Author: Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 8

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 8

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IN ME (JESUS) YOU MAY HAVE PEACE. IN THE WORLD YOU WILL HAVE TRIBULATION, BUT BE OF GOOD CHEER, I HAVE OVERCOME THE WORLD. (John 16:33)

            As we all stared at the bedraggled, trembling man in handcuffs, Inga began to shake her head emphatically. She looked at Triple Lou. “Lieutenant, there’s no way Don killed our sister.”

            “Do you know this man then?” he asked.

            “I just know he went by Donny. We were acquainted in the homeless community. He can barely tie his shoes, let alone… Well, you know what happened. Besides, like I told you before, very few people here knew me as Inga Cognito. Just the Sallie’s and some of your officers.”

            “What’s this about Inga Cognito?” Brent asked. “You often called yourself that when we were kids.”

            The Lieutenant pulled her brother aside and spoke in a low voice so Inga wouldn’t have to hear the description of their deceased sister again. Then he explained to Brent about the words carved into Paloma’s flesh, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’

            Brent’s jaw clenched as he looked at his sister. His gaze was fierce but softened as he took in the sight of Inga meekly chewing her lower lip. Her arctic blue eyes were wide and frightened as she perceived what Triple Lou had told her brother.

            “I’m taking a leave of absence and staying with you, Sis,” Brent told her.

            Inga looked at me and then my husband. “But I’m living, I mean staying with the Sallies”

            “I’ll get an extended stay hotel or something,” he told her.

            “You’re welcome to stay with us,” I offered.

            “I don’t want to impose.”

            “It’s no imposition.”

            Seven stepped next to me and whispered like a ventriloquist. “Honey, he doesn’t want to impose.”

            “I insist,” I told Brent. In the Biblical parable of the two sons, Seven was very much like the son who initially said no but went. So now I whispered like a ventriloquist into my husband’s ear. “Inga’s sister was murdered; she needs her brother. She needs the stability of our home.”

            “We insist Brent,” Seven said.

            “Are you sure?” Brent asked.

            “Absolutely,” my husband reassured him. Then he spoke as if it were his own idea. “She’s been staying with us for a couple weeks, and could use the stability and familiarity she’s found in our home.”

            He grinned at me. Suspicious of possible smugness, I stepped on his foot and ground my heel in just a little. He grunted, groaned, and then frowned at me. I gave him a sweet smile. “Oops, sorry, Honey.”

            A uniformed officer entered the room escorting a fifty something year old man with a long gray beard and a long gray ponytail. His gray eyes were intense. By his side was a tall red haired young lady who appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties.

            They were an odd pair. He looked like an old hippie stoner in his faded jean jacket and jeans. She was rather goth in appearance. Two small rings adorned her lower lip. She wore a black t-shirt with little red skulls all over the front and back. Black jeans that were ripped and torn with red tights underneath, and motorcycle boots.

            “Lou,” the officer said. “This young lady and gentleman say they may have information on the murder of Paloma Likas.”

            “Little Priscilly!” Inga exclaimed as the two women embraced. “Only you’re not so little anymore.”

            Priscilly appeared to be all of six feet tall, compared to Inga’s five foot six. Then she and Brent exchanged greetings, only they shook hands rather than hugged.

            “I’m so sorry about Pal,” Priscilla Rosenwinkle told the siblings. Inga nodded, and both women wept as Brent looked solemnly at his shoes.

            Triple Lou gave them a minute and then spoke to the old stoner. “You say you have information regarding the murder of Paloma Likas?”

            “I do,” the man replied and handed the lieutenant some type of credentials.

            Triple Lou frowned as he read, then his eyebrows raised as he looked at the stoner. “Agent Jeffery Tull, FBI?”

            “At your service,” the federal agent acknowledged with a little bow.

            “Any relation to the musician Jethro Tull?” Seven asked with a little grin.

            I rolled my eyes. Why did my husband always have to think he was funny?

            “Haven’t heard that one before,” Jeffry Tull responded with a straight face. “You do know Jethro Tull is the name of a band, not a person. Well, I mean, he was person, but he was a British agriculturist or something, not the writer of ‘Locomotive Breath’.”

            “I knew that,” Seven said, waving a dismissive hand. “I was just…”

            “Thinking he was funny,” I interrupted.

            “Trying to be light hearted during a tense situation,” Seven said looking at me with such a serious expression I had to purse my lips to keep from giggling.

            Triple Lou waved a commanding hand. “Okay, enough with rock history. What’s your story, Agent Tull?”

            “I’ve been undercover at Bryson Bronx’s compound for quite some time. I can’t give any details on what for, that’s confidential. Pricilla here is an informant of mine. Long story short, one of Bronx’s hench men fancied her, so she got close to him to help me out.”

            “You could say I prostituted myself for justice,” Priscilla cut in.

            Agent Tull eyed her for several seconds. Whether his gaze held scorn or admiration, I couldn’t tell.

            “Anyway, I’ve been there for going on a year and I got nothing. But then about a month ago Priscilla was able to get a tap on her lover’s phone.”

            Priscilla scrunched up her face. “Don’t call him my lover!”

            “Sorry. He goes by the nickname Buzz. Anyway, Priscilla’s sister got word that Bryson heard that Inga was part of a homeless community here in Iowa. Then low and behold, an hour after Priscilla gets word that Bryson knows Inga’s whereabouts, Bryson gets an assignment to come to Iowa. Coincidence? I think not.”

            “But I couldn’t get a hold of Jeffery,” Priscilla cut in. “He always told me if I found something out to only go to him. But I needed to do something, I didn’t know how to get a hold of Inga. So I told Paloma, thinking she would know what to do. I didn’t realize she would come out here and get herself…”

            She looked at Inga guiltily. Inga hugged her again. “It’s not your fault.”

            “Talk about bad timing. I was on a three day retreat looking for UFO’s,” Agent Tull said with a look on his face that said he thought such a thing ridiculous. “No phones allowed, and we also fasted. Talk about a long three days. But I couldn’t say no, or my cover would have been blown.”

            “As soon as I told Jeffery, we took a red eye out here,” Priscilla said.

            “My cover is likely blown now,” Agent Tull shrugged. “But here’s the thing. They know they killed the wrong sister. They sent Bryson a picture and his reply was twofold. He told them, ‘look at the eyes you idiots! That’s Paloma, not Inga. And if Inga’s out there your phones have been bugged.’ They obviously ditched them. Before we came here to the police station, I traced Buzz’s phone to the Cedar River.”

            “So you think they’re still around?” Brent asked Agent Tull.

            “At this point I can only speculate,” he replied. “But yes, that’d be my best guess.”

            “How in the world will we find them?” Brent asked.

            Inga stared at her brother. Like me, she probably noticed he said ‘we.’ She boldly declared, “I need to be a decoy.”

            “Oh no, you’re not,” Triple Lou responded, shaking his head and waving his arms like a football official signaling no catch or missed field goal. “I can not put a citizen in harm’s way like that.”

            “You also can’t deny a citizen their freedom to walk the streets,” Inga said.

            Giving her a hard look, the Lieutenant said, “As long as the citizen abides by the law and doesn’t, say, shop lift.”

            Inga gave her brother a nervous glance and then looked away, ashamed. I stepped to her, put my arm around her shoulder, and tugged her into myself. She looked at me and I gave her a reassuring smile. My whole gesture implying the Apostle John’s beautiful words from 1 John 1:9. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’

            She forced a smile in recognition. Then she added her own spiritual reassurance, saying, “Be still and know that I am God?” (Psalm 46:10)

            “Right,” I responded, still smiling.

            Little did I know that I would need to completely rely on her admonition in the coming days. About ten seconds after her words of encouragement, a uniformed officer burst into the room. With a voice filled with urgency, he declared, “Lou, there’s a four alarm fire! It’s Sallie’s home, Sir, and it’s fully engulfed!”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 7

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 7

SEVEN SALLIE

TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING (Proverbs 3:5)

            We had just found out that Inga’s brother was at the police station. After Triple Lou informed us that Inga’s brother was in town, she practically sprinted toward my car.

            “Why don’t you all ride with me?” Lieutenant Louis Lewis offered.

            This caused Inga to do an about face and she boogied to the lieutenant’s car instead.

            “But how will we get home?” I asked.

            “I’ll bring you back,” he shrugged. “If you ride with me, it will give us a chance to talk and for me to ask more questions.”

            The three of us, Inga, Zella, and myself began to get into the back seat of the Lieutenant’s unmarked police car. Triple Lou shook his head impatiently. “You all don’t need to get in the backseat; you’re not under arrest. Inga, why don’t you sit up front?”

            Inga had a look on her face like a child being punished, but she slowly removed her foot from the back seat of the car and went to the front. The main thing we learned from listening in on Triple Lou’s interrogation was that the other lady she came to Iowa with also had been a resident of the alien cult’s compound. This would prove to be a key factor with Inga’s sister turning up in the Midwest from the west coast.

            Inga’s reunion with her brother was odd. Both had a look of fascination on their faces when they saw each other. Yet when they hugged, there was more formality in the embrace rather than warmth. They also didn’t look like brother and sister. Did the three siblings all have different fathers?

            Brent’s black hair was slicked back. His close set, dark eyes looked hard. He was wearing a black shirt with a grey tie, black slacks, and shiny black cowboy boots. His appearance made me think of a mafia hit man. His deep voice was California cool. “Well little sis, you just kind of fell off the map. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

            “What about you? You joined the Marines and closed the door on us.”

            “No I didn’t. Pal wrote to me, but you didn’t.”

            Inga shrugged. “I guess I was mad at you for leaving us. I suppose you know she’s… Gone, our Pal, Pal?”

            I noticed his jaw clench and he stoically said, “Yeah.”

            “Pal, Pal,” she croaked. Then Brent pulled her into another embrace. This time there was more warmth, and he kissed the top of her head as she cried into his left pectoral. He looked rather fit when his biceps pressed against the fabric of his shirt as he held his sister in his arms.

            “How did you know to come here?” Inga asked after she pushed away from him. “From wherever it is you’re living?”

            “I’ve been in Miami for the last year or so,” he replied. “When my hitch was up in the Corps, I started working for a high end security firm.”

            I broke in and asked if the name of his firm was such and such.

            “Yeah,” he replied with raised eyebrows. “How did you know?”

            “I took a guess,” I said with a shrug. “My cousin Brock worked for a high end security company with an office in Miami. That would have been before your time though. But I got to know one of his coworkers who is still there. Do you know a Benito Bonanno?”

            He smirked. “I certainly I do; he’s my supervisor.”

            “Good guy,” I added.

            “Benny’s the best. I was ready to rejoin the Marines after a few months. I was working for a real (Expletive) in LA and was gonna quit. Benny happened to be out there at the time on an assignment and took a liking to me. He talked me into staying with the firm and moving to Miami and for working for him. Man, I never thought I would run into somebody here who knows Benito Bonanno. Small world.”

            “Speaking of small worlds,” Inga cut in. “How did you end up out here when Paloma was only discovered hours ago?”

            “Pal called me two days ago and said you were in trouble.”

            “What made her think I was in trouble?”

            “Did you come out here with Jane Joplin?”

            “I did.”

            “Well apparently she went to Bryson Bronx and told him where you were. I imagine she got a handsome reward.”

            “That traitor,” Inga said quietly. “So how did Pal find out?”

            “Do you remember a girl by the name of Priscilla Rosenwinkle?”

            “Of course I do,” Inga smiled. “Silly Priscilly. She was a little redhaired pistol. She always reminded me of Pippi Longstocking.”

            “Well she’s all grown up and living in Las Vegas, and it turns out she and Paloma got together occasionally.  Her sister, who still lives on the compound, got wind of Jane’s agenda. She heard that Bronx was sending two of his guys to Iowa. She also heard that she gave him your phone number and had it tapped. That’s why she came out here in person without giving you a heads up.”

            “So she died trying to save me,” Inga said quietly, staring at the floor in contemplation.

            “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said gently. “But don’t you dare think this was your fault.”

            “Pal and me, we had a falling out, you know,” Inga said quietly, wiping a leaked tear with a finger.

            “No I didn’t know.”

            “You know what she was doing in Vegas, right?”

            “Working at a casino,” Brent replied with a little shrug.

            “Hardly,” Inga snorted. “She took up the trade that is only legal in Nevada.”

            Brent gazed at his sister in disbelief. “No way.”

            “Yes way,” Inga responded. “That’s why I came out here with Jane. She said she knew someone, said we’d get jobs. Neither happened. She couldn’t find her supposed friend, and we got no jobs. We ended up in a homeless camp, and not long after that, she bailed on me. Eventually I ended up getting busted for shop lifting at a grocery store. That’s how I met Mr. and Mrs. Sallie here.”

            Inga waved an open hand at Zella and me.

            “So you’re what, a lawyer?” Brent asked. “I assumed you were a cop.”

            I opened my mouth to explain, but Inga spoke first. “He’s a windbag.”

            I closed my mouth, pursed my lips in exasperation, and looked at Inga with hooded eyes. My wife put her mouth to my ear. “Honey, you look like Daffy Duck when he’s exasperated with Bugs Bunny.”

            I relaxed my expression. Inga stepped to me and put an arm around my lower back. Looking at her brother, she said, “I didn’t mean that. There’s just something about Seven that makes me want to tease him all the time. Truth is, he and Zella took me in. They’re saintly people.”

            Inga sniffed and wiped a tear with the hand that wasn’t clutching my waist. What range of emotions the poor girl was enduring. I put my arm around her and gave her an affectionate hug.

            “Hey, wait, you’re Seven Sallie,” Brent replied with a frown.

            “Yes sir, I am he,” I acknowledged with mock nobility.

            He nodded. “Okay, I see what Inga meant by windbag.”

            I felt the Daffy Duck expression return to my face. Brent must have noticed and immediately corrected himself. “No, no! I didn’t mean it that way. Just that her joke, windbag, you talk for a living. On your podcast. I’m sure you’ve heard of Josiah Brimstone?”

            “Of course,” I replied. “He’s one my biggest detractors.”

            Brent nodded. Josiah Brimstone had been known as one of the foremost, so called, prosperity gospel preachers. But over the last year or so, he became a champion for Sunday laws, evangelizing their importance. He had also, very publicly, criticized me and my podcast. So I publicly offered to open the scriptures with him on his own program. On that point he was yet to respond, and I guessed he probably wouldn’t.

            “Well, until I took this emergency leave, he was the latest client I have been assigned to,” Brent explained. “Another colleague and myself have been traveling the country with him the last month on his speaking tour.”

            I lifted my hands in surrender. “For my part, I don’t hold that against you.”

            “Hey, just to be clear, there’s nothing to hold against. I am not an admirer or follower of his at all. As a matter of fact, my association with him has only made me more ensconced in atheism.”

            “I’m an atheist too,” I told him.

            He looked at me like I had two heads. Then he snorted and shook his head. “Figures, another religious phony.”

            “I’m no phony, I believe everything I espouse on my podcast.”

            “Then how on earth can you be an atheist?”

            “How about you tell me about the God you don’t believe in?”

            For the next minute or two it sounded like he was reading from a Josiah Brimstone script. But he quoted disparagingly, especially the concept of an eternally burning hell. With a look on his face like he bit into a lemon, he said, “What kind of God would burn people for eternity just because they choose not to believe in him?”

            “See, I told you I was an atheist. I don’t believe in that God either.”

            I went on to explain that a thorough study of the scriptures concerning hellfire and the state of the dead proved that hell, so to speak, was an event at the end of time, and not a place of eternal torment. (You can obtain free study guides on these subjects from Amazing Facts. Simply ask for study guide #11 ‘Is the Devil in Charge of Hell?’ and/or #10 ‘Are the Dead Really Dead?’)

            The timing might have been odd for an impromptu Bible study. But we were soon to be distracted from it. Two uniformed officers entered with a bedraggled looking man in handcuffs. He was shaking violently, whether from some type of drug withdrawal or fear I didn’t know. But when one of the officers spoke, it sent a chill up my spine.

            “Lou, we found Paloma Likas’s cell phone and purse in a grocery cart full of this man’s belongings.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 6

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 6

LIEUTENANT LOUIS LEWIS

HE REVEALS DEEP AND SECRET THINGS; HE KNOWS WHAT IS IN THE DARKNESS, AND LIGHT DWELLS WITH HIM (Daniel 2:22)

            “Is that shrug a yes or no?” I had asked Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito. The question was whether or not she had supernatural powers. Just to be clear, I did not believe that she had supernatural powers. But I was looking for was whether she thought she did.

            “Maybe,” she replied with another shrug.

            “How do you maybe have supernatural powers? Either you do or you don’t. Let me rephrase that. Either you think that you do, or you don’t. Yes or no?”

            “Yes, we all can have supernatural powers. And I mean you as well, Lieutenant.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I mean if you have faith as a mustard seed, you can move mountains,” she declared. (Matthew 17:20) “Do you not believe that?”

            “I’m not here to discuss my faith. I’m…”

            “Or lack thereof,” Inga interrupted.

            “Now listen here,” I began to defend. Then I paused, regained my composure, and calmly said, “We need to stay on the task at hand. And that task is for me to investigate the death of your sister.”

            “You’re the one that asked if I had supernatural powers.”

            I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Why did my detectives have to be overworked, compelling the Captain to assign me personally to this homicide case? He had a twofold reason for doing so. For one thing, he put a lesser value on the murder of a seemingly homeless person. For another thing, I could tell he was not pleased when I requested to withdraw from overseeing the ever increasing Sunday laws.

            “Ms. Likas, tell me about this former fiancée. Why do you think he was behind it and not someone, say, from the homeless community?”

            “Because of what you said was carved into her flesh,” she replied. Then she paused as she choked on a sob. “Nobody here knows I sometimes went by Inga Cognito other than members of your police department, and my friends, Zella and Seven Sallie. Do you think one of your officers may have done it?”

            “Absolutely not!”

            “Well, I say the Sallie’s absolutely did not do it either.”

            “Okay, tell me about this former fiancée.”

            “Before I do, let me make this statement. In my thinking, I wasn’t his fiancée. I was being forced into a marriage that wasn’t legitimate, since he had multiple wives and I was only sixteen years old.”

            “Can you tell me who he is and where he is?”

            “His name is Bryson Bronx, and the last I knew he lived on a compound in the California desert. He’s very wealthy, I’m sure he’s a billionaire. He’s also the leader of a wacko alien cult. There were more than two hundred of us living on the compound. My sister, Paloma, who you found… Who…”

            Inga put a fist over her mouth and began to cry. My cousin Zella put an arm around her. I gave her space to grieve.

            “So tell me, Inga,” I began gently after she calmed. “If this Bryson Bronx is a very wealthy man way out in California, how do you think he tracked you here to a homeless camp in Iowa?”

            “Oh, I don’t believe he did it himself. But I do believe it was one of his hench men, bodyguards, thugs, whatever you want to call them.”

            “What can you tell me about these hench men?”

            “He had seven of them. He was obsessed with seven.”

            “I assume you mean the number and not this gentleman sitting at the table with us?”

            A smirk played at Inga’s lips. “Did you mean Seven Sallie?”

            “I did.”

            “Okay. The gentleman part confused me.”

            “Hey, that’s hurtful even if it might be true,” Seven replied with self-deprecation.

            Inga burst out with a laugh. Then it instantly morphed into sobs. She croaked, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking at a time like this. The truth is, Seven’s the most wonderful man I have ever met. If it hadn’t been for him and Zella taking me in, I most likely would have been killed with my sister.”

            I took in the scene for a moment. My cousin Zella with her arm protectively around Inga on one side, and Seven giving her hand an affectionate squeeze on the other. I had judged Seven and his zeal over the Sabbath vs. Sunday issue as Pharisaical. I felt he was knit picking, and disrupting community unity by rebelling against the Sunday laws. But their taking in this homeless girl was living out Christianity at its core.

            I had seen Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito, two or three weeks earlier at the station. Let me tell you, she was rough, dirty, and weathered. But now after only a couple of weeks with the Sallie’s she looked clean and healthy. This despite red rimmed eyes caused by grief.

            Getting back on task, I inquired, “Please tell me what you meant by Bryson and the number seven.”

            “He felt seven was the Biblical number of perfection,” Inga replied with a shrug.

            “I can’t argue with that,” I added.

            “Really?” Seven asked with an arched eyebrow.

            I didn’t know if he was inferring about the seventh day Sabbath or himself. But I knew I had walked into it, so I walked right back out of it by moving forward. “You were to be his seventh wife. Is there anything else regarding Bryson and seven?”

            She shrugged. “He had his seven hench men, seven house keepers and butlers, seven cars, stuff like that. But here’s the thing about his seven wives. When I was to become his seventh wife, it was more like his, I don’t know, eleventh or twelfth at least.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means when he finds an interesting prospect for another wife, his least favorite of the seven mysteriously disappears,” she explained, using air quotes while saying ‘disappears.’

            “So you’re saying he has them killed?”

            “All I know is they disappeared. Having them killed would be my guess. Or maybe he really is in communication with aliens.”

            “So let me get this straight. He’s into Biblical things, but has people murdered? His so called wives no less?”

            “I didn’t say he was a Christian, but he is interested in aspects of the Bible. But more  like secret Bible codes rather than, say, the Gospels.”

            “I see. So did you witness any of these disappearances?”

            “From the standpoint of hearsay. You know, like, oh Brenda’s gone. Then a month or two later, there was a new wife for Bryson from among our ranks. Then around a year later, oh Jenny’s gone. Then a month or two after, there’s was a new wife for Bryson. And Jenny was the vacancy that was supposed to pave the way for me.”

            “How long did you live on this compound?”

            “I was twelve when we moved there, so about four years. My mom got intrigued by the cult, divorced my dad and married one of Bryson’s seven hench men. Most of the followers on the compound lived in dorm type quarters. But because my stepdad had rank, we lived in a pretty decent apartment.”

            “Is your mom still there?”

            “I’m not sure. When Paloma and I ran away, Bryson was not happy at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she disappeared,” she said, again using air quotes for ‘disappeared.’

            “Have you been in contact with your mother since you left the compound?”

            “Nope.”

            “So you were sixteen when you left the compound?”

            “I was days away from turning sixteen and Pal was eighteen.”

            “What about your father?”

            “I haven’t seen him since I was twelve.”

            “He didn’t have joint custody or anything?”

            “He couldn’t. He had a couple domestic violence charges against him. Besides, he always doubted whether he was actually our father. And with good reason. One of his domestic violence charges came after he caught our mom in bed with a friend of his.”

            “Is he a possibility in the death of your sister?”

            “I don’t know, I suppose. But it’s been so long since I’d seen him, it didn’t really occur to me. It was Bryson’s men who tried to hunt us down after we left. Like I said my dad wanted nothing to do with Paloma and me. The only one of us three he liked was Brent.”

            “Who’s Brent?”

            “Our brother. He’s two years older than Paloma, and four years older than me.”

            “Do you know his whereabouts?”

            “He joined the Marines as soon as he turned eighteen. I haven’t seen him since and only talked to him twice.”

            “Were you and your brother ever close?”

            She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, for growing up in a dysfunctional environment, we got along quite well. My dad liked me the least. Brent protected me from our dad’s wrath. You see, the friend he caught in bed with my mother had unusually light blue eyes like me.”

            Inga’s eyes were indeed striking. So arctic blue, they sometimes seemed to glow.

            “My eyes are the reason Bryson chose me to be his wife,” she continued. “Even though Paloma is prettier than me. He felt like because of my eyes I was some type of gateway to other worlds. He thought I could make, how do I put this? Contact.”

            “You mean contacting aliens.”

            “Yeah, something like that.”

            “How old is Bryson?”

            “By now he would be in his mid-fifties.”

            Paloma’s face was beaten beyond recognition. When Inga said her sister was prettier, I thought it would be good to see how much the siblings resembled each other. “Do you have any pictures of Paloma?”

            Inga pulled out her phone and pulled up some pictures of Paloma. The two women definitely looked like siblings. Inga was also being humble in declaring her sister prettier. Although Paloma had a more curvy, voluptuous body, Inga’s arctic blue eyes made her face more striking, compared to Paloma’s darker blue-gray eyes. Would the killer have noticed the difference?

            As I held Inga’s phone in my left hand, I pulled my own ringing phone out of my pocket with my right. It was my desk sergeant.

            “Hey Jeff, what’s up?”

            “Hey Lou. There’s a man here who says his name is Brent Likas. Says he’s the brother of the murdered woman from the homeless camp.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 5

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 5

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

HE HEALS THE BROKENHEARTED AND BINDS UP THEIR WOUNDS (Psalm 147:3)

            I felt a wave of anxiety when I saw Lieutenant Louis Lewis’s unmarked police car in our driveway. Then it transformed into anger. I had been paying close attention to my husband’s podcast and knew for a fact he said nothing amiss about the national Sunday laws.

            The worst, according to officials and authorities anyway, would be his explaining the Holy Scriptures rather than the traditions of men (Mark 7:8, 9) and for teaching the Biblical Sabbath rather than the commandments of men (Matthew 15:9). But it seemed we were rapidly losing the right to free speech.

            My jaw was clenched as I made my way to the front door of our home, so I tried to think positive. Maybe my cousin, the lieutenant, had shown up to make amends for the rift between him, his family, and me. They had judged me for the way I lived my life in my teens and early twenties. Fair enough, I can see how I might have brought shame to my conservative family.

            But even when I experienced a spiritual conversion, when I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior, it still wasn’t good enough because I worshiped on a different day from them. This only caused more disapproval from them when national Sunday laws were established. Yet not one of them opened the Word of God to show me my error from Bible.

            I was barely through the door when Seven pulled me into an embrace. This felt odd because I could see Triple Lou sitting at our kitchen table watching us. Nonetheless, I took the opportunity to inquire about my cousin’s visit. Placing my lips a quarter inch from my husband’s ear, I asked, “Are you in trouble again?”

            In a low voice and looking me in the eyes, his own gaze as intense as I had ever seen it, he said, “Don’t panic, Inga is alright. Physically anyway. So, your cousin had reason to believe she was murdered. But it turned out to be, possibly, a relative of Inga’s. But she became distraught and ran into her room. Maybe you should go to her.”

            “I will,” I replied as I dashed off. Inga hadn’t closed the door, so I peeked in. She was lying face down on the bed with her forehead resting on her crossed forearms. She was whimpering and I softly spoke her name. “Inga, honey?”

            Her head popped up and she turned to look at me. Then she rolled off the bed and took a couple quick steps toward me. For the second time in only a minute, I found myself in a tight embrace. Only this time the hugger buried her face in my neck and sobbed.

            “Ssshh,”  I soothed as I stroked her hair.

            “My Pal, Pal is gone,” she croaked when she calmed a bit. “The only person I truly ever loved.”

            “Was she your best friend, Honey?”

            “Yes. Not only that, she’s my sister… Was my sister.”

            Saying ‘was my sister’ brought on another round of hard sobs into my neck. I could feel the wetness on my skin, but I didn’t care whether it was tears, slobber, or even snot. Apparently, she became aware of the moisture she was expelling onto me as well. She quickly separated from me and grabbed at a tissue box on the nightstand.

            “I’m so sorry,” she said, and with trembling fingers she pressed the Kleenex to my neck and shoulder.

            I put my hand gently over hers. “It’s okay, Honey. Why don’t you sit down.”

            “I don’t know what to do,” Inga croaked as she plopped hard onto the bed.

            “I didn’t know you had a sister,” I told my friend of only about two weeks as I crouched in front of her. “We could have put her up as well.”

            “I didn’t know she was in town,” Inga replied as if guilty of something.

            “Where did you think she was?”

            “In Nevada, probably Las Vegas.”

            “Can I ask why you weren’t with her?”

            “Because she was employed by the oldest profession, and I’d rather be homeless than do that, or even be supported by that.”

            “Why are you homeless, Honey? Where did you grow up?”

            Her grief turned to a look of alarm, but then she calmly said, “I better go talk to Triple Lou. I do not want to go over my life twice.”

            “I’m sorry, Honey, I shouldn’t pry.”

            She fiddled nervously with her fingers as new tears leaked from her eyes. With quivering lips, she said, “I’m so sorry, Zella.”

            “Honey, for what?” I replied, incredulous. “You just found out that your sister was… You know… So why would you need to apologize?”

            “Because you took a chance on a homeless woman, and what do I do? I bring this… This trouble to your home.”

            “It’s not your fault.”

            “Does God hate me?” she squeaked.

            “Oh Honey, no!” I told her as I sat on the bed next to her, putting my arm around her. She leaned her head into the crook of my neck. I almost asked why she would say that. But obviously she had just found out that her sister had been murdered. I prayed silently. “Lord, what do I say?”

            “Honey,” I began. “It seems to me God put you in our path for such a time as this. You might have been killed with her. You weren’t. Not only that, you have us to help you get through this crisis.”

            “You mean you’re not gonna kick me out?”

            “Oh course not! Why would you think that?”

            “Well, Triple Lou is gonna want to know where we came from. Once you hear… I don’t know… I won’t hold it against you if you decide differently.”

            I opened my mouth to protest. But then I closed it. Although I didn’t believe the worst about Inga, did I really know her? Yet I trusted the Holy Spirit when He urged us to take her in. However, when I opened my mouth a second time, I said, “Do you feel up to talking to the Lieutenant now?”

            “I guess so,” she replied, but eyed me curiously. “Do you see him more as Lieutenant Louis Lewis or Cousin Louis Lewis?”

            “Right now as Lieutenant.”

            “Because of my sister?”

            “No, because I’m mostly estranged from my family.”

            “May I ask why?”

            “First because I got involved with racy things.”

            “You mean by marrying Seven?”

            “No, not race as in ethnic background, but racy as in lewd. I was a nude model.”

            “So you did porn?”

            “No, it was, um, erotica.”

            “What’s the difference?”

            “I didn’t have sex on film. Well, very minimal anyway.”

            “What do you mean by minimal?”

            “Honey, this doesn’t seem to be a good time for this discussion.”

            “You’re right, I know. I guess I’m both stalling and trying to understand how much I can trust Triple Lou.”

            “With this, I’d say you can trust him.”

            “Just not with the Sabbath inquisition.”

            “Yeah,” I smiled sadly. “It is weird that my family has shown more hostility at me not following the mainstream on the Sunday laws than they were for me being a centerfold. I thought when I repented, reformed, and accepted Christ and Christianity it would put me back in good graces with them. But apparently it wasn’t the right kind of Christianity. So instead the wedge in our relationships became deeper and, well, more wedged.”

            I stood and offered my hand to Inga. She sighed, stood, and put a limp hand in mine. “My head is swirling with so many things, Zella. Mostly grief and fear.”

            “I know, Honey. But trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)

            “I will,” she said as her grip on my hand tightened. She eyed me earnestly for a few seconds. “Because the Lord put you and Seven in my life for such a time as this, right?”

            “Right, Sweety.”

            Inga and I walked hand in hand toward Lieutenant Louis Lewis and sat at the kitchen table with him. The first thing he said to Inga was, “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Likas.”

            “Thank you,” she replied meekly.

            With an odd mixture of stern and gentle, he asked, “Do you have any idea who might have killed your sister?”

            Inga took a deep breath. “My best guess would be my former fiancée.”

            I felt myself tense. Inga had a former fiancée?

            “And do you have any idea why this former fiancée would want your sister, and maybe even you, dead?”

            “He was a wealthy and polygamous cult leader. When I turned sixteen he chose me to be his seventh wife. My sister helped me escape.”

            “You’re now, what? Twenty four?”

            “Yes.”

            “So that was eight years ago. What makes you think he would still be after you all these years later?”

            “I have my reasons. But the short answer is, he’s demonic and vindictive. He also thinks I have supernatural powers he can somehow harness.”

            “Do you think you have supernatural powers?” Triple Lou asked with an arched eyebrow.

            Inga just shrugged. I was puzzled by this response.  Triple Lou frowned and seemed to peer into her unique arctic blue eyes. Then knowing Seven and I didn’t flow with the mainstream, he glanced dubiously at my husband and then me. My cousin Lou and I got along great as children. What happened that as adults we seemed to regard each other with suspicion and disapproval?

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 4

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 4

SEVEN SALLIE

WHEREAS YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW. FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? IT IS EVEN A VAPOR THAT APPEARS FOR A LITTLE TIME AND THEN VANISHES AWAY (James 4:14)

            A knock at my front door revealed Lieutenant Louis Lewis standing on my stoop. It had been a couple weeks since he and FBI Agent Nora Medora had stopped by to threaten me. Oh, they called it a warning, but I clearly saw restrained hostility in their demeanors.

            “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” I greeted, I hoped cheerfully. I could feel my blood pressure spike a bit. There is no fear in love, I reminded myself (1 John 4:18). Followed by love your enemies (Matthew 5:44).

            “Afternoon,” he responded, eyeing me cooly.

            No fear in love, love your enemies, my mind repeated. “I’d like to say to what do I owe the pleasure, but I can’t help wondering what I said on podcast that made you show up. I’ve tried to be, shall I say, cautious, since you and Nora were kind enough to warn me.”

            What I didn’t acknowledge to the police officer was that I was choosing my battles wisely. And hopefully it was not as a wise guy, which was my sinful tendency. I needed to seek the Holy Spirit’s guidance with timing in what to say and do. I needed to follow the example of Jesus when He said things like, ‘Tell no one,’ and ‘My time is not yet.’

            “This has nothing to do with your podcast, Sallie,” Triple Lou said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Inga Likas. Also known as Inga Cognito.”

            “Did she get into some trouble?”

            “Yeah, I’d say she did.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Then his tired looking dark brown eyes met mine. “I’m afraid she’s been murdered.”

            “What!”

            “I’m sorry. There was no easy way to break it to you.”

            “That can’t be!”

            “I’m afraid it is. Her body was found down by the river in a patch of woods off of first street. Now I know she had been staying with you, so there are a couple things I need to know.”

            “You don’t understand, she…”

            “Once again,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, but…”

            “Lieutenant,” I interrupted. “You…”

            “Maybe we should sit,” he interrupted. “How about at the kitchen table?”

            “Yeah, that would be fine,” I said and then sighed. “Can I get you something to drink? Relaxed Mind tea? Sparkling water?”

            “No thanks. Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “Please, call me Seven.”

            “Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “About fifteen minutes ago.”

            “Fifteen minutes ago? That’s not possible.”

            Inga walked up to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Do you have any leads on who killed me?”

            Triple Lou stared at Inga in astonishment. It was as if he had lived two thousand years ago and witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead.

            “It.. It’s you,” Lieutenant Louis Lewis stammered.

            “It’s me,” Inga said with a shrug. She was amazingly calm for having just found out that she had been murdered. Yet I noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. Then her lower lip developed a bit of a quiver as she asked, “So what makes you think I’ve been murdered?”

            “I swear, I thought for sure it was you,” Triple Lou said mildly, still looking at Inga in disbelief. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

            Now I noticed Inga’s eyes were becoming watery, so I spoke up. “Lieutenant, can you tell us why you thought Inga had been murdered?”

            “I saw her for myself,” he replied, as he turned his gaze onto me.

            “What did you see?” I asked.

            He looked back to Inga. “I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

            “Give it to me straight, Triple Lou,” Inga said flatly.

            Now I am obnoxious by nature. But by the grace of God, I no longer purposely try to get a rise out of people since giving my life to Christ. The old me would have smiled at Inga’s disrespectful tone. But the new creature inside my flesh cringed at the use of the flippant name she used for the gruff police officer. Yet it seemed to roll off his shoulders as if she had called him sir, officer, or lieutenant.

            “Well, for one thing, it looked like your hair,” he told us. “But I see you got it cut.”

            Inga’s dread locks were gone, and her dark brown hair was cut into a pixie style.

            Being rather dense I said, “Didn’t you recognize the face?”

            “It was beaten beyond recognition.”

            “What else?” Inga asked stoically.

            “Carved in her flesh, on her torse to be exact, were the words, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’ Also on her person was a Nevada ID that called her Inga Marie Likas… So I hope you can see why I was confident that the… Why I thought it was you.”

            “Did she have any tattoos?” Inga asked hesitantly.

            “Why yes, she did. On the back side of her wrist. A banner that said love conquers all, surrounded by flowers and…”

            “1 Corinthians 13:4-8 under the flowers,” Inga interrupted.

            “Yes,” Triple Lou said solemnly and then paused. “Who is she, Inga?”

            But instead of replying, Inga’s chin began to quiver, and tears seemed to pop out of her eye socks. She coughed out a sob, covered her mouth with her hand and ran to the bedroom.

            “Must be a relative of hers,” the Lieutenant said quietly.

            I shook off the shock I felt and said, “I better go comfort her… Or something.”

            I got up slowly from the table. Although my heart broke for Inga, I selfishly longed for my wife. I mumbled, “Zella, you should have been home a half hour ago, where are you?”

            Low and behold the front door popped open and my beautiful wife stepped into our home. I stepped quickly to her, and we embraced. Having noticed the Lieutenant’s car in the driveway, she whispered into my ear, “Are you in trouble again?”

            I explained the reason for Triple Lou’s presence. My wife is mentally tough because she is spiritually grounded in the love of Christ. She pushed away from me and briskly walked toward Inga. I slowly walked back to the table, sat, and then sighed as I eased into a chair.

            Triple Lou and I sat in silence for a couple minutes. Then I said, “Maybe you could come back later, or we could come down to the station later.”

            “I really need to talk to her as soon as possible. If we don’t catch the perpetrator within the first forty eight hours, the odds of ever finding him drop dramatically.”

            “So you think it’s a him?”

            “In most cases of a brutal murder it’s a him,” he told me sternly. “But to be fair how about I change it to ‘them.’”

            “Them? So you think it’s more than one person?”

            “Sallie, why do you always have to be so difficult?”

            “I don’t mean to be, Sir. I just like to explore every detail of a subject.”

            “Ya know, even when you’re being respectful, I somehow feel that you’re mocking.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way. On the other hand, we live in a dog eat dog world. Your paranoia could be looked at as just being cautious.”

            “I’m not paranoid,” he said testily. Then he forced a smile and said with eerie calmness, “I’m not paranoid.”

            He glanced at the door that concealed Inga and my wife. Then his eyes shifted to me. Then he looked back at the door. Then he looked back at me. Then he muttered to himself, “Oh nuts.”

            “So Lieutenant, do you have time to investigate a murder while at the same time enforcing Sunday laws?”

            His eyes narrowed with distaste, and I put up my hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m sorry how that came across. When I’m under stress, it gets hard to control my natural bent for flippancy.”

            “Be careful Sallie, you do realize you’re a suspect?”

            “What! Surly you don’t think I killed… Whoever it is that was killed?”

            He sighed. “At this point everybody is a suspect. But no, I don’t think you did it.”

            “Well, good.”

            “Yet,” he added cooly.

            After a minute of awkward silence, Triple Lou said without looking at me, “I am off of overseeing Sunday ordinances though.”

            “Yeah? How come?”

            “Conflict of interest.”

            “May I ask what the conflict of interest is?”

            “You may,” he replied but then remained silent.

            “Well?”

            “I just said you could ask, I didn’t say I would answer.”

            Despite the violent death of somebody seemingly related to Inga somehow, I laughed. “It sure can be hard to like somebody that’s flippant.”

            “Tell me about it,” he said.

            “Well, I wanted to understand your conflict of interest, and I found it annoying when you responded with flippancy instead.”

            He still eyed me with narrow eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “’Tell me about it’ was a figure of speech, not a request. You’re something else, Sallie.”

            “That’s what my wife always tells me.”

            “I bet she does,” he said, sighed and rose from the table. He began to slowly do laps around the kitchen table. “I’ve been studying out this Sabbath issue with my Bible and concordance. Now I was believer that we kept Sunday in honor of the resurrection. But then I discovered in the book of Acts, in particular chapters thirteen and seventeen, that they kept the Sabbath. Jesus had been long risen from the dead by then.

            “Then I looked up Constantine and how he mandated on March 7, AD 321, dies solis meaning ‘The Day of the Sun’ in latin, making Sunday the official day of rest.”

            “Lieutenant, that’s awesome!”

            “Yeah, well, truth is truth. I also got to thinking about the first scripture I read on the Sabbath. Genesis 2:3 says God sanctified it. I couldn’t find anywhere in scripture where God sanctified or made holy, the first day of the week.”

            “That’s because He didn’t.”

            “Right,” he replied as if he didn’t want to admit it. But then he acknowledged, “So, I told the Captain I didn’t want to oversee the Sunday laws anymore.”

            “How’d that go over?”

            “Okay, but now he regards me with suspicion.”

            “Ya mean he didn’t before?”

            “Sallie, do you always have to…” He grinned, shook his head and said, “No, he didn’t.”

            The bedroom door opened, and Inga and Zella came out walking hand in hand. Inga’s arctic blue eyes were red rimmed as she said in a childlike voice, “I’m ready to talk, Lieutenant. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I want you to find who did this.”

            “Okay,” Triple Lou said with surprising gentleness. “Let’s start with this. Do you know who she is?”

            “Her name is Paloma, she’s my sister.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 3

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 3

LIEUTENANT LOUIS LEWIS

JESUS SAID, “I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. NO ONE COMES TO THE FATHER EXCEPT THROUGH ME.” (John 14:6)

            “Hey look, it’s Steve Harvey and Selena Gomez,” the feral looking woman sitting at the Sallie’s kitchen table said as FBI agent Nora Medora and I stepped into their home. Seven had invited us in after we told him we had just come to talk, and not to arrest him.

            I recognized the woman immediately. I had seen her singing on the downtown streets several times. I knew she was homeless, so what was she doing in the Sallie’s home? How did they know her? She had a beautiful voice; I’ll give her that. The songs emanating from her gifted vocal cords were usually hymns as well.

            Considering myself a devout Christian, I really wanted to throw the book at her when she was brought in for shoplifting the other day. I couldn’t stand hypocrites; they gave Christianity a bad name. I just didn’t realize back then that I was one myself. Who knows, maybe I still am. For the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9)

            Rather than become angry at what might have been considered a slight, Agent Medora and I glanced at each other with arched eyebrows. I’m sure we were both thinking, ‘yeah, she kinda does, yeah he kinda does.’ However, Nora Medora’s black hair was short, and she was very fit and muscular, sort of like a female bodybuilder. As a result I tended to suck in my stomach while around her, which became quite tiring.

            Seven’s wife Zella was my cousin, but we were estranged. First when she shamed the family by becoming an erotic model, and second when she started practicing as a so called psychic. Third, ironically, because of a religious conversion. Yet we thought her style of Christianity was odd, fanatical, and it flowed the opposite way of the mainstream.

            But eventually I would experience the biggest paradox of my life. I was put in charge of enforcing Sunday laws. And considering myself a devout Christian I went about it with great zeal. I saw Seven Sallie as my main adversary, because he was foremost, via his podcast, at encouraging people to disobey the particular laws I was in charge of.

            However, it was through attempting to keep him in line, and hopefully finding a reason to arrest him, that I began to discover what the Bible actually taught. I came to realize that as a Christian zealot and law officer, who was enforcing moral legislation, I was behaving contrary to The Word of God.

            “We’ll give you some privacy,” my cousin offered.

            “No need,” Agent Medora declared. “It would do well for you two to hear what we have to say. After all, Mr. Sallie has spread his poison very publicly.”

            “Poison?” Seven inquired calmly with an arched eyebrow. “Teaching history is spreading poison?”

            “Today you all but called, arguably, the most revered spiritual leader in the world the beast of Revelation,” Agent Medora continued.

            “I did no such thing,” Seven defended. “I simply spoke about the dark ages. I said that the persecuting power that put millions to death over more than a thousand years would receive a deadly wound and that deadly wound would be healed. And all the world marveled and followed the beast.” (Revelation 13:3)

            Agent Medora folded her arms abruptly. “You also said that this figure received the deadly wound by Napoleon through his General Berthier. So it was pretty easy to figure out who you were talking about through the internet. My point is, you can’t blame who currently holds that position for those who held it hundreds of years ago.”

            “I’m not. But I am warning that persecution will happen again. You can’t make worship mandatory. And the Bible predicts it will happen again before the end of time. The only thing we don’t know is exactly when and how long.”

            “Nobody in our state is making worship mandatory,” I barked. “The Sunday ordinances are so workers can be guaranteed time with their families. Also a day to give the planet a rest from pollution.”

            Agent Medora looked at me with a contrite expression. Then she said, “To be fair, there is talk on the federal level of mandatory worship. That’s why I was sent to work with you on the Seven Sallie file in particular. He is the foremost voice protesting our government.”

            “Ooooh, I have a file,” Seven said. “Ya know, Nora, I happen to know one of the reasons you and Brock broke up was due to his Christian conversion. Did that change?”

            “It did not,” she replied defiantly. “I’m still somewhere between atheist and agnostic.”

            “So how can you be a defender of moral legislation?”

            “My job is to enforce law, not make them. Just so you know, I asked for this assignment so I could come reason with you as a friend. To keep you out of trouble.”

            “Are we friends? I hope we are, but we hardly know each other. Brock and I weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy back then.”

            She was about to say something on the side of emotional, and I could tell it was making her uncomfortable. “I almost married your cousin, and he still holds a special place in my heart.”

            Seven nodded and bit his lip. I figured he was metaphorically biting his tongue from saying, ‘You have a heart?’

            “The truth is, Sallie,” I said. “You’re just trying to regain the spotlight you lost.”

            “What would you know about truth?” the feral woman at the table spit.

            I glared at her and her name came back to me. One of the arresting officers showed me two different IDs she had on her person when they searched her. A California ID, which proved to be legitimate, had her as Inga Marie Likas. An Arizona ID, which proved to be fake, called her Inga Cognito. “What would a shoplifting liar know about truth?”

            “I know you wear a cross around your neck, yet you do the opposite of what Jesus taught.”

            “Oh, is that right? I’m doing the opposite of what Jesus taught by keeping the public safe?”

            “Safe from what?”

            “Enough!” Agent Medora ordered. “Let’s make this short and sweet. Our little visit is just a friendly warning that you are being watched. So as a friend, Seven, I’m telling you to be careful.”

            “The majority like these Sunday laws,” I added diplomatically. “The majority want these Sunday laws.”

            “When has the majority ever been right?” Zella spoke up. “The greater the number, the more certain the lie.”

            “The numerical is the most ridiculous parody of the truth,” Inga added.

            Continuing diplomacy, I calmly said, “Look, nobody is stopping you from keeping the Jewish Sabbath. But the majority of us keep Sunday, so that’s the one designated for national rest.”

            Seven grabbed a Bible from a coffee table. He opened it, flipped through pages, settled on one and handed me the open book. “Would you read Mark 2:27?”

            “And He said to them, The Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath.”

            “Did Jesus say the Sabbath was for the Jews or mankind?”

            “That’s not the point. We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection.”

            “We get baptized in honor of the resurrection,” Seven responded. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, God wrote the ten suggestions with his own finger.”

            “You mean Ten Commandments,” I spontaneously interrupted. Then I felt my face flush at being tricked.

            “Right, my bad. Right in the middle is the Sabbath, the only one that starts with remember. Yet most of the Christianity is purposely forgetting. It’s the one commandment that recognizes God as our Creator, and as it’s worded in Deuteronomy chapter five, our Deliverer and Redeemer, if you please. In Malachi, the last book in the Old Testament, chapter three and verse six declares the Lord does not change.”

            I was speechless, I had no argument. And the reason I had no argument was it rang true. Another reason this man I used to think obnoxious, wasn’t trying to argue. He was reasoning, as with a friend.

            “Lieutenant, once again with all due respect, I suggest you get out your concordance and study the scriptures that refer to the Sabbath.”

            As Agent Medora and I rode back to the station in my unmarked police car, I called my wife. When I looked Seven in the eye as he suggested a concordance, I felt ashamed of not knowing if we had one. But in front of Agent Medora, an unbeliever, I didn’t care. “Honey, do we have a concordance?”

            “You mean a Bible concordance?” Her voice emanated from the speakers.

            “Yes.”

            “I’m sure we do, but I’ll have to look for it.”

            “Could you?”

            “Sure thing.”

            “Thanks, love you.”

            Agent Medora looked at me with curiosity. “You’re not actually gonna do what Seven told you to do?”

            “He didn’t tell me, he suggested. The way I see it, I wasn’t able to answer him back there. If enforcing Sunday laws are part of my responsibility, I need to understand the issue more than I do.”

            She gave her shoulder a half shrug as if to say whatever. Ten minutes after Agent Medora left the station, my Captain called me into his office. “Have a seat, Lou.”

            Captain Stubing was about a year from tiring and looked ready. He was fifty pounds overweight with seemingly constant circles under his hound dog eyes. He said, “Agent Medora warned me to keep an eye on you.”

            I felt my jaw tighten with anger, betrayal even. Agent Medora and I had been in communication even before Seven had been arrested the other day. A few hours ago, she and I had listened to Seven’s podcast together in my office. Although in different branches of law enforcement, she gave me the impression that we were not only colleagues, but teammates. “I see.”

            “I think she wanted me to keep it to myself, Lou. But you and I have been friends a long time, and I’m not gonna let no uppity Fed come between us. So she says as a long time investigator, her gut tells her that this Seven Sallie character is influencing you. Says you’re gonna read material he told you about.”

            “All that happened, Cap, was he suggested I get a Bible concordance and study this Sabbath issue out for myself. As much as I dislike the man, he’s right. If part of my responsibilities are Sunday laws, I need to understand every angle.”

            “Good thinking, Lou, I couldn’t agree more. I knew I had nothing to worry about, but communication is key to a tight ship.”

            “Thank you, Sir.”

            Before she left, Agent Medora had given me a firm handshake and a warm smile. This only minutes after telling my immediate superior to keep an eye on me. It made me recall one brief element of Seven’s podcast that really resonated with me. It kept echoing in my mind, especially after Agent Medora tried to throw me under the bus.

            I know I’m comparing apples with oranges with what Agent Medora did. But this is what he said, “It is so heartbreaking that Christ, the teacher of love, who is not only loving but Is Love. That He should be betrayed with a kiss. Such is the nature of sin.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 2

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 2

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

HERE IS THE PATIENCE OF THE SAINTS; HERE ARE THOSE WHO KEEP THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD AND THE FAITH OF JESUS (Revelation 14:12)

            I laid in bed thinking about Inga for a long time before I fell asleep. By all appearances she was world hardened and tough. Yet as she climbed into the bed I had prepared for her, her demeanor became meek and childlike. Her large, lovely eyes that gazed up at me were arctic blue, like the sky at the North Pole on a sunny day. That color only made the brown circles underneath them stand out all the more.

            In my mind I kept hearing her tell me the bed was the most comfortable thing after four years in her sleeping roll. I was delighted to be bringing her such joy, yet my heart also ached for what her life must have been like. I prayed earnestly for wisdom in dealing with the broken young woman on the other side of the bedroom wall.

            Another element that brought mixed emotions was food. I smiled at the remembrance of her shoveling in the lasagna last evening and stuffing bite after bite of garlic bread into her mouth. It was as if it were the last decent meal she would ever have. And in her mind it very well could have been.

            She slept for more than eleven hours, and I wasn’t surprised. I had been listening to my husband’s daily podcast when just before ten in the morning I heard a low strum coming from my son’s guitar. I walked to the bedroom door and heard Inga quietly singing ‘Amazing Grace.’ My jaw dropped. She had the voice of an angel! I couldn’t help knocking on her door.

            It went completely quiet, and I couldn’t help giggling. Seven loved watching ‘Andy Griffith Show’ reruns and this moment reminded me of the first episode featuring the hillbilly family ‘The Darlings.’ The family played old time country music. When the father checked into the local hotel, he registered as the only occupant. But then the clerk heard the sound of several instruments. When he and Sherrif Taylor knocked on the door, the music stopped except for the hoots coming from Briscoe Darling’s jug.

            That scene is what made me giggle. When there was a prolonged silence, I imagined a jug beginning to hoot. I knocked again and then I could hear Inga pad to the door. She opened it about six inches, and those arctic blue eyes peered out at me. She meekly said, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

            “No, no, Sweety,” I smiled. “I just heard you playing guitar and singing, and came to say good morning.”

            “Oh, good morning,” she replied cheerfully.

            “You sing beautifully.”

            She shrugged modestly but then added truthfully. “Yeah, thankfully my voice has filled my cup with change many, many times.”

            I knew she referred to singing on the streets with a tip jar. I also recalled her reason for shop lifting; she hadn’t eaten in two days.

            “Are you hungry, do you want some breakfast?”

            “I’m starving,” she declared happily. “I’d love some.”

            I couldn’t help laughing as I recalled how much she ate last night. “How did you sleep?”

            “Wonderful! Thank you for letting me stay here last night.”

            I read between the lines. “You know, like we said told you yesterday, you’re welcome here until you get on your feet.”

            Given what she had told us yesterday, I made sure not to say back on your feet. She looked at me with a baffled expression. “I don’t even know how to go about that.”

            “We’ll help you figure it out.”

            Her countenance became anxious, and this triggered anxiety in me. I bit my lip and offered up a silent prayer. Then cautiously I tried, “Honey, can I ask how you ended up homeless?”

            She looked away from me as if ashamed. “It’s complicated, and a long story.”

            “That’s okay. I’ve got time.”

            “No, it’s not okay,” she spit, turning her eyes back to me with fire in them. Then as fast as the blaze in her gaze came up, it faded away and her countenance softened. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Let’s just say I grew up under bizarre circumstances. I don’t think I can fit into the real world.”

            “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

            She looked at me curiously. “You mean how you and Seven don’t really fit into the real world either?”

            I tilted my head with a curious expression. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean touting Saturday as the sabbath when most of the Christian world is all gung ho over those Sunday laws. Seven was even arrested over the issue. Plus you invited a homeless girl into your home while a large portion of the religious world just don’t want us uglifying their streets. I fear for you guys.”

            “You fear for us?” Said the homeless girl? I frowned.

            “Yeah, I mean, when God became a human being, the powers that be put him to death for rebelling against the religious, political agenda. Now with Sunday laws, we have religion mixing with politics. I see Christ’s Sermon on the Mount as not just a way to live and think, but also a political statement. You know, like, these are the rules in God’s kingdom vs. the rules of earthly kingdoms. Jesus’s own followers wanted Him to be an earthly king, but He said, My kingdom is not of this world.”

            My mouth was agape as I stared at Inga. This young woman was bright! Why did she feel she couldn’t get a job and a more substantial place to live than a tent? She giggled at my astonished expression. “I may be homeless, but I’m not necessarily an idiot.”

            “No, I should say not.”

            “On the other hand, I don’t understand why it’s that big of a deal for you guys. I mean, isn’t shutting down one day of the week good for the environment? And also ensuring workers time with their families?”

            “That’s all well and good, but where the problems come in is with its progression. I assume you didn’t listen to the podcast that got Seven in trouble?”

            “No, I didn’t.”

            “He didn’t necessarily get in trouble for teaching the Biblical Sabbath. He got in trouble for pushing back on the talk of mandatory worship on Sunday. When he called it the mark of the beast, the powers that be called it hate speech.”

            “I thought the mark of the beast was a computer chip in your hand and even your forehead.”

            “A computer chip might play a role when it comes to the aspect of buying and selling. But the main characteristic of the mark of the beast has to do with worship. The mark in your hand represents what you do, and the forehead is in what you think. The test is over the ten commandments. A key verse is in Revelation 14:12. And the key commandment that is being disputed is the fourth, right in the middle of the Decalogue.”

            “What’s the Decalogue?”

            “It’s another word for the Ten Commandments.”

            “Weird. So you’re saying this whole issue with Sunday ordinances is the mark of the beast?”

            “Not just yet. That’s why Seven has been issuing warnings on his podcast. The business closures, limited travel, and suggestions of going to worship services was just the start. But now there are more and more calls by political and religious leaders to make Sunday worship mandatory. Capitulating to this is the mark of the beast in the fullest sense.”

            “What do you mean by ‘capitulating?’”

            “You know, giving in, surrendering to the demands. There are already several states on the verge of making, so called, worship of your choice mandatory, for the good of society, they say.”

            “Did this all start back when several states started putting the Ten Commandments back in schools?”

            “Good question! That did play a subtle roll in my opinion.”

            “I still don’t get it. The majority of Christians view Sunday as the Sabbath. How could so many be wrong?”

            “Biblically speaking, when has the majority ever been right? Were they right in Noah’s day? Were they right when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego refused to fall down and worship Nebuchadnezzar’s golden image? Were they right at Christ’s first advent, when there was no room at the in, and Jesus was born in a stable? Were they right when He was crucified?”

            “I see,” she said thoughtfully as she pondered these things.

            “Sunday posing as the sabbath really took off in the fourth century when Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. This church and state combination brought a lot of paganism into the church. Hence, the ‘Venerable Day of the Sun’ became prominent as the Christian sabbath. Just google venerable day of the sun or look up Sabbath truth. com.”

            I heard Inga’s stomach growl and recalled her say she was starving. She blushed because it was rather noticeable. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

            “No worries,” she said with a meek smile. “I’m used to being hungry.”

            As we made our way to the kitchen, I felt a lump in my throat, once again, at how her life must have been. As I made pancakes, I tried to extract some details about her life, but she did a masterful job of side stepping the questions with vague answers.

            When I put a tall pile of flapjacks onto the table, Seven emerged from the basement. He had a studio down there where he broadcasted his daily podcast. He declared, “Something smells good. Oh wow, pancakes for lunch?” “

            “It’s called brunch if it’s before eleven,” I said before giving him a quick kiss.

            “Suit yourself. But if it’s before eleven, but you get up before five, I call it lunch. So did you listen to my podcast?”

            “I started to,” I told him. “But then Inga and I got to talking.”

            He winced. “I think I might have pushed things with the thought police.”

            A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. As Seven aimed a fork full of pancake toward his mouth, he said, “I’ll get it.”

            I chuckled. “I’ll get it.”

            My heart skipped a beat, and my smile fell when I saw the two people standing on our stoop. One was Lieutenant Louis Lewis, and the other was Seven’s cousin Brock’s ex-girlfriend, FBI agent Nora Medora. Her face was blank, but her dark eyes cold. Triple Lou wore a stern expression as he said, “May we speak with Seven Sallie, please?”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 1

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 1

SEVEN SALLIE

NOW THE LORD IS THE SPIRIT; AND WHERE THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD IS, THERE IS LIBERTY (2 Corinthians 3:17)

            As I exited the courtroom, a young lady that had been ahead of me for shoplifting stepped up next to me. She said, “I’m surprised they let you go.”

            She appeared to be in her thirties. I’m not good at guessing ages, but my wife is. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was dread locked and grungy looking. Her jeans were dirty, her black converse sneakers had seen better days, and her faded flannel shirt was frayed at the cuffs. My first impression was homeless, and I wasn’t wrong.

            “Why do say that?” I asked cheerily with an arched eyebrow.

            “Triple Lou brought you in himself,” she said as if this delighted her.

            “Triple Lou?” I inquired, arching my eyebrow a little higher.

            “You know, Lieutenant Louis Lewis,” she said, separating lieutenant and making it sound like two separate words. Lou tenant. “So what did you do? The plaintiff wouldn’t let me stay in the courtroom to hear you go before the judge.”

            “The official charge was inciting civil disobedience.”

            “Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. They were the brightest blue I had ever seen in a pair of peepers. I even wondered if she wore colored contacts. “What kind?”

            “On my podcast I encouraged people to keep the Biblical Sabbath. The Sunday ordinance will lead to mandatory worship and that would be unconstitutional.”

            “That’s pretty lame,” she said dejectedly.

            “Yeah, thankfully the judge thought it was a pretty lame charge as well.”

            “No, what I meant by lame, was when you said civil disobedience, I assumed you organized a riot or something.”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            She eyed me thoughtfully, putting a finger on her chin. Then her eyes widened again. “Hey, didn’t you used to be Seven Sallie?”

            “Actually I still am.”

            “No you’re not.”

            “What do you mean ‘no I’m not?’”

            “I mean you used to be crazy popular. Somewhere between Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher. Then you just suddenly fell off the map. What’d you do, have a sex scandal or something? Or are you some kind of pervert?”

            I liked this girl; she was spunky. However, my hands did feel the slight urge to go around her neck. “My name is still Seven Sallie, regardless of a drop in popularity. What’s your name?”

            “Inga,” she replied.

            “Inga what?”

            “Cognito.”

            I smiled. “Your name is Inga Cognito?”

            “Your name is really Seven?”

            “It’s my actual middle name,” I told her, pulling out my driver’s license and handing it to her. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. I suppose because I trusted her enough to hand over my personal ID.

            “Sebastion is your first name?” she asked with a look on her face as if she bit into something sour.

            “It is.”

            “No wonder you go by Seven. Why is your middle name Seven?”

            “I was the seventh of seven kids. My twin brother’s middle name is Six.”

            “So are your other sibling’s middle names one, two, three, four, and five?”

            “No,” I replied. “So what is your real name?”

            She handed me back my license and pulled a book bag off her shoulders. She dug into it and pulled out an ID. It wasn’t a driver’s license; just an official state issued ID from California. If it wasn’t a fake, she was only twenty four. What kind of life had she lived that she looked like she could be in her thirties? My hands no longer wanted to go around her skinny neck. I felt more inclined hug to her.

            “Inga Marie Likus,” I said.

            “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” she said casually. “So you didn’t tell me. How did you fall off the map from your popular radio show?”

            “I simply changed my main broadcast topic from politics to teaching the Bible and religious history. Most of my sponsors let me go, so I was forced to start my own podcast, losing most of my listeners in the process.”

            “So it was becoming a Christian, rather than being a perv?”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            “I’m not disappointed at all,” she said, and pulled a pocket size Bible from her flannel shirt. “I’m a believer too.”

            “That’s good!” I told her. I paused, and very gently asked, “So why did you shop lift then?”

            She looked me square in the eyes. “Because I hadn’t eaten in two days.”

            Although it was she that broke the eighth commandment, it was me that felt a sense of shame. Meekly, I replied, “I see.”

            I looked at my shoes in the bustling courthouse hall. I was relieved when my wife stepped to my side. “Inga, this is my wife, Zella. Zella, Inga Cognito.”

            “Inga Cognito?” My wife frowned.

            “Oh, he’s crazy. My name is Inga Likus.”

            My wife looked rather puzzled about me conversing with this wild looking young lady. But then she smiled warmly at her when Inga declared, “Wow, what are you an African princess?”

            “No, I’m afraid not.”

            “You look like Karrueche Tran.”

            “I assume that’s a complement, so thank you.”

            “It is, she’s lovely. So what are you doing with this very pale radio has been?”

            The urge to put my hands around her neck was returning.

            “I don’t know,” Zella said, looking at me with a frown. Then she grinned and winked.

            “Inga here is shop lifter,” I said, then instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was low.”

            Inga simply shrugged. “Only when I’m hungry or otherwise need something to survive.”

            “Where do you live?” Zella asked.

            “In a tent, if it’s still where I left it.”

            “Hey,” Zella said, her face lighting up. “Our son is up in Minnesota for the summer at his grandparents farm. You could stay in his room for a while to get back on your feet.”

            I looked at my wife, stunned. Then realized I was shaking my head. I turned my gaze onto Inga, and she was looking at me with a sad countenance. “That’s okay, I’ve never had solid footing to get my feet back onto.”

            Jesus’s words flashed through my mind. “Whatever you have done to one of the least of these My brothers and sisters, you’ve done for me.” (Matthew 25:40, 45)

            “Zella is right,” I told Inga. “Please come and stay with us, and we’ll help you get your feet on solid ground.”

            “Why would you invite me into your home?” she asked meekly. “One of the only things you know about me is that I’m a thief.”

            I felt my toes curl. Was this a warning? Oh well, anything she might steal from us was replaceable. But the Holy Spirit, also known as The Comforter, comforted me by giving me these words. “Another thing I know about you is you carry a pocket size New Testament with you.”

            Zella happily took hold of one of Inga’s hands. Inga pulled back, a little startled. But then she let my lovely wife hold her hand. “Inga, come have supper with us. I made a lasagna and there’s plenty. Then take a long shower while I prepare your bed for you.”

            Inga had a look of awe and gratitude on her face, like we were offering a great gift. It occurred to me how often we take for granted everyday blessings. She croaked, “Okay, thank you.”

            Over dinner, Inga was reluctant to say much about herself. When I asked how she ended up in Iowa, clear from the west coast, all she said was a girl she knew was coming here and that there were more jobs to be had than in California. Inga had now been in Iowa six weeks and had not found a job. She shrugged and said, “Kind of hard when you have no address to put down on an application.”

            Inga certainly took Zella up on a long shower. I heard the water running for almost a half an hour. I think the only reason she stopped was she ran out of hot water. When she was done, Zella helped her get settled in the bedroom. I’m ashamed to say, I stood outside the closed door and eavesdropped.

            “Oooooh, this is so comfortable.” I heard Inga purr.

            “I’m glad you like it,” Zella enthused.

            “I love it! Thank you so much!”

            “You’re very welcome.”

            “I haven’t slept in something softer than my sleeping bag in four years.”

            My mind’s eye saw the tattered sleeping bag as she carried it into our house.

            “I’m so glad you like it, goodnight.”

            I heard the door handle jiggle and quickly tiptoed the short distance to our living room. I sat down on the couch and picked up a book. Zella walked briskly toward me with what appeared to be a stern expression. My first thought was that she was gonna scold me for eavesdropping. But how could she know?

            Instead, my wife sat down hard next to me on the sofa, grabbed a decorative pillow, pressed it to her face and sobbed.

BLACK SABBATH – PROLOUGE

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

PROLOUGE

LIEUTENANT LOUIS LEWIS

SOME TIME IN THE FUTURE

BLESSED IS HE WHO READS AND THOSE WHO HEAR THE WORDS OF THIS PROPHECY, AND KEEP THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE WRITTEN IN IT; FOR THE TIME IS NEAR (Revelation 1:3)

            I hated Seven Sallie when I arrested him his first time. Hauling him in was right up there with the most enjoyable moment I had ever had cuffing and stuffing someone. The temptation for brutality was strong. Yet during almost twenty years on the police force, the closest I had ever come to excessive force was simply a head shove into the backseat of a patrol car.

            Why did I hate him? We had opposing religious views; it was as simple as that. Oh yeah, I also thought he was arrogant. He also broke the law, and I was a law enforcer. Why was he arrested? The official charge was inciting people to violate the Sunday ordinance via his podcast. The reality? He was encouraging people to obey God rather than men. I just didn’t see it at the time.

            I felt like my dislike for Seven and people like him was righteous indignation. It turned out that it was unrighteous hostility. The second time he was arrested, I refused to take part and was put on administrative leave. The third time he was arrested, I was arrested alongside him, losing my job in the process. The Sunday ordinance had become a law. Worship on Sunday was now mandatory. There were those pushing for the death penalty.

            Sentenced to death for keeping the Biblical Sabbath instead of Sunday? You might be asking this question and find the concept outrageous. I was a skeptic myself until I witnessed the whole thing transpire. The once despised Seven Sallie became something like a Bible hero for me. But rather than one of the characters or writers from sacred scripture, he was a teacher, an expounder of Bible truths that were hidden in plain sight.

            So how did he become one of my favorite people on the planet? It sure didn’t happen overnight. But the first changing of direction came when I discovered, after arresting him, that his wife was my estranged cousin. In fact, it was because of her that I ended up with my first name being Louis, while my last name is Lewis. But it wasn’t her fault.

            She is three months older than me, and my mother thought it was cute when her parents, whose last name was LaStella, named their baby girl Zella. Uereka! Why don’t we name our baby boy Louis? They did this not realizing how many times I would have to hear my name sung throughout my life. You probably guessed the song, ‘Louie, Louie.’

            As a teenager, my cousin Zella LaStella became the black sheep of our rather conservative, pious family. She hooked up with a cocaine snorting, pot smoking, wanta be rapper. They went to the west coast. He planned on being a rock star, and she planned on being a super model.

            Zella was and still is beautiful. With her flawless ebony complexion, high cheek bones, and sultry dark eyes, she had the qualifications for gracing the cover of fashion magazines. Instead she ended up naked on the pages of men’s magazines and the screens of websites.

            Her wanta be rapper boyfriend ended up a bust, and an abuser. After snorting and smoking away all his money, he wanted to pimp her out. Fortunately she was able to escape his clutches with the help of her friend Willa Waconia, a fellow erotic model. The pair of pals fled back to the Midwest and bought a house together.

            But Zella still didn’t get into good graces with the family just yet. Although she opened a health store in the large Victorian house, it was a well-known secret on the police force that the store also worked as a front for Willa to operate a form of prostitution in the basement. Ironic since Zella had escaped from a man who had tried to make her a lady of the evening.

            But Willa was careful and smart, and we were never able to get enough on her to make a raid. She catered to men of means who were into being put into submission. That’s all I will say, as we are trying to be family friendly.

            But Willa met a fine young man named Billy Bob Booker. He was on his way to Godly living and brought her along with. Also ironic, they met through her occupation as a hooker. But just to be clear, he wanted her to accompany him to a wedding, nothing sexual involved other than her being his arm candy.

            Long story short, she closed up shop and became a Christian convert. She and Billy eventually became a couple. Through this association, my cousin Zella met Seven Sallie. Although I was delighted to find out she had turned her life around, I was disappointed it was through, what I thought back then, was fanatical religious extremists.

            I didn’t understand what Zella saw in Seven, other than he looked like he could be brother to George Clooney. But what some saw as charming, I found to be smarmy. His declaration as truth, I believed to be error. When he was arrested, some found him to be stoic. Whereas I thought him to be grandstanding.

            The day after I took part in his arrest, I paid a visit to my cousin Zella. After a half hearted apology for arresting her husband, she reluctantly forgave me. After declaring I was just doing my job, she replied that many Nazi’s felt that way also. It irritated me to be sure. But in hindsight, point well taken.

            Then she did something that was the beginning of my turn around. She presented me with a Bible and asked me to show her where they were in error. Although I attended church weekly, I rarely cracked the Bible. I snorted. “Do I look like a preacher?”

            She smirked. “Do I?”

            Then she pulled a piece of paper from her Bible and rattled off a dozen scriptures dealing with the Sabbath. The one that really hit home the most was the last one she read from Isaiah 66:23. It infers that the Sabbath will be kept in heaven.

            “So why?” she asked patiently. “Would we keep Sunday, as you say, in honor of the resurrection? Then once in heaven go back to the Sabbath God instituted at Creation? I believe we get baptized in honor of the resurrection.”

            I didn’t have an answer and felt like a dog with its tail between his legs. But I was incensed. I went home and dusted off my Bible and concordance. I set out to prove her wrong. Instead I began to find way more proof that she was right.

            Over the next several months, I began to search the scriptures daily, like the noble Bereans (Acts 17:11). Usually I studied for a half hour to forty-five minutes. Sometimes more than an hour. I also began to pray with more frequency.

            I finally got to the point where I conceded that Zella, Seven Sallie and his cohorts were right. I finally admitted to myself that I had been believing for doctrines, the commandments of men (Matthew 15:9).

            God woke me up just in time! The world turned to utter chaos shortly thereafter. There was war all around the world. There were false revivals, false prophets, Satan himself appeared as an angel of light. (See 2 Corinthians 11:13-15)

            But there was also the latter rain, a pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the people who followed Jesus. This was followed, as it were, by a loud cry. Many heard the message of truth! Thousands were converted in a day!

            This was followed by a little time of trouble. The faithful were threatened with death. Then this little time of trouble escalated to the great time of trouble. There was tribulation like the world had never seen (Matthew 24:21)

            There was a death decree. Many of God’s people, Seven Sallie and myself included, were put on death row. God helped us escape! The seven last plagues fell. But those of us that kept the commandments of God and had the faith of Jesus (Revelation 14:12) were protected from them.

            On a night appointed for slaughter, deliverance came at midnight!

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 20

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 20

ARLO ALDO

THE LORD YOUR GOD IN YOUR MIDST, THE MIGHTY ONE, WILL SAVE; HE WILL REJOICE OVER YOU WITH GLADNESS, HE WILL QUIET YOU WITH HIS LOVE, HE WILL REJOICE OVER YOU WITH SINGING. (Zephaniah 3:17)

            When Nancy and Drew arrived back in Iowa, it was on the back of my son’s mind to read Izzy’s suicide note. What he wasn’t expecting to read was a goodbye note from the woman he was supposed to marry. My normally even keel son was angry, and I felt his rebuke keenly when he slapped down her note on my kitchen table.

            “My Dearest Andrew,” Nancy’s note began. “I’ve never loved anyone more deeply in my life than you. Yet I never felt worthy of you. Recently you convinced me that I am in fact worthy, not only of your love, but of God’s. Thank you for introducing me to my Lord and Savior. However, I cannot join your family without your father’s blessing. Even if he were to recant, he made his true feelings known. When you read this I will be on my way back to California to stay with my mother for a while and hopefully, prayerfully get some direction for my life.  I’m sorry for this act of cowardice in giving you a Dear John letter instead of telling you in person. But to be perfectly honest, it would have been too painful. I know you will do great things in life. Please forgive me for breaking your heart but believe me when I say mine is even more shattered. With all my love, Nancy.”

            The paper rattled in my trembling fingers and my own heart broke when I saw the pain in my son’s countenance. I said, “I truly did recant.”

            “Too late, she’s gone,” he replied icily.

            “Not quite,” my wife said as she briskly walked into the kitchen.

            A couple of minutes earlier as I made my way to the breakfast table, she had ignored my greeting of  ‘good morning’ as she glared at me. I had hoped her coldness was due to her not being a morning person and her silence because of the phone to her ear.

            As she grabbed her purse she said, “I was just informed by Destiny Knight-Storm that Nancy spent the night with Sevenia Sallie. I’m gonna convince her that my blessing cancels out your idiocy.”

            “I’m coming with,” Drew declared passionately.

            “No,” I barked as I stood.  “You’re right. I was a complete idiot…”

            “Ya think!” my wife interjected fiercely.

            “No, apparently I don’t think very well. That’s how I created this mess.”

            “I’m coming with,” Drew repeated.

            “I am too,” my wife insisted. Then she added, “In case I have to pull your great big foot out of your mouth.”

            We were greeted at the door by Seven Sallie, Sevenia’s father. His eyebrows rose at the sight of our eager trio looking for admittance to his home. I told him the reason why we were standing on his doorstep.

            “My daughter took Nancy to the airport about a half hour ago,” he informed us.

            I had only met Seven a couple times before our encounter on his stoop. He, his wife Zella, and Sevenia went to a sister church of ours on the other side of the Cedar Rapids metropolitan area. He was a podcaster, well known as a religious liberty activist.

            After we apologized and turned to walk away, my wife with clenched jaw did one of those sideways kicks and the side of her foot smacked me on the seat of my pants. As I clutched my behind, my son normally would have laughed at something like this. But instead his gaze was somber as he stared at the sidewalk in front of him.

            I heard the bling of a phone, and after a few seconds, Seven calling after us. “I just got a text from Sevenia. Nancy missed her flight, and they are on their way back here.”

            When the two young ladies returned, Nancy looked surprised at the little group waiting to meet her. Remembering what had transpired between my wife and herself not all that long ago; I repeated the method my wife used in seeking her forgiveness.

            I knelt in front of Nancy, took one of her hands in both of mine. “Nancy, please forgive me. I know in the note you said that even if I recanted that I had made my true feelings known. But that is not the case. True, I was shocked to find out Izzy was your father. And in that shock I responded like a superstitious fool. But in the aftermath I was rebuked by the Holy Spirit. And it is the Spirit that matters, not the flesh. I fully believe God orchestrated your relationship with my son. If you refuse to marry him, I will have to live with the biggest mistake of my life.”

            “Even bigger than joining ‘The Sons of Molech’?” she asked with a little smile. That little grin told me everything I needed to know.

            I grinned back. “I’m gonna have to say yes. I was a foolish kid who didn’t know any better back then. But when Drew and I talked on the phone the other day, I should have known better. So what do you say? Do you forgive me?”

            Nancy knelt in front of me, hugged me, kissed my cheek and said, “Yes.”

THE END

WRITER’S NOTE

            A bit of a strange coincidence has occurred that I’ll get to in a bit. After doing 20 chapters of Heavy Metal Miracles Part 1. It was a goal of mine to do 20 chapters of part 2. Then my plan was to begin a new story, coming full circle from the start of this blog, by using its namesake, Seven Sallie, once again.

            So a couple months ago when I was thinking and praying about what direction to go next, I felt compelled to write about a scenario based on the last piece of the Biblical prophetic puzzle to be fulfilled. In particular, the mark of the beast. Many think that the mark of the beast is a literal chip in your hand and forehead. Who knows, maybe that will be a small factor. But the main characteristic of the mark of the beast is your behavior. What you think (forehead) and what you do (Hand).

            This last piece of the prophetic puzzle actually has to do with the law of God, the Ten Commandments. In particular the fourth commandment, right in the middle, the Sabbath. Which, contrary to popular belief, is the seventh day of the week, not the first. The seventh day is Biblical, the first day, or Sunday was created by man. Most prominently by Emperor Constantine in the fourth century AD.

            What role will the Sabbath play in the last days you might ask? At some point, possibly in the near future, there will be a push for Sunday laws. There have already been summits between political, religious, and environmental leaders about implementing “green Sundays.” A day of the week for the planet to rest. There has also been a push for the Ten Commandments in the classroom. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it is, however, a subtle joining of church and state.

            At first it will likely be business closures that will ultimately evolve into mandatory worship. The question is what exactly will transpire to bring this about? Will it be war? Even a possible WW III? Will it be economic? Something of a supernatural or miraculous nature? And also how long between simple closures and mandatory worship? All this only God knows, so ultimately we are in good hands.

            If you have followed my blog for any length of time, you have already read about some of these prophetic occurrences that have taken place in history. Prophecy has mostly been fulfilled. It is not something off in the future with a secret rapture to take place first. If you want to learn about who the anti-Christ is and what the mark of the beast is, I suggest looking up one of my favorite presentations. David Asscherick’s ‘Five Good Reasons’ series on YouTube. Or probably the most popular preacher who holds the correct Biblical interpretation is Doug Batchelor, President of ‘Amazing Facts’ ministry. He too is easily found on YouTube.

            It has been my desire to write a futuristic tale of what I imagine could possibly happen. That said, I’ve never done a futuristic story before in all of my writing endeavors. Also, because the Bible teaches we don’t know the day or the hour of Christ’s second coming (Matthew 24:26), I am in no way at all predicting His second coming, or when exactly all of this will go down.

            But I will say this. I believe a secret rapture is Biblically false. I’m actually baffled by popular religious leaders, some of them with the title of doctor, claiming such theology. The rapture theory is not even two hundred years old, and you will not find the word rapture anywhere in the Bible.

            Yet most who boldly preach such a false teaching belittle the Sabbath which was established at Creation. (See Genesis 2:2:3) Then WRITTEN IN STONE in the Ten Commandments. (See Exodus 20:8-11 and Deuteronomy 5:12-15). The Sabbath is the sign and seal of God that recognizes Him as not only as our Creator but also our Redeemer. By the way, the sign and seal of God is the opposite of the mark of the beast.

            We are saved by grace modern religious leaders say. One hundred percent true! Therefore we don’t need to keep the law, they say. One hundred percent false! (See Romans 6:15 for one example) So which one is okay to break, Doctor’s of Theology? Is it okay to worship idols? Is it okay to steal? Is it okay to lie? Is it okay to cheat on your wife? No, of course not! The one problem most religionists have with the ten is the fourth. The Sabbath. The one that acknowledges Him as our Creator and Redeemer.

            The dark ages are over, and we can all read the Bible for ourselves. The small percentage of us that actually study it every day, with prayerful guidance from the Holy Spirit can see that the law of God is perfect, converting the soul! (See Psalm 19:7).

            So, to sum this up and explain the coincidence I mentioned. The following idea for the next story I have been thinking about and even discussed with several close friends months ago, was and is going to be called ‘Black Sabbath’. God as my witness, I had this planned before the passing of Ozzy Osbourne last week. May God be with his family as they grieve their loss!

            One more thing. I have a day job, so if you have any theological questions, please contact the ministries I have previously mentioned. Plus a couple more suggestions. ‘It Is Written’ with John Bradshaw and Shawn Boonstra, Amazing Discoveries, or 3ABN.

            Thank you for your interest!