nature that would forever more alter the illusion of reality. All that was inharmonious to the ark’s nature would be destroyed by its powerful emanations and all who were in balance with their brain and body and em-betterment would be immune and experience the ecstasy of divine enlightenment.
The tabernacle is also described in the Old Testament and the tent that was constructed to protect God’s temple was not just a portable building, but also indeed a shrine of its own. Although its powers were not widely written about, it was rumored that anyone who entered the shelter would be cured of any diseases and even the dead could be raised again to the ranks of the living.
Strange but true, only a portion of the power of the Holy Ark was illustrated to God’s chosen people. The Israelites followed it throughout the desert for 40 years before using its presence to destroy the city/state of the Canaanites. After Moses died upon viewing the Promised Land, Joshua succeeded him and after God’s will parted another river’s water for His chosen people they reached the walls of Jericho. The impregnable walls appeared to be impossible for any invaders to breach, but the army of God had no doubts about the ark’s ability having just crossed the Jordan River without getting their feet wet. Leading the way was the Ark of the Covenant that was carried by four priests. For six days and nights the high priests slowly walked about the outer walls of Jericho while the citizens and army within wondered just what was going on. Then on the seventh day before the sun rose the priests instructed all of their troops to pack their ears with cotton, wax and flax and while turning their eyes away from the wall yell out at dawn with all their might. When all the preparations were in place the highest priest who knew he might lose his life, volunteered for the honor of opening the ark. After all the protective prayers were said the priest was dressed in a golden suite of armor and prepared himself to endure the ecstasy of the power within the ark. When the chosen people were safe in place and started their battle cry at dawn, the priest barely cracked open the lid of the ark and a thundering roar of wind and light came surging out like a wild hurricane and all of the city’s walls tumbled and crumbled to dirt and dust. As the lid fell shut the city’s citizens and troops were in utter confusion and shock. Before their state of awe subsided the troops of God walked over the rubble and slaughtered them all while they were still standing in place.
After this episode the two golden locking rods were placed back on the ark to prevent the power within from escaping and turning the entire word blind, deaf and mute. It now seemed not even the Holy Ark could prevent the power of the Almighty from making its presence known to the people.
But forgetting ancient history and getting back to the present, the debate of the scientists and theologians now continued to rage onto new levels of contention. It became obvious that only through remote viewing and the use of robotics could the opening of the ark and reading of the message take place, unless a holy man who shared the blood line of Abraham and the masonic creed of David, Solomon and Moses could be discovered and recruited to conduct the religious ritual to restore the balance of astral power of the ark.
Or so the story line goes. This is just sort of a Reader’s Digest condensed version of the tale of transcendentalism to be told tomorrow or perhaps the day after. The sacred story about the message of the Messiah will become greatly improved and much more believable as all the information will be massaged, manipulated and managed to the extreme by talented and well-trained teams of translators, editors, research assistants, graphic directors, producers and spin doctors. These professionals will examine every word and develop every picture that will positively prove to you that the biggest lie ever told is about to be made true.
So fear not your future fate, for if you find yourself reading this account perhaps there is still time to save yourself or at least understand why you had to die.
GOD’s OWN HAND
As if God’s own hand was directing our actions, the twelve disciples of doom and I would drain our brains into our ink pens and as blood rich words flowed onto the paper we began our quest to compose the message of the new millennium.
Never would I have believed before my coerced conversion that these twelve tellers of terror and I could rewrite the words of redemption and direct the dogma of the devoted to recreate the worldly story of salvation. But my newest masters had trained me well, and my warm words carried the conviction of a Caesar backed up and reinforced with huge amounts of cold cash.
Our privileged group had been hand picked and assembled by the reich of the rich and never again would we walk the walk of normal men. As I looked about at the sensational surroundings we were ensconced within, it was only I that knew this ship was a paradise laden prison, and freedom was but a noun we would never again taste without the scent of sin.
Our mission was to find the righteous words that would convince the world to perceive all that is, isn’t really what it seems to be.
I knew from my earlier meeting that our planet was evolving towards the dawn of a new day. Each and every day new diseases were being designed and released upon the masses of mankind. Financial empires were crushed or collapsed under their own weight of mismanagement. Governments were failing as fast as they could be formed. And after we finished our task, that life would never be the same as what we had only imagined it to be.
The rich now ruled using as weapons misdirection, misinformation, mismanagement, mischief, madness and even murder. Humanity only knew what the owners of the communication empire told them they should know. The electronic bombardment of lies or illusions had indeed blocked our bowels until the b.s. backed up in our brains. We further inflicted injury upon ourselves as all of humanity became blinded and began to believe in the madness of what is not, but yet may be. Our overactive imaginations developed an illness of our own sense of self being and humanity entered a hell of its own making.
My earlier books had endowed me with the title of prophet of pain to my newest masters of misery. In “Writer’s Wrath” I pointed out the error of the reich of the rich to depend solely upon scientists to develop new infectious diseases which would have ultimately caused the rich to be dependent upon the doctors, who would then become the dictators to all of those still living. And within “Teller of Terror” my conceptual work of words guided their terrorist affiliates in their planned assassination of mankind’s dreams and desires and set in motion the forthcoming work of words that would be packaged and prophesied as the salvation of society.
As the rusty gates of hell slammed shut behind me I entered a new sadistic story that had to sound true to become true. I had become the architect of a reinterpretation of the divine prophecies and directed by my masters to build a new Bible that would usurp omnipotence, omniscience, and divine creation into a message that would explain our dogma of divine destiny.
The twelve disciples of doom and I would face our most difficult task to discover how to do the right thing for all the wrong reasons. We were to capture or create the written words of wisdom, that if spoken aloud would make you want to grab the air and hold it to your heart while waiting for more of the message.
I knew we couldn’t escape this life alive or evade our evil entrapment. I could only hope that heaven itself would provide the divine inspiration to become who I really wished I was, and that the twelve disciples would not die the deaths that their name sakes did.
But as the current twelve disciples would be supplied pseudo names during their new incarnations, I too would be re-branded to represent the apostle closet to my characteristics.
Most call me a sinner and a few call me a saint. My alternative history reads like a mythological tale. My mother Cyborea dreamed that I was destined to murder my father, have incest with her and then sell my God. Her prophetic projections led her and my father to try and avert this curse by enclosing me in a chest and throwing me into the sea. I was picked up on a foreign shore and educated at the High Court until I committed a murder of passion
