From The Mind Of Author Steven Clark Bradley

There are many today who see the unusual events that are even now causing the world to take notice of the diabolical happenings that raise the blood levels of millions of people around the world. America has been attacked. We are engaged in a seemingly endless struggle against dark forces that never tire of inflicting their torment upon the globe. People are now in fear and have started to hoard food, forcing stores to limit purchases. Today, the evil of the Culture of Death is pushing abortion on demand, gay marriage and euthanasia; things that would have been inconceivable in a forgone day.

Recently, I spoke with one of my readers about how similar various sections of Nimrod Rising are to what actually happened on September 11, 2001. I agreed with her and then went on to tell her that even though the similarity is very great, the sections of Nimrod Rising about which she was speaking were actually written in 1996. Of course, she did not believe me, and I understand why it is difficult to accept such a revelation that seemed too far-fetched to accept when there are seemingly no answers. Yet, there are answers to why we now walk in concern and fear for what the world will face in the future and why it is happening. What I wrote and what we have seen come to pass are really not as difficult to predict as one might think. There are plenty of sources, both biblical and extra-biblical that have predicted the various actions that will face the world at a time of great calamity and change. What we face today is in reality nothing less than the birth pangs of a new world, one that will be free of terror and strife, one controlled by a benevolent despot who will restrain evil and build security for his people. Yet, just as a mother suffers great pain and hardship prior to holding her new little life in her arms, so also, the world will experience massive sorrow and will walk in the valley of death before peace and sanctuary are established on the Earth.

Now, read the rest of Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part Two and feel watch iniquity and wickedness firmly dig in their claws of the evil one into Alex Maefield’s soul as he finally succumbs to the wrenching call of the forces of darkness. It's as real as it gets!

Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part Two

1995

It was now 4:30 p.m. The team had already sat down for an early evening meal of Ghobbi-Ghosht. Meat with cauliflower curry was one of Alex’s favorite Pakistani dishes. Everyone was relaxing before the all night trip back to Lahore. While the food was being prepared, Alex could smell its aroma as he sat outside the base compound under a large papaya tree in the back courtyard. Alex desired so desperately to sit down with all the team members and just tell them that he was in trouble! He wanted to tell them everything that had happened to him in the past day, but he knew they were not that approachable. In fact, his inability to have this type of closeness where he could reach out for help with a certainty that he’d not get judgment instead made his work seem so futile and worthless. He and they were proclaiming a gospel of love concerning a God of understanding and mercy, and he was experiencing none of it! He knew what they were saying and how their tongues were wagging, “The boy’s possessed.” “He’s mentally ill.” “Alex needs to return home because he’s obviously lost and in need of salvation.” Perhaps, all the above were true, but weren’t they the ones who should lead him back to Elyon? Instead, he was left alone. Alex was fairly sure Mike Wakely would help him and reach out to him, but Alex knew there was no helping him. It was over. They were not his people. Alex had always suspected it. Today’s experience had simply confirmed it. Alex had left the Pakistani Day parade to do some research back at the team base.

When he got to the base, he went directly to the base library and began to scour the base library for reference books. Throughout the parade, he had felt that thing in his right eye squirming and groaning. It was clear that even Lucia had respected the worship he had received in the name of Allah! The devil was way too selfish and egotistical to tolerate another Elyon of any kind. Alex had always believed that the devil had persuaded himself that he was Elyon. Alex recalled the words of Vineyard founder, Rex Wagle, his mentor in the Vineyard, “The devil reads the book. The devil knows how it ends. The devil believes the book and still believes he can win. By any standard of sanity the old devil could be declared theologically insane!”

Alex knew, then, that he too had to be crazy because he knew suddenly where his allegiances really lay, and did he not know also how the book ended? It was clear to Alex that Abaddon felt so much more comfortable around the Muslims. Alex had long before realized that the Islamic God was Lucia. Though the spark of evil that Alex had received tantalized him and altered his commitments to the supernatural, he knew that the god of Islam could never be Elyon under a different name! The Elyon of the Bible was a God of love and desire who wanted to help his creation commune with Him. The Jihadists and the innocents, the children slaughtered not as collateral damage but rather as primary targets, could never be condoned or encouraged by neither Elyon nor the Branch. Yet, this so-called God of Islam, this idol had been infiltrated by the old Serpent and now was in the throws of building the Swarm. The war threats would completely shift and would bring about the day of the war of thunder that was now being prepared. This would be a war between the forces of evil and the Realm of Elyon that would be waged through the blood and bodies of mankind. It would be Allah vs. Elyon! Alex found a five-volume work called The International Bible Encyclopedia. He choose the first volume, A-E. He immediately looked up the name Abaddon. It bore light on what this creature was.

“Abaddon is said to be the keeper of the abyss or of the bottomless pit of Tenebre,” the book said. “During the tribulation period, this demonic guard will open up the abyss from which the Swarm of stinging creatures spoken of in the Revelation shall come to persecute those left upon the Earth.”

Alex lifted his head to contemplate what he had just read. He could see all the team members through the bases screened-in porch, seated at the table waiting for the curry. They were all staring at him, except for Sally. When his colleagues realized he was looking at them, they all turned their
heads away from him.

“They know, don’t they?” Alex thought. “They fear me…I fear myself!”

Somehow, he liked it. Alex turned his head away from the compound and felt a strong gust of wind crash into his face. As the wind continued past him, he heard that distinct voice whisper out at him in an echo that was like a vapor in its brevity: “Peygamber.” The wind caught the pages of the volume in his hands. The pages flipped forward until it stopped abruptly at the reference for “Antichrist.”

“The antichrist, the son of perdition, the Prince that shall come, the Lawless one, is spoken of in the Bible as the final, great one-world leader that shall unite a large portion of the world into one great world system of godlessness called New Babylon.”

Suddenly, the wind began to blow again. The pages flipped forward to the B section at the article, Babylon.

“Babylon was founded by the great warrior, Nimrod, the son of Cush, the great-grandson of the Patriarch, Noah. During the process of building a tower in defiance of Elyon, the Lord split the tongues of the people of the land of Shinar so that the work could not progress. Babylon later
became one of the four great empires prophesied by the prophet Daniel. Recently, archeologists have found a scroll called the Book of the Cave of Treasures that detailed Babylonian contentions that the world would be ruled from the land of Babylon and that a great plague shall erupt upon
the world not caused by war nor pestilence but by rage resulting from an over abundance of what can be clearly interpreted as terrorism.”

“The scroll also detailed that the second part of this scroll, which has never been found, would have to be placed into the crevice of the Mount of Olives just prior to the return of Christ to cause the mountain to split down the middle giving the people of Israel an area from which to flee from their pursuing enemies in the final battle of Armageddon. There is a lack of credence on the scroll theory, but it is said to have two possible purposes. The antichrist can use it to open the sealed door to the Garden of Elyon thereby allowing him to let Lucia eat of the Tree of Life and never die and become equal with Elyon. It is also widely believed that the second scroll will have the power to thwart the plans of the antichrist’s actions by placing it into the crevice of the Mount of Olives. This crevice
or crack was discovered in the Mount of Olives thirty years ago running from top to bottom”

Alex lifted his head. His eyes were open wide. He looked down at the book again.

“The city of Babylon today lies in ruins. Therefore, Babylon appears to be a symbolic reference to a world system.” Alex raised his head again. Abaddon really does exist! Alex knew he wasn’t just losing his mind. He looked down at the book again and saw a small piece of paper stuck in the center as a bookmark. Alex pulled it out and read it:

“Do you believe me now, Manassa Dormin? You must go to Basra!”

______________________________________________________________________________
Because Nimrod Rising is a vast story of International significance, my setting is really two/fold. Steven Clark Bradley spent a large portion of his life in the cradle of civilization. This book should be read because it will speak to us about where we are going and what will be our consequences to bad actions in the future. It is a real treatise on America. Take a look at "Nimrod Rising - A Remnant Remains"There is a always a faithful remnant. On which side will you be?

______________________________________________________________________________

Alex’s hands began to shake violently. There was a presence. It was there, but somehow wasn’t. Alex could see it, but somehow couldn’t. Alex squinted to make out the sight that was, but somehow was not. He reached out to touch the aberration that had appeared before him as real as touching his own arm, but as non-existent as a voice in the wind. The team members were sitting on the screened in porch doing some Christian gossiping. Christine Harris walked in from the kitchen with an harmful of place settings. She looked through the screening and stared at Alex. As Alex sat in his chair under the papaya tree reaching out to the cloudy image, Christine could only stare at him, frozen while she dropped the spoons and forks on the floor.

“There is something deeply wrong with that young man!”

The rest of the team members looked first at Christine and then in the direction that she was staring. Sally began to cry and started to get up and run to Alex. Christine gently pushed down on Sally’s shoulders.

“No Sally, leave him. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to startle someone when they are in such a state.”

Alex heard it then, that voice that proved the entity was real. “I’m not here to frighten you, my Peygamber. I am here to prepare your way, the way to fold up this present day and to bring in the Master’s day. It is yours! You shall have it! Your seed shall reveal it and bring it to pass! The world shall be yours and you shall ensure that the Master will enter into the garden and eat of the tree!”
Suddenly, Alex grabbed his head.

“I don’t want it! I don’t want this…this…gift!” But he knew he really did! A light flashed behind Alex’s eyes. The other team members who were now greatly fearful were frozen solid in their stares. Alex was oblivious of their condition. Alex saw a man with long wavy black locks of hair appeared before his eyes. The wind thrust the man’s hair back as it rushed past the man and collided with his face. He rode a black horse. He pushed hard, harder, and harder still! Behind the man were twenty horses mounted by black-hooded men rushing in pursuit of the fleeing man. They were screaming out in some strange language. The man was unafraid, but distinctly determined to escape the fold of pursuers behind him. Alex’s eyes were closed but obviously moving to the right and left, upward and downward behind his eyelids. Suddenly, the scene came up close and focused on the fleeing man’s face. He was muscular, Middle-Eastern in appearance with olive shaped eyes. He fixed his eyes directly forward. Alex could hear what the man was thinking. Then Alex realized that he was looking out of the man’s eyes.

“I must deliver it and then they may cut me to pieces!” The man thought. “Elyon requires it!”

Up ahead, there was a castle; a temple of some kind. The man on the horse never looked back. He listened hard to the sounds of horse hoofs pounding the Earth like thunderclaps and to the voices of those screaming and wishing to tear him to pieces. Alex had been somehow linked to the man’s mind. He could understand him. Alex was now standing and so were his team members staring at him through the screened window. Sally was screaming, “Alex! Alex, are you alright?”
He could not hear her. Alex could only hear the men in pursuit.

“He who is darkness! He has commanded us! Stop him! He must be stopped! Peygamber demands it!”

The mysterious man pushed his horse harder as he moved closer to a temple. As he approached the entrance, the gate swung open. He entered the courtyard and quickly dismounted his horse. Alex looked intently through the man’s eyes. Behind the Temple walls, Alex can see a broken down tower structure that was still tall, but obviously ancient even for the moment in time which his eyes were viewing. The focus shifted. A young, beautiful, black-haired woman walked out of the huge front
doors of the temple with her infant at her breast! She looked down at her beautiful little girl held tightly in her arms and silently prayed that Elyon would give her life at all costs! As this young, slender and beautiful woman loved on her greatest reason for living who was eating at her breast,
suddenly she heard his voice!

“Look up towards Elyon; it’s there just as He had told me!” the man insisted.

She looked up into the night sky and there she saw it! She looked again and there before her was a scroll falling from the heavens.

A Watcher of Elyon appeared and asked her, “What do you see?”

She answered, “I see a scroll.”

The Watcher said to her, “This is the curse that is going out over the whole land for today, but the seeds shall take root at a time of Elyon’s choosing. For according to what it says on one side, every thief will be banished, and according to what it says on the other, everyone who swears falsely will be banished. Elyon commanded me to come and that I should deliver it to you. He has sent it out, and it will enter the house of the thief and the house of him who swears falsely by Elyon’s name. It will remain in the evil man’s house and destroy it, both its timbers and its stones.”

The Watcher of Elyon who spoke came forward and bade the woman to look again to the twilit sky.

“Look up and see what this is that is appearing.”

She told him she could not understand and asked what it was she would see. He replied that she would comprehend when she beheld it.

“Now, my fellow servant and the mother of my brother’s child, look up and tell me what you see.”
A basket descended from the sky and was held by a woman and a small child. The woman and small child touched the Earth and brought the basket over to the woman holding her infant to her breast.

“I see a measuring basket, my lord.”

She could hear the Watcher’s voice. He declared, “This is the iniquity of the people throughout the land. Evil shall cover the land.”
The woman removed the cover of lead; there, in the basket, sat a woman, naked and fondling herself. The naked whore rose up in the basket like a serpent slithering on the ground and had a sensuous smile across her face while she caressed her own breasts and pleasured herself. She sought to step out.

The Watcher said, “This is wickedness.”

The Watcher then pushed the evil woman back into the basket and pushed the lead cover down over its mouth. The Watcher looked down at the covered basket.

“Your time has not yet come.”

Then Thomas’ servant looked up at the women and the girl child with her. The girl child walked over and picked up the scroll that had descended from the heavens and gave it to the servant with her infant nursing at her breast.

“Hide it in the evil house until my mother shall find it and never be afraid. Elyon is real!”

Suddenly, the woman and the child ascended into the air with wings fluttering in the wind! They had wings like those of a stork, and they lifted up the basket with the evil woman and suspended it between heaven and earth.

“Where are they taking the basket?”

The servant asked the Watcher who was speaking to her. He replied, “It shall remain suspended here over the land of the country of Babylonia until a house is built for it from the evil woman’s
seed.”

The Watcher pointed at the group of black-clad hooded men ready to enter the courtyard of the temple.

“When it is ready, the basket will be set there in its place and the evil within shall cover the whole Earth. Take the scroll now!” the Watcher commanded.

“Thomas! Are you there?” The woman asked with tears flowing down her face and tightly holding onto the child. Then she saw his silhouette in the moonlit night.

“Never be afraid, for Elyon does indeed rule in the affairs of men!” The Watcher disappeared.

Suddenly, she could hear the hooves and the shouts and demands for blood to be spilt and she knew that she had to get to him! She took the child back into the temple and placed it in the arms of her sister who was watching from the Temple doorway. Then the woman turned and ran to the man outside. Alex could see the woman’s face clearly. The woman’s was distinct and clear and he knew her and he screamed a bloodcurdling cry.

“Sally! This cannot be!”

The woman stopped abruptly and looked around. She heard Alex when he cried out.

“You are the evil one! Elyon curse you and make your way fail, O wretched seed of Nimrod!”
She ran outside and down the stairs and directly out of the palace to wait for her fellow disciple, friend and lover! She saw the night shadow of the black horse he had ridden and Thomas prostrated on the ground!

“Thomas, my Instructor” the girl said. As she bowed she showed him what she held in her hand.
“The Watcher of Elyon gave it to me and I will conceal it in the Cave of Treasures beneath the evil one’s place of sacrifice. You shall depart from us for a time, but many times will reveal your will. Your will be accomplished, I pray.”

The nightrider gave the fair young girl a sad and lonely glance and then looked again down at the ground.

“You must flee! Take the scroll into the cave in the heart of the Earth beneath the great builder’s house of the lambs and hide it there until the time is revealed by our seed, your child and my child.”

“My Lord, I will die with you here!” she entreated him.

“It is not appointed to you to die now.” Thomas didn’t look up at her. “But you shall join me shortly later and we shall return to this putrid place together with the armies of Elyon! Now, run like the wind and obey the word of Elyon!”

The woman stood frozen in place, crying and staring at her baby’s father lying flat on the cursed ground of Nimrod’s kingdom. Thomas looked at her and screamed:

“Go now! Do not look back! Do not hesitate again! Obey the word of Elyon and I will love you forever!”

She fled away from the approaching pursuers. As she disappeared from sight and into the temple, the gate again swung open. The pursued man bowed to the ground on his knees in readiness to face his pursuers. Twenty men rode in and looked down at the man for a moment. The lead man dismounted his horse and took out his sword.

“Filthy servant of weak Elyon! You shall not prevent us forever! You have written of treasonous virtues that defy the master of darkness. You are not of my seed! Where is the scroll?”

“Ask your master. He does not know because he is the weak one!” The prostrated man declared. “My Master, the true one, is waiting for me,” the servant of Elyon declared. “Is it not he who holds the keys to destiny, in spite of your rebellion?”

“We have requested knowledge of its whereabouts of the master, but he does not tell us of the scroll’s location.”

The man who was bowing began to laugh and to sneer, “You say it is he who shall shake the earth? He has no knowledge of a mere scroll?”

Thomas looked up at the group of evil disciples intently.

“I dreamed that I saw the Earth open up and the sacred mount divided in two with the hordes of Tenebre swarming in a vain revolt against the plan of Elyon with your master finally cast headlong into the pit of Tenebre! You serve a very pitiful master. You are a sacrilege!” Thomas screamed at the man, “Elyon Reigns!”

Then chief pursuer nodded to a black-hooded man close to Thomas with his sword drawn. He swung his sword and severed Thomas’ head from his body! Alex, standing out in the Vineyard courtyard grabbed the sides of his own head and the woman fleeing with the scroll stopped and felt Thomas’ pain. She fell to her knees and wept.

“Find the scroll!” The dark leader ordered. “It must never enter the crevice of the Mount of Olives, lest it beckon the call of the Branch of Elyon! Its words must be read aloud in front of the Tree of Life where the two rivers collide, for it spells out the terms of the Master’s revenge and the destruction of the Master’s enemies. It must be found so that we will ensure that the rule of the Peygamber will be one that will endure forever.”

Suddenly, the walls of the temple began to shake and the Earth quaked. One by one the walls fell. The young woman who was clutching the scroll to her breast ran down into the deep tunnels that ran under the Temple of Baal in the city of Babylon. The Great Father had started this palace, and now it was falling like the tower Nimrod had once built. She descended and found the entrance to the Cave of Treasures that lay under the last altar in the House of the Lambs like all the evil altars she had passed all the way down into the belly of the Earth. She pushed past centuries of filth and growth and placed the scroll under a large stone at the entrance of the cave. She turned to run upstairs and heard the sound of a crying infant.

“Where is my little girl?” she cried out.
The walls were folding in like a house made of cards. The woman reached the entrance of the temple and saw her sister. Her sister tried to give the woman her baby girl but the servant told her sister to take the child to safety. Alex watched the young woman who looked like Sally. She took a deep breath and thanked Elyon. Then a pillar fell and struck the young woman in the head. She collapsed on the floor as the walls fell over her. Alex began to scream.

“Sally! Sally!”

At the porch, the whole team was mesmerized and staring. Sally screamed. “Alex, are you ok?”

Sally ran out to help him. Alex screamed loudly and the dark-clad men in the vision turned and seemed to hear him. All the horses reared up on their hind legs in fear. They all got off their horses and bowed down and chanted, “Peygamber! Peygamber!”

“Let us go! May the scroll that was lost today be revealed and the Prince forever enshrined! Hail to him who shall rival the power of Nimrod! It must never be found until that day!”

Alex turned his head and rose suddenly. The encyclopedia fell to the ground. Alex turned and headed for the darkening streets of Lahore. Mike saw him and shouted, “Alex, don’t go far, Alex! We’ll be leaving soon.”

Alex never looked back. Mike mumbled to himself, “This lad is marked, touched by an evil force. I can feel it.” Mike had seen how everyone in the village had tried to worship him. “Alex rather…rather liked it,” Mike stated cautiously.

Sally became angry with Mike.

“What are you trying to say, Mike? Do you think Alex is possessed or something?”

“Sally, my sister, I did not use that term.”

“No, but you are certainly implying it aren’t you?”

“Look Sally, I know that you and Alex are very fond of each other, but you mustn’t forget that you are a servant of Elyon here. You must discern the spirits and see if they are of Elyon.”

“Mr. Wakely, my father is one of the godliest men I know and personally led me to Christ.”

“I agree, but he’s also one of the most high-profile Christians in your country, is he not?”

“Perhaps, but, concerning Alex, he’s up before any of you, prays more than all of you and has the best results seen to date in reaching out and in learning the language.”

“He sure does!” stated one cocky German team member named Gerhard.

“He’s got results in raising the dead, seeing a boy’s spirit, what was it Mike, hovering over the boy’s dead body. Can’t you just picture it now?” Gesturing as he thought Alex may have done.

Everyone started laughing except Sally.

“Why don’t you all just grow up?” Sally insisted. “You’re all just jealous of him, that’s all! We can’t turn our backs on him now. He needs our help!”

Tears began to roll down Sally’s face.

“Let’s go find him.”

“I don’t know, Sally. He took off in one of the motorized rickshaws” Mike stated.

“No need to worry. He’ll be back…I hope…” Mike said under his breath.

He turned around and saw Sally’s back as she headed for a rickshaw.

“Sally! Sally! Oh my dear Elyon there will be crisis to speak of tonight, I just know it!” Mike worried.

Alex ran towards the international airport and Sally sought him out desperately. She got out of the rickshaw and looked down each street. Her heart began to pound now, not so much because Alex was nowhere to be found but because it was now dark and she was lost in the land of snakes and sinners. She walked in one direction. The street was silent right now and she thought her heart would stop when a whining, speeding rickshaw zoomed past her. She looked ahead down the street and saw a horse-drawn old wagon coming towards her. She squinted but could make out that the man on the wagon was old and hardly seemed dangerous. Sally walked up to the old man.

“Sir, do you know where I could find Mohammed Ali Jinnah Street? I am lost.”

Sally started crying and the old man seemed to have mercy on her and spoke to her.

“You not need cry. Every town, village or city in Pakistan has a street by that name. Follow your way. It is your destiny my child. Anyway, your street is just over that way behind you.”

He got off the wagon and Sally turned to look in the direction he was pointing. The man came up behind her and placed the tip of his first finger on his left hand between her shoulders and she gasped and fell to the ground. The old man bent down and his face turned to that of the beast
in the corner of Alex’s right eye! He picked her up and placed her in the wagon. He directed the wagon to the right and a car pulled up. Three black-hooded Muslim militiamen got out and lifted Sally’s limp body into the car. He laid her down on the back seat and spoke to the man seated
next to him. It sped away, north to a private hanger at the international airport. The plane she was loaded into took off in a somewhat northwesterly direction towards the place where the two rivers meet.

When Sally awoke, she looked up and felt comforted by who she saw.

“Alex? Alex, are you ok? Where are we?” She asked as she felt herself being taken somewhere.

“Sally, welcome back. You are about to make history, my sister!” Alex said to her with a sinister smile on his face.

Sally looked around and panicked.

“Alex, what’s happening here?”

“Don’t worry, Sally. It’s just a transformation, an alteration of sorts. Ha-Ha!”

Sally looked at Alex’s face and saw it transformed into the diabolical, lizard-looking face of Abaddon. His voice became deep and as Alex spoke his voice echoed and sounded strong and deafening.

“You will be a wonderful mother of the son of my master, Ha-ha-ha!”

Sally felt her mind fade away as she felt a needle enter her neck. Her eyes became faint and her scream that she knew she had hurled loudly was silent and she lay in a narcotic stupor as with the flight plan set, Transponder encoded, the private jet rolled down a runway.
Destination: Basra, Iraq.

Here are a few other sites where you can read more of Steven Clark Bradley's material:

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Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising
Author Steven Clark Bradley

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Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

I became interested in the topic of my new novel, Nimrod Rising, when I returned back to the United States in 1995 to live here after having lived abroad for over 17 years. America had changed so much and the values the nation had cherished seemed to have disappeared to a great extent. One night, back in 1995, I remember so well, I sat down and started writing out of a consuming need to research and describe what had come about in America to provoke the change I saw. In short, the result of hours and 12 years of work was possibly the most powerful book you may well ever read, Nimrod Rising.

Nimrod Rising is a work of fiction based on truth. No one knows what the terms, 666 or Antichrist really mean. We can only put together what seems historically and biblically logical. Nimrod Rising is not a Christian novel, but does declare its premise to be based on what I believe to be truth in the Bible. It is scary, not so much for its content as because it is such a timely and realistic story. I do not write material for the purpose of making people afraid. I like to think that I tell the truth and the truth scars them. All the background about Nimrod is true and factual as well as the scenarios of war.

We are more than mere accidents on this tiny planet. I think anyone who feels that they want to know more about why they are here and the inquisitive soul who loves history and whose imagination needs stimulus and challenge will love this book. Also, readers who have suffered things for which they may never have an answer could find a few very helpful explanations about the things we cannot explain. I myself am one of those. I think it is important that young adults read Nimrod Rising. Today, our children, the heritage of our race as humans, are being taught how to have sex, encouraged to engage in things concerning sexuality and to accept things that once were held as categorically wrong. Those taught in such an atmosphere need to see what may be the motivations of those who teach as right that which was once held as completely abhorred. Nimrod Rising will cause you to pose those questions that we never pose to ourselves without such a challenge.

Read Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part One aand watch as Alex Meafield gives himself over to Perdition's beckon call. It's as real as it gets!

Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part One

1995

The weather was scorching in Islamabad. As the parade of terrorists unfolded down the street, Alex Maefield worked alongside his teammates very carefully distributing their literature to any who cared to take it. Everyone seemed to be in a trance. All the faithful seemed to take no notice of the piece of Elyon’s Word that they had taken and thrown to the ground. They all seemed more enthralled by the huge photos of their hero and rising murderous star, Osama Ben Laden training his teams of terrorists across the border in Afghanistan, and historic national father, Mohammed Ali Jenna, the founder of the nation of Pakistan. These photos were carried down the street by the black-hooded parade of Jihadists who represented the militant form of Islam that was festering and growing throughout the country and the whole Muslim world.

Alex had the strongest urge to jump in front of the line with them and lead them into every corner of the globe! He knew that out of the remnants present in this show of Wahabi Muslim fervor would come a force that would have as its very public but completely ignored goal the destruction of the Western World! The true face of terror was to destroy the person of Elyon and remove the Watcher of Elyon set to guard the tree of life so that the Master could enter in. It would mean the black-hooded face of terror would have to be spread throughout the entire world. There could be no more Geneva Conventions! It would be survival and the supposed “temporary” lifting of certain rights for the sake of success! This force would eventually build its web of underground tunnels, and cells to breed its haters of Elyon like evil germs dividing and expanding its network right under the nose of a pacified society. A son would lead the Swarm and unite and implant it to do the Master’s terror at will. A father would eventually tear it apart.

Alex heard a jet plane flying low overhead. He looked up and saw a 757 flying into a tall building close to the parade. The explosion made the skin on Alex’s face wave back and forth. He fell to the ground and screamed. He could see the face of Lucia in the flames leaping from the two towers that tumbled to the ground.

“Everyone, GET DOWN!” Alex Screamed.

Alex looked up and saw the ground open up. He saw human-like things flowing out of the cracks in the ground created by the falling towers. They wore turbans for crowns, had long flowing hair like that of women and wore the bearded faces of men. Across their chests were jackets of C4 and wires and the determination to die for their Master! They poured out of the cracks like a supernatural infestation of locusts, and no one else could see them! They all looked in Alex Maefield’s direction and bowed to the ground chanting,

“The prophet is with us, the Peygamber has come!”

They would spread out and gather together, plan and await their day to be released to induce a torment that could never be completely eradicated in the future, a future which was flashing before Alex’s eyes, as he lay flat on his back on the ground! Alex opened his eyes and saw the parade going forward. His teammates who were close by had seen Alex fall and heard him scream. He looked up and saw them, as well as the parade going forward as it had been before he saw the crash. Only he himself had felt it! Alex stood up and tried to get his bearings. He was getting used to all of these weird things going on in his head. He walked along the parade line. He came up to an area where there were many different types of Army hardware on display in the parade. Alex looked at a tank that had been purchased from an international arms dealer who only dealt in Israeli things that went “boom!”

He watched the tanks all in formation, and then one of them left the line, and then another, and another, until they were all pointed in different directions. Alex heard the shells being loaded into the massive chambers. He saw the tanks apply their brakes; they then fired in every direction and, within seconds, the city turned to rubble! Again Alex screamed and covered his face. He slowly removed his hand from his face. He lifted his head and the muted sounds all around him suddenly came to life. He saw tanks, again in formation, traveling along the parade route. Two of his teammates again saw Alex as he was seeing something that no one else could see. One of them was Sally Michael. Alex walked back to the base. He had to get some time to figure it all out. He needed information…
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Nimrod Rising! - Is This Really The World You Knew As A Child

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDv4qmmsCPA

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News had spread fast in the seemingly technologically-advanced grapevine that was the Vineyard. They had heard that Alex had received the gift of the laying on of hands.

“Alex could heal and the spirit of the Apostle Paul was upon him!” people were saying.

Several were impressed and admired Alex, but most of the team members were afraid of him and insisted that he was possessed with the devil. Alex agreed with the last opinion. As far as Alex was concerned, it all gave him a massive headache, and he knew that whatever it was that had given him these powers, it was not from Elyon. Alex had a serious case of confusion and depression that frightened him. A certain part of it all had challenged and energized him by his sudden endowment of miraculous powers. The other part of him felt dirty and apostate. Alex knew that what he had seen and the way he had exercised the gift of healing was more than a spiritual gift. It came from Alex himself! Alex had produced it! He had seen into the spiritual world, which was operating within a new hidden world about to be revealed! Deep inside Alex Maefield’s heart, he knew he had not received anything that he had not already possessed. Abaddon was simply bringing out of him what had simply been latent within him since birth, wherever that had been.

“My faith! There’s something exciting about leaving everything behind! Faith?” Alex thought. “In whom shall I believe? Myself? Was it not me and from within me that these things were done?”

He believed in Elyon wholeheartedly, but a certain voice in a certain corner of his mind, and in the corner of his right eye, questioned and made him wonder who this Elyon was.

“Don’t worry, my peygamber, the Master believes in Elyon too and hates him.” Abaddon declared behind Alex’s eye.

Was Elyon someone who would let the masses starve and decay while having the power to change it? Was He this evil thing stuck in Alex’s eye? Something made Alex know that even in the midst of the fear that had invaded his mind, somehow everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have done the things that had transpired on the way to Islamabad. Who cared how they were done? A dead man was alive now! A man’s family will eat another day because his horse could walk again!

“How could it not be of Elyon?”

Of course he would be told that he was rationalizing, and, of course, he was.

“Is it really who I am?” Alex reflected.

Alex had always overcome doubt by believing that working for Elyon in the midst of insult and skepticism was the true exercise of his faith. Not now. This time it was his own voice. It was his own mind that was plagued by fear and trembling and he wouldn’t have it any other way! How could he argue with himself or with that thing that kept on popping up in the corner of his right eye? He had always had that neatly tucked away fear. Perhaps one day, after having maligned other faiths and persuading many to come to Christ, he would wake up in the midst of an angry Elyon with Mohammed’s hands stretched around his throat forebodingly glaring down on him! Alex had consistently fought off his latent, yet natural inclination to think intellectually. There was that voice that always said, “You can’t know for sure.”

He now wondered if that voice had not been Abaddon all along. “You have to believe like a little child!” Alex always told himself.

Yet, even as a little child, Alex never believed easily. He was not exactly a doubting Thomas. He was pragmatist. He was logical, though he had taught himself not to be. He had learned to believe, but he had always had a somehow inert knowledge of where the world was ultimately headed. The thing had all gone wrong in the world and it was heading toward the Master. He had worked at it! Alex had learned to put logical reason so far away from him that even now it seemed easier for him to say that he had had it all wrong than to believe that this was an attack from Satan. That would be far too reasonable!

“This was an attack from the evil one!” Alex thought briefly.

“Was there really an evil one down there? Was this thing stuck in the corner of his right eye really there? Could an evil one do good unto others?” as Alex had been allowed to do today.

“Was it possible,” as Abaddon had said, “That there was a divine creature embodying both good and evil?”

Right now, that proposition made more sense to Alex than the Judeo-Christian Elyon at war with a created egotistical fallen cherub.

“Man does both good and evil. Why not Elyon also?”

The thought caused Alex to clutch the sides of his head in confusion and guilt. What was going to happen next...?

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Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising
Author Steven Clark Bradley

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Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

Nimrod Rising - Sincere and Dedicated Part Two

Nimrod Rising is a work of fiction based on truth and represents twelve years of work. No one knows what the terms, 666 or Antichrist really mean. We can only put together what seems historically and biblically logical. Nimrod Rising is not a Christian novel, but does declare its premise to be based on what I believe to be truth in the Bible and extra-biblical materials. Nimrod Rising is scary, not so much for its content as because it is such a timely and realistic story. I do not write material for the purpose of making people afraid. I like to think that I tell the truth and the truth scars them. Also, Nimrod Rising is a real look at the religion of Islam. I have spent my whole adult life working with Muslims. That gives me a real knowledge of the faith of over one billion people.

The advice I would give to someone who is interested in Nimrod Rising is to be open-minded as they read Nimrod Rising. They need to try to get beyond the physical world we see every day and try to accept that there is more out there than just us. I don’t want people to consider Nimrod Rising as just another scary story. It is far more than that. Nimrod Rising is a book about the history of life and the origin of evil. The reader needs to pose the questions such as the following: Who are we? Where did we come from? What was here before us? Where are we going? Are there answers to the question why the world faces its condition today? Nimrod Rising offers “possible” answers to those questions. It will awake the imagination and the cause self perception as they read. I want people to know that there is a novel out there like none they have ever read before. That is not a cliché either. I believe they will find Nimrod Rising very unique and thrilling as well as challenging to their long-held beliefs. If I can get readers to see that life is greater and far more extensive than they ever believed, then I will have reached one of my primary aspirations for spending a good deal of the past Twelve years writing what I firmly believe to be a Treatise on America.

Nimrod Rising Sincere and Dedicated Part Two

Alex finally made it to the Vineyard base. The Ford transit, carrying Sally to Islamabad, had already departed. Alex had hoped to at least wish Sally a safe trip. He had just wanted to see her enticing face one more time; to let her look in his eyes and see the confusion that was leading him to madness. She would have immediately understood. She would at least see that there was something very wrong with him. Instead, Alex and his team leader, Mike Wakely would travel to Islamabad together.

“Alex! Great to see you man! I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

Mike Wakely was a gentle soul. He had the usual quaintness of speech and movement of the British. Yet, there was a certain toughness, a genuine grit that had been built up inside him after having been in India and Pakistan for so many years. Mike was one of the “Founding Fathers” of the Vineyard. He had been with the mission since its inception. He was responsible for all the teams in India, Pakistan and the rest of the Far East. As for Alex, Mike had a certain appreciation for the young man. He felt that Alex was sincere in his desire to spread the gospel to the lost religious followers of Mohammed throughout Pakistan and India.

Americans had always been very successful at rubbing the Brits the wrong way. Mike had a way of laughing it off. He was a true gentleman.

“You and I are going together.” Mike said with a muffled voice with his head under the hood of his tiny Suzuki minivan.

“What’s wrong with the baby carriage?” asked Alex

“The what? Oh, the van? I don’t know really. It starts and takes off then it just loses power.”

“Mike, the word ‘power’ just doesn’t fit in respect to this buggy.”

Mike chuckled. “Alex, could you look through the tool chest and find me a #10 wrench?” Alex looked for the tool as Mike waited patiently with his head under the hood singing softly, “Onward Christian Soldiers, marching on to war…”

Alex handed Mike the wrench and Mike saw the scrapes and bruises around Alex’s wrist. Mike panicked and tried not to think the worst of it or to show his concern. Mike had known for a while that Alex seemed more perplexed than normal. He thought it to be just a bit of lost zeal that every worker experienced after a certain amount of time on the field. Alex felt that Mike had been troubled in his spirit and then began to see a sort of strange green colored light around Mike’s shoulders, arms and head. It was like the rays given off of a florescent light that glowed but never quite lit completely. Mike’s mind began to analyze the bruises around Alex’s wrist.

“Had the boy tried to kill himself? What’s troubling him? He hadn’t been normal at the prayer meeting this morning.”

Alex was reading Mike’s thoughts. Mike’s mental words entered Alex’s mind as though they had been verbally uttered. Alex could hear the words though Mike had not spoken a thing. Suddenly, Alex realized that Mike had seen his wrist.

“He thinks that I tried to…” Alex panicked!

There was no way that Alex would be able to explain the dream to Mike, or to anyone, for that matter. Even Sally would have a hard time digesting it. They would all think he had a serious case of homesickness, or worse yet, that he had been possessed by demons.

“Why not?” Alex thought. “Was it not true?”

It seemed to be exactly plausible. Yet, it couldn’t be! Alex looked at his wrists and felt along his chest and torso. The burning pain bore witness to the fact. He had not invited any evil thing to entertain his thoughts. He had not dwelt with the wicked. He had consistently confessed his sins, fasted, prayed and had stayed in the Word.

“They will all try to cast the demons out of me, as simplistic as they are!” Alex speculated.

They would call for a meeting, place their hands all over him and pray for a cleansing spirit to cast out the evil one! He couldn’t bear it! He would most certainly not allow it. He’d be called rebellious and sinful.

“Alex, can you give me the black adhesive in the tool box?” Mike asked Alex.

Mike didn’t really need the tape. It was a good excuse to see Alex’s wrists again. Mike grabbed Alex’s arm. He had to know how that had happened. He was genuinely concerned for the boy. But when Mike looked at Alex’s wrist, the bruise that he had been absolutely sure he had seen was gone! Mike was so startled that he jerked his head upward from beneath the hood of the Suzuki minivan and caught his balding spot on the latch! The tip of the latch had embedded itself just under the thin skin of his scalp. When Mike had detached himself, a small but deep cut began to ooze blood. Almost instinctively, Alex reached up his left hand and touched the grease-soiled cut. When his palm drew close to the contusion, Alex felt energy leave his body. That thin green light shot out again from between his palm and Mike’s scalp. Alex watched as the abrasion closed up without even leaving a scar. These miracles, as Alex had interpreted them to be, seemed more commonplace now to Alex. He was not afraid anymore.

“Did I cut myself, Alex?”

“No, you just gave it a good thud is all.”

“That’s impossible! I felt the tip of that thing clinging to the inside of my skin.”

“Well Mike, it must have only felt that way, cause there isn’t even a red spot.”

Alex felt a wave of conviction pour over him. Here was his chance, perhaps his only one, to tell someone he knew he could trust about what was going on in his life.

“See Mike, I met this demon last night and he tied me to a chair and poured tar and bugs all over me and then crawled behind my eye!”

The sound of it all playing back inside Alex’s head convinced him to leave it all alone. He was certain that if he told Mike about the satanic attacks of the morning and afternoon, Mike would be able to cast it all away through prayer and fasting. He trusted Mike. He knew Mike would keep it quiet. Still, Alex did not want to lose this power either. Had it not come to him without his desiring it? Had he not, in the past two hours, saved a family from certain starvation by mending their transportation and the healing of an ugly wound on the top of Mike’s head? He liked the power! He was somebody special now! Did it really matter where this power came from as long as it wrought well for the world, Manassa Dormin’s world? Could Satan cast out Satan? The answer was “yes” if it
caused deception and illusion enough to deceive the lost masses of humanity, and Alex knew it! Yet, talking to Mike was out of the question. Situational ethics were wrong! Alex knew it! Helping people was right, even if he actually wanted it all. A small, whispering voice told him that he loved the power. He loved the fear! He loved the shock effect on those around him! He loved the final results! He loved that lizard-looking, nostril-puffing, yellow-eyed demon, Abaddon that seemed permanently stuck in the corner of his right eye! The narrow road on which Alex was walking was needle thin. He would just have to walk down it. It tantalized him now. It wasn’t the mere babbling of some mentally induced gibberjabber that he had been participating in called the tongues of angels. He was actually sending power from himself to others! Where the power originated did not matter anymore. Alex was not about to give it up!

Mike still had hold of Alex’s arm. He stared at the wrist unbelievingly.

“Alex, I was sure that…”

“Sure of what?” Alex asked.

He was getting good at this, he thought, as Mike shook his head in confusion.

“Never mind.” Alex looked down at the minivan.

“Mike, have you checked the coil wire? Maybe it’s loose. I’m sure if you press down on it firmly, the engine will start.”

Alex pressed on the wire solidly and Mike went around to the ignition and turned the key. The motor roared to life.

“Mr. Maefield, you’re a good soul!” Mike said. “And a very troubled one too!” Mike thought. He looked down again at Alex’s wrist. It was clean and free of even the slightest bruise.

“Get in, Alex. Let’s go.”

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Watch Nimrod Rising - In The Beginning

In The Beginning
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The road between Lahore and Islamabad was at times wonderfully paved and then would break up first for great stretches of many kilometers into gravel, then into dirt, and, often, there was no road at all.

“You sure can tell which village is the home of a Member of Parliament,” Mike said to Alex. “Their roads are always well-preserved.”

Nevertheless, travel in the sub-continent was always dusty, dirty and hot. Alex would inevitably stick his arm out the window for a minute or two and pull it back inside semi-blackened. Alex thrived after the toughness of the land. He loved to see all the cultural aspects of the small villages. The various herdsmen driving their water buffaloes across the highway to a better grazing area somewhere on the other side always periodically impeded the travel.

“Why not? This is Pakistan,” Alex thought.

Uniquely beautiful, young Pakistani women seemed fatalistically denied their due moment of feminine splendor by virtue of their sensuous eyes and silky jet-black hair. There were lots of such beauties strutting along the sides of the road with large plastic basins planted firmly in the middle of the tops of their heads filled with the needed water for the first half of the day. Other women, usually the older ones, could be seen squatting on their haunches in the fields where the cattle had just deposited their smelly loads and sticking their prematurely-calloused hands in the fresh excrement, shaping handfuls into cakes which they would later stick and dry on the sides of their homes for future use as fuel for their cooking stoves.

As the two of them drove on through the Pakistani countryside, Alex spotted something in the road. One could always see many things lying in or on the sides of the roads; rusted out cars, dead horses and cows and buzzards as large as small children that seemed to be saying grace before devouring something dead for their next meal. Yet, what Alex saw was no broken down automobile or dead animal. It was a human body!

“Mike! Look there on your right!” Alex commanded.

Mike should have seen it as the steering column was on the right in India, but he had been busy trying to drive down this particularly rough stretch of road.

“What is it?”

“It’s a body….a dead body…at least it appears to be dead, just back there on the side of the road. Stop the car Mike!”

“Alex what if they think we did it? I know missionaries who’ve nearly lost their lives for hitting a Pakistani citizen!”

“Who cares, Mike? Stop now!”

Mike hit the breaks and threw the minivan into reverse. When they reversed to where the body was, they got out and looked at an obviously dead young man.

“You think he’s dead, Alex?”

Alex started waving his hand about three feet over the body.

“Yes, he’s dead, Mike. His spirit is still hovering over the body,” Alex said calmly and serenely.

Mike was dumbfounded. “His what is doing what? Are you going mad?”

Alex then looked at Mike and continued. “His name is Kamal Bhaktar and he’s from the village just over the hill behind you. He’s almost twenty years old and was struck by a passing bus about thirty-two minutes ago.”

“Alex! I really don’t think it is a good time for jokes!”

Alex looked over at Mike irately and shouted in some kind of strange, altered voice.

“Why do you call me Alex? My name is Dormin! Manassa Dormin, and I’ll dare you doubt me!”

Mike was sure that he saw something looking at him from the corner of Alex’s right eye. Alex then turned his head to the Suzuki and stared hard at it. The horn began blowing.

“What are you doing? What? You can’t be doing that! This is not of Elyon!”

Alex looked at Mike and spoke again in the voice that was not his own. “Mike, all that glitters is not gold and all that is powerful is not of Elyon.”

“Alex! What are you? Who are you?” “Alex!” Mike walked closer over to Alex.

“Listen to me!”

Alex cast a burning stare directly into Mike’s eyes.

“Who the Tenebre is Alex? I told you my name is Dormin, and, believe me, you’ll never forget it again!”

Mike grabbed his stomach as a deep burning sensation took hold of him. The pain was so intense that he nearly passed out.

“Alex, I don’t know what you are into, but please for the love of your Elyon, let me cast it out!”

The pain grew more and more intense in the center of Mike’s abdomen. Soon, he doubled over in pain. Just as Mike fell to his knees, Alex was distracted by a large group of villagers coming down over the hill towards the two foreigners, apparently responding to the horn. They all started uttering a lot of religious babble to the dead man’s mother. The woman ran up to Kamal’s still warm body and took it in her arms.

“Oh, Kamal, Kamal!”

She looked up at Alex and Mike and started to say several Urdu phrases that even Mike could not understand. She raised her hands to the air wailing and pleading to one, two or all standing around her and then cried out to Allah! Alex looked hard at the woman. Then he turned his attention to Kamal’s spirit that was still hovering over his dead body, though at a greater distance than it had been previously. The mother outstretched her arms as though she too could see Kamal, though it was no more than a reaction to shock, sorrow and a plea for mercy. Kemal too outstretched his spirit form towards his mother, but she could not feel him. Kamal was being dragged away! He sought to hold onto his mother, but a force, either benevolent or evil, seemed to invisibly take hold of the spirit seeking to repel it out of the physical world.

“His spirit is being transported,” Alex shouted to Mike.

“What are you talking about, Alex? Are you going insane?”

Alex paid Mike no attention. A large group of village men and women came out. Then an elderly man from the group walked up to Alex and Mike.

“Sir, I am the village chief.”

Mike looked up to respond to the voice. Alex paid no attention. His focus was squarely on the dead man and his mother.

“If you speak slowly, I am understanding you, Sir,” the chief said in his Indian English dialect.

“Chief,” Mike said with his palms joined together, “who is this young man?”

“Sir, his name is Kamal Bhaktar. He was a fine young man. He was visiting the village while on summer break from university in Islamabad. Sir, is he dead?”

“I’m afraid he is, Sir,” Mike answered.

Alex looked up and said directly to the chief, “But his spirit is not far away. He is just…” Alex began to jab his finger in the air. “There! He is there…right there! You see him?”

Kamal’s spirit was more difficult to see for Alex than before.

“There! He’s over there! Over to your left, he’s being lifted up! We haven’t much time! It’s now or never Abbadon!”

Mike had heard the name Abaddon before. Its significance was unclear, but he realized that Alex was in communication with something from the underworld, something that was transforming him or revealing his true insides!

Alex looked at the chief and spoke in perfect Urdu.

“Tell everyone to get back! My master has given his approval.”

Mike could not believe his ears and nor could the chief. The chief gave Alex’s message to the crowd and tried to get the mother off of Kamal’s body. Alex knelt down and explained to her in Urdu what he was about to do.

“I am Peygamber, Dormin, seed of my father Nimrod, the progeny to spread the seed that will open the gate to the Tree of Life. We shall enter in!” Alex whispered to her, “Tell no one! Don’t worry mama, your boy’s not far away.”

Alex took her by the shoulders and gently lifted her up to her feet. Kamal’s spirit gently and tenderly beheld his mother’s bereavement. There had been a lot of love between them. They were not ready to separate from each other. The woman had already thought of how she would join her son before nightfall. Alex knelt down at the side of the body.

“Alex! What are you doing?” Mike asked in a panicked voice.

Coarsely, Alex looked up at Mike and said, “Watch and learn. The master has spoken, and it shall be so!”

Mike took hold of Alex and tried to pull him away from the body. “You are playing with evil here! You must stop! He is dead already!”

Alex would not go and cried out to the crowd in Urdu, “Take hold of this man till I have finished.”

Four villagers grabbed Mike by the arms and waist and held him tightly.

Mike pleaded with Alex, “You are doing the work of Satan, Alex! This is not of Elyon!”

Alex could not or would not hear Mike, but Mike knew that the force at work inside Alex was not of Elyon and not Alex himself! Alex placed his right hand firmly in the center of the young man’s stomach and with his left he held the man’s mouth open. Held back by the crowd obeying Alex’s command, Mike watched with both shock and, against all his better judgment, great interest. Alex pushed down hard on the body’s abdomen area so that all the trapped air was exhaled. He held
the pressure on the stomach and began to look around in the air to find out exactly where Kamal’s spirit was now lingering. Mike was sure that Alex had lost his mind. When Alex had Kemal’s spirit’s attention, he opened the mouth widely and relaxed the pressure on the stomach. As soon as he released the abdomen, Alex saw two great hands appear around Kamal’s throat. Kamal fought it off and released himself. Alex saw Kamal’s spirit fly instantaneously toward its former abode. Then it
flew headfirst into the dead, gaping mouth, down the throat and fully into the body. It began to choke, heave, and hack. Two seconds later, the boy’s eyes opened.

“Mama!” Kamal said.

“Kemal? My Kamal? You are alive!” she screamed joyfully in Urdu. The people around were dumbfounded and shocked.

The mother began to proclaim, “He is Peygamber! He is Peygamber!”

Mike did not know what the word Peygamber meant. He turned to the old villager who understood English. “Sir, what does Peygamber mean?”

“My dear Sir it means the one, the builder’s seed is in front of us. It was written from the Chronicles of Nimrod, Sir, the great builder! His son Peygamber, the 665th generation from the Great Builder shall bear the name of his father and He shall bear the seed of the great one, The Prince that should come, Sir. The great Imam! He shall eat of the tree of life and be as Elyon!”

Mike stared at Alex and became disoriented. “How did you do that?” Mike asked harshly. He was terrified.

“Do what?” Alex asked. “What did I do?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what you just did! You raised this boy from the dead, Alex! I don’t know by what power you did so, but look! He’s alive! And who is Dormin?”

Alex dropped his head in his hands. “What’s happening to me?” Alex cried.

With his eyes closed shut by the force of his palms covering his face, Alex saw Abaddon.

“Dormin, Peygamber! Use your power now for good, later for evil! By it you shall construct your world!”

With his eyes closed so tightly that it hurt, Alex saw the image of his grandparents’ home. It was morning. He was outside on the back porch. He was admiring the five acres of land, the garden, the sounds of birds and the variety of life. Then he heard gunfire. It came from the front yard. Quickly, he rushed around the house to the front of the house. He saw thirty to forty men with handguns, riffles and shotguns. Four of them were actually in the front yard. The others were firing from the country road that ran in front of the house. They were all firing into the air!

“Alex! Alex! Are you OK?” Afraid to get too close to him, Mike pleaded while looking down at
Alex who was now on his knees. Mike realized that Alex was clearly in a trance of some kind.

Alex could not hear him. In his vision, Alex ran up to the men and screamed at them all.

“You can’t do that! This is private property! I’ll take you all to court!”

One middle-aged man came up to Alex and looked sternly at him.

“This man thinks there’s a law that protects him? Ha-ha!”

The man grabbed Alex’s shoulders and pushed him to the ground.

“There is no law here boy! Survival is the law!”

The man pointed to the sky behind the house. There were ten large, black helicopters hovering, voices proclaiming: “The United World Consortium Supreme Consort orders you to disperse! We are now in a state of Marshall Law!”
The men all fired at once at the hovering hornet-like aircraft. Instantly, the helicopters retorted with missiles that killed most of the rebels and destroyed the house. The dying man looked at Alex and said, “And you were a missionary?”

The vision ended with a great explosion of light. Alex jerked his head upward. Mike was at his side kneeling by him in prayer. When Alex came to himself, he found himself looking directly into the
formerly dead boy’s eyes. Kamal looked at Alex with tears flowing down his eyes and said,

“You are the Peygamber! I could see you! I saw you, Sir!”

He continued to hug Alex and cry. “Thank you my Peygamber!”

Suddenly, the young man sprang to his feet! He beckoned to the crowd to pay homage to Alex.

“He is the Peygamber! Peygamber is amongst us!”

Kamal began to prostrate himself to the ground at Alex’s feet.

“Let’s get out of here, Mike!”

Mike seemed to not hear him as though he was in shock.

“Mike! Let’s go!”

“What’s this Peygamber stuff, Alex?”

“I swear to you, I don’t know! Just get in the van, Mike, and drive!”

As they entered the van, the crowd gathered around the vehicle and encircled it. Mike started the motor and attempted ever so slowly to move forward until he was away from the crowd that had amassed. As they cleared the throng, Mike and Alex looked back. They were all bowing down and shouting.

“Peygamber is amongst us! Praise to the son of Nimrod!”

Mike’s Urdu was good enough to make it out. He knew who Nimrod had been. He knew who his seed would be. He stared directly at Alex. Alex turned around and looked out the windshield. A finger had scratched out a sentence in the mud-covered window. It read: I am the keeper!—Abaddon.

Mike was sure he saw it. He could not make it all out but he did read the word, or name, Abaddon. He had seen it before. He knew that word! He believed the word and it was there written over the windshield and then it was gone! Then a word exited from Mike Wakely’s lips. Mike’s mouth uttered the words involuntarily.

“The Keeper of the abyss.”

Mike thought through all the words and passages of the Bible he had kept in memory. Apollion was the Greek word for Abaddon in the New Testament. He knew this kid; this seemingly dedicated disciple of Christ was on a fast track to Tenebre? Alex turned to Mike and Alex’s right eye had something dark stuck in the corner and Mike saw a devil staring at him! He hit the brakes and stopped the van and turned Alex around to look at him. He saw nothing, except a startled looking Alex Maefield.

“I am sorry, Alex! I…I saw something, I thought. What is going on here?”

Alex smiled at him and shrugged his shoulders. “Look at me Alex! Something has been way out of the realm of holy here! A boy’s risen from the dead, disappearing messages scrawled over the windshield?”

“Bones healed? Horses mended?” Alex interjected

Alex looked at Mike and stared at the expression written across his leader’s face. He realized that Mike was in the midst of astonishment. He looked at Mike and asked, “Mike, where is Basra?”

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
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Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

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Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

Continue your glance into the world of Nimrod Rising as Alex Maefield takes further fatalistic steps into the darkness that has invaded his very being. Many of us find the spirit world hard to fathom and difficult to believe. During my research for Nimrod Rising, I came to the shock and realization of just how real the spiritual world truly is. I realized that Watchers are simply created beings, like unto ourselves, prone to do the wrong and tempted to rebel, also like the tragedy of the Human Race. Yet, the Watchers who turned against Elyon (God) are bitter and angry and determined to get the kingdom they ruled on the Earth before they were cast out and mankind was created. Witness the power and the confusion in this young man, Alex as he both feels the terror and allure of his new-found power that makes him special in the realm of the physical.

In Part one of Nimrod Rising - Sincere and Dedicated, you can feel this young man's fear and speculation. He knows he needs to reject the call from darkness and turn his life over to the true force of power for good, but he he wants to continue to let this evil call fill his life as well. I think you you may be able to see the same decisions in your own life when you, and like all the rest of us, you have to make a conscious determination to follow the right whether than the wrong that eventually infects every area of our lives. In America today, we are all faced with the same kind of decisions. Will we, as a nation, choose to listen to the calls from the forces of good or will we finally give way to the natural instincts to let evil pervade us? With the deaths of 37 million babies through abortion, the calls for same-sex marriage and the recent loss of dignity through the forces of the culture of death, America is at a crossroads, just like Alex himself, we must choose today whom we will serve. Read this excerpt from Nimrod Rising and decide for yourself...

Nimrod Rising - Sincere and Dedicated Part One

Alex finally made it to the Vineyard base. The Ford transit, carrying Sally to Islamabad, had already departed. Alex had hoped to at least wish Sally a safe trip. He had just wanted to see her enticing face one more time; to let her look in his eyes and see the confusion that was leading him to madness. She would have immediately understood. She would at least see that there was something very wrong with him. Instead, Alex and his team leader, Mike Wakely would travel to Islamabad together.

“Alex! Great to see you man! I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

Mike Wakely was a gentle soul. He had the usual quaintness of speech and movement of the British. Yet, there was a certain toughness, a genuine grit that had been built up inside him after having been in India and Pakistan for so many years. Mike was one of the “Founding Fathers” of the Vineyard. He had been with the mission since its inception. He was responsible for all the teams in India, Pakistan and the rest of the Far East. As for Alex, Mike had a certain appreciation for the young man. He felt that Alex was sincere in his desire to spread the gospel to the lost religious followers of Mohammed throughout Pakistan and India.

Americans had always been very successful at rubbing the Brits the wrong way. Mike had a way of laughing it off. He was a true gentleman.

“You and I are going together.” Mike said with a muffled voice with his head under the hood of his tiny Suzuki minivan.

“What’s wrong with the baby carriage?” asked Alex

“The what? Oh, the van? I don’t know really. It starts and takes off then it just loses power.”

“Mike, the word ‘power’ just doesn’t fit in respect to this buggy.”

Mike chuckled. “Alex, could you look through the tool chest and find me a #10 wrench?” Alex looked for the tool as Mike waited patiently with his head under the hood singing softly, “Onward Christian Soldiers, marching on to war…”

Alex handed Mike the wrench and Mike saw the scrapes and bruises around Alex’s wrist. Mike panicked and tried not to think the worst of it or to show his concern. Mike had known for a while that Alex seemed more perplexed than normal. He thought it to be just a bit of lost zeal that every worker experienced after a certain amount of time on the field. Alex felt that Mike had been troubled in his spirit and then began to see a sort of strange green colored light around Mike’s shoulders, arms and head. It was like the rays given off of a florescent light that glowed but never quite lit completely. Mike’s mind began to analyze the bruises around Alex’s wrist.

“Had the boy tried to kill himself? What’s troubling him? He hadn’t been normal at the prayer meeting this morning.”

Alex was reading Mike’s thoughts. Mike’s mental words entered Alex’s mind as though they had been verbally uttered. Alex could hear the words though Mike had not spoken a thing. Suddenly, Alex realized that Mike had seen his wrist.

“He thinks that I tried to…” Alex panicked!

There was no way that Alex would be able to explain the dream to Mike, or to anyone, for that matter. Even Sally would have a hard time digesting it. They would all think he had a serious case of homesickness, or worse yet, that he had been possessed by demons.

“Why not?” Alex thought. “Was it not true?”

It seemed to be exactly plausible. Yet, it couldn’t be! Alex looked at his wrists and felt along his chest and torso. The burning pain bore witness to the fact. He had not invited any evil thing to entertain his thoughts. He had not dwelt with the wicked. He had consistently confessed his sins,
fasted, prayed and had stayed in the Word.

“They will all try to cast the demons out of me, as simplistic as they are!” Alex speculated.

They would call for a meeting, place their hands all over him and pray for a cleansing spirit to cast out the evil one! He couldn’t bear it! He would most certainly not allow it. He’d be called rebellious and sinful.

“Alex, can you give me the black adhesive in the tool box?” Mike asked Alex.

Mike didn’t really need the tape. It was a good excuse to see Alex’s wrists again. Mike grabbed Alex’s arm. He had to know how that had happened. He was genuinely concerned for the boy. But when Mike looked at Alex’s wrist, the bruise that he had been absolutely sure he had seen was gone! Mike was so startled that he jerked his head upward from beneath the hood of the Suzuki minivan and caught his balding spot on the latch! The tip of the latch had embedded itself just under the thin skin of his scalp. When Mike had detached himself, a small but deep cut began to ooze blood. Almost instinctively, Alex reached up his left hand and touched the grease-soiled cut. When his palm drew close to the contusion, Alex felt energy leave his body. That thin green light shot out again from between his palm and Mike’s scalp. Alex watched as the abrasion closed up without even leaving a scar. These miracles, as Alex had interpreted them to be, seemed more commonplace now to Alex. He was not afraid anymore.

____________________________________________________________

Now, Watch The Nimrod Rising Video Trailer:

Are You Ready For Nimrod Rising?
Is it really hard to see that something sinister is afoot? All around us, in every country, on every face, there is a knowledge that everything has changed. Watch this video and see what Steven Clark Bradley's new novel, Nimrod Rising describes and the very plausible scenario that may be playing itself out in the very day in which we live. This video will make you think!
Are You Ready For Nimrod Rising?

___________________________________________________________

“Did I cut myself, Alex?”

“No, you just gave it a good thud is all.”

“That’s impossible! I felt the tip of that thing clinging to the inside of my skin.”

“Well Mike, it must have only felt that way, cause there isn’t even a red spot.”

Alex felt a wave of conviction pour over him. Here was his chance, perhaps his only one, to tell someone he knew he could trust about what was going on in his life.

“See Mike, I met this demon last night and he tied me to a chair and poured tar and bugs all over me and then crawled behind my eye!”

The sound of it all playing back inside Alex’s head convinced him to leave it all alone. He was certain that if he told Mike about the satanic attacks of the morning and afternoon, Mike would be able to cast it all away through prayer and fasting. He trusted Mike. He knew Mike would keep it quiet. Still, Alex did not want to lose this power either. Had it not come to him without his desiring it? Had he not, in the past two hours, saved a family from certain starvation by mending their transportation and the healing of an ugly wound on the top of Mike’s head? He liked the power! He was somebody special now! Did it really matter where this power came from as long as it wrought well for the world, Manassa Dormin’s world? Could Satan cast out Satan? The answer was “yes” if it caused deception and illusion enough to deceive the lost masses of humanity, and Alex knew it! Yet, talking to Mike was out of the question. Situational ethics were wrong!

Alex knew it! Helping people was right, even if he actually wanted it all. A small, whispering voice told him that he loved the power. He loved the fear! He loved the shock effect on those around him! He loved the final results! He loved that lizard-looking, nostril-puffing, yellow-eyed demon, Abaddon that seemed permanently stuck in the corner of his right eye! The narrow road on which Alex was walking was needle thin. He would just have to walk down it. It tantalized him now. It wasn’t the mere babbling of some mentally induced gibberjabber that he had been participating in called the tongues of angels. He was actually sending power from himself to others! Where the power originated did not matter anymore. Alex was not about to give it up!

Mike still had hold of Alex’s arm. He stared at the wrist unbelievingly.

“Alex, I was sure that…”

“Sure of what?” Alex asked.

He was getting good at this, he thought, as Mike shook his head in confusion.

“Never mind.” Alex looked down at the minivan.

“Mike, have you checked the coil wire? Maybe it’s loose. I’m sure if you press down on it firmly, the engine will start.”

Alex pressed on the wire solidly and Mike went around to the ignition and turned the key. The motor roared to life.

“Mr. Maefield, you’re a good soul!” Mike said. “And a very troubled one too!” Mike thought. He looked down again at Alex’s wrist. It was clean and free of even the slightest bruise.

“Get in, Alex. Let’s go.”

~~~

The road between Lahore and Islamabad was at times wonderfully paved and then would break up first for great stretches of many kilometers into gravel, then into dirt, and, often, there was no road at all.

“You sure can tell which village is the home of a Member of Parliament,” Mike said to Alex. “Their roads are always well-preserved.”

Nevertheless, travel in the sub-continent was always dusty, dirty and hot. Alex would inevitably stick his arm out the window for a minute or two and pull it back inside semi-blackened. Alex thrived after the toughness of the land. He loved to see all the cultural aspects of the small villages. The various herdsmen driving their water buffaloes across the highway to a better grazing area somewhere on the other side always periodically impeded the travel.

“Why not? This is Pakistan,” Alex thought.

Uniquely beautiful, young Pakistani women seemed fatalistically denied their due moment of feminine splendor by virtue of their sensuous eyes and silky jet-black hair. There were lots of such beauties strutting along the sides of the road with large plastic basins planted firmly in the middle of the tops of their heads filled with the needed water for the first half of the day. Other women, usually the older ones, could be seen squatting on their haunches in the fields where the cattle had just deposited their smelly loads and sticking their prematurely-calloused hands in the fresh excrement, shaping handfuls into cakes which they would later stick and dry on the sides of their homes for future use as fuel for their cooking stoves.

As the two of them drove on through the Pakistani countryside, Alex spotted something in the road. One could always see many things lying in or on the sides of the roads; rusted out cars, dead horses and cows and buzzards as large as small children that seemed to be saying grace before devouring something dead for their next meal. Yet, what Alex saw was no broken down automobile or dead animal. It was a human body!

“Mike! Look there on your right!” Alex commanded.

Mike should have seen it as the steering column was on the right in India, but he had been busy trying to drive down this particularly rough stretch of road.

“What is it?”

“It’s a body….a dead body…at least it appears to be dead, just back there on the side of the road. Stop the car Mike!”

“Alex what if they think we did it? I know missionaries who’ve nearly lost their lives for hitting a Pakistani citizen!”

“Who cares, Mike? Stop now!”

Mike hit the breaks and threw the minivan into reverse. When they reversed to where the body was, they got out and looked at an obviously dead young man.

“You think he’s dead, Alex?”

Alex started waving his hand about three feet over the body.

“Yes, he’s dead, Mike. His spirit is still hovering over the body,” Alex said calmly and serenely.

Mike was dumbfounded. “His what is doing what? Are you going mad?”

Alex then looked at Mike and continued. “His name is Kamal Bhaktar and he’s from the village just over the hill behind you. He’s almost twenty years old and was struck by a passing bus about thirty-two minutes ago.”

“Alex! I really don’t think it is a good time for jokes!”

Alex looked over at Mike irately and shouted in some kind of strange, altered voice.

“Why do you call me Alex? My name is Dormin! Manassa Dormin, and I’ll dare you doubt me!”

Mike was sure that he saw something looking at him from the corner of Alex’s right eye. Alex then turned his head to the Suzuki and stared hard at it. The horn began blowing.

“What are you doing? What? You can’t be doing that! This is not of Elyon!”

Alex looked at Mike and spoke again in the voice that was not his own. “Mike, all that glitters is not gold and all that is powerful is not of Elyon.”

“Alex! What are you? Who are you?” “Alex!” Mike walked closer over to Alex.

“Listen to me!”

Alex cast a burning stare directly into Mike’s eyes.

“Who the Tenebre is Alex? I told you my name is Dormin, and, believe me, you’ll never forget it again!”

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com

Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

Have you ever wondered what was here before us? Is the world we see around us all there is? Do you look around and feel the squirming on the inside of your stomach that tells you that everything is not as it seems? Whether we admit it or not, if we sit and think profoundly and look at the dissolving world system around us, we come to an understanding that there are forces at work all around us that mean us woe and seek to rob us of hope, faith and peace.

We all know about the life we can all see, touch and feel. What about a world that is as real as the air we breath; but one which is hidden from our sight and as real as the invisible battles going on around us at every moment for the world, the future and for the souls of men and women? Inside Nimrod Rising will give you visual look into a book that could be one of the most important books you will ever read! War, terror, political upheaval, are these simply random acts of intrigue and violence? Or, is there an invisible war between the forces of good and the forces of evil that soon will not be so invisible anymore?

Read Legion of Ants and witness the transformation of a pseudo man of faith into a true follower of the forces of darkness which fully intend to wreak havoc in this planet that we call home and which Lucia, the prince of the Nadir, who resides and encompasses the darkness of Tenebre. This portion of Nimrod Rising will shock and amaze you and make the hidden forces arrayed before us feel more real than we ever wanted to know. I know this chapter will make you want to read Nimrod Rising to the very end of a book that is as real as it gets, If You Dare!

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Nimrod Rising - Legion of Ants Part One

“I was Alex’s best friend and sometimes his worst enemy. I know he was attracted to me. I was thin, long-legged, big-busted, dark skinned and beautiful. These legs don’t work anymore now, but then, I was a distraction. Elyon has forgiven me, but I knew it too! I was one of those Messianic Jews. That was the mark that made me the chosen vessel of his evil! I know I very often made him have wicked, evil thoughts. I am sure that he had been victorious over his libido mostly, except on rare occasions; he was forced to take things into his hands when he had undressed me far too much in his mind and had always convinced himself that he had had no alternative. It was not sexual. It was something far more sinister and evil. These things I am telling you tonight were related to me by him directly, before he…before he hurt me, robbed me, took me, you know what I mean…”
~~~
“Alex! Come back to us!” Sally cried. Alex was quoting scripture and trying to comprehend what had happened to him during the prayer meeting.

“Temptation is not sin!” Alex told himself.

“I can do all things through Christ who…” Sally interrupted him, “Alex! Are you OK? What happened in there?”

Alex turned his face away from her. He was sure it was covered with perplexity and terror!

“Me? I’m fine. I had a touch of malaria last night. I took some stuff for it. Guess it’s taking its time working.” Alex shook his head in disgust.

“Sickness is of Satan!”

“Yea, maybe?” Sally responded. “But dead missionaries are not very useful to Elyon, Alex! You should…”

“I know! I should take it every day.”

Alex knew that he had been taking it, but he also knew that pills could not cure what he had just suffered, and it was not malaria. He was not even sure that prayer could cure it now. That is unless this was some strange new strain that caused horrific hallucinations. Sally gawked at Alex. She knew it too!

“You need a better place.” Sally insisted.

“Hey, no problem! I’m just roughing it a little.”

“A little! What are you trying to prove, Alex?”

“Hey, Henry Martyn did it! He preached the gospel right here in Lahore!”

“Yea, and then promptly died at the ripe old age of 28 too!” Alex seemed to close himself off from Sally’s words.

“For me to live is Christ and to die is…”

“Stupid!” Sally interrupted.

“Sally, that’s a bad attitude! My times are in His hands!”

“And to rush it up is sinful too!”

“You like me don’t you?” Alex interjected smiling.

“Yea, I do, you over zealous fanatic. I like you a lot! Is there something wrong with that? Alex, you’ve been changing a lot lately. If you have a problem, tell me! I’ll be there for you!”

“I can see the way you feel. You see, what you really need is the world that you cannot see! You know the Vineyard doesn’t allow us to see so much of each other alone.” Alex responded.

“I mean we are human and some of these rules are overbearing. I’m not trying to get you in my bed or anything, but you are in my heart!”

Alex’s face turned red, partly because he had imagined it so many times.

“What did I just say?” Sally turned her head to not reveal her red face. She turned her head back and spoke directly to Alex.

“I, I mean, you’re a man. I’m a woman! A man is attracted, at times transported toward a woman. A lady has already understood that the man likes the woman, you know! Gives him no signals except a certain little flash of the eye; just enough to let him know he definitely still has a chance!”

“So that’s how it is, huh?”

Alex seemed to be looking out of his eyes sideways, simply out of the extreme corners of the eyes.

“You decide, Alex.”

“OK! We can talk on the way back from Islamabad tonight. We can ride back together.”

“Why don’t you go back to your little home and get some rest before the trip and sweat it all off?”

“Why do I have to fall for someone just like my mom?”

Suddenly, Alex’s face was assailed with the look of horror.

“Sally!”

Alex grabbed Sally by her shoulders and shook her.

“I’ve gotta find them!”

“Who, Alex? What’s wrong?”

“My grandparents, Sally! Don’t you understand?” he asked, shaking Sally again.

“Alex! Stop it, you’re hurting me!”

Alex came to himself.

“Sally, I’m sorry. If I told you all about it all, you’d fear for my mind. You probably already do!”

Alex backed away from the girl.

“I really have to go! I want to call them.”

Alex was walking backward still admiring her.

“I’ll see you tonight. Wakely and I are going to Islamabad together.”

Alex waved again, turned around, and trotted briskly to his habitat and Sally prayed.
~~~
The Vineyard was not your run-of-the-mill international mission group dedicated to the propagation of the good news. It was laidback in its approach. The Vineyard didn’t demand that a candidate go out and spend the best years of ones life getting a Masters of Divinity and then a Th.D. It didn’t tell the candidate to spend the next five years after the degrees were accomplished drumming up support for the “Work” so that the servant of Elyon could, finally, get out to the field where Elyon had “so powerfully” called them, afterwards to finally arrive too bruised, battered and worn to set up house, get typhoid and die! No! The Vineyard took you as you were. Long hairs, short hairs, or no hairs at all! You’re qualified!

The only prerequisites were that you be filled with the Spirit, spend ample time in prayer, a standard to which no one could ever quite attain except by exaggeration. You had to read your Bible.

“Meditation on the word was the key! Breathe it! Eat it! Drink it and Dream about it!” as Vineyard founder Rex Wagle used to proclaim in his sermons. The original name of the mission had not been the “Vineyard” but rather “Christ is the answer.” The name originally left no doubt as to what they were about. It had a ring about it and seemed to say it all. The only hang up was that when the first letters in each of words were used as an abbreviation, it spelled out CIA. That never went over well in the Third World when visa time came up. They had even begun to change the acrostic title to C.I.T.A. but that meant HIV/AIDS in the French language, or at least it had the same sound. So, after painstakingly praying and seeking the will of the Lord for a new name, the name “Vineyard” was chosen. Never mind that the new title seemed to imply that they were all drunkards.

“Elyon knows better!” Rex Wagle declared.

____________________________________________________________

Inside Nimrod Rising
Watch "Inside Nimrod Rising" and take a journey into the spiritual beyond that will make you wonder if "Nimrod Rising" is a book of fiction or of truth. In fact, it is both!

Watch Inside Nimrod Rising
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One would have thought that Elyon also knew better for the original name as well, but no one had ever pointed that out. Unity, prayer! Piety, prayer! Sobriety, prayer! Study of the word and prayer! Fasting and above all, prayer! It was a miracle, but one did have a chance to sleep from time
to time. One was always sure to pray before sleeping!

The days of the Vineyard’s devotees were filled with the distribution of the Gospel and the seemingly never-ending stream of literature to distribute also. That is, of course, only after a profound moment around the Word of Elyon and prayer at 5:30 A.M. The original time had been 5:00 A.M. That change was highly regarded as a compromise on the part of supposed men of Elyon with the inability to conquer their flesh. Some said it was worldly. The dissenters did follow after the others’ carnal ways and sleep another half hour later though! The team’s nights were to be spent in the visitation of “contacts,” as they were called: those who showed more than just the casual interest in either the literature or the message of the gospel or visa to America. Of course, there was the “Around the world night of prayer” every Thursday night. It would usually break up at around 4:00 AM to give everyone a chance to have breakfast and refresh themselves before the 5:30 AM prayer meeting and then off to the daily scheduled ritual that had just become too stale for Alex Maefield. It was to be counted as a day without sleep for the Lord!

Alex had researched many groups before joining the Vineyard. He had received materials about the Vineyard even though he could not recall having ever enquired of them or having ever heard of them. Even more mysterious to Alex was the letter of acceptance he had received from them when he knew he had not even applied. When he had called to ask about the status of his acceptance, the Vineyard officials had never heard of him, but he was accepted nonetheless.

Alex just took it as a sign from Elyon. The Vineyard, more than all the other mission groups or boards, offered Alex his best chance to be radically spiritual and to “one-up” everyone around him, in spiritual terms. Alex never missed a meeting, consistently read the book and held a good check on his libido. Before venturing out into this land of dark magic and demonic activity, Alex had not spoken to any churches or mission boards. He decided to just trust the Lord to meet his needs the same way C.T. Studd, Henry Martyn and Hudson Taylor and many others had done in their new-life endeavors. Every month, Alex’s grandparents sent him faithfully a meager stipend of $100 out of their savings, ever determined to let their adopted son, Alex, mightily do the will of Elyon. The Vineyard director had warned Alex several times that the will of Elyon just might be changing for him if he didn’t have his support coming in more regularly and in larger denominations. Alex never worried. Alex hardly ate, fasting three days a week! He never drank Coke or Pepsi, even in the sometimes 45-degree Celsius temperature of Pakistan, and he lived in a one room rooftop-closet sort of place. Alex’s comfort level was hardly above that of the common city street dwellers of Lahore, and only a half-step below those who lived in cardboard boxes on the streets of Bombay.

Alex had told himself that he was trying to relate to the people of Pakistan, Lahore in Particular. In reality, it was all he could afford! It consisted of one window, which barely opened, a plastic, fold up hanging closet, a desk with the drawer missing, a wobbly chair, and one washed-out paint container, which Alex used as his toilet. It smelled rancid whenever he forgot to empty it. There was an overhead fan fastened to a hook which made Alex wonder if it might come tumbling down spinning some night as he slept and make mincemeat of some of the most prized possessions attached to his body! Alex would often watch the most amazing phenomenon as he lay in his broken down mattress. Day or night, from the wall to his left, over the ceiling above him, down the wall on his right and across the floor under his bed and up the left wall again, was a steady stream of ants. At first, Alex was afraid that they would fall into his gaping, snoring mouth as he lay sleeping at night. After a while, Alex had become accustomed to his thousands of friends, even grateful for their presence. He watched them as they marched in military-style unison, going about their business of doing the same task day in and day out. When Alex first started watching them, they had seemed daring, busy, loyal, even zealous! Now, though Alex still went to great pains not to step on any of them, they seemed boring, ritualistic, robotic and numb. Alex speculated to himself that they were a whole lot like him, a perfect picture of himself. He was doing the same thing these ants were: going out daily, gathering the tidbits and crumbs that he knew would be to the Master’s liking and only told to go right back out and do the whole thing all over again!

Alex had lost his vision. He found it impossible to persuade himself anymore of the rationale for even being there. The hallucination, aberration, vision or whatever it was didn’t help him. It had actually crushed him! He called home but there was no answer. The answering machine was turned off, broken or possibly blown to bits by bullets shot by a man wearing Alex’s face! He was scared, frustrated and angry! Alex got off his bed and walked over to the legions of ants streaming up and
down the walls. He had returned home to get some rest before his trip to Islamabad in the afternoon. There was a Sunni Muslim festival parade there today. It would be a bit of interesting and potentially dangerous evangelism!

“Fanatics are always dangerous,” Alex thought.

The statement caused him not to trust himself. He wondered if Elyon’s perspective toward man was like his own toward these bugs pacing up and down his walls. They were so small compared to Alex’s foot. He placed his foot three or four inches over a small section of this assembly line of vermin. Hundreds of the tiny creatures ran for cover as if amazed that their giant, humanoid friend
would be so rash as to frighten them.

“Elyon can crush us with his foot!” Alex remarked.

Was Elyon about to step on Alex? The thought had struck Alex’s mind as many times as the blood of Christ prevented it! Did Elyon hold the momentary last few days of doubt, lust and fear against him? Alex feared so. He removed his foot from over top of the ants. They all regained their positions again. He fell backward onto his bed. He needed to rest before the trip. The bed conformed nicely to Alex’s body. It was more of a hammock than a mattress. He looked up at the ceiling. The ants were marching to and fro in their vain, endless routine that literally would lead them to an early death, having worked themselves so hard. Often, while nodding off to sleep, Alex would lay and wait for the voices. They were those latent replays of things that one’s brain heard during the day but the ears had filtered out and refused to hear. The ants moved in formation above Alex’s head. Some seemed to be at battle stations. They seemed to make formations of battle in the hazy, dreary vision that was taking him into never-never land. They seemed to Alex, as his eyes folded slowly, like an approaching menace ready to die in war, if need be, and taking up their positions! In the far distance, Alex heard the wailing, soothing cry of the Mosque calling the faithful to late-morning prayers,

“Allah Wakbar! Bismila Rahman Rahir Irahim.”

Alex liked the sound. It stretched his religious bones. Closer by, a three-wheeled rickshaw sort of rumbled and clattered close by and the smell of the curry-infested air bit at his nose. He was tired. He was weary and afraid. He was tired and it was understandable. Ants could work themselves to death. Humans were of a more frail nature. There are those interplays between feelings, motives, emotions and drives. He remained unconvinced.

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites:
Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com

Dare You To Read The Whole Book!

__________________________

What Do You Think...?

There are some stark days ahead for the United States its efforts to stop the Islamic Republic of Iran from developing nuclear weapons. There is an intrinsic need to deal with Iran which is in the process of building a nuclear reactor and enriching uranium that it says would be used for its energy needs. Now we see that this nation has been thrust upon the world stage and is now at the center of international debate regarding its nuclear ambitions.

Therefore, it is only logical that we should take a look at whether this fanatical Shiite State should be allowed to possess such technology. Does a land that is sitting on a sea of oil really have energy needs that could not be met by its massive reserve of crude? Would it be wise to trust the nation that launched the present wave of terror through out the world in 1979 with a nuclear arsenal? Can we continue to work closely with any nation, such as Russia, that would help Iran to achieve this goal? These are questions that must be answered.

I present to you, "Strategic Planning" a chapter from Patriot Acts, my next novel. Tell me, do you know those who truly have the nation's best interests in mind. Can you recognize them immediately? Even the most naive ill-prepared of men, since the nation's conception, had played the role by sheer virtue of the weight of such a burden the office bequeathed to the most powerful ruler in the tinderbox that was the world. The office is bigger than the man and forces either the growth of stature and inspiration or disasters of great magnitude which change the world forever.

Read about the President of the United States of America, Christopher A. Tate in the vice grips of a crisis that is devastating in its proportions. Live the workings of the office and of those set on bringing down the Republic. Whatever one of us does, for a brother or a sister, completely disregarding their color, faith or creed, that is what makes up Patriot Acts.

Patriot Acts - Strategic Planning

April 15, 2009 2:15 PM

It seemed as if the room was lit brighter than usual. Today there would be no Biographer or Official Photographer during this ‘Top Secret’ Cabinet meeting. Both were only allowed into the room for the introduction and then were politely excused from the room and the door was locked behind them. Strategically speaking, the White House had gone black, deep down into the dark reaches of secrecy; the concealment from which wars are born. The administration was hunkered down and had not let nary a peep out to the press that America was about to undergo a crisis that would make the Cuban Missile Crisis appear to be a day at Disneyland.

The air in this commanding room was always one of officialdom and supremacy, but today, with the present state of affairs that were both historic and tumultuous, the room took on an atmosphere of insecurity, turbulence and out-and-out calamity.

The walls were blessed with the presence of portraits of historic figures and placid scenes of a simpler and a far more hopeful day for the young nation called the last, best hope of man. On a normal day, these metaphors caused the men and women who met there to take pause before any decisions were taken that would eventually affect the nation for ill or for gain. Today, the same precaution came over those who had single-filed into the room, but also it seemed to each one that the pictures appeared murkier than usual and the vista that had always made their underpaid and often overworked jobs in the Administration worth the frustration was not so ceremonial today and made them all look beyond the status of their positions and realize that they held the future of the nation in their trembling hands. The table itself gave a luster of authority to the serene stress that pervaded the room at every meeting of the talking heads. Today, heads were not talking! Instead, hearts wanted to fail and groans could be heard exuding from the mouths of the President’s cabinet members in the form of pleas for ideas, solutions, plans of attack, threats and Armageddon scenarios!

There would be no phone calls to the President during this meeting except from the chosen few and only those relating to the issue at hand, an issue that threatened to make this meeting perhaps the last meeting they may ever have if they could not stop the nation from drifting toward disaster. They had to strangle the enemy before it surrounded them! For now, they all sat there opening their files, closing them and opening them again as though they had to make themselves believe what their eyes were reading as they were about to discuss the various war plans and attack plans that could add up to their only prospects.

President Tate sat in his seat and stared straight ahead at the fireplace where a porcelain design of George Washington reposed portraying the first President of the United States bowed to one knee in the snowy field at Valley Forge with his men surrounding him in humble prayer. President Tate looked from the left to the right at those he himself had chosen to lead the nation. He looked at everyone seated at the table directly and the spoke his first words amongst those who so vitally needed to see him lead in a way he had not as yet been forced to do in his still young administration.

“I have seen a lot of them in this old mansion.”

Everyone stared at him with a look of fear that Tate was losing his nerve, the quality that had got him elected in the first place.

“The portraits I mean. I’ve seen a lot of them. But none have affected me more since the first day I saw it up close as that one on the staircase of JFK with his arms folded and his face pointed downward and expressing something that was not even close to depression, my friends! His is a look that we all should have today, this day that we all prayed would never present itself, but somehow knew it surely would! No, Kennedy’s face is one of complete determination to find a resolution to the crisis of his day. His was neither dejection nor retreat but a profound burrowing into the tender regions of his heart and finding the tenacity and resolution to fulfill his oath to preserve, protect and defend! Let us emulate him this day.”

Tate then shook himself loose of the profundity and got to the business at hand.

“What we have here is an ultimatum. I fear we are being placed in a noose that if allowed to be placed around our necks will strangle us into superpower mush! Let me defer to Jamie O’Rourke.”

“Mr. President, We have thought it would be significant to take a good look at the various facilities around the nation of Iran. Now, we cannot destroy them all, but we need to determine which ones are of vital interest to these crazy people and which ones should be classified as high value targets for our munitions. In addition, their most developed plants are deep underground and would require Nuke Bunker Busters to take them out. Mr. President, I yield the floor to National Security Advisor Blake. Roger, its all yours.”

“Mr. President, I have put together a video brief that details the level of threat that each nuclear facility present to the United States.”

The National Security Advisor pressed a button and a screens set up in front of each cabinet member lit up and the brief began to describe the two facilities, which posed the greatest threat to the US.

“First of all, there is the facility at Arak. Mr. President, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Arak was revealed during a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2006. It is located at the Qatran Workshop near the Qara-Chai river in the Khondaub region, in Central Iran, 150 miles south of Tehran.”

“According to National Council of Resistance of Iran, a front organization, named the Mesbah Energy Company, has been used to prevent unwanted disclosures. The headquarters of the Mesbah Energy Company are located in Tehran.”

“On 12 December 2006, The Institute for Science and International Security (ISIS) released an issue brief expressing concern that Iran is trying to develop "The capability to make separated plutonium and highly enriched uranium, the two main nuclear explosive materials." ISIS acquired satellite imagery of a site near the town of Arak. It is at this site where a plant produces heavy water. Heavy water is used to moderate the nuclear chain reaction in one type of nuclear reactor, that could be used either for civilian power production or to produce bomb materials. The nuclear reactor that was under construction at Bushehr at the time is now fully operational. It does not use heavy water nor do current Iranian research reactors need it in amounts that would justify construction of such a facility. The only logical conclusion, therefore is that this plant was built for the express purpose of building nuclear weapons. We have concluded that the Tactical weapons that have entered this country were produced in the Arak plant and its sub-plants.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t do this Fisher, but I can’t say no either! That’s my family they have in the palms of their hands! How could you expect me to say no!”

“Listen Dog, I did a lot of extensive training in my line of work. Yea, we were taught that there were several lethal places in the human body that demanded hardly any pressure to kill someone. I did my share and yours too in the field. Yet, the best training I ever got was not how to kill, but how to stay alive! They are going to take you away from here today and you have to stay alive for your family and for your country!”

“You aren’t going to kill Tate? After all you’ve gone through?”

“I never said that, but I believe timing is everything. I’ll probably decide that when I see him. Your job is to get me alone with him. You have to play the part with this Mason Ball. My God, you played the poker face perfectly at Anvil Mountain, you’ve got to get in the game again. If your family lives and you die what use will you be to them. From here on out you are Mr. Cooperation, Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. President, construction of the heavy water production plant at Khondab near Arak was reportedly begun in 2004 by the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran (AEOI). The heavy water plant at Arak is reportedly using the Girdler Sulphide process. The location of the facility was reportedly determined by the need for large quantities of water, which can be easily supplied by the Qara-Chai River.”

“The second site, Mr. President, of greatest concern is the nuclear facility at Natanz, also known as Kashan. During a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2004, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Natanz was revealed. Israeli military intelligence refers to the site as Kashan."

“Natanz is located between Isfahan and Kashan in central Iran. The facility is reportedly 100 miles north of Isfahan, and is located in old Kashan-Natanz, near a village called Deh-Zireh, itself located about 25 miles southeast of Kashan, and falls under the jurisdiction of the Governor's Office of Kashan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Will you look at this Dog? They are really doing their homework about casualties. They plan on putting the weapons in strategic locations to bring down all three branches of the Federal Government!

“Yes, five in the White House, ten in the Capital Building, five at the Supreme Court and ten at the Pentagon! The country will be without a government and no one will have their finger on the strategic nukes!”

“You can bet that Garret will try to put his thumb on the trigger!” Fisher predicted. “Ball will have the codes we need Dog and you have to get them to me. There is an underground tunnel that Johnson used to use to get out of the White House for some privacy. It’s been closed for thirty years.”

“You’re crazy Harrison! I’ve heard about that tunnel. It’s been blown up more times than I care to imagine! That could be really dangerous!”

“Oh, yea, danger. Tell me what is not dangerous about anything we’ve done in the past twenty years!? While you’re at it, tell me a better way to get to Tate and to kill him if you have one…! I didn’t think so. Just get me into the tunnel and I’ll do my thing! ... Steven Clark Bradley

Patriot Acts! (A Work In Progress) Aren't we all?

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites:
Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com

__________________________

At the crowning of every American Head of State there is undoubtedly great anticipation melanged with a fair measure trepidation. This person, just like all the others, had considered themselves, perhaps not worthy, yet somehow still deserving of the honor. Will this man or woman fulfill their word, for which both believers and the haphazard had already cast their approval? It is not always the man or woman who can say that they actually produced the moral and fearless resolve to remain strong in the face of adversity, which surely awaits each and every successive leader of both the strongest and somehow increasingly impotent nation that seems to have dangerously lost its edge on too many levels.

In Part one of Patriot Acts - Strategic Planning you saw the inner-workings of an infant administration callously and mercilessly thrust into a crisis that, if enacted, would cause the memory of September 11, 2001 shrink into obscurity, except for the true guardians of freedom.

I hope you enjoy Part Two of Strategic Planning. Read how both as the free and the fanatic each plot out their day of power, one side to preserve, protect and defend while the other concocts the end of the nation. Perhaps you will feel afresh the need or regaining our hold on a nation that appears hell-bent on disaster except for strong, free, just and brave men and women ready to give their all in bold, daring and audacious actions that are nothing less than Patriot Acts...

Patriot Acts...Strategic Planning - Part Two

“According to the NCRI, as of August 2005, the project had cost 95 billion US Dollars. Funding was provided by the Supreme Security Council and was outside of the supervisory purview of the Budget and Planning Organization. Again, a front company was specifically created for the project named Kala-Electric, with headquarters in Tehran. One Davood Aqajani is the managing director for the Natanz heavy water project. Officials from the company reportedly made a number of trips to both China and India in 2005, which makes those two nations complicit in Iran’s effort to become a major nuclear power in the world. The head of Atomic Energy Agency of Iran, Gholamreza Aghazadeh, reportedly pays visits to the site every month in order to oversee progress on the facility’s capacity to build MIRV’ed weapons that could carry as many as six warheads on a single rocket.”

“On 12 December 2006, The Institute for Science and International Security (ISIS) released an issue brief expressing concern that Iran was trying to develop "the capability to make separated plutonium and highly enriched uranium, the two main nuclear explosive materials." ISIS acquired satellite imagery of a site in Natanz, about 40 kilometers southeast of Kashan, which may be a gas-centrifuge facility for uranium enrichment.”

“Iran strongly rejected the allegations and reiterated that the two plants were intended to generate electricity. In the next 20 years, Iran has to produce 6,000 megawatts of electricity by nuclear plants and the launch of these two centers are aimed at producing necessary fuel for these plants," Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi said.”

“On 10 February 2007, Gholamreza Aqazadeh, the head of Iran's Atomic Energy Organization, said that Iran had started an ambitious nuclear energy program and was poised to begin processing uranium. The uranium ore processing plant came on line in the central city of Isfahan along with a uranium enrichment plant near Natanz. The UN's International Atomic Energy Agency's inspectors visited Iran on 21 February 2006 and 2007 to look at nuclear facilities still under construction there at that time. IAEA spokesman Mark Gwozdecky stated that a process of many visits to understand the architecture of the place and to design the most effective monitoring regime for that facility would be needed but has been prohibited by the current regime." American officials believe new nuclear facilities in Iran are being used to make nuclear weapons, hence today’s crisis.”

“Today Mr. President, Iran remains the ideological center of the America-hatred pervading the Islamic Middle East. That theocracy began warring with America when its rulers took 52 Americans hostages in 1979. Highlights of Iran's terrorism on Americans include the bombing and murder of 241 Marines in Beirut in 1983 and the killing of 19 US servicemen bombed at Khobar Towers in Saudi Arabia in 1996.”
“More recently, Iran is known to harbor the Al Qaeda operatives who orchestrated the bombing of a Western residential compound in Saudi Arabia in 1993 that killed nine Americans. Iran sends Islamic agitators and militants into both US-controlled Iraq and Afghanistan, and sponsors such terrorist groups as Hezbollah, Hamas and Islamic Jihad in Lebanon, Israel, Gaza and the West Bank, to mention a few.”

“In January 2002, Israel confiscated 50 tons of weapons to the Palestinian Authority from a ship bound from Iran. A month before this, former Iranian "President" Hashemi Rafsanjani stated publicly that when the Islamic world has nuclear weapons "The strategy of the West will hit a dead end, since a single atomic bomb has the power to completely destroy Israel." Is not this one quotation from an actual former president of Iran enough to do everything needed to stop Iran from acquiring a nuclear arsenal? In 2008, an Iranian opposition group discovered another secret nuclear facility in Natanz, undoubtedly part of Iran's advanced nuclear weapons program.”

“It is obvious that Iran is the root of Islamic terrorism. Only in destroying this country’s theocracy could we finally declare a major victory in the war on terrorists. Meanwhile, the Iranian rebels fight to establish a government that will be secular in nature but Islamic in principle. They desire free speech nationwide general strikes have been held in the country with the hope of bringing about the end for their ruling mullahs and ayatollahs. It is apparent that the time is ripe for this administration to topple this regime. The time has come when we have to make that literal. As long as the Iran of today continues, the war on Terror will never end. Furthermore, now that the world has allowed this terrorist regime to possess a nuclear bomb, there is now a very good chance the war on terror will be lost.”

The Top Secret Brief ended. Everyone sat in stunned silence.

“Looks like George W. was right, boys! Thank you Mr. Blake.” Jamie O’Rourke quipped and then turned his attention to President Tate.

“Mr. President, it is our recommendation that action be taken against the three facilities in Arak, Natanz and Isfahan. By striking these three facilities we can deal a blow that, while not destroying their capacity to produce weapons, will cripple them for at least the next twenty years and give us time to take down the regime. We have also concluded that with Iran’s involvement as an official government in placing a large number of clandestine WMD’s on our soil that America is already at a state of war with the Islamic Republic of Iran.”

“Mr. President, our official recommendation is that covert actions against these three facilities be developed, approved and become operational within the next 72 hours. We would need to use “deep-digger” miniature nuclear bombs to burrow into the bunkers where these facilities have been hidden. Civilian casualties will be at a minimum with a maximum facility death toll at around 25,000. This is our best suggestion for an international response.”

“Thank you gentlemen. Mr. Gardner, what does Homeland have for me on the tactical weapons here in our nation? Is there any way of finding where Mr. Garret plans to use these evil bastards?”

“The North Korean spy, Lee Kun Hee told us that they were not intended to be used against civilian populations. They were for the purpose of bringing down your government, sir. The warnings given by the Bush Administration back in 2006, which went unheeded, have now become a reality. Iran is now the fourth most powerful country in the world and able to attack the United States with its Martyrs' Brigade and can attack us by air attack with its new fully functional ICBM’s that can reach into the US as far inland as Cleveland, Ohio. Though Iraq is now a stabilizing democracy, all the work achieved there can be smashed overnight if this regime launches a massive strike on Israel, as they have threatened many times to do, and it appears they do not bluff. World War III may have already started, Mr. President.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dog, we call this operation, ‘Twist in the wind’. You need to contact me through whatever means Garret may have already set up. I guess we’ll know that later. Until then…”

Dog Mac and Fisher stopped talking and listened to the sound they both recognized perfectly. The thump, thump, thump noise told them that a chopper was inbound to their location, wherever that was. Soon they heard it straight overhead and saw the trees start reacting to the twirling blades outside.

“Guess that’s your ride, Dog.”

“Yea, think they’ll drop me in Honolulu?”

The chopper touched down about one hundred yards from the cabin in the valley between the high cliffs surrounding it. Two camouflaged men got out, ducked and ran toward the door.

“Just think, tonight you’ll probably be loving on that beautiful woman I saw in the screen earlier today!”

“Now, Fish, keep your mind to your self, but most of all, watch your back. I want to let you know I am not sure I can let you kill the president!”

“Dog, I would expect no less from a good man, like you. You saved my life before, I have a feeling we’ll be in the saving business again, but you may have to take me down before it’s all over! When that thing inside my head kicks in, it is hard to pull back! I will not let them take the country down, but, one thing is for sure, I am going to kill Tate! I only want you to do what you have in your heart, but get me in that tunnel, then zero in on me if you must. That might be the most merciful thing you could ever do for me! Strange game I know, but these are strange days!”

Dog Mac reached over and hugged Fisher and Fisher reciprocated.

“Well, let’s let go of each other or they’ll think they got a couple of San Francisco types!

“Oh, and Agent Smith, since I met you, that common name Smith will never be common inside my head again. It will always stand out in my book!”

There were three loud pounds on the door and Fisher opened it. The two mercenaries walked in.

“Agent Smith?”

“Yes, that be me, as you can see I am the only black dude in the house!”

The two hired soldiers laughed.

“We have to go, but first…”

One of the mercenaries took out the same spray that had put them both to sleep before. Dog Mac collapsed into the soldiers’ arms. Fisher helped them get Dog Mac into the chopper. It rose high and Fisher could see Dog Mac’s face leaning against the window. He remembered clearly now having seen his face that day when Dog Mac had saluted him there in the Iraqi desert from high up inside the chopper. This time Fisher initiated the respectful act and saluted Hamilton Smith! The chopper raised higher into the air, tilted and was gone in seconds. Fisher had one hour before his call from Garret. Very soon, every lesson in death Fisher Harrison had ever learned would need to be put into action. He was nervous, he was pumped full of adrenaline, he was ready! He just didn’t know who to use his skills on, as of yet!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. President,” Michael Gardner the Homeland Security Secretary interjected.

“There is one more very important twist to all of this.”

“Well, my friend, if two of my hands and one of my feet are already nailed to the wall, you might as well nail the other foot too!”

“Mr. President, Lee Kun Hee also gave us one more piece of information. He was never exactly distinct in his words, but he indicated that it was his understanding that the Iranians and domestic terrorists have come together in this apparent attack. They’re in a dealing mood.”

“I can imagine what kind of deal they’d broker. Probably, ‘Kill Tate and we go away’ or something like that? We never deal with terrorists!”

“Actually Mr. President that is what the Korean spy told us. They want you dead and then they will stop the attack.” Jamie O'Rourke quipped sarcastically.

“Ha, hell, even if I walked right up to them and cut my own throat they’d still have these nukes to hang around our necks. I am ready to lay down my life for many causes and would do so to save the nation, but for one evil fanatic and a mentally ill American terrorist? Never gonna happen willingly!”

President Tate paused and looked around the table at at the men and women assembled there. He felt the weight of the emergency at hand and wondered if this group of highly educated, completely untested government bureaucrats had what it took to wipe out an enemy that was hellbent on the destruction of the United states of America. He speculated about the same thing, concerning himself.

“Well, thank you very much! I need some time to consider all this and absorb it.”

Tate turned to the Joint Chiefs who were seated behind him.

“See you in the oval at 4:15 PM. Specifics! That’s what I want, estimates but no best-case scenarios! We must plan for the worst, not the best.”

They all saluted their Commander in Chief.

“Gardner and Blake, see you in one hour. I want a plan for evacuations and casualty estimates and triage setups in case we face the awful-awful! Get FEMA in here too. No more Katrina’s this time, please.”

“Yes sir!”

“I don’t have to remind any of you of the sensitive nature of this information. Anyone of you leak this to even your dog Fido and you will be arrested immediately and charged with treason, and I am sure you agree with me on that!”

Everyone did, except one. Mason Ball kept his head lowered and wrote down notes that he knew would not be a secret for long!

Everyone was astonished by President Tate’s resolve and they all seemed to solidify behind him. He was not trying to impress anyone. Only he could feel the fear and trepidation deep inside his stomach. He knew that today, at this very moment, perhaps really for the first time, Christopher A. Tate had truly become the President of the United States of America.

President Tate stood up and looked at his cabinet members who had all been gawking, and had stricken looks across their faces. President Tate crossed his arms and pointed his head downward in a deep somber tone and said,

“I wonder where they will hang this portrait displayed out before us and seated around this table, if there is a wall still standing to hang it on. You are dismissed.”
_________________________

I hope you found Strategic Planning stimulating, informative and frightening in its real and plausible danger. Let us not sit idly by why the world plots our demise. Dangerous time have always produced great leaders. Today America has a deficit of such people who are willing to rise to the top and take control of a dissolving scenario that would annihilate both friend and foe alike. You can't smell it, you can't see it, but it's coming to kill us unless we can muster up the determination to defend our freedom, put up a real fight and realize that our survival depends on Patriot Acts!

Patriot Acts! is a work in progress

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites:
Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com

__________________________

Recently, I heard former British Prime Minister Tony Blair respond to the question, why God is so important. I was so impressed with that courageous man's response. He said, "Because it reminds us that there is someone bigger than us." Yet, I pondered his words that had so stricken by their brevity and their profound simplicity. It left me to pose another question. How do those of us hold onto the power of a society which opposes everything we value as essential? What happens to a nation where so many common wrongs are now commonly accepted and practiced? We have failed to realize that man always arrives at the most amazing ways of placing his fellow man into bondage and terror. Our freedom is derived from God.

The clash of ideas in the world around us is not of this world. The forces of darkness are stripping away the truths we had held as as fact and are now unknowable or irrational in the pagan dens of the ever-expanding Culture of Death. Do you feel it? Can you see it around you. The war is out there, not yet revealed to the eyes and thought of man.

In Legion of Ants - Part One you saw the commencement of a transformation, only the beginning of a force that would come over him to propel him to the very zenith of global power!

Now, as you read Nimrod Rising - Legion of Ants Part Two Feel the intense darkness, the deepest feeling that knowing what was taking place was of much greater danger than going the way of all the Earth in total ignorance. As Alex walks into his destiny, feel his confusion, his fear, his desire for more...He is the Peygamber,the prophet to come the Prince of the Power of the Air, the old Serpent in the form of mortal flesh, the son of perdition! Read on, find out what true fear is. It is not for the faint of heart!

Nimrod Rising - Legion of Ants Part Twoe ants seemed more spread out over the ceiling than usual. It seemed they had formed pockets of ants in different locations. Alex had never seen them leave their perfectly straight line of activity before. The picture seemed to be forming into the perfect battlefield. Alex had been raised in a very strongly Christian environment. He was brought up to love and fear Elyon, and not the god of this world of strong smells, harsh people and Allah. It had been demonstrated to Alex that Allah the devil. Islam was the perfect imitation of the truth in that it was the exact opposite of it. Elyon had never ordered His people to kill the innocent. Those times throughout the centuries when the innocent were killed in the name of Elyon were not at the command of a God of love and mercy. This was a religion devoted to a God who took joy in the slaughter of infidels! Allah was the Elyon of the religious and deceived hiding the person of Lucia behind the faith of Muhammad, who without the slightest whim of consideration would, if Alex got off the narrow way, beat Alex as a spike into the sand all the way down to Tenebre!

“Why would I serve a Savior set out to do me some eternal harm?” Alex mumbled to himself.

He had a suspicion that his guide had read the book wrongly. His doubt was a temptation from the evil one! It was a lack of faith on his part! It was a blasphemy to think in such ways. Very much like an anti-Christ!

“It’s always wrong to think like that!”

Yet, think he did. He loved to, especially, when he was on his way to a nocturnal nirvana. His eyes would close, open and then close again.

“HA! HA! HA!” The voices echoed back at Alex and were all around him! “My dear master, you are no Alex! You are Dormin, the Seed of Nimrod!”

The voice was distinctly Pakistani. It had that wave, roll and intonation.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong man!”

The hands projected directly in Alex’s face, pulled apart and grew claws and leathery charred skin. One horrid hand came close to Alex’s mouth and extended its first revolting finger over Alex’s mouth while the other curled its gnarly fingers around Alex’s throat and thrust him directly
face to face with the power of Satan!

“Silence! You shall speak no more! Peygamber has many things to learn.”

“I’m sorry, but…”

“Silence!” the angelic beast cried out, “You must listen! There is far too much fervor and pride in you! It is what kept you from being available to the master. It must be instilled deeply in you!”

Alex felt himself propelled somehow to somewhere else. He pulled on his right arm, then the left. They would not move. They were fastened to a chair. His feet were in shackles. He felt cold. Then he realized he was naked.

“Let me go! Who are you? Where am I?”

“SILENCE!” A troll-like creature erupted like the roar of a thunderbolt!
~~~
Alex took his bearing on the room, which surrounded him. The room seemed large. It was dark; very dark. There was a window open behind him. The strong gust of air through the window blew the curtain over Alex’s head, sliding off and blowing back again. He was alone. There was an aurora around him, a presence that was so powerfully overwhelmingly evil that the hairs on his arms stood straight up. The moonlight cast its strange shadows through the window behind Alex. Alex saw the silhouette of a woman to his left.

“Alex!” A feminine voice called out. The two hands appeared in front of him.

“You are pure energy, O Seed of Nimrod!”

The hands pulled apart slightly and Alex could see some kind of electrical current dancing between the two palms.

“Learn to use the energy to bring about the day of the Master.”

Out of the darkness of the room that had engulfed Alex’s space, he heard the girl’s voice again.

“Manassa Dormin! I am so blessed to bear your seed!”

Alex recognized the voice.

“Sally! Is that you?”

Suddenly, Sally was there! She walked over to Alex and straddled his body, reaching down and kissing his neck, his face and lips. She whispered in Alex’s ear.

“Your seed shall inhabit the whole Earth, Dormin, oh seed of Nimrod. Give me your seed that I may have its fruit cut from my womb to the destruction of the plans of Elyon who stole the master’s heritage.”

Sally took Alex all the way. Alex writhed in pleasure, feeling sweetly soiled. The unfathomable voice cried out in the thick dark night.

“Feel it! Your energy has given her to you!”

Alex looked at Sally as she moved rhythmically over him, reeling her head back and forth, her gleaming, black hair blowing back in the wind that paraded through the window. Alex exploded inside her and he heard her uttering an approving moan.

“Oh Dormin, I am so blessed to bear your seed!”

Alex looked at her and saw her face change into the face of a demonic creature. Straddled atop of him she was laughing and hissing and breathing out a putrid smell, a creature that appeared more like a beast than a woman.

“He shall appear as his subjects, but he shall bear the soul of the Master! HA! HA! HA!”
Alex began to scream very loudly.

“Get off of me! You are of that evil one! Get away!”

Alex struggled hard to get loose from the chair where he was bound. The ropes burned his wrists and the shackles bruised his ankles badly as he fought to get the evil thing off of him! The beast on top of Alex stuck out its slithering serpentine tongue and began to lick Alex’s face.

“Get away from me!”

Alex cried out, as he sought to get away from the putrid, horrid thing that had perched itself atop of Alex’s legs. The two hands reappeared again. When the palms came apart, a bolt of lightning shot out from between them again. Alex was still fastened tightly in the chair, but he found himself now seated in the middle of the mission compound kitchen, looking down as though through a fisheye
lens. Then, as if looking through the lens of a camera that was panning throughout the whole area, the kitchen was revealed foot by foot. The focus changed. Alex was looking directly into the pantry. It was run by one of his team members, Chris Harris, a prudish middle-aged British woman whom Alex literally confessed hating to Elyon on a daily basis. She always derided him, criticized him and made him literally want to kill her at times! The pantry was stocked full of canned goods, rice and milk powder. In the washing area of the kitchen, the camera-like view revealed the dishes, pots and pans stacked high in the drying basin. The panorama shifted back over to the cooking area.

There was that distinct smell again. Alex remembered it from his vision during the prayer meeting earlier in the day. Alex looked at the stove. It was ablaze. Smoke rose up out of a huge pot used for
preparations for the whole Vineyard team.

‘That smell? The odor of human flesh again?’

It made Alex feel sick and afraid. Beads of sweat rose up over Alex’s face. His eyes were stretched wide open; so widely that if he strained them any harder he was sure they would pop right out of their sockets! Alex looked more intently at the pot. The scene seemed to shift at Alex’s desire.
The pot over the stove came closer and when it got into the position for Alex to look over into it, Alex screamed! Chris Harris’ head lay boiling face up with her bulging terrified eyes staring straight up at Alex with her body parts arranged in order around the skull.

“Chris! Oh my Elyon! No!” Though Chris Harris was not one of Alex’s favorite members of the team he had never really considered killing her, or had he? Their personalities had simply just never jelled. The sight and awful shock, which had overtaken him, was replaced with an almost glad contentment in Alex as he saw her. Her throat was cut and pulled back. Her arms and legs had been torn off and lay neatly arranged around her torso.

“Please! What does all this mean?”

“It is how you feel! Is it not what you desired so many times, my Peygamber? It is simply the way you really view things from within, is it not, my master?” a voice rang out. Alex looked around trying to see who was speaking. He began to sob and wail. He wanted to disagree, but he knew that it was actually true!

“Why is this happening?”

Alex felt sure that he was dreaming, but he had a nagging aching feeling that it was far more than just some common dream! It was a message. Alex wanted to understand it. Alex had done a lot of soul-searching for ways to rid himself of his murderous hate for this nagging fanatic. Looking from his invisible panorama, Alex could see himself enter the kitchen. He searched for and found a small bowl and then went to a refrigerator. He took out some leftover curry and recalled her harsh words to him from a couple of nights earlier.

“Please! Chris, you are not my mother!”

“Thank God!” He had thought to himself.

“Well you certainly need one! Wasting the Lord’s provisions by eating when it just squirts out both ends!”

“I hate that woman!” Alex confirmed to himself.

“What are you doing in the Lord’s refrigerator again?”

Alex saw himself trying to hide the food from Chris. “Chris, I found a small puppy and he’s hungry!”

“You will most certainly not give the Lord’s food to some cur!” Chris exclaimed. “The human vermin scarcely deserve it. They complain when I give the cat a piece of meat that we certainly could never eat, but I felt it was good enough for them. Take that hopeless animal away to just die. We are here to save souls, not fill their bellies, human or otherwise!”

“You’re a British Twinkie, Chris! You’re a prude, a…” Alex had a much better choice of words, but he only thought them, never proclaiming them.

“Well! I never…!”

“And you probably never will! I promise you!” Alex walked out of the kitchen without the curry.
Alex seemed to be looking out of someone else’s eyes. Alex pulled on his bound arms to see if he was still bound. He was still tightly secured. Alex saw the hands reach over to the handle of a cabinet. The man pulled on it and it slid open. Alex saw someone’s left hand pick up a very large
butcher’s block.

“What are you doing? Wait!” Chris begged.

In his vision, Chris pleaded as the man approached her holding the butcher block in his hand.

“NO! Please don’t do this! I’m Sorry! Take it all! Please! NOOO!”

He grabbed Chris by the hair and swung the heavy weapon hard, hitting her in the neck and semi-decapitating her. Alex could now only see a pair of hands holding Chris by her hair. Alex could see drops of sweat falling in front of the eyes out of which he was looking. The hands were cutting Chris Harris’s body, arms, legs, head and torso. The killer’s hands hacked off the last arm and picked up the torso and placed it in the large pot. Alex saw this stranger in his vision place the limbs and head neatly around the center torso. The scene didn’t concern Alex as much as his sheer lack of sympathy did. The right hand then took a book of matches and struck one on the side of the box with the left hand. The flame ignited beneath the pot with a large echoing sound throughout the room. The flame was set on high.

Through the eyes of the killer, the kitchen began to speed past Alex’s sight. He understood that the killer was leaving the kitchen and going into the bathroom. Alex saw it all as it transpired. Suddenly, the hands reappeared. The killer must have been looking down at his hands. They were stained red from the killers’ homicidal exploits. The left hand reached over to the cold-water faucets. The water sprang out boiling hot. The right hand took a bar of well-worn soap. Soon the hands were covered with a reddish white lather. The killer put the soap down and began to turn the left hand over the right and the right over the left. The killer rinsed his hands and took a towel. Alex was staring at the towel rack. His view began to rise up the white washed wall from the sink to the mirror. Alex’s head began to race. His extremities became numb, and he pulled hard on the ropes and shackles that held him tightly. When the killer’s face appeared, Alex let out a bloodcurdling cry. Alex saw himself in the mirror!

“No! Please! No! That’s not me! I couldn’t do something like that! OK, I hate her…many times I’ve wished she were dead, but…?”
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“My dear Sheik, do I not recollect a certain time when you said, ‘If I could kill someone without Elyon knowing, and with cops to fend off, it would be her!’? Is that not correct?”

Alex looked up harshly at the fallen cherub. He almost snarled in anger.

“How do you know so much about me?”

“My dear seed of Nimrod what am I, Chopped Liver? I am Abaddon, the keeper of the abyss, servant of him who is the power of the evil odious air, the Son of the Morning! Do you want to hear him roar?”

Alex squinted as the vicious cry exploded into the dark large room where Alex sat bound hand and foot viewing these unspeakable images!

“You are Satan’s demon!”

“In the flesh!” retorted the beast, bowing and ginning widely and showing his jagged teeth beneath a snarling smile.

“I rebuke you in the name of the…”

“Of Elyon, you will say?” Abaddon queried. “We all know Him well; better than you ever will! We all served him mightily!”

The silence in the room was horrific! Nothing could be heard except for Abaddon’s voice. There was a certain hum resonating throughout the room. It was as if there was so much diabolical power in the room that it made the molecules rattle! Abaddon looked into Alex’s face. His foul, hot breath burned Alex’s stomach and face, making him scream.

“We all served Him, Elyon that is! He is an egotistical…!”

“We had it all, it was ours and I was the keeper of the realm! Do you get that?”

Abaddon drew closer to Alex and grabbed him by the hair and stuck out its tongue and let it slide across Alex’s face. The touch again burned Alex’s skin and he wanted to pass out!

“I was the keeper! It was the master’s temper that caused it! One little spot of iniquity and we were out! No mercy! No tolerance! Not even the slightest bit of leeway! Don’t ever think you know Him better than I! It is not mere words, my chosen one that can sweep away the forces of darkness! You must believe and you do not! So, go ahead! Call on Him; that cursed Creator!”

Alex closed his eyes. He wanted to make himself wake up but he seemed locked into this nightmare. He was in this chair, naked with his face filled with the foul odor of the demon’s breath. The demonic guardian flew over to Alex and landed on top of Alex’s legs. The corrupted Watcher’s claws dug deep into Alex’s skin. It showed its fangs and drew close to Alex’s face. Its nostrils were expanding and constricting.

“You know my master! You know him for he is with you! His seed has followed you to this moment all the way back to Nimrod and beyond him to the time when the Watchers cohabitated with the daughters of men! You cannot see it all now, but you will feel it, you have felt it and you will rule over it and use the power to take back your kingdoms and principalities and powers! There is but one force that cannot pronounce the word, “relent.” We will never give in! We will never surrender! We will never bow down! We have fought since the day your kind was formed from the dust of the Earth! We insist on all! Because we want our land! HA! HA! HA! We do not simply want to thwart the plans of that unjust Elyon. Before, we were His plan! His eye was upon us! Then he built the
extension and we resisted, refusing to submit to the likes of such weak and needy things as humans! We said “no” and have not relented since the day we took the battle of Elyon to the very door of the Palace of Elyon! You shall produce the key, the progeny, and the one who shall regain our
previous status and then we shall cast down this traitorous creator and His king and my master shall sit on the sides of the North as he once did! I am the keeper of the master’s pit. You are his servant, His warrior, His victor to regain what is His alone and you are his Son!”

Alex began to twist and turn violently in his captive throne. Abaddon roared. “It is not yet time to awaken!” he added. Out of the dark, four naked spirits rose up from the ground directly in front of Alex holding smoking vessels in front of them. When they got to where Alex was sitting, they took the smoking pots and poured out their contents over Alex’s head, back and abdomen. Alex looked up as the first vessel was tilted over top of his head, Alex could see what was inside and what was about to flow out over his head, into his face and down his back and torso. Slowly, steadily and horribly, boiling, hot pitch was about ready to induce its scalding effects on Alex’s body! The molten lava-like pitch attached to his skin and burned deep holes in him throughout his body. One, two, finally, in all, fifteen vessels of pitch were poured out over various parts of his body. Alex screamed, yelled, pleaded and threatened. The mist-like spirits proceeded to carry out their mission of corruption. Alex was sure that he had died and was in Tenebre!

“You have to feel the master’s pain of having been created the most beautiful of creatures and now turned into an evil creature with maggots eternally following him under his feet and ants and bugs throughout his body. How he once loved to behold himself! How we all loved to praise him! He was not satisfied. He wanted more! Now look at me, I was white, gloriously-winged and I chose my Master because he is my kind, my kindred and he will reign again through you! You must feel his pain of having been denied his heritage, His inheritance! This war must be continued, not commenced! For the war has been raging since the day Elyon breathed life into frail bodies of earthen clay! The great day when the power of Lucia shall be unleashed into the world of the blinded is at hand and the Master shall have all sway in the matter of the created and of that which has been from everlasting to everlasting and in what will be no more! You are the 665th generation and progenitor of him who shall embody the mark of the Lord of Evil! Your Seed shall shake the foundations of the Earth and cause the nations to tremble and the high place to crumble to the ground. Your fruit shall scrape up its residue and deliver it all at the Master’s feet!”

Alex pulled up sharply from his chair. It did not move. The demonic watchman responded smugly while watching Alex out the corner of his eye. The four naked spirits took the shape of frogs and took hold of Alex’s mouth and pried it open! Each of them crawled down Alex’s throat. The last one leapt into Alex’s mouth and roared loudly as it slid into his body.

“They shall reside with you and in you until the appointed time when you shall make use of them. You see, I keep the gates of Tenebre. I have much time on my hands!”

The demon lunged out and grabbed Alex by the neck. “I’ll be watching you closely! I know how you think, what makes you tick. I watch all of them much more than they would ever care to watch themselves in the mirror. You, Sir, we never take our eyes off of you. You are the provider. You are the male conspirator in the conception of a new order. Through you, shall he come to take the thing in hand and reshape it to my master’s liking! Oh! My peygamber!”

Alex began to heave the captive throne in which he was bound to the right and to the left while rebuking Abaddon in Christ’s name. Abaddon roared with the echoed voices of a thousand hungry lions.

“The Lord rebuke me, Manassa Dormin? I am sure he does! The words you utter are powerful, but not from one of our own unless you really believe them as more than some catchphrase.”

Suddenly, the room lit up with the sounds of roaring, howling and hissing of screaming wild beasts!
“My prophet, now there’s some tough noise if you want some. You will learn to frighten the dead but not with such Christian mumbo-jumbo, my peygamber. There have been a few that have uttered those words and the gates of Tenebre rumbled and clattered! That has not been so for a very long time indeed, and they are fewer than you might guess! Now, just listen to my master roar!”

Abaddon tilted back his head and closed his yellow and red glowing eyes as though he were listening to a symphony orchestra. The sounds of thousands of ravaging roaring lions in search of prey slowly changed into the sound of the call to prayer from the minarets throughout the Muslim world!

“Allah Wakbar!”

“You can call the Master Lucia, the Devil, Satan but the very best one is Allah! They are all the same. He is not picky my seed-giver! He only has one desire, the destruction of the name of Elyon! You must corrupt these servants of my master and mold them into a Swarm of warriors, religious zealots without the spark of the life of Elyon’s faith! His book declares it even! Out of the pit shall come forth a Swarm of locusts, with the hair of women and crowns on their heads! These are the vermin, attached by the name of Allah!”

Alex understood that this beast spoke of terrorists that should overrun the globe. They had hair like women, they had turbans for crowns and they were vermin who could infest the globe with their savaging hordes.

“The Master’s voice is all of this and more! I should know, I’m the keeper of the abyss. He has declared that the time has arrived for the retrieval of the heritage that was denied him by a weak, compassionate and merciful creator, oh the Devil with it!”

“I want out! This is not real!” Alex cried, shaking his head back and forth, choking out his words. “The Lord…! The Lord rebuke…!”

Alex was unable to complete the one sure-fire phrase that he was told would chase away the wily devil. As though stubbornly declining Alex’s brain’s impulse, the words refused to be uttered! Abaddon levitated over to Alex and bent down to meet Alex’s eyes with its own.

“It’s not time to wake up yet, Manassa Dormin, my seed-bearer.”

Suddenly, out of the recesses of the infective darkness, Alex saw forms of 15 spirits flutter towards him. Each one held a bucket full of hot pitch in their left hand. Seven of them held scrolls in their right hands. The misty images floated over closely to Alex. Alex looked unbelievingly at the vision before him. As he looked up, he saw the buckets raised and tilted over. Alex quickly covered his face in his palms as the sticky, hot, black, boiling liquid dropped to the back of his head. Each spirit poured out the contents of their buckets onto Alex’s head, back and arms. Alex screamed in agony as the scorching tar streamed slowly down his body. Three entities took handfuls of straw, insects and garbage and hurled it onto the pitch. Alex’s body appeared as though it were decomposing. The
insects that clung to the tar fought violently to escape. Alex screamed loudly and begged the keeper of the abyss to let him go.

“You must learn to deny the pain. He must dispose of all feelings of pity, mercy, grace and forgiveness! He proposes, He requires, He requires calamity and dissension! He wants his heritage! The Master has appointed you as the provider of the seed of his vindication! Your seed, the son of
evil, he shall be the key into the Garden of Jehovah, blessed be His name. The fruit of your loins shall bring the end of your race (long overdue, mind you) and return it to the Master’s kindred! Your son, he is the new man; the body of a man, but the soul of Lucia! Your moment of destiny is upon you! Now, go back home! I’ll be just out of the corner of your right eye!”

Alex’s eyes suddenly sprang open so fast they seemed frozen and unable to close. His sweat-drenched body began to rustle on his sunken mattress. When his mind had sufficiently reoriented itself, Alex opened his eyes and thrust his torso forward into the sitting up position. He rubbed his eyes slightly and looked down on the bed. It was covered with dead ants. There wasn’t one ant left on either of the walls, nor on the ceiling!

Alex felt an itching, tingling sensation over his back and chest areas. When he felt the irritation he suddenly realized that it didn’t feel good at all. It was more like a burning feeling that was slightly worse than that from the sun. Alex looked at his stomach. It was red and blistered. Quickly, he took a small mirror from beneath his bed. He held it up at an angle to look at his back. It too appeared to have been sizzled on a grill for a short time. Then he noticed his wrists. They were scraped and bruised. His hair was full of straw and sticks and he pulled out a moving, living roach out of his hair. The dream came back to him. He remembered the chair, the ropes. He remembered Sally. He looked at his wrists and ankles. They were black and blue and rubbed raw.

“What does all this mean?” Alex asked himself, still looking in the mirror at his back. Alex noticed something strange about his face. No, it wasn’t his face. It was his eyes. It was his right eye, to be exact! Alex stared more intently at his eyes. There was something in his right eye. He looked at it intently in the mirror. The right eye grew clearer. Attentively, Alex brought the eye more closely into the left eye’s view. There! In the corner! Alex saw it. He could almost feel it moving! He was sure he heard it laughing, sneering and roaring ever so slightly in his ears, especially in the right ear. Then it was there! The name came to Alex just as the thing popped into view.

“Abaddon!”

“Forget the girl Alex! You’ve got a world to dismantle, ha-ha!” Abaddon said out of the corner of Alex’s eye. “When you’ve finished with her, she’d better just die and get out of the way! She could be trouble! You’re never going to be alone again, my Sheik! Salaam Alekum!”

Alex walked over to the sink to wash the mess out of his hair. He glanced at the mirror and the there was something written on it in blood.

“It was all in your heart Alex. I swear to…I swear! Today you are really going to make a really grand exit, and a powerful entrée into a new world, don’t you think? Hope I didn’t scare the Tenebre out of ya! NO! Don’t do that! HA! HA! HA! Scare the Tenebre out of you! That was a good one, don’t you think?” Abaddon disappeared. Alex dropped his head to the sink and wept. He would not weep again! He opened his eyes and found himself planted deeply in his sunken mattress staring up at the legion of ants going about their endless mayhem on the ceiling overhead. He looked to the right with his eye and screamed in horror.

“You belong to us now!” the creature proclaimed. Alex could not scream again for his wrists were bleeding and he knew he had encountered the evil one. He was no match for it. He had a world to dismantle!

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Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
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Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

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