘James. What’s this?’
James looked down at the briefcase his partner Kate was pointing to, his
mouth preoccupied with a ham and tomato sandwich. ‘Anh bhrietthgkcathe’, he managed through the
contents of his mouth. Kate laughed at
her husband’s stupid behaviour. ‘Yes,
beloved, I know it’s a briefcase. But it
doesn’t look like one of yours. Is it
new?’ James slowly and deliberately finished
his mouthful before speaking. ‘Dearest,
yes, I suppose it is one of mine. Look,
don’t worry about it. It’s nothing
important.’ ‘As you say,’ replied his
wife, and finished off the glass of wine in her hand. The two of them had been hanging in the
kitchen since James returned home at about 6.00 pm. Formal dinners were the usual practice, but
James had said he needed a quick bite to eat, before having to spend some time
in the study. ‘Tonight we eat at
‘Alberto’s’’, were his words to his dearest.
‘Tonight we celebrate.’ Kate had
smiled at those words, happy at the news the book was to be published.
Kate
worked as a secretary in a legal firm in west London, and was studying legal
studies part-time at a trade school. She
was on a reasonable wage and, of course, James parents were well off and
supported James in most ways – and she knew he would receive probably a very
good inheritance. But the book would
help them sooner, if it were to be successful.
They could possibly buy a decent unit somewhere in the city if the book
took off.
Presently
they lived in a rented unit which his parents and Kate herself both contributed
the rent to. James had only a casual job
at a local newspaper which didn’t pay very much. He was concentrating on his dream –
‘Authorship’ – and they both realized that such dreams required
sacrifices. It would be pleasant, Kate
felt, if those sacrifices saw results sooner rather than later. She felt this a lot, and then chided herself
for her selfishness. She loved her husband
and would, if it was necessary, support him alone as she did love him. Growing up and looking at the modern world
she had noticed that not every marriage lasted.
So many people were casual in their relationships these days. Casual sex dominated the land and the
internet was full of pornography.
She
had been raised to be a very traditional English lady. Her family was middle-class. Perhaps ‘Upper’
middle-class. They had a strong
sense of the history and culture of their nation, as her father had been a
history teacher in various schools. Her
mother, like herself, had been to a finishing school – so much more uncommon
these days, a rarity practically. But,
because of this, her family was stoically British. Conservative in politics
and fiercely loyal to the monarchy.
Kate
took much from her education, but also let some of what she felt were now
unnecessary elements depart from her.
For example, her mother naturally expected her to take her husband’s
surname. This was the tradition of their
society, until more recent years. Kate
felt that such a tradition need not be binding.
She loved and admired James – but she was not becoming James. She was still her own person and she knew the
family she was coming from. Why could it
not be that James change his surname? Why was such a tradition necessary at all
anyway? She had decided that she would
keep the ‘Geraldson’ surname and that any children, if they were to have any,
could share their parents surnames. It
seemed the best solution.
Later
that night, James was sitting in his study, in front of the computer, looking
through a website on middle-eastern scripts.
He finally recognized some of the characters. The language appeared to be ancient
Canaanite. An all but
forgotten tongue. There was an
equivalent to the letters in English on the screen, but in half an hour of
searching he was unable to find a decent enough Canaanite Dictionary. However, to this problem he had a solution. At Oxford he had become aware of various
faculties and departments, one of them being the school of middle-eastern
languages. Perhaps it would be easiest
to simply seek out a professor in the University and ask for his or her
assistance. It seemed the best solution.
* * *
* *
‘Yes, Mr Castleton,
the language is Canaanite.’
‘I had thought
so. Can you read it? Do you know what it says?’
‘Yes, a little. Perhaps it may be best if
you leave it with me for a few days and come back and I will have a translation
for you.’
‘Thank you,
professor. Friday afternoon I should be
able to make it, if you have free time then.’
Professor Julius
nodded. ‘That should be fine, Mr
Castleton.’
* * *
* *
Terra
June Middlesworth
June
Middlesworth, daughter of John Middlesworth, of the Elect Church of the Living God,
the true remnant of the church of Christ, sat in her hotel room. The angel had spoken true. James had been present at exactly the right
time, and had taken the briefcase without any incident. Later on, when Grimlock had caught up with
her, questioning her, she had no documentation upon her to suggest anything had
been amiss. Of course, Grimlock remained
suspicious. She had left the office of
Darvanius so quickly, quite suddenly, that Grimlock had been concerned. Alarmed that she may have
been aware of certain things, certain hidden and secret things. His master, Alexander Darvanius, had
contacted Miss Middlesworth. He had been
carefully and sincerely trying to persuade her to join in his mission and
purpose, of which all churches – all Christendom united – needed to be part
of. Christ was near in his return, so
Darvanius continually maintained, and a united Christendom was essential to
reward their lord and saviour with a love unequalled in adoration in the bride
of Christ restored – completed – and unified.
But
June, looking into the heart of Alexander Darvanius, saw what her church had
known for so long. There, in that man,
was the devil himself.
Her
church was to remain separate from the plans of Darvanius. They would not join – they would never join –
the empire of Babylon – the whore so vain and pompous. This Darvanius, a man she refused to fear,
would not conquer the elect of God. The
true church of Christ, upon the rock, the gates of hell itself not prevailing,
would never fall to such a monster as the one she had seen in the heart of
Alexander Darvanius.
She
had seen, over these last few years, a number of protestant and evangelical
churches slowly and steadily fall into line in terms of doctrinal unity and
acceptance of the authority of Darvanius as the appointed overseer for the
church - the false church – at this darkest of hours.
And,
as the whisper was, Babylon itself, the Catholic abomination, had succumbed to
the work of the dark one. June knew that
Babylon would unite – the false Trinitarian heresy of the evil council of the
Papolaters – was rampant throughout the world.
The fourth beast had slowly been claiming nearly all humanity in recent
years. Darvanius had, relentlessly, been
attacking every denomination, with his unending plea of strength in unity – the
church restored. And the deluded souls –
the non-repented, certainly, as her father would teach, the unrepentable – the
predestined to the eternal fires of agonizing damnation – they would suffer the
justified and absolute wrath of her eternal loving father. Yes, in the evil she had seen in the hearts
of men, she knew, oh how well she knew, these wicked souls deserved and most
surely must be condemned to the agonizing hell of unquenchable fire. Absolute justice, so she knew in her
heart. Absolute
justice.
* * *
* *
Terra
James
James
sat with Professor Julius. The
professor, having welcomed James into his office, turned to the writing, and
began reading its interpretation he had finished. It is a fascinating read, James. An interesting piece of literature, perhaps
even authentic, but I doubt it. Probably just a late Pseudepigraphon, perhaps not even that old. But anyway, it reads like this.
‘This is the last
written record of Adoni-Zedek, King of Jerusalem. ‘I Adoni-Zedek, call on you, Baal, Mot,
Molech and Darthon. Rescue us from these
invading Hebrews. Our fathers have known
you and trusted in you. We have
sacrificed our children and given of our crops.
Now deliver us from this terror of Elohim. My father of fathers, Melchizedek, served you
– the first great priest of Jerusalem.
He honoured all the gods of Canaan, even the terrible Elohim who now
threatens us. I beseech you, ancient
deities, deliver us. Vanquish us from
this scourge. If you do so, I will
honour you. I will repay your great
favour and offer sacrifices in abundance.
Throughout the land there will be feasts given to you. I will instruct the other kings to pay even
greater homage. We will continue on the
orgies and the child sacrifices. We will
do all you require, oh great ones. Only
deliver us. Protect us from the wrath of
Elohim and the Hebrews. They will
destroy us – ravage our land and take all that we own. We cry out to you oh gods, save us from this
terror. Our homage will be eternal. And in this prayer I invoke that terrible
name. The name our family has known from
Melchizedek and onwards. The name of that great child of his, my fathers, myself and my son
who, in the day of destiny shall vanquish all our enemies. I invoke the name of destiny – the child of
power who shall rise up and exalt us above all that rule. I invoke his holy and powerful name. I invoke the name of ‘Darvanius’. In his name, oh gods of power, protect
me. Deliver me from this terrible scourge. Amen.’
James spoke up. ‘The name at the end. ‘Darvanius! That is the spelling of Alexander Darvanius,
the great ecumenists, surname.
Professor Julius
looked at the document. ‘Is it now! I say. Well that probably settles it then. It is a recent document. Just a fantasy of someone’s
imagination. I would think
nothing more of it.’
James nodded, taking
the translation, and leaving the professor to his studies. Walking along a corridor of the uni he
assumed that the professor, in all likelihood, was correct. The document itself was likely just an
imaginary tale – nothing substantial about it.
That was likely, in truth, all that there was to it. All that there could
possibly be.
* * *
* *
Terra
Saruviel
5970 - 5977 SC (2000 – 2007 AD)
The
time of manifestation was at hand for one of God’s children – one which he had
mapped out a destiny for and crafted it in a most particular way. His child Saruviel was, well he was Saruviel. He was who he was and quite and most original in his
character and nature, which each of his children were. God did love his child Saruviel. Not the most of any angel, that was
true. Other hearts had captured his own
in the devotion, love and uniqueness they had shown him. But it was not love which Saruviel needed,
that much God did know. Love, for
Saruviel, would come later on – much later on.
It was not what he was preoccupied with.
One of the virtues, to Saruviel. A virtue he acknowledged, but did not dwell
on in any particular way. God knew what
Saruviel sought. He saw it in him – in
his character and mind and thoughts. It
was respect which Saruviel sought. Not
God’s respect though, not directly anyway, but rather that of his own. Saruviel had a belief about himself – a
belief that he should set the highest standard of all that existed, including
God. That he should seek to be the
epitome of perfection – higher than the highest point of Zaphon – higher than
the heights of the Realm of Eternity.
God
had placed a spark of life within Saruviel, one which was unlike the other of
his children. It was the spark of
potential.
God
admired Saruviel. He admired the way in
which he took life, in truth, more seriously than any other being that he knew
of. Far greater than
Michael or the Logos, who were both terribly dedicated to such realities. Saruviel was intense in his heart. It was the extremest of extremes to feel the
spirit of Saruviel when he had passion.
When he was alive to life, and the possibilities it brought.
Of
course, tempering that passion, that spark, that drive,
was not easy. And God felt that, in the
respect Saruviel sought, he needed to show him the grace and patience such a
child needed. If that meant evil came of
it, which it had done so previously, such was necessary. For Saruviel’s development – for his eternal
future – God wanted Saruviel to know that he cared and that he respected his
child. Saruviel’s ways of life, his
beliefs, his understandings were important to
God. God surveyed the hearts and minds
of all his children and understood the broader perspective of how the whole
thought – how it acted and behaved.
Saruviel was unique, as many of his children were, within that whole,
and often, quite deliberately, acted in a way contrary to the whole. But such was his nature. Such was the nature he had developed through
choices he had made in life, and in how he had been shaped through life
circumstances and the actions of others, including God himself.
God
had decided, finally, that for Saruviel, after a certain point in time, destiny
would leave his son. At a certain point,
God would have hands off of his child and let Saruviel make the decisions of
life and act upon them in accordance with his will. Saruviel, one day, would have to choose his
own destiny. He would have to map out
for himself the life he desired and the path he wished to tread. God felt that, one day, one day somewhere in
the future, he would make a man out of his son Saruviel. That is were destiny would lead this child of
his.
*
* *
* *
5970 SC (2000 AD)
It
was a cold, dark, black and bitter winter morning. Perhaps it was a morning disdained by God
himself, or one pitied by the angels of heaven.
Father Murphy and two of the brothers of Charnsley Monastery, a
monastery known to few but the hierarchy in the Catholic Church, set in the
backlands of Nebraska, were at work in their vegetable garden, while the other
brother of the monastery was milking one of their cows. Charnsley was a despot of a town. A no-town, really. It’s half a dozen residents, blank-faced,
weary eyed, decrepit and hopeless, all past 60, barring one, were ageing
citizens who found the only thing to keep them going was the regular social
welfare cheque, and the faithful idiot box.
The one under 60 may have, in many ways, have been confused with the
others, despite her young years. She was
in labour. Mrs Greene, the midwife
watched her steward carefully, ready to deliver the latest of God’s blessed
miracles into the world. The labour was
loud and tiresome for Mrs Greene. Her
subject, cursing God for being inundated with such an annoyance, was bothersome
and irritating. Eventually, at 12.06pm
on Saturday morning, the woman gave birth.
Mrs Greene looked at the child, a fright coming to her face. Yet she steeled herself, tied the cord,
washed the baby and handed it to her mother.
Then she departed for the monastery to fetch the priest.
Half
an hour later the priest arrived and looked into Mrs Greene’s concerns. There, on the forehead, the slightest of birthmarks. Yet unmistakable in what they read. 3 numbers. 3 solitary numbers. 6 6 6. The priest made the sign of the cross. Mrs Greene looked at him and spoke two
words. ‘Kill it.’ The priest looked at Mrs Greene for a few
moments, perhaps considering acting upon this mandate, yet that most noble of
Christian traits interfered, and mercy was granted. He looked to the mother. ‘You do not want this child, do you?’ The mother looked at the baby resting in her
arms. Perhaps, for a moment, she considered
that having a child of her own may not be that bad but, looking at the mark,
and not being a fool, she handed the child over to the priest. ‘Take it.
Do what you will.’ The priest
took the child, gave the mother and Mrs Greene a cursory glance, and left. And then the storm which had been brewing all
morning began, and 3 quick strikes of lightning struck.
* * *
* *
5977 SC (2007 AD)
‘What
is God, father?’ Father Murphy looked
down at young Alexander, noting again that the birthmark that had been such a
problem for the brothers had faded long ago.
He looked into the face of this 7 year old child, one so inquisitive, so
curious, so thirsty for knowledge and
understanding. He thought on many
theological things he could say to young Alexander to give food to his eager
young mind, yet felt the heart, for one so young, needed ministering to. ‘God is your Father, Alex. And he loves you.’ Alex nodded, actually quite used to the
concept the priest had defined, yet not really satisfied with such an
answer. ‘Yes, I know. And I am grateful. Yet, I must ask. What is he exactly? What type of being?’ The priest took the flask of water hanging
from his shoulder strap, unbottled it, and took a sip. He wiped his brow, feeling the sweat from a
hard mornings work in the garden.
‘Alexander – God is spirit. This
is what the Gospels teach us. In Jesus,
our lord, we see him face to face. God
as man, God made flesh, to reconcile us with our heavenly Father. Each of them – Father, Son and Spirit are
united together yet, in truth, one God and not three.’ ‘I see,’ said Alexander, again hearing of
this Trinity notion. ‘And which one is
my father, exactly?’ ‘God is your
father, Alexander. God is your
father.’ Alex nodded, not really
satisfied with that answer, but accepting that it was likely the only answer he
would receive.
Father
Murphy took another sip, closed the flask and beckoned Alexander to get the
wheelbarrow to put the pumpkin, potatoes and tomatoes in. ‘We could probably fish out a few more items,
but there is still ample in the kitchen, I think. I guess that should do. Now, Alex.
Put the vegetables carefully into the wheelbarrow and follow me. Be careful, mind you.’ The priest led the way from the gardens down
the long path back to the back door of the monastery which led into the laundry
and kitchen area.
Brother
John was in the kitchen, at work on the night’s meal. Alexander carefully took the vegetables from
the wheelbarrow and placed them on the kitchen table. John scruffed him on the head with a friendly
pat, and told him to go out to the front living room as a parcel had arrived
for him.
Father
Murphy looked at Brother John. ‘A parcel? For Alexander? But
who could it be from?’ Brother John
started peeling a potato and responded, ‘Well, yes. I did look at the sender. It is, by the looks of it, from the
Archbishop. It was addressed to
Alexander with ‘For your eyes only’, so I felt best not to object to the
Archbishops desires.’ Father Murphy
nodded. Alexander, from living memory,
had never received mail before. For the
lad, who, after a brief look at the Priest to see if it would be alright to go
look at the parcel and had departed, it would be a great event.
Father
Murphy followed Alexander down the long hallways to the front living room were,
on the table by the window, a large brown parcel was sitting. Alexander looked at Father Murphy who nodded
his approval. The lad, then, started to open
up the parcel. Inside was a uniform of a
traditional Catholic school, and a letter.
Alexander handed the letter to Father Murphy and started putting on the
uniform.
Father
Murphy opened the letter and began reading.
‘Alexander. I have known of you and your situation for
quite some time. We have been concerned
for you, young child. And because of
this we have found a home for you in Omaha and a family to foster you. You will begin your schooling at Corpus
Christi. Christ, our Lord, loves all his
little children, and you are special and dear to him, young Alexander. Before the month is out you will have a
visitor who will take you to your new home.
May
God’s richest blessings be upon you at this time.
Archbishop
Rosetti
Omaha
Diocese’
The
Father looked at the letter and looked at his young steward. Time, it seemed, had caught up with young
Alexander. His destiny, it seemed,
finally beckoned.
* * *
* *
Terra
Davriel
5910
– 5970 SC (1940-2000 AD)
Adam had grown up. And more than that – he had prospered. The tradition his father had continued of neglecting
a surname, instead naming him ‘Adam Bar Elihu’ or ‘Adam son of Elihu’ seemed
difficult at first, but it certainly was the traditional way of things. The ancient way of things. And, in his twenties, celebrating Passover on
Mt Gerizim with his family with the rest of the Samaritan community, Adam bar
Elihu began understanding just how important those ancient roots were.
Adam spoke to God constantly in his
early years. He spoke of his dreams, his
aspirations, his desire for the prosperity of the Samaritans, and all sorts of
things from his life and adventures.
Whatever God thought of all of this Adam could not really say, but he
did wonder. Regardless, he was sure, sure
all the time, that God was there, that God was with
him, that God – was.
And it was God, who, in time, became the
centre of the heart of this Samaritan child.
In the community Adam stood out in many
ways. He was intelligent – very
intelligent – and he had a very orthodox and traditional way of approaching his
faith in the God of the Torah. He had
been called ‘Moses’ by some of the other lads in the Samaritan community from
time to time, so impressed were they with his legalistic approach to Torah
faith. But they also respected him for
his compassion, for he came around to many Samaritan homes in late teens and
early twenties, doing the work of a priest in training almost, teaching Torah,
encouraging the community in their walk with God, doing his very best to be all
things to all people. In some way, in
ways quickly noticed by the High Priest of the Samaritan community, Adam was
different. Adam was special.
The Samaritans, as a sect, represented
what they believed to be the original and oldest religious pathway amongst
mankind – the original Torah faith of Moses and ancient Israel. In their own Samaritan Torah, slightly
different here and there from the Jewish ones, they found justification for
their beliefs and way of life and, faithfully they felt, followed God and
walked in his holy mitzvoth. They
celebrated Passover properly and did those things which were meant to please
God, following his ancient commandments.
They were the Shoferim – the law keepers – and they were, so they
believed, in the heart of God’s purposes for mankind.
Within the Samaritan community, though,
was a prophetical idea of the prophet which Moses spoke of. The prophet they called ‘The Taheb.’ The Taheb’s role was described in scripture
to speak the words of God and be that next light after Moses. Further more he had to find the lost Ark of
the Covenant and bring the world to the Light of the Torah. That was the Taheb’s role.
They did not believe in the Jewish
Messiah. The Samaritan’s only accepted
the first 5 books of the Hebrew Bible, the Written Torah. And while they did not really disdain their
Jewish compatriots greatly, they knew they were set apart from them. In both they way they were treated separately
and, in truth, largely ignored apart from being an object of curiousity by the
larger Jewish community of Israel. But
that didn’t matter. They served God and
were faithful to him.
The Samaritans, naturally, circumcised
in the name of Abraham’s covenant, and believed their roots went back to the
ancient kingdom of Northern Israel at the times of the divided kingdom. This the Jews disputed, claiming them of
mixed blood from Assyria. It was a
disputed topic, and naturally neither side really appreciated listening to the
other. Whatever else, the Samaritans certainly
believed they were part of God’s chosen people and, in keeping the Torah and
circumcising, seemed to demonstrate this very truth.
There numbers had once been tiny and,
even today, they numbered only in the hundreds. But better times, slowly, had been
coming. They had many males born to
them, and needed women, and were starting to marry foreigners to boost their
population. But another solution was
needed. A solution
which, so the High Priest believed, only the Taheb could provide for them.
It was Adam – Adam Bar Elihu – who, as
he grew, in fame and favour throughout the Samaritan community who, so the High
Priest had a growing suspicion, was God’s long hidden answer to his community’s
prayer. And, in the year 2000, before
the whole Samaritan community, in a special ceremony, they anointed him their
grand ‘Taheb’ for the High Priest had received a vision from God that this man
was the chosen one – the special one – the one destined for glory.
And so Adam led the Samaritan community
then and, with his growing influence, and sudden fame amongst the Jews for the community’s
claim about him, he began his message, his ministry, his work, and sought to
change Israel and the world, towards becoming children of the Kingdom, with
passion, determination, hope and persistence.
* *
* * *
Terra
Samael
of Infinity
5975
SC – 2005 AD/CE
Repentance. Actual repentance was indeed a part of the
Torah of Infinity. Samael knew
this. But he had also known another
truth – he was a headstrong angel who often set his own agenda – often at odds
to his heavenly father, and thus while the truths of repentance against the
ways of sin were somewhat acknowledged by the venerable Samael of Infinity, the
actual acknowledging of such behaviour in his own particular conduct was not
always as forthcoming. Not always.
Today, perhaps, was different.
Samael, for the last week, had been
thinking over history – his own history in the Realm of Infinity and the
behaviours he traditional observed in latter years of the realm. Behaviours of sarcastic ways, as he was wont to put it, and delightful humour. And while his brashness was admired by
Sandalphon and the like as appropriate humour against the painfully serious and
humourless tones of Logos, Samael had been coming to see, in his heart, that
perhaps, just perhaps, he had not always had the best of receptions to his more
charming personality traits. In fact, often the opposite.
Often, he could recall from memory, he was called the Devil
himself. Certainly, Samael knew in his
heart he was no paragon of virtue – but neither was he particularly fond of the
darkest of ways of evil either. He could
understand evil, and had seen some of Satan’s own machinations on the subject
but, ultimately, Samael had something of a moral heart in his own way. Challenging, certainly. But there was a moral basis, in the end, to
what Samael, angel of Infinity, represented.
That had been a choice of the heart in youth, and something he still
abided by.
But he did not pretend to be perfect,
and had not greatly striven to be as such.
Perhaps, though, he had not striven enough at all. Perhaps he was, as some might call him, lazy
on his spiritual virtues. Slack.
Oh, he was a clean and tidy enough
angel, and didn’t go around in the slack ways of Garanel, with food all over
his clothing, and crude jokes. But, he
now acknowledged, he could be sometimes too harsh in his judgements upon
people. To harsh and condemning in the
words he might want to use to express this feeling.
And perhaps this wasn’t good
enough. Perhaps, in truth, things had to
change.
He’d had a long time now, in his earthly
sojourn, to consider his ways. Many years. He’d had
visitors again, now, from the heavenlies.
Finally, after 2000 passed, God had forgiven his son much of his
wrongdoings. And he knew his sojourn
would have an end – another 1000 years, potentially.
But, thinking about why he was here in
the first place, exiled from his brethren, he had come to a conclusion on the
matter. The mast of glory, God himself,
had found him lacking. Had found him wanting.
Whatever he might possibly say about the wisdom of God, he was still
just that – God. And he had created and
ruled the universe so, obviously, he knew a thing or
two. And, perhaps, because of that very
truth, Samael had overstepped the boundaries – the unwritten boundaries of
behaviour which, perhaps, he should have known about.
He had long been a rival to Logos but,
in the end, why? Why oppose him? Why be so obstinate? From all his experiences in his sojourn on earth
he had grown accustomed from various occasions to the ways of children. And one thing he knew so true, children could
be childish, selfish, wanting their own ways, often at odds to the wisdom of
their parents. Had he been like
that? Had such – childishness – overcome
the heart of Samael of Infinity. Had he been nothing but a
brat in the end. He truly hoped
not. But, then again, he had been
exiled. He had been exiled.
Perhaps he needed, simply, to grow
up. To get over childish ways, and to show
respect to all his brethren, including Logos, in ways he once had in the time
of his youth. To love them first and
foremost as his beloved brethren, and grant them the kinds of graces he would
expect for himself anyway.
Perhaps it was time for Samael to become
a man.
He sat there that morning, in front of
his shack, thinking these thoughts.
Thinking about maturing and growing up and becoming what he was supposed
to be – an angel – a child of God – mature.
He sat there, thinking these thoughts, and perhaps, in truth, the heart
of Samael was making choices of adulthood.
Time would tell, though, what other things God had in store for this
particular child of his.
* *
* * *
Terra
Davriel
5977
SC (2007 AD)
‘Adam bar Elihu. Son of the Most High
God. Your honour and dignity is known
well to us. Receive this plaque of
honour, beloved Taheb, as a sign of your honourable Sonship as Emmanuel – God
with us.’
The Samaritan High Priest unveiled the
plaque, which was found at the base of the new Synagogue at the base of Mt
Gerizim. Adam was beside himself.
‘This, this honour,
is truly wonderful,’ began Adam. ‘The
title, Son of the Most High God, has been worn by Israel as a nation for so
long, and I am very grateful you have bestowed such generous honours upon
me. But our work, fellow Samaritans, is
only beginning. It is only just
begun. Today our Torah is finished – in
its new English, French and German translations. The Samaritan Torah in translation for those
communities. And our charity
stores number 365 throughout the world already, and are still
growing. In fact, today I can announce
four new ones: one in New York, one in Sydney, one in London, and one in a town
in Wales called Crossden. And each
charity store, as per our tradition, will have a twin hostel located nearby,
for the housing of lost and broken spirits.
Love – pure and honest love – is the answer, my fellow Samaritans. Through the covenant of our father Noah, we
will continue to reach the world, to enshrine the Rainbow Brit into their
hearts, and teach them the wonderful truths of a blessed life filled with the
Torah of Yahweh, our blessed and holy redeemer.
And now – soon – the next phase of our mission before God. In all truth, despite our communities
constant yearning in prayer, I can not find the heart of God to show me if and
were the holy Ark of the Covenant truly exists.
If it is, God forbid, lost to us forever, then I have reached the
decision that in true faith and in a true spirit of a New Covenant, we start again,
and rebuild the Ark afresh, anew.’
There were some gasps in the audience
over that statement.
‘Yes, we have the specifications clearly
marked out in Exodus, so we may, upon our Lord Yahweh’s blessing, start again,
rebuild the Ark, rebuild it perfectly, and honour our beloved creator in doing
this. And the Stone Tablets? Were else, but quarried from the very rock of
Mt Sinai shall they be, and inscribed with the holy commands by the very best
artisan available to us.’ He paused
then, as the audience murmured of his plans, and looked out at the gathered
Samaritan Israelite community.
‘It is only the beginning, children of
Israel, and redemption is at hand. The redemption of the world.
Our faith is sure, our mission undoubtable, the reward unmistakable. Let us all praise Jehovah, and give him
thanks for the wonderful graces poured out upon us. Let us all praise our king.’
And they did so, for over an hour. And as the music played, and Davriel sang,
his heart rejoiced at the spirit of joy in the community, as the hopes of
Israel were once again reborn, once again paying homage to their Almighty
Creator, God and Father.
* *
* * *
Terra
Samael
5980 (2010 AD)
Samael sat in his room
in his shack, working on a piece on his harpsichord – a new piece. It was now three years since Logos last visit
and Samael was hopeful for another visit soon.
When the year 2000 had just passed, Logos had surprised him with a
visit, and then again in 2002, 2005 and 2007.
The encounter in 2000 had, surprisingly, gone very well. Logos had greeted him warmly, even giving him
a hug, and Samael found that his antagonism towards his older brother had
gone. In fact, heaven was aware of this,
declaring Samael’s repentance as the main reason visitors were to be
allowed. And now, three years since his last visit,
Samael was hoping for another visit soon.
He stopped playing, looked glumly at his picture of Aphrayel he had
painted on the wall of his shack and thought to himself ‘Oh well. Maybe he’ll come tomorrow.’
* *
* * *
Terra
Jontel
5980
SC (2010 AD)
‘Timbuktu?’ The old warrior of many a war looked at the
strapping lad, querying him again. ‘Why
the hell do you want to go to Timbuktu. Mtoko Jones, the 19th of the
Seraphim of Eternity, Jontel, had been born the fifth of July, 1976. Today, his 34th birthday, the
Fifth of July 2010, Mtoko had had a dream.
A strange figure, dressed in bright red and calling herself the daughter
of destiny, had appeared to him in a vision and said to him, ‘In Timbuktu,
beyond the devil’s reach, lies a salvation of eternal life belonging to the
wise son of Muphasa.’ Mtoko’s father
Muphasa was a strong influence on young Mtoko’s life and, when the daughter of
destiny had invoked his name, Mtoko had been inspired to follow the vision in
honour of his deceased father. And so,
for the first time in his life, he would travel the road to Timbuktu to see
what destiny had in store for him.
Mtoko’s great, great grandfather had been a white man from Wales. He had come to Mauritania were he had married
Mtoko’s great, great grandmother. Since
then most of the whiteness had dropped away from his family, yet they all knew
that Mtoko, in a sense, was a European.
Yet, with so much of the blood of Africa in his veins as well, they
welcomed him as a child of their own.
Mtoko’s great, great grandfather had been Timberley Jones, one of the
rarest of Welsh first names. Old
Timberley had been of the Anglican faith – one which he had passed on down
through the generations.
Young Mtoko himself had been baptised in
the Anglican church, yet had converted to Islam around
21. His faith from his early childhood,
and into his conversion, was now quite strongly built upon the Bible and the
Koran. While he was Muslim, he had
nothing but love and respect for his Christian family, mainly bothered by the
Trinity doctrine which, despite the truth he held to Muslim faith, was
essentially the real reason he had departed Christianity. Judaism had been considered, yet he still
accepted Jesus as the Christ. And based
on this, and his notion of the Oneness of God, he had converted to Islam,
believing it to be God’s most recent revelation.
Mtoko believed in Angels and Spirits and
because of this upon receiving the vision he promptly acted upon it,
withdrawing the whole balance of his funds from his bank, farewelling his
mother and sister, and heading for Timbuktu.
His first stop on the long road had been at a small road store which,
thank God, sold his beloved Coca Cola, the most delicious of substances. There an old man, sitting by a Chess board
with pieces set up, smiled at him. Mtoko
had sat down and asked for a game.
In the end, young Mtoko trounced the
ancient player. In chess Mtoko was,
truly, very gifted. Strategy was his
strength. And in Chess he delighted like
no other game.
Having left the road store, he had been
walking along the dusty road, feeling the heat of the day, taking occasional
sips from his canteen. And then, walking
along, an old man who himself had been on holiday from his hometown of
Beltingham in Northern Wales, stopped to pick him up. The old man was on the safari of a lifetime,
so he had said, as they were driving along.
He had, so he told Mtoko, been inspired one day. He had been driving along, having just given
a lift to a young man around Mtoko’s age, and then he had been inspired to go
off and, despite his age, see just what it could offer him. Mtoko asked him carefully. ‘What is your name, kind sir?’
The man looked at him kindly. ‘Pendragon, young Mtoko. Arthur Pendragon, in honour
of the ancient King.’ Mtoko
looked puzzled. ‘You are of the
Pendragon family?’
‘An ancient bloodline in truth, young
son.
Be he fact or fiction, King Arthur is
supposedly my ancestor, as the family genealogies claim.’ As they drove along they chatted on this and
that, and various other aspects of life.
Arthur shared with him about his life in Beltingham, and about his young
Grand-daughter, Lucy Bridges, who was now doing much better in life. Mtoko found the tale of Lucy very
illuminating and even inspiring. It
would be wonderful, he thought to himself, to have such a sudden burst of
inspiration to go off and accomplish ones dreams.
They drove all that afternoon, and late
in the day arrived in Timbuktu. The old
man wished Mtoko the best of lives, farewelled him, and drove off.
Mtoko looked at Timbuktu. ‘So this is home for now,’ he thought to
himself. ‘Well, let us see what destiny
brings us.’
* * * * *
Terra
Samael
of Infinity
5980
SC (2010 AD)
Samael looked into his heart, and looked
at the way, all those years ago, that he had acted in the Realm of Infinity,
and one word, now, after all this time, sprang to mind. Self indulgent. Sure, he had loved his brethren. Sure he had cared for them. Sure, he had shared himself, and good times
with them. But it was now, looking at
himself in the light of a maturity borne through suffering, the character of
self indulgent mockery, an aura of ‘I am Samael, and you are merely an angel of
God, nothing to be compared to my grandeur,’ which he sensed in the heart of
himself, despite knowing his own belief that he had only been having fun with
his brethren. But Logos had never seen
it like that. He never had. Samael had become the devil, through his own
pride, not to suffer righteous rebukes, but to let his casual attitude dominate
his heart. Certainly, humour had its
place, but how much? How much was too
much? When did someone cross the
line? When was it too far?
He thought on Aphrayel, who had
constantly remained loyal to him, and known she had always seen his heart. Always understood were he was coming
from. But not so with
the others. They simply feared
him. Simply avoided
him, at times. Did
not want to suffer his subtle sarcasms and mockeries.
And so Samael repented, in his shack in
Sherwood forest, letting go of a part of him, an
ancient spirit from a realm unknown, which simply could not dominate his heart
to such a degree anymore. For the old Samael was now dead, and a new man was being born. A new, better, and more
honourable man. A brand new Samael.
And perhaps it was about time too.
* *
* * *
Terra
Gamrayel
5974–5991
SC (2004–2021 AD)
Nathan James Hitler,
the Seraphim Angel Gamrayel of the Realm of Eternity, was born in Salzburg,
Austria, in the Christian calendar year of 2004. At 15 Nathan was noticed. He was gentle, courteous and proper in
conduct. Pleasing to all alike. Nathan had been raised by his father Hans to
be a little careful when discussing one of the family members, old Adolph. Hans had said Adolph had been misguided and
given away to dark and deceiving spirits.
But Hans felt, in honest Christian tradition, that Adolph also deserved
a legacy of love and fondness. In the
next world, so he taught young Nathan, Adolph may be enduring hard times
because of his aggressiveness and darkness which he had shown Israel. And, because of this, he had encouraged young
Nathan to study out Jewish doctrine and literature in an honest and heartfelt
attempt to seek peace with the people of the book.
Nathan had met, at 17,
young Mary Rosenberg, and fallen in love.
Mary had taught him of the covenant of Noah, and Nathan, as befitted a Hitler,
had taken to it with the passion and pride old Adolph had displayed in his
conquering zeal. Mary had chuckled at
some of the things Nathan had said regarding Israel. ‘Are you sure you are not Adolph reborn? I mean, those insane Karaites you hang around
are really Fugging you up, Nathan.’ He
had responded by quoting Jesus of Nazareth, an old hero of his, regarding, what
he perceived as early formulations of the Mishnah, and had rebuked the Orthodox
Rabbi at the synagogue most savagely on this issue. ‘Art thou the Antichrist himself? Old Rabbi Seinfeld had asked young Nathan,
the wickedest most subtle of grins on face.
Nathan had been shocked. ‘Certainly not, dear Rabbi.
I am, as befits a servant of the Most High God, rebuking your clearly
unrepented of and malicious hypocrisy of heart.
Mmm.’ The
Rabbi chuckled a little. ‘Oh, Nathan. You
really are the Devil’s child, aren’t you.’ Nathan grinned smugly. ‘Well, maybe.’ The two of them had a bit of a laugh, and the
afternoon had been spent listening to various Mozart Concertos.
Later on, young Nathan
was considering the issue of the Antichrist.
Consulting with the Rabbi and a number of Hakham’s over the internet,
Nathan had been working through the Book of Daniel and other prophets of the Tenakh,
to try to understand the basics of the issue.
He had, he felt, clearly identified the first three beasts of Daniel
chapter 7. The first beast was England
and the United Kingdom. The lion. The
plucking of the eagle’s wings had been the American Revolution, America being
an Eagle, when with America leaving Britain, the wings were subsequently
plucked. The Second beast, which had
caused him great concern, because as he had initially viewed this as the Bear Russia,
he had been quite literal and felt that Russia did not arise out of the great
sea. But, recently, in a spout of
revelation, he had become aware that the great ‘Terran’ land mass of Europe,
Asia, Africa and the Middle-East, was likewise surrounded by the ‘Great
Sea’. So his understanding of the
prophecy continued.
The third beast was
the leopard. And that, so young Nathan
felt, seemed yet to really materialize.
He felt, and was convinced, that his God and Father would make the
symbolism of the Leopard most obvious in an emerging empire in the future. Britain was universally known as the
Lion. That was well known. America was always known as the Eagle. Russia had become constantly known as the
bear. The Leopard was, to the best of
his knowledge, yet to become apparent.
The final kingdom –
the eternal Kingdom – belonged to the children of Noah. In harmony with the children of Abraham and
Israel, who were all children of Noah, the eternal Kingdom of God would remain
everlasting.
He understood that the
children of Noah, as representatives of the ‘Oldest Covenant’ had the greatest
of responsibilities in the example they must set to others. Children of Abraham as the ‘Older Covenant’,
Nathan felt, had not as much responsibility, yet earned their pride and rewards
in other areas. The ‘Old Covenant’
belonged to Israel. They were the main
administrators in the eternal kingdom.
Christians, under the ‘New Covenant’ were the main subjects of the
Eternal Kingdom, alongside the Muslims ‘Newer Covenant’ and the Bahai ‘Newest
Covenant’. These were the children of
God, each important and special to him, living out the more ‘everyday’ types of
lives which they usually preferred to anyway.
This idea of differing
covenants and a hierarchy in God’s kingdom was, in truth, much of Nathan’s own
speculation. A
contrived view to try and make sense of the monotheistic world from a broader
perspective.
In Nathan’s theology,
the avenue for advancement in the Kingdom seemed plain. Zaphon, the summit of Zion, in Israel, was
where God’s chosen King would oversee affairs.
This was the highest duty and responsibility in the eternal
Kingdom. Only upon achieving the highest
standards of holiness, could this position be granted. The Archangel Michael, he believed, usually
administered this role.
Nathan, through his
internet studies, had become aware of one of the few remaining Christian
churches which had not joined the new united Christian church.
Master Alexander
Darvanius, running affairs from London in England, had begun uniting the major
Christian churches on doctrine and way of life.
At this stage, the Catholic church, the Orthodox churches, the Lutheran
Church, the Anglican Church, the Baptist Church, the Salvation Army, the Church
of Christ, the Methodist Church, the Assembly of God, the Christian Brethren,
nearly every mainstream evangelical and Pentecostal church, as well as the
formerly known as ‘Mormon’ church, had joined the new assembly simply known as
the ‘Christian Church’. Every church was
now largely united in doctrine and teaching.
The Catholics, when the Cross at the head of the centre of each church
building had been replaced by a smouldering cauldron of fire to represent the
Father, and further giving away all Rosaries, prayers to saints, and removing
all statues of prior saints, had been accepted by the Anglican and Lutheran
Church. It had, so Darvanius had
stressed to the Pope continually and unequivocabally, an absolute and
impossible dividing gap for Protestantism which it would never accept in their
churches. Darvanius argument was that,
in the spirit of New Testament tradition, which all churches honoured, it was
not necessary to continue the practices which the Catholics maintained. The pope had eventually, in the sensible
heart of pure ecumenism, and the realization of what such unity could mean for
the church on a world stage, relented of the Catholic churches absolutist
position. They had finally yielded to
their protestant opponents objections. And
then, a fervour had erupted. So much of Christendom then united. Old wars, old hatreds and pride, had
disappeared in the spirit of unity and togetherness which had, almost
overnight, materialized. So many of the old problems disappeared almost immediately.
Yet not every
Christian denomination had joined. The
Church worldwide in its new ecumenised form was Trinitarian. This was an irrevocable belief in the church,
the Pope had claimed. Those outside of
this belief, so few in numbers anyway, were deemed to be of little consequence
as to make their conversion not worth pursuing.
For want of a better word, Unitarian Christianity, whose main
protagonists included the Jehovah’s witnesses and various other Unitarian
bodies, were, as Protestants had maintained for many years, viewed upon as cults. They were outside of the true doctrine of
God.
Nathan had been
studying one church, on the net, in particular that ascribed Unitarian
belief. There opening statement on their
website went along similar lines to churches which tried to make out as if they
alone were the true church. It went, ‘As
Christ teaches, Narrow is the pathway to eternal life.’ Yet, in this particular church, Nathan found
a growing interest. The church was known
as ‘The Elect Church of the Living God’.
They claimed apostolic descent ‘outside’ of the traditional church. Apparently, an unbroken line of ministry, persecuted for 2,000 years, by the whore Babylon,
the now united Christendom. This church,
as time passed, Nathan would devote more and more time to the study of.
* *
* * *
Terra
Matrel
5978
SC (2008 AD)
He was number one. Stefan Federer was number one. The best tennis player on
the planet, and approaching the all time record for most slams. But he was still calm. Still calm under pressure and, whatever else,
he would not worry himself about the situation.
Of course, today, sitting out there in the crowd, was Amiel. Amiel Dennamere, the Aussie singer, who he
had been dating for a few weeks now, and who was the focus of much media
attention. He was obsessed over Amiel –
she was really very attractive and he put his heart and soul into his tennis
game in the last few weeks because of it.
He was going to win Wimbledon this fortnight, he could sense it. His name would be on the winner’s board, yet
again, and he would nearly be the all time champion of slams. Just two to go after that
to take the record.
He sat calmly in the dressing room,
looking at his opponent. The yank looked
calm, exceedingly calm. Andy Bradlock,
yet again he was playing Andy Bradlock.
It was the 4th round, and they had been now scheduled to meet
a little later in the draw than the usual first or second round, so much had
Andy been improving. Roger silently
observed him, sensing an air about the Bradlock champion. It would be a fight, one day, between
them. An exhausting
fight. He sensed a contest in
which neither side really willing to yield, but one claimed by sheer
exhaustion, would give to the other on that fateful day. And Stefan, staring at his opponent, was
determined that would not be him.
An official signified it was time, and
the two of them slowly made their way out onto the court. Amiel waved to him, smiling, with the cameras
focused on her. He waved back, waved at
the crowd, and looked at his opponent.
‘Don’t worry’, he told himself.
This one is yours.
* *
* * *
Terra
Kimborel
5979
SC (2009 AD)
‘You could not rebel against God, even
if you tried Lee Kim. I mean, seriously
– you are that square. Its go to church
three times a week and then prayers Friday night and on top of that an hour of
prayer every morning and scripture, scripture, scripture – nothing but
scripture. I mean seriously, girl. Get a life.’
Danny Robinson, quietly teasing his girlfriend, the Korean Lee Kim, was
in a jovial mood. While Danny was not
exactly a lukewarm member of the United Pentecostal Church of Chifley in
Canberra, Australia, his girlfriend for the past week, Lee Kim, was anything
but Lukewarm. She was a zealot – an
alarmingly out of control zealot to Danny.
Not only did she live, eat and breathe scripture, she went out
evangelizing every Friday night after prayers to try and convert the world to
her church. Danny liked her though, she
was cute, and had a good sense of spirituality.
But she was oh so full on and he teased her because of it. Lee looked at him and decided to quote
scripture at him. ‘Love not the world or
the things of the world. If anyone loves
the world the love of the father is not in him.
For all that is of the world, the lust of the eyes, the pride of life
and the sin of the flesh perishes, but he who does the will of God abides
forever.’ Danny looked at her – that’s a
paraphrase. ‘Hey its
close enough, buster. At least I
study. I don’t think you even know what
the inside cover of your bible looks like.
A bit scary to you isn’t it. All those big words.
Like sanctification. But I don’t
suppose you will ever need to worry about that.’ Danny was offended. ‘Hey, sweetheart. I come to church every Sunday. I am faithful.’ ‘You are just a Sunday wannabe, Danny,’ she
said, with a subtle grin on her face. He
came close, looked around to make sure nobody in the church was looking and
said, ‘would a Sunday wannabe do this?’ and stuck his tongue down her throat. She pleasantly kissed him back. Hey, she wasn’t perfect and thought to
herself this is were scriptures like ‘By grace ye are
saved and that not of yourselves, not by works, lest any man should boast,’
came in very useful.
Later on, reflecting that she had not
even the slightest desire to rebel against her beloved God, Jesus the Christ,
the Father of Glory, Lee reflected on the past week of passion with Danny. Of course, there was not the slightest chance
in hell of them sleeping together. Not
until marriage anyway. But she would let
him kiss her and she secretly liked the attention she had wanted for so long
anyway. Danny Robinson was cute – very
cute. And when he had come into the
church she had quickly gained his attention.
And now she had what she wanted.
She just hoped and prayed it would last.
* *
* * *
Terra
Aquariel
5980
SC (2010 AD)
Mary Ciccone, astrologer supreme, and
occasional lead singer for ‘The Wild Banshees’, lay on her bed staring up at
the poster of ‘Don Bongiovi’ of the Bongiovi All-stars on her wall. Mary was 18 now, and Don had just turned 21,
and boy was he cute. But
not only cute, but passionate. Of
all the rock and roll singers she had ever heard, it was his Italian blood,
like her own, which gave him the passion of life to put the most incredibly
romantic words into life. She would love
him, always. She knew that. But she had not the slightest chance in hell
of meeting him. He was a star – a
superstar. And while she played the
local club scene with the Wild Banshees they were anything but successful. Still, she could dream, couldn’t she. She could
fantasize. And no matter how much her
papa preached at her, she would go on obsessing about her fantasy dream boy
hoping, one day, he would be hers.
She pulled out her tarot deck and
decided to try again. Turning the cards
for her fortune, she prayed a quick prayer to God to bless the cards and make
her lucky. And as she turned, the
Bongiovi All-stars CD playing in the background, an angel of eternity smiled at
his older sister, sitting at the windowsill, wondering just when his own turn
at life would come.
* *
* * *
Terra
Gabriel
5980
SC (2010 AD)
Don looked at the stage. It was going to be the performance of their
lives, before their biggest audience ever.
Here in his home town of New Jersey, right at the end of the tour, the
band was ready. Richie Barroda was
already up on stage, picking on his guitar and warming up. Heptico Lohan, the drummer, was banging
away. And Davy Seinfeld was busy on the
keyboards. But Alex Johnson was nowhere
to be seen. Probably out the back with a
chick, Don thought to himself. Typical bass player.
The Bongiovi All-stars would rock
tonight. They would, literally, be the
melting point of rock as the new album suggested. But Don knew they were destined for bigger
things. He could sense it, just around
the corner. They were going to hit big,
soon. And he believed, with all his heart
he believed, their first number one was going to be theirs for the taking. It was just a matter of time.
* *
* * *
Terra
Krystabel
5992 SC (2022 AD)
Jenny Taylor, having
just turned 21, sat in her office in Manhattan Island, working in the prestige
real estate agency of Zimmerman and Dalgleish as receptionist, maintained her innocent
stare at the gentleman who had just entered the agency, sitting over in the
waiting room, looking through an issue of Time magazine. What she noticed immediately about him was
his aura – his feel, as it were, of complete, absolute and utter power – so
strong for someone who must have been barely in his twenties. Jenny was experienced with auras and
animistic spirits. She studied white
witchcraft, astrology, tarot, numerology and many other new age teachings, and
being sensitive to the ‘auras’ of
people, especially in the way the Celestine prophecy taught her to be, Jenny
was overcome by the absolute sense of superiority being exuded by the young man
a small distance away from her. And, so
she felt, she now recognized him. She
had seen him on the news occasionally, always in the company of his father,
Alexander Darvanius. This was, of
course, Mr Darvanius’ young protégé, his son, Alexander Darvanius II. Alexander Darvanius was well known as the
great ecumenist who had gone a long way towards uniting the Christian churches
into one main church and, apparently, his son was set to follow in his
footsteps and continue his work.
Jenny herself had been
raised by a Catholic mother but an atheist father. Her mother had taken her to church each
Christmas when she was very young, but by Jenny’s teens had stopped bothering,
leaving spiritual matters to Jenny to figure out for herself. Jenny had kept faith in God with her from her
experiences, but left all forms of the Catholic religion itself behind her,
apart from the notion that Mary represented a divine aspect of the mother
goddess in some ways. As such, she had
never taken much of an interest in the new spirit emerging into Christian
churches – one of unity – being mainly involved with her own new age
beliefs. But, perhaps to start a
conversation, she could talk with Alexander to see if he was, perhaps, a
suitable new male friend to attach herself to.
She went into the
kitchenette, decided against coffee, and instead brought a glass full of orange
juice on small tray, with a ham and salad roll, to see if Alexander was thirsty
or hungry. Coming over to him, he noted
her approaching and put down his magazine.
‘Excuse me Mr Darvanius. But
would you like something to drink or eat?’
Alexander, noting her nametag, replied ‘Uh, thanks, but no. I have just eaten.’ Then spying the orange juice, and deciding he
was a little thirsty, replied ‘but I guess I will take that juice. I could use something to drink.’ She placed the tray down on the magazine table,
and sat down on a waiting seat opposite him.
‘It must be exciting. Your work,
I mean.’ Alexander, taking a sip from
his juice, glanced at Miss Taylor, noting she was quite an attractive young
lady. ‘Yes, I guess. If you must know I am still learning – in
training as it were. Father handles most
of the duties involved in the Ecumenical Monotheist centre and watches over our
business companies. At the moment I work
as a Vice President in one of my fathers firms.
I am mostly sort of a consultant for the business – mainly they just ask
for my signature. But I am learning as I
go. And yes, before you ask, the pay is
very good.’
Jenny blushed a little. The
thought had crossed her mind. ‘So how do
you go about persuading different churches to unite? I mean, don’t they have all different
beliefs?’
‘It’s not easy. Believe me, it really is not easy. But to give you a basic idea, father
emphasized that as in the Catholic Church with all its differing orders, so
Christendom really is one great church with differing sects, be they Baptist,
Anglican, Catholic, Presbyterian, Orthodox and so on and so forth. He emphasizes that in the Church he has
envisioned there only need be a central doctrinal affirmation of the Bible as
the cornerstone doctrine of the Church, and that if united on that key point,
differing sects within the church can essentially formulate their own main
viewpoints. Essentially he stresses that
the churches unite on the point of being of the Christian faith, and that the
gospel unites us all, regardless of how we interpret or understand that
gospel. And, fortunately, he is having
success in his work so far.’
Jenny nodded. ‘That is fascinating, Alexander. So do you go to many churches?’
He looked at her
cautiously, as if considering the person of Jenny Taylor, before
answering. ‘Well, yes and no. I do not actually attend church quite as
regularly as my father – it is mostly his obsession with ecumenism that drives
him onwards. I guess I do have a similar
vision as himself but, perhaps, not ultimately identical. But one thing I do recognize is this – the
world needs unity. And achieving that
unity, whatever the means, is absolutely fundamental to the survival of the
human race.’ Jenny found his response
interesting, and decided to quiz him on a fundamental point. ‘You seem to emphasize unity over faith. Isn’t the truth important to you? Isn’t that what Christianity is supposed to
be all about? The
truth?’
‘Truth is a
bewildering concept, Jenny. Who can say
they really understand it, after all.
For me, reality – cold hard reality, in which pain hurts, being poor
sucks, and being homeless makes for a difficult life, is the real truth of
human life. Unless religion can meet
these fundamental needs, then that religion should be abandoned. If there is any truth in religion – if there
is any truth in monotheistic religion – it must be of a God who cares for each
of us were we are at. Unless such a
religion shows genuine concern for humanity, it is a pillar of pride, used to
exalt its own members and hierarchy – something, I am afraid, I feel far too
many so called religious assemblies are truly guilty of.’
Jenny nodded, finding
herself suddenly agreeing quite strongly with what this charismatic young man
was saying. It seemed that this beacon
of authority had a sense of concern – a strong sense of concern – for people in
their real needs. And it was something
she found herself immediately admiring about him. She looked at him as he sipped on the orange
juice and decided to take a chance.
‘Alexander. Would you like to
join me at a restaurant for dinner tonight?
Manhattan has many to choose from, and I am sure the prices will not
bother you.’ Alexander looked at her and
considered his response.
‘Quite forward, aren’t
we? Or are you a modern 21st
century type of woman?’
‘Perhaps I just think
you are a good catch, Alex. I’m not a
woman to let a good opportunity go when I have it in front of me.’ Alexander smiled at her charming response. ‘Well very well then dear Jenny. I would be happy to have dinner with you
tonight. What time do you finish here
tonight?’
‘Oh, if you drop
around anytime after 6 tonight, I will be ready then. But please don’t keep me waiting all night.’
‘After 6 it is then.’
She nodded, and taking
his empty glass, returned to the kitchenette and then to her desk.
She watched him, then,
for a few minutes, and again later after he had exited from Mr Dalgleish’s
office, having concluded his business.
He came over to her, reminded her of their dinner date, and left the
building. Sitting there, staring after
him, Jenny wondered to herself just what she had gotten herself into. It was true – she had a good job and her
parent’s were reasonably well of, so she did not want for anything really. But she knew Alexander was wealthy and, if it
ever came to it, perhaps marrying such a one would be better of for her
situation in life than someone who could not offer her such a lifestyle. Perhaps that was shallow of her, but they were
lifes realities in a way – something Alexander himself might be able to testify
to. Regardless, he certainly seemed like
someone worth getting to know and as the afternoon passed Jenny Taylor, the
Seraphim Angel Krystabel of the Realm of Eternity, looked forward to that
evening hoping to learn more of the mysterious Alexander Darvanius II.
* *
* * *
Realm
of Eternity
Daniel
the Cherubim
5992
SC (2022 AD)
Daniel stared at the photograph of
Nadiel in his hands. He only took an
interest every now and again in his twin amongst the cherubim population – only
every now again. But today she was on
his mind. Daniel was still, strangely
enough, a virgin. He had never tasted
female flesh in his human life as the prophet on earth having been made a
eunuch upon entering King Nebuchadnezzar’s service. And since his death and return to the Realm
of Eternity he had not known a woman’s touch either. But he thought on Nadiel his twin, still hung
up on his elder seraphim namesake. It
would be nice, he thought, to have a close female friend. Like the way so many others had found
romance. But he knew, in truth, such
things would still be long in coming. He
was traditional – very traditional. He
wanted his wife to submit to him as the torah spoke of. To serve him as the weaker
vessel, dedicating herself to her master. He wondered how Michael the Seraphim seemed
to effortlessly win Elenniel’s devotion.
It was almost as if there was a silent unspoken understanding between
them of mutual respect and trust. But,
somehow, he was the authority. She
seemed to grant him this, and Daniel did not yet understand why. Perhaps he simply took too much for
granted. Perhaps it was his very verbal
expectations of such desires which simply put off the fairer gender. He had often, recently, been called sexist in
the language many humans now used. And
while he didn’t think that was really the truth he still wondered.
Looking at Nadiel he knew she really
felt little affection for him. She had
never really wanted to spend any time with him, nor had he in fact desired to
spend time with her. In
fact, for so long, quite the opposite.
But he was softening now. And he
was jealous. Jealous of the love between
many of the angels, a love he had yet to partake of. But for now nothing would change. For now this would remain the status
quo. But, hopefully, in time, a more
amenable situation would arise.
* *
* * *
Terra
Davriel
5992
SC (2022 AD)
2 years into the project. 2 years, and Adam was becoming a man. Somehow, against his better inclinations,
Jerusalem inevitably beckoned his spirit as the town for the New Temple for
Israel. Somehow it just couldn’t be
avoided. Somehow the Judean King’s David
and Solomon simply persisted in his heart and absolutely insisted on the
issue. He was a Samaritan. Really, should he give a damn about Judean
Kings? Should He?
He looked at the last chapters of
Ezekiel often in those last few years before 2020 AD, and eventually said ‘What
the Hey’. The Samaritans can have a new
home in the end, then. Get along with
the rest of the Israelite community. And
thus, finding some new land in a section of Jerusalem which seemed ideal, away
from the other older temple, somewhere else on Mount Zion, somewere else for a
New Heaven and a New Earth, the Samaritan community pooled its resources, took
to the task, were very, very careful with the Prophet Ezekiel’s specifications,
and began the most audacious project, perhaps, of all time so far – the
building of the third temple. The task
began in 2020 AD by the Christian Calendar, or 5990 SC by Adam’s own personal
calendar, the Since Creation calendar he had worked out according to his own
interpretations of scripture.
After a while they were noticed. The plot of land was quite large, and the
citizens of Zion – Jerusalem – assumed it to be just another building
project. But as it progressed, and the
obviousness of the project became, well, obvious, people started to ask
questions. Just what were these
Samaritans up to?
2 years of solid work. The community was working hard. Samaritans were growing in numbers, and the
rest of Israel were, over the last few decades, accepting them more and more
simply as an alternative sect of Judaism.
Old squabbles, it seemed, were a thing of the past. Glory awaited.
* *
* * *
Terra
Georgia
5992 SC (2022 AD)
Brigid looked at the school report. Mostly lower grades. Thankfully no fails this semester, but mostly
lower grades. Poor
little Georgie. She did her best,
but she was no academic. She never had
been.
‘Well done, Georgie,’ she said, praising
her daughter, who wandered off to Jayden, and started watching the Nintendo
with him. She didn’t care. Why would she. She was only young, with other things on her
mind.
She would show the card to David when he
get there that evening, and talk with mum about it. She shared most things with her mother, Mary,
but that was the way it had always been.
Poor little Georgie, she thought to herself. She’ll get there.
Sitting in front of the TV screen in the
Bridges house in Calwell, little Georgia Bridges, the 777th female
Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, was lost in her own world. The boy she liked at school, Zac, had talked
to her today, just the once, which had made her happy. But she knew he was leaving the school after
the year was up, which made her sad. She
liked Zac. He was a cute boy.
‘Give me a go, Jayden. You never share.’
‘Go away feral,’ said Jayden. ‘Go play with your dolls.’
She hit him on the arm, and they started
screeching. In the other room Brigid was
almost tempted to tell them to shut up, but instead just kept staring at the TV
screen, watching a lifestyle show, as Madalene was playing with the little toy
computer down on the floor.
‘You suck Jayden,’ said Georgia, and
stormed out of the family room, off to her bedroom.
She sat there on the floor, playing with
her teddy bear, and looked at the notepad.
She could write a little now, and grabbed the notepad, and wrote down
her poem she had been thinking about.
‘Zac is great. I love him.
The boy always likes a girl. Zac
is for me.’
She took the note, put it inside her
money box and hid it under the bed, and turned on the little clock radio to FM
104.7. And she lay there, on her bed,
listening to the music, thinking on Zac, and out in the other room Jayden swore
as Mario, again, failed to pass the current level he was on.
* *
* * *
Terra
James
5992
SC (2022 AD)
‘Yes, Doctor. I feel fine.
In fact, truth to tell, never better.’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘I just don’t understand it. You tell me you have an average diet and
everything else is normal, yet you just don’t appear to be aging beyond your looks
of about 30 years of age. And at 49
years of age that is simply extraordinary.’
‘Maybe I just have youthful genes,’
remarked James. Both
me and Kate.’
‘Mmm,’ nodded the doctor. ‘Well, if that is the case, we can soon find
out. If you don’t mind me taking a mouth
swab, I can send your DNA to a lab and we can look into the case even further.’
‘Sure, doc. No problem.’
They went through the routines and later
on, leaving the doctor’s office, James Castleton cast yet another glance in a
mirror, looked at his perpetually youthful features, and thanked the stars that
he was in such incredibly good shape.
Kate was in the kitchen, and James
didn’t want to disturb her. She was
chatting on the phone, so he slipped into his den, flicked on the PC, and
waited till the screen loaded and then clicked on the Internet. The email had arrived.
‘James. Hello.
Things are well, the Church is
doing fine, and there are no current persecutions. Currently. Brax sat in the congregation last
Sabbath. He sat there, down the back,
smiling at everyone, playing innocent and all.
Everyone noticed the holster and gun – he didn’t even try and hide
them. But that is evil, isn’t it. It doesn’t care what good people think.
I think,
that is life with Alexander Darvanius II these days. Evil incarnate, staring at
us, sitting right alongside us, looking into our very soul, but still
unconcerned with God. Still unconcerned with righteousness. Still unconcerned with
truth.
He is the very Antichrist. We know this now. The subtleties and deceptions in training his
whore bride Babylon to obey his every word, to worship his impressive
personality, to behold his undeniable authority. They gasp at him in his social circles, no
doubt. Overwhelmed by
his stature, his true – in their eyes – magnificence. But it is only their damnation they behold –
the fowl stench of the 7 headed beast. It is only the authority of the Lords of Hate
which dwell in his soul, and Brax, one of his henchmen, comes by, taunting us,
testing us, daring to boldly declare the Elect of God have no chance in the
ultimate war, that all our efforts are trivial, in vain. But they shall see, James. On the day of the Lamb’s wrath, they shall
see, and fear. And then, then, they
shall know. All shall know. And all shall come and worship the lambs
blessed bride, and adore us for the truth we have, amongst trial and
tribulation, held so dearly close.
Keep faith, James, for the last
minutes of the last hour are upon us, and the beast lieth at the door. Keep faith, soldier of God, for the final
testing is at hand, and our faith must be sure. Keep faith, and may the graces and mercies of
God and the Lord Jesus Christ be with you forever.
Your friend
June Middlesworth.’
James finished the email, and turned to
the picture of Jesus on the Cross on the wall.
Salvation – the final hour – the day of Judgement. It was all coming true, and oh, so very soon,
the mark itself, and the final judgement of God. Alleluia, thought James to himself. Alleluia.
* *
* * *
Terra
Jontel
5992
SC (2022 AD)
46 years of age, General Mtoko Jones looked
at the military surrounding Bamako, Mali’s capital. Here they were – the Malian Liberation Front,
the MLF, ready to reclaim Mali for Malians – a day of Glory for General Mtoko
Jones. The master strategist the MLF
called him. The Diabolical One, as he
was known by the enemy. But how could he
be anything else. He had watched, as a
new government, a new president, supposedly perfectly moral, perfectly holy,
had taken power, and then gone corrupt.
Bribery, sexual liaisons, drug smuggling, paedophilia, even slavery in
hidden areas of Mali, all such fowl sins they had been
accused of, but they had closed the shutters, and denied everything. And then the spirit of Mohammed had risen up
in Mtoko, and the MLF had been formed, and justice had been the cry.
‘President Coro. They are at the gates of the citadel. All is lost.’
Coro looked at his right hand man, and
acknowledged the point. He would not,
though, give the enemy the satisfaction.
He went into his study, and looked up at the portrait of himself over
the burning fireplace. It had come to
this, then. The end. The end of his glory, the
end of his reign. He took the
cigar box, the Cuban cigar box of his grandfather, down from the bookcase, and
opened it. The gun was loaded.
Thoughts went through Coro’s head. Thoughts of his life,
and the pit of corruption he had fallen into.
He was hell-headed. He knew
it. But hell? It didn’t exist, did it? Evolution was supreme – there was no God.
He heard the sound of the guns firing,
and the bombs exploding, and shortly, one more blast was not immediately
noticed by the staff of the presidential building, until an underling, came in,
found his president with a hole in his head, and reported it to the others.
* *
* * *
‘Today you have won a great victory for
us, Mtoko. You are our champion. You shall rule us.’
‘Democracy shall rule us,’ responded
Mtoko. ‘And Sharia, Allah be willing.’
‘And Allah shall be willing,’ responded
his second in command, who ran off to celebrate with the other soldiers around
the presidential grounds.
‘Allah be
praised,’ Mtoko said to himself. ‘Mali for Malians.
Allah be praised.’
* *
* * *
Terra
The
Gathering of the Elect
5992
SC (2022 AD)
‘Christmas, this year, Nathan James
Hitler. Christmas
this year, 2022 AD, should be – interesting.’
‘How so, dear old Callodyn Bradlock?’
the angel Gamrayel, from the Realm of Eternity, the 17th born Male
Seraphim of the Realm, in his human incarnation as Nathan James Hitler, asked
the angel Samael of the Realm of Infinity, firstborn of the 7 Onaphim Angels of
the Realm, whose human name was Callodyn Bradlock through adoption of the name.
‘Let us just say a little birdie has
told me many things are coming to a climax, shortly, and destinies, fates and
other life mysteries will be answered.’
‘So you say,’ said Nathan, observing
Callodyn’s face.
Mtoko Jones, long-time correspondent of
Callodyn Bradlock, spoke up. ‘It will be
a wonderful Christmas in Mali this year.
We have so much to celebrate.’
‘Yet you will not be in Mali this year,’
stated Callodyn ominously.
‘How so?’ asked Mtoko, his curiosity
aroused.
‘Yes, how so?’ asked James Castleton,
seated next to Mtoko.
‘For all of us will be in New York this
year, for Christmas,’ said Callodyn.
‘New York?’ queried Don Bongiovi.
‘Yes, New York,’ replied Callodyn.
‘And why exactly New York?’ asked Mary
Ciccone, seated next to Don Bongiovi, her arm around her man.
‘Because everyone loves the Big Apple at
Christmas,’ said Callodyn, a mysterious look on his face.
‘New York is the home of Alexander. Alexander Darvanius II,’ stated June
Middlesworth matter-of-factly.
‘Indeed it is,’ responded Callodyn.
‘Lucy currently lives in New York. Working at Redaxxiel,’ said Georgia.
‘Yes.
Ms Smith does indeed live in New York,’ responded Callodyn. ‘And the wife of Enrique Lopes is
instrumental in the machinations of destiny coming to a very soon climax.’
The group all looked at Callodyn,
puzzling over whatever he was on about.
The Taheb, Adam bar Elihu spoke up. ‘You are being mysterious, Callodyn. Speak plainly. Our gathering of the elect
of God are indeed used to such mysteries, but could you, perhaps, make
yourself a little clearer?’
‘Yes, speak plainly,’ said Lee Kim, the
Seraphim angel from the Realm of Eternity, seated next to her man, Danny
Robinson.
‘All will be revealed in the fullness of
time to the gathering of God’s elect children,’ said Callodyn again. ‘All in the fullness of
time.’
The group of gathered elect children of
God, the long lived ones, who had come to know each other by the simple grace
of time and lack of aging, all stared at Callodyn, but he remained, still,
elusive. He would not speak of the
mysteries of God in any great detail most of the time anyway, despite them all
knowing he knew the most. He always knew
the most.’
Stefan Federer, the angel Matrel, put
his glass of grape juice into the air, and said ‘To Callodyn and his
mysteries. May all be revealed in the
fullness of time.’
And the group raised there glasses and said,
as one, ‘Amen’.
* *
* * *
Terra
Saruviel
5992
SC (2022 AD)
‘Merriman Nebraska! What the fuck are we doing in Merriman,
Nebraska Alexander?’ asked Brax, looking out the window of the limo at the
small town, up in the backwaters of Nebraska, not far from a town called Cody,
which was near to a certain Charnsley, were Alexander was born.
Alexander put on the CD single. ‘You and I’ by Lady Gaga.
‘Fuck, you never get tired of that
fucking song, do you Alex?’ said Brax,’ but Alexander
said nothing, and stared out the window, with the absolute authority Alexander
Darvanius was well known for.
Finally he spoke. ‘We are looking for someone. A woman. She should, hopefully, be still alive.’
‘What woman?’ asked Brax, curious.
‘My mother,’ stated Alexander flatly.
Brax looked at him, but said nothing
more. Nothing need be said.
The song rocked along and the line went
‘My Daddy and Nebraska and Jesus Christ.’
‘Still serving Jesus Christ, aren’t you
Alexander,’ said Brax.
‘And you still serve the Devil, don’t
you Brax,’ said Alexander, looking right into his opponents eyes, his soul.
‘Till the end,’ said Brax, looking away.
‘They were brothers, or something. Catholic brothers,’ said Brax.
Alexander said nothing.
‘AD told me about them. Said he met one of them once. An ageing man. Talked about a certain
birthmark with ole AD. A very interesting birthmark.’
Alexander turned to look at him. ‘Life is full of its little ironies, isn’t it
Brax.’
Brax smiled. ‘Sure the fucking hell is, Alexander.’
The limo drove along for a while, and
shortly turned down a street, pulling up to a rather old looking house. It had ‘Haven’ written on an old wooden plank
attached to the fence.
‘This is it,’ said Alexander. ‘Haven. The Fellowship.’
Brax got out, lit a cigarette, and
looked over the street. A typical street
in a typical Nebraskan town he guessed to himself. Nowheresville, Nowhere. How fucking lovely.
Alexander exited the vehicle, dressed in
his black suit, with black shirt, and black tie.
Brax looked at him. ‘So, we knock?’
Alexander nodded.
Brax came to the front door, which had a
small plastic plate with a business card reading ‘Haven Noahide Fellowship –
Merriman Branch’ written on it. He
knocked, and they waited.
About 7 minutes later, finally, after
knocking once more, because they heard music coming from inside, the door opened, and Daniel stood there.
‘Alexander?’ he began. ‘Um. Why are you here? You should have let the mystery go,
Alexander. Some things are too deep even
for you.’
‘Mr Daly, I take it. I recognize you from your pictures.’
Daniel said nothing, staring at his
opponent. Eventually he spoke. ‘Well, I guess you want to meet your mother,
then?’
Alexander nodded.
‘Come in then.’ He turned to Brax, and signalled for him to
also come inside.
The inside of ‘Haven’ was a low ceiling,
just tall enough for Alexander and Brax without bumping their heads, and they
came down the hall, past a room which had a TV and some young children watching
it, down past some doorways, through the main living room, down through the
kitchen, out to the back verandah, down along it, and into a small den, were 3
other people were sitting, with bibles in their hands.
A woman looked at Alexander. She smiled at him.
‘Um. You know who this is, don’t you Jane?’ said
Daniel to the woman. She nodded.
‘Come.
Come, Alex. Sit next to me. We have a spare seat.’ Alexander obeyed, coming into the room, and
motioned for Brax to disappear. Brax
took out his ciggies, stared at the group confused, and Daniel smiled at him,
closed the door, and Brax walked down the verandah, sat down, and stared out at
the back yard of Haven, letting Alexander find his home.
Jane put her hand into Alexanders and
said ‘Welcome to Haven. You should find
your peace here.’
Daniel looked at the small group, and
returned to the front of the small room, and picked up the bible again. It was a Jewish Bible. A JPS Tanakh. Alexander recognized it.
‘Well, I shall continue,’ said Daniel,
and smiled at Alexander. ‘And welcome
new guests. Welcome to Haven.’
And he continued speaking, and Alexander
Darvanius II found his peace of mind.
* *
* * *
Terra
Gamrayel
5992
SC (2022 AD)
Nathan looked at the document. It was in MS Word format, and it illustrated
what was called ‘Haven Noahide Fellowship’s’ official doctrinal understanding
of Daniel chapter 7. Mr Daniel Daly, who
was also quite obviously one of the elect of God, had emailed it to him from
recent online conversations. Mr Daly, of
course, was a Noahide. Mr Daniel Daly,
promoter of the Karaite Noahide faith, who was Callodyn the Cherubim from the
Realm of Eternity, who looked very similar to David Rothchild’s brother, Daniel
Rothchild, the Seraphim Daniel from the Realm of Eternity.
Nathan was spoken to, in dreams, by the
Spirit of God. The Spirit talked about
those who ‘Crafted Destiny’ and ‘Shaped things to come’, and Mr Daly was one of
those who dreamed dreams, and spoke of realities in words which the divine one
chose from his heart to accomplish his own eternal objectives. Shapers of destiny –
crafters of reality – chroniclers of the histories of the elect and eternal
children of God.
‘Nathan,’ God spoke to him. ‘Responsibility is just that – responsibility. To craft eternity, to shape infinity, to
remake the worlds of glory in your own image, it is not an easy thing to suffer
my dear child. Are you very sure you
want such challenges placed in the heart of a Hitler, with a reputation such as
you have? Are you very sure?’
And Nathan had said ‘Yes.’
And now, a document, in which the
Arrogant Horn of the Fourth Beast had been claimed, by Haven, to be no other
than Adolf Hitler himself.
And Nathan had sworn.
And gotten over it.
* *
* * *
Terra
Georgia
& Zac
5992
SC (2022 AD)
‘New York?’ queried Zac. ‘Why New York?’
‘Destiny,’ responded Georgia, packing
her bags.
‘You always say that. Destiny. As if you are a special
chosen goddess or something.’
‘And you’re my god,’ responded Georgia,
going over and kissing Zac on the cheek.
‘Well this god still needs his shirts
ironed,’ responded Zac.
‘Well, find a servant girl, or slave
maiden, or something or other,’ said Georgia, zipping up her suitcase. ‘I am sure it hasn’t been the first time you
have played around.’
He looked guilty. He didn’t say anything. ‘Hey, babe. I’m faithful.’
‘Sure you are Zac. Sure you are.’
‘See you when you get back,’ he said
dejectedly.
She came over, kissed him on the cheek,
and looked into his eyes and said ‘Now remember I love you. And if you do fucking cheat, I will have your
testicles in a glass jar on the windowsill to remind you of your infidelities.’
Zac instinctively put his hands to his
crotch. ‘Not my jackees. Don’t say that about my jackees.’
‘Just make sure your jackees are not
fondled on the lips of any jillees, ok.
And they should be fine.’
He almost smirked. ‘I’ll be seeing you then, babe.’
‘I’ll be back,’ she said, kissed him one
last time, and made her way down the stairs, out the front door to the waiting
taxi, and off on another adventure in the life of Georgia Bridges, elect child
of God the Most High.
* *
* * *
Terra
The
Gathering of the Elect
5992
SC (Christmas 2022 AD)
Callodyn came out in front of them all,
the gathered elect, and smiled. There,
in the large party room of the Hotel, were about 200 of the children of God
from the realms of God, all vaguely aware of their past spiritual realities,
all gathered here today at the request of Callodyn for a surprise celebration.
‘And here he is, ladies and
gentleman. The man of
the moment. Alexander Darvanius
II.’ And with Callodyn’s words spoken,
Alexander Darvanius entered onto the stage, came to the speaker, and said, ‘Well
here we all are. Mmm.’ And came down and joined the party.
It was weird for James and June, but
Brax started opening up about his childhood, telling stories of his family and
his brethren. And despite them being
bittermost enemies in many ways, the Elect Church of the Living God, for a time
anyway, found the grace of God in enemies becoming friends, and on that special
Christmas night all were one, all were at peace, all were happy.
Daniel and Alexander chatted for most of
the night, and Daniel talked with many of his Haven fellowship, a popular
subject throughout the night, as well as the concepts of Noahide and Adamide
faith – a very interesting subject – the OLD testament perspective on things.
Later on, when people were starting to
get a little tipsy, the old Devil Samael had the lights lowered, asked everyone
to sit, and on came the strippers. 3 women, 3 men. The
show they put on was quite intense.
June, sitting next to Alexander
Darvanius, said ‘Feral bastard Callodyn,’ which made Alexander smile, and begun
a debate which raged on the ethics of sexual morality.
And then, just before midnight, having been
good boys and girls all year, Santa came in – Daniel – and started giving away
lovely presents to everyone.
It was a night to behold.
It was a night never to forget.
It was a special night of Destiny.
And that was the end of many struggles
and many trials and many tribulations of the soul.
And the Chronicles of the Children of
Destiny, perhaps they continue on forever?
Perhaps they do indeed. But this
story is ended – well and truly ended – and now we will sing a song of love, a
song of eternity – and hopefully everything will be well.
Hopefully.
The
End
The
Seraphim Meludiel
“The
Song of Eternity”
Chapter
One
31,209
HY
20,209
ROE
5900
SC (1930 AD)
Eternity. A time beyond measure. Infinite in nature,
impossible to grasp to the mind of mere angel or human for that matter. Eternity, an endless parade
of days, all flowing one after the other, in an endless and neverending
symphony of life. And the song of eternity?
How on earth could one possibly hope to write a neverending work? But Meludiel, 60th born of the
female Seraphim angels of the Realm of Eternity, twin to Ambriel, had begun
long ago her eponymous tribute to the Realm of her birth and to her fellow
angelicdom, begun by the grace of God and through flowing in the spirit of
eternal life, moved by the spirit to reach melody in harmony in the spirit that
the eternal God, by his mercy and love, graced her with. And now the song of the Seraphim had reached
its final part for the males. Today,
this very day in the year 20,209 of the Realm of Eternity, Meludiel sat down at
her Vibronic in the choir-room of Zaphon, contemplating the lastborn male of
the Seraphim, her beloved brother Davriel.
She still thought on her twin, Ambriel’s
theme. It still resonated with her
heart. Its quiet
splendour yet constant love. And for
her brother Davriel, somehow, a recapitulation of that theme in a grander scape
just somehow seemed the most appropriate way to complete the first part of the
Song. It just seemed right.
But how? How would she bring grandeur to a melody
which spoke of simplicity and the beauty of love. It puzzled her mind until a word entered her
heart. A word
seemingly spoken from eternity itself.
‘Glory’.
And so, beginning her melody, starting
with the familiar theme from Ambriel, the 60th part of the Song, Meludiel
pushed into the eternal imagination of her heart and the divine spirit which
was upon her and pursued that very ideal – glory.
* *
* * *
Daniel was a mystery to Meludiel. Truly a mystery. For so long he had been infatuated with her
and then, when her and Ambriel seemed to have finally made up their mind that
they belonged together he started hanging around Sharlamane. And yet, despite Michael and Elenniel now
having been married for quite some time, the anticipated marriage between
Daniel and Sharlamane had never quite eventuated. They were, apparently, in a cooling off
period of considering the future.
Daniel, who still worked in Zaphon in a financial position, spent most
of his free time writing his fictional books about angels, but Meludiel had
noticed that he took whatever opportunity he had when Ambriel was away from the
keep to spend time with her and flatter her with his latest witty
repertoire. And no sooner had Ambriel
returned then Daniel had disappeared again, back off to his work and his
books. But he had let Meludiel know that
he occasionally visited Ariel now, as befitted a relationship of respect with
his twin. But they were still quite
competitive apart from the occasional truce.
She had grown to love Daniel, now. Oh, she had always had a romantic interest in
him ever since he first approached her with his intentions. But now, in an older Meludiel, she had begun
to appreciate Daniel’s obnoxious ways and his quirky humour. And his wit. She laughed at nights at some of the clever
things he said and the things he could actually get away with in his
conversation. Ambriel had a word for her
brother. Eccentric. And Meludiel felt the title ever so
suitable. He truly was an eccentric
character.
What all of that led to, now, was almost
a defining of the type of relationship with this brother of hers. She knew Daniel loved her intimately but, it
seemed, he wanted her, in the end, for a friend. More than a lover even Daniel desired
Meludiel’s close friendship over the eternal days before them. This he had stated in so many words over the
last few years. It was for Meludiel,
apparently, meant to be an enduring friendship with this
particular Seraphim. A friendship amongst others in the realm which brought her peace,
joy and happiness. And thinking
of Daniel and the genuine love she had for this brother of hers she had decided
she couldn’t really ask for anything else from him if it had ever been an
issue. He was suited to her as a friend
and, so it seemed, such is the way it would remain.
Saruviel was another angel who, in the
last thousand years, had drawn close to her.
Not in any romantic way, though.
Not even the slightest suggestion of that. But, more than he sought in Krystabel, as a
consoling voice on spiritual issues.
Saruviel had always had time for Meludiel in younger years when she
brought her music to him for his opinion.
And now, it seemed, that relationship was being
reciprocated somewhat in his seeking her as a rock in his life to assist him in
his spiritual devotions. From what he
had said to her he respected Ambriel as perhaps the most spiritual of the
Seraphim but felt easier drawing that comfort from Ambriel’s feminine
twin. So much so that Saruviel was often
at dinner with the two of them with Krystabel as a foursome. But Saruviel would always chat with her
asking her opinion on this and that matter.
She sensed, over time, that Saruviel had gone through a long phase of repentance
of his earlier rebellious period. And
that, now, he sought healing spiritually and, apparently, saw herself as a
chief mentor in that healing process.
Still, if that was the will of God, which Ambriel alluded
just might be, she saw no problem in it and in fact was happy to help when and
where she could.
Of course, the main man in her life was
still her beloved Ambriel. They were
together now, intimately together, and it seemed this was the way the
relationship was meant to be. But there
was something. Something that Ambriel
had talked to her about, something which Valandriel had said,
which had bothered him. Something about
the real purpose of twins and what was appropriate between them and what,
ultimately one day, might not work as well between them as with other
relationships. It was not about love or
friendship, so Ambriel had said. That
much was perfectly clear. Instead it was
about a soul-connection. A soul connection of husband and wife which, in Valandriel’s words,
could not work for the twin. It
had bothered Ambriel a lot, Valandriel’s words and, despite Meludiel’s constant
comforting that such was only Valandriel’s opinion, Ambriel remained
sullen. It was as if he had in some way
acknowledged Valandriel’s points. But,
regardless, he remained faithful and there relationship was as strong as ever.
There were other angels in Meludiel’s
life who occupied much of her attention and, that afternoon, having tinkered
through some of the melody for Davriel’s theme on her Vibronic, she sat on a
couch in the choir-room of Zaphon, sipping on an Ice Tea and gazing out the
windows at the scenery of Zaphon.
* *
* * *
Sitting there, absentmindedly talking
with Nimorel who was currently at Zaphon with Raphael over sessions of council,
Meludiel was lost in thought. It was
morning, breakfast time, and she had just made her way through some cereal with
melit water and a glass full of celnoka juice, and was now slowly munching on a
piece of toast. It was right then some
thoughts, different thoughts about eternity, came to her.
‘It goes on, doesn’t it Nim, it goes on.’
Nimorel who had been chatting about
various affairs of Mitraphora, not really noticing wether or not Meludiel was
listening, looked at her, slightly puzzled.
‘What goes on, Meludiel?’
Meludiel came to herself and looked at
Nimorel.
‘Life. Life goes on, Nimorel.’
‘Oh, it always has, Meludiel.’
‘But, its funny, isn’t it,’ continued
Meludiel. ‘Humans. They have such a brief span in which to
express their hearts desires and then they are gone, taken from us, awaiting
some grand future resurrection.’
‘Their destiny, I guess. But what brought this up.’
Meludiel looked at her, and answered,
‘The song of eternity. It is nearly
finished – the first part that is. The 70 sections for the male Seraphim.’
‘Ooh,’ responded Nimorel. ‘You have been working on that forever.’
‘It seems like it. And I guess that is just it. It is all about that – forever. Eternity. And I have noticed in this life of mine that
life goes. It just goes on. We eat, sleep, laugh, play.’
‘And then we go to bed and do it all
over again,’ laughed Nimorel in response.
‘Yes, that
we do. But I think of so many of our
brothers and sisters who go through trials and ordeals. Always, it seems, searching for peace of
mind.’
‘I think that is what it is all about,
Meludiel. That is perhaps just the
nature of life – especially of eternal life, as you put it.’
‘Yes I guess it is. I guess it is.’
They chatted on, but those thoughts
stayed with Meludiel all that day, thoughts of eternity. They were simple thoughts, but profound as well. And they spoke of the beauty and sheer
majesty of the eternal life God had blessed her with. And for that she was grateful.
* *
* * *
Meludiel sat at the vibronic, gently
tinkering away, not playing anything in particular. Narel was in the corner, talking with
Gamrayel and after a while came over to Meludiel and sat down near her to
listen to her play.
‘Is the song finished?’ queried Narel.
‘Not yet,’ smiled Meludiel.
‘Well let’s hope soon.’
She continued playing around, gently
happy about things, when Sharlamane entered the hall. She came and greeted Meludiel personally and
then went and started talking with Gamrayel.
Shortly after that, however, Daniel entered, nodded to Meludiel, and
went over to start arguing with Sharlamane.
Meludiel, despite the occasional comment by Ambriel on keeping private
conversations private, silently listened in.
‘….that’s not fair, Sharlamane. You know I love you.’
‘Really, danny. Really. You have a funny way of showing it.’
‘I know.
But commitment is not easy for somebody as eccentric as myself.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘But commitment is not easy for somebody
as eccentric as myself,’ responded Daniel, a slight smirk on his face.
‘Get serious,’ responded
Sharlamane. ‘I guess you don’t really
love me after all. You were just using
me for female companionship. Perhaps to boost your ego.
I think you still love, you know,’ she said,’ subtley pointing her head
in Meludiel’s direction.
Daniel looked over at Meludiel, smiled
and waved at her, to which Meludiel also waved back.
‘No, I don’t love Meludiel, ok. I mean, no, yes, I do love Meludiel. But I mean I am not with Meludiel, am I?’
‘Not because you don’t want to be.’
‘Now who is not playing fair?’
‘I bet you would drop me totally in a second
if Meludiel were available.’
Daniel just shook his head, refusing to
admit the point.
‘You always love her more as I see it.’
‘But I wanna be with you, sweetie. Your that quiet
voice which was there when others were absent.
I love you, really.’
‘Then marry me.’
He looked at her, realizing full well
the commitment she was after.
‘I, I, I just
can’t, ok.’
‘And I know why.’
‘No you don’t actually.’
‘Can you honestly tell me it is not
because of Meludiel?’
Daniel looked to her and said, with the
gravest sincerity, ‘I swear to you. It
is not because of Meludiel.’
Sharlamane looked a little shocked at
that statement, and drew back.
‘Then,’ she hesitated. ‘Then, what? Is it me you have a problem with?’
‘No, its not you. Really, you are perfect. I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
‘Then what?’
But Daniel just looked downwards and
only said, ‘I can’t say. Don’t push it.’
Sharlamane looked at him, knew he was
being completely honest, and put her arms around him and hugged him.
‘I guess you will know when it is right
then, Daniel. I guess you will know one
day.’
But Daniel just remained silent.
Listening to that conversation Meludiel
was a little bit surprised that she herself was not the object of affection she
had perhaps felt she might have been in Daniel’s heart. But he was ever a cryptic soul, difficult to
fathom at the best of times. But, ever
so slightly, she was a little disappointed.
* *
* * *
Oh, she still loved Daniel. But lying there on her bed in her dorm-room
of Zaphon, staring up at the ceiling, she wondered to herself just what was the reason he would not marry. Perhaps he was not ready for such a
commitment? Perhaps, in the way he was
working out his life and values such a commitment would be too much for him at
this time and he could not offer the type of responsibility in a relationship
such as that which would be required of him.
Or, perhaps, he simply did not love her enough. She lay there, over an hour, thinking on the
situation when, without her knowing, an eternal spirit entered her thoughts and
gave her a subtle hint with one name. ‘Ariel’.
Chapter
Two
Council. They happened often now, not necessarily
according to any particular timeframe, and the full council of the 70 Seraphim were
currently in session at Zaphon’s houses of Parliament. It was late in the afternoon and sessions had
finished for the day as Meludiel decided to go and see if her twin was yet
available. She came to his Zaphon office
but his secretary informed him Ambriel was with the guys. When she queried what that exactly meant the
secretary told her to go up to Michael’s spot on the roof. She climbed the stairs to the top level,
stepped out on a platform and flew up to the roof finding a whole host of the
male Seraphim each engaged in some sort of competition. As she watched Jesus the Cherubim was there,
challenging each of the Seraphim to see how far they could dive off the roof
and fall right down before using their wings.
And much bravado had ensued because of it. She noticed Ambriel and Davriel were at the
back of the group, seemingly looking on without partaking in the actions, which
did not surprise. But after much
persuasion she noticed Jesus eventually convinced Ambriel to have a go, which
he in fact did. Meludiel watched him
nervously but he pulled through okay.
Then Jesus turned to Michael and challenged him to try and win, but
Michael just smiled back and said he couldn’t possibly hope to compete with
such champions.
The object of Meludiel’s attention, for
the moment though, was the subject of her final part of the 70th
song of Eternity – Davriel. Looking at
him and thinking on his Christian faith she noted his quiet and reserved
nature. How he had a sense of spiritual
decorum which, seemingly, prevented him from engaging in such activities. Perhaps, from her own understanding of the
faith, not deemed appropriate behaviour for himself. She thought on that for a moment and began
thinking, perhaps, how that sort of spirit could become part of her theme for
him. Perhaps, after the recapitulation
to Ambriel’s theme, something quiet and reserved, something
which showed Davriel’s own personal spiritual nature. Yes, it was definitely an idea worth
considering.
As she watched on Azrael was eventually
considered champion, and did he brag because of it. He in fact had landed on the ground and
pulled out his wings to soften the blow just a few cubits before. But Jesus agreed for his insane bravery and
the big knock he had taken that he was the undoubtable winner, much to
Cosadriel’s complaints. As they finished
up Ambriel came over to her, kissed her on the cheek, and they flew down to the
bottom of the keep. Sitting in the garden
for a while she queried him why on earth he would engage in such activities,
especially considering Davriel’s refusal.
But all he would say was ‘Sometimes you just have to be one of the
boys,’ and Meludiel, after some thought, accepted that.
* *
* * *
Meludiel sat with Ambriel, carefully
eating her steak, having cut it up into pieces first. She didn’t often eat steak. In fact she didn’t eat animals very much,
wanting them to enjoy the short years God gave them. But while vegetarianism was something which
was moderately popular throughout the realm it was not something she was given
over to. She looked around the dining
hall of Zaphon. The room was full, as
usual, with the council just finished the day before and a number of the
Seraphim still present. It was good, she
thought to herself, when the firstborns were present. They were, in a way, her more intimate
family.
Sitting there, eating her steak, a
figure sat down at their table. It was
Daniel. He smiled at both of them and
started eating his meal, only to begin opening up about his current
predicament.
‘Its not that I don’t love Sharlamane, you know. I do. Very, very much so. It’s just that, well.