From The Mind Of Author Steven Clark Bradley

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.

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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!

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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.”

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“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?”

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“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.”

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“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!
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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

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
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copperfields.com

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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…?”
___________________________________________________

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 ,ake you think!

(Turn Down The Volume - It's loud!)
Watch - Are We At The End Of Our Days?
___________________________________________________

“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!

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

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