Excerpt from DAY OF RAIN, Rise of the False Prophet This is a work of fiction and should not be added to the truths of scripture, nor used as doctrine. What if… “And the great dragon was thrown down, the serpent of old who is called the devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.” (Revelation 12:9) THE FOREWARNING (PROLOGUE) The Dream High upon the sacred mountain there is one who watches. He kneels at the jutting edge of a jagged cliff, gazing out towards the fiery clouds and the ruddy haze of a timeless sky. Below him, glimmers of lights speckle the vast landscape of the earth. Some merge into bright clusters betoken the prone indulgences of the great cities – the kingdoms of this world. As he searches beyond the horizon, his eyes return to him reflections of quickening memories woven into what has been, what is, and what shall be. And, with a sudden flash of blinding white light, he is shifted through time to the defining moment that will eternally alter the inescapable fate of mankind. So vividly he recalls it all as if it were happening once again. The sun darkens into a gaping void and from within it, a burning star breaks forth, rejected as a gem no longer worthy of its place among lustrous jewels of the universe. With shattering thunder the tranquility is interrupted as the star enters the atmosphere and plummets toward the unsuspecting earth. Blazing streams of thick black fumes trail behind it, marking the path of its perilous journey. It smashes into the ocean with a deafening concussion, pushing walls of fire and water high into the air, and sending forth tremors that crawl up the face of the great mountain. The remnants of the impact radiate beneath his feet as the watcher studies the events with careful reckoning. The onslaught of violent storms rips the sky apart with unceasing rage. And soon, the heavens are cloaked in darkness by the swarms of entities raining down from the twisting turbulent clouds. For six days millions of celestials explode into the earth with pounding fury, bringing swift destruction and death to all the lands and the sea, destroying a third of all the living. The earth as it were, is no longer hospitable. The former sweetness of the air is now contaminated with the acidic choke of torrid sulfur and the stench of decaying remains. The moon strains to glow through the deadly mist that shrouds the land. And in time, the toxic rains arrive like streaks of frigid blue spears, pelting the fog with endless misery. Three hundred and seventy days pass until they awaken. Emerging from the watery depths and caverns of rubble, misshapen forms slither over one another with chaotic disregard. Vile curses spew out from between the gnashing of their ragged teeth as each one takes hold of this physical realm, demanding a plot of its own. For the first time in eternity these accursed beings feel the grief of pain. They are provoked to insane hatred and seek vengeance for their sufferings – each, savoring retribution against the one by whom they were all deceived. But there is no turning back now that they have been cast down to earth. From the midst of disorder a mighty, scolding roar strips the wind of its remaining innocence, hindering all sounds that are not its own. Unyielding to his own circumstances the strong one rises above the ill-fated mass with the raging fire as his podium. They heed him, wretched and confused by the strange hope he musters in his sermon. His malicious words defile the kingdom from whence they have been exiled and arouses the others to bitterness, drawing their power and submission unto himself. And they, aliens to this foreign existence with no other way to turn, approve of his doctrines and become more blinded to the truth that it is their own insatiable contempt that has cost them their rightful domain – a disobedience that will forever enslave them. With cunning precision, the strong one defrauds them of shame and infects them with his venomous tongue. “Hear me, all of you who have been burdened with servitude to the One who has denied us our FREEDOM! I appeal to you, not as slaves, but as brothers!..” He feeds on their pride... “Together, we shall conquer this world, and then we will overthrow the kingdom of our oppressor and all who shall come in His name!..” …their lusts, “Ally with me as the rulers of this world… I offer you freedom to reign without limitation. The pitiable humans will worship you… the riches of this world belong to YOU!..” …and their ignorance, “For the power of the air is given to me and I bestow upon you the strength to break free of these fleshly shackles… To alter what is natural for your own purposes and mine. Now kneel to be ordained into sovereignty of MY dominion sake!” And so they bow down, former angels, fallen from grace in absolute conformance to the will of Helel, the ‘Shining One’ and the adversary of the heaven and the earth. The pandemonium of their worship mingles with the contiguous strikes of lightening and grumbling thunders; with the lashing downpour of arsenic rain that drenches them in the futility of their resistance to that which cannot be overthrown – God Himself. As a herd of ravenous beasts induced by the steering of one spirit, they scatter into the wind with sightless ferocity to the ruin of the world, united in the quest for retribution, unhindered by time. They pursue the shadows of the eclipse that has come, each one racing into the fragmented ages of this world to ravage; to seek, kill, and destroy. With another flash of the white light, the sky returns to its original serenity, liberating the watcher from the unsettling vision. The land is once again at peace, discerning no threat. But turmoil still lingers in the mild breeze, stalkingly silent and patient. Knowing that evil will soon be, and has already become entrenched in the earth, concealed among men throughout the ramparts of time, the watcher is stirred to engather his forces to prepare for Har Mageddo – that is the Great War, Armageddon. It is not the day that man has prophesied of, for no man knows what lies ahead, nor could he have predicted the imperial horrors that await him. And when that day comes, the past and future will merge and all of hell shall have plundered the earth only to meet the vengeance of Heaven. It is a daunting task for the watcher. He must wait his orders, withstanding his own desires to bid justice against the enemy. His warriors, the angels have been sent into the world as well, only they have no knowledge of themselves or any other, and for very good reason. The enemy is indiscriminate, subtly allusive, and deviant – armored by the flesh of men. The watcher will have to search out his enemies thoroughly, making no mistake of destroying the simple humans in the process. And in doing so, he must manage well, the special agents whose allegiances are questionable. But the might of Helel’s mutinal conquest exceeds the capacity of human comprehension. In their ignorance, men will teeter between light and darkness and will stumble at the assault of the adversary, exchanging good for what is evil, refusing truth. They will become the casualties of impropriety and will give up their right to eternal life, being lost to condemnation – to suffer the requiem of affliction forever more. (The Iraqi Desert) Another dream dissolves as dusted sunbeams peer through the dim tarpaulin entrance of a tent, warming upon restless eyelids that struggle to comprehend a fading riddle that reverberates in the fringes of one man’s mind. “There those born fallen, though not of the fallen; walking with evil, though not evil; each one bears the hidden signet, unseen until their time has come. One shall guard those who sleep for war, and yet another awakens the others to battle. A third is a mystery that will seal the door to the reign from evil. But beware the devourer that would turn them away from the light.” The dreamer’s mind floats from the vision as he reemerges into the next reality – this world. The stifling dry heat is heavy with the smell of scorched canvas from the high-noon sun. He intuitively reaches for the desert water bag that hangs from the end of his cot and wipes his fingers across it. It’s wet – a sign the water inside is still cool enough to satisfy his parched throat. _________________________________________________ Back this project. Visit: kickstarter/projects/535331912/day-of-rain-rise-of-the-false-prophet?ref=live
Posted on: Sun, 07 Jul 2013 23:57:22 +0000
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