Tag: family

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 18

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 18

INGA LIKAS (AKA INGA COGNITO)

IT SHALL COME TO PASS IN THE LAST DAYS, SAYS GOD, THAT I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT UPON ALL FLESH; YOUR SONS AND YOUR DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHECY, YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS, YOUR OLD MEN SHALL DREAM DREAMS (Acts 2:17)

            I couldn’t believe I didn’t see this one coming. Sevenia Sallie, Seven’s daughter, asked  “Do you know why my Dad’s twin brother Six is afraid of him?”

            “He is?” I frowned, recalling the two sibling’s warm embrace after Six’s arrival put the head count at the Storm’s farmhouse up to seventy.

            She tucked a strand from her shoulder length auburn hair behind her ear. Her almond -shaped green eyes looked earnest as she said, “Yeah, it’s because Seven ate nine.”

            I still didn’t get that she was joking for a few seconds. My frowned deepened. Was she talking about cousins? Because I knew that Sebastion ‘Seven’ Sallie was the youngest of seven children, and that Six and Seven were their actual middle names.

            Sevenia started giggling. I secretly fancied myself as a sharp cookie. How could I have been so dull? I once heard Seven express something a bit similar. ‘The funny thing about humility is the second you think you have, you lost it.’ I had told him this must be a regular occurrence for you.

            I think the funniest jokes are the ones that baffle me at first. So I burst out laughing after I said. “Oh, ate, not eight.”

            As I wiped a happy tear from my eye and relished the good endorphins just released in my brain, Sevenia was smiling sweetly at me. There was nothing malicious in her joke. Sevenia was right up there with the kindest, most Godly people I had ever met. There was not a mean bone in her body.

            “Thanks for that,” I said. “Nothing like a good laugh.”

            “Thank you,” Sevenia replied as she patted me on the knee. “For all you have taught me.”

            I tilted my head inquisitively. All that I taught her? She and I were roughly the same age. But I looked to her as a mentor. Her knowledge of scripture was unequaled. And I mean with not only with someone like her father, but she was right up there with Pastor Kirk Samson. He was the patriarch of Cotton Creek Cove Fellowship. He was more widely known to his parishioners as Captain Kirk, due to his decade as an Army Chaplin.

            “Actually it’s the other way around,” I smiled, giving her hand that had come to rest on my knee an affectionate squeeze.

            She shook her head. “Nobody has calmed, encouraged and exhorted like you have since the first plague fell. You’re one of the main reasons the children are behaving, well, like contented children.”

            “It’s God, not me.”

            “Right, but He’s working through you. And your humble attitude is what makes it possible.”

            “You know what your dad says about humility?”

            “I do,” she giggled, then asked. “So do you think you are humble?”

            “That’s a loaded question if ever there was one,” I laughed.

            “Haven’t you noticed that Francine practically follows you around like your shadow?”

            I smiled at the thought of Franny. She was a very shy fifteen year old who opened up to me about being bullied. Adolescence had not been kind to her. She was gangly and had pretty severe acne. So I showed her pictures of me when I was fifteen. Puberty was hostile to me as well. She and I had something else in common, unique eyes. Whereas mine were very light blue to the point of almost glowing, her eyes were violet. A color rarely seen in windows to the soul.

            “I honestly don’t mind,” I told Sevenia. “Her meekness quells my potential for being obnoxious. Especially around your dad.”

            She laughed, then rolled her eyes. “He loves exchanging good natured barbs with you. I know he looks at you like a daughter.”

            Sentiment swelled in my heart. “I guess that makes you and me sisters.”

            “We already were,” she smiled, indicating our sisterhood in Christ. Our hands were still joined, and she gave mine an affectionate squeeze. I reciprocated, and then our eyes turned to the door as a knock emanated from the old oak wood.

            Like I said, we were now seventy strong at the Storm residence. Their renovated farmhouse was very large, sporting eight bedrooms. It also had makeshift sleeping quarters in the basement, attic and living room. All these people seeking refuge here made it seem rather small, yet somehow cozy.

            I shared a room with Sevenia, Nancy Aldo, and the aforementioned Francine, who we called Franny. Sevenia’s husband Jerry was rooming with his brother Drew, who was married to Nancy. They also had to put up with Sevenia’s dad, Seven Sallie. Of course I jest by saying ‘put up with’… Well, maybe. Seven’s twin brother Six made it a foursome like our own room.

            So we assumed the knock at the door was one of our roommates. If the door was shut, we knocked in case one of the married roommates was having some private time with their husband, if you know what I mean. But low and behold, we were surprised to see the knock had come from Pastor Samson, AKA Captain Kirk.

            “Pastor, come in,” Sevenia invited.

            “Thank you, my Dear,” Captain Kirk replied as he shuffled in. The man of God was now in his nineties, and although typically spry for his age, he did have moments of appearing frail. He admitted such by joking about the oldest person recorded in the Bible. “Today I feel like Methuselah.”

            We laughed and then Sevenia asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure, Pastor?”

            With Pastor Samson’s long white beard and his reputation for impeccable character, he always reminded me of the Prophet Moses. He ambled toward a desk chair, pointed at it, and with raised eyebrows asked, “May I?”

            “Of course, of course,” Sevenia enthused.

            Captain Kirk groaned a little as he sat. The wood floor squeaked as he did so and with a chuckled he asked, “Was that my bones creaking?”

            Sevenia and I laughed again, then he asked, “How are you ladies holding up?”

            Sevenia and I glanced at each other, then looked at the Pastor and replied at the same time with the same response. “Good.”

            “Good.”

            “How about you?” I asked.

            “Fair to middling,” he replied.

            With the first of the seven last plagues falling, world chaos had ensued. So both Sevenia and I assumed the Pastor was just making rounds to check on the welfare of his flock. But he surprised us.

            “I had a vivid dream about you two as I was taking an afternoon nap today.”

            “Do tell,” I blurted. Then I wondered if it came across as flippant. I opened my mouth to utter an apology, but the Pastor spoke first.

            “I absolutely love your childlike faith, my Dear,” he told me with a chuckle. Then he became serious. “But I do not mean you are childish. Jesus admonished us to become like little children with their simple faith and humility.” (Matthew 18:1-5)

            He looked away and scratched his head. “Sure has been a long time since I was a little child though. Anyway, I had a dream about you two, but I’m not sure how to explain it.”

            “A dream or a nightmare?” I blurted again. You would think I was the daughter of Seven Sallie. But Sevenia did call us sisters.

            Captain Kirk chuckled. “Well, a dream if you follow God’s lead, or a nightmare if you don’t. But I have a good feeling about you two. Plus, it happened this afternoon, so it wouldn’t have been a nightmare in the truest sense.”

            “So what happened Pastor?” Sevenia asked.

            “Well, it was more like an instructive situation rather than anything specific happening.”

            “What do you mean?” Sevenia asked.

            “Can you two keep a secret?”

            “Wasn’t it Ben Frankin who said three people can keep a secret if two are dead,” my mouth spurted yet again. I instantly regretted it, especially given the Pastor’s age and frailty.

            But he chuckled. “It’s not that crucial of a secret. Several people already know about it. It’s just the fewer that know the better. I don’t want people thinking I’m off my rocker.”

            I stopped myself from a foot in my mouth statement, if I hadn’t already placed it there and simply asked, “Know what?”

            “I think I know,” Sevenia said. “Did you have an angelic encounter?”

            “Yes, my Dear, I did.”

            “And you’ve experienced that before?” I asked.

            “It’s complicated,” Captain Kirk replied with a frown as he began stroking his long white beard. “On a few occasions over the last twenty years, I’ve been given a message or instructions from an angel of the Lord. Whether these are actual encounters, dreams, or visions, I don’t know. What happened in my dream this afternoon was very, very real. But also very short. But the message was clear.”

            Despite his age, Pastor Samson gazed at us with the intensity of an NFL linebacker eyeing a quarterback. At the same time, Sevenia and I both said, “What is it?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Sevenia and I gazed at him dumbfounded. Then she said, “But you said the message was clear.”

            He shook his head. “No, no, we got off the same page. Let me clarify. I don’t know what your message is. My message was clear. It was to tell you two that you will be receiving a message yourselves. The purpose of me as a go between was twofold. It was so you weren’t surprised by the encounter and so you have faith in its legitimacy.”

            I felt a spike of positive adrenaline. “Are you saying Sevenia and I are going to have an angelic encounter?”

            “Either that or you will be given a vision. You both have been considered highly favored.”

            “When?” my spiritual sister and I asked at the same time.

            “Go to the two hundred year old oak tree behind the big barn at sunset. Keep this to yourselves. And may God richly bless you.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 17

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 17

LOUIS LEWIS

NO EVIL SHALL BEFALL YOU, NOR ANY PLAGUE COME NEAR YOUR DWELLING. FOR HE SHALL GIVE HIS ANGELS CHARGE OVER YOU, TO KEEP YOU IN ALL YOUR WAYS. (Psalm 91:10, 11)

            Destiny and Brock Storm’s remote acreage proved to be a refuge for many who were seeking shelter from the chaos of the plagues. They were showing up miraculously, claiming that they were brought by somebody in the know, that they did not know. More than once I witnessed them look around in bewilderment, exclaiming, ‘Where did they go?’

            The very first such person was Tim Grant. He was a distinguished looking man in his seventies. He had aged well and was in great shape for someone in the category of geriatric. I had taken a liking to him, notwithstanding thinking he might have a screw loose at first, due to his supernatural encounter. This only proved I still struggled with skepticism, despite miraculously escaping the first plague myself. But my faith was strengthening by the hour.

            Tim had a gentle manner with an easy smile, despite the bedlam happening in the world. He had been in search of Anna Clayton. When the first plague causing loathsome sores began to infect the majority of the population, he had become concerned about his onetime friend. I hadn’t known initially that they had been more than just friends. It turned out, he hadn’t known he had a daughter by her.

            And that’s why Anna’s husband had been irate when Tim had shown up on their doorstep an hour before standing on the Storm’s doorstep. That’s why after the affair he had moved away and had kept his distance for more than eight years. That’s why after the adulterous liaison he had sought repentance with tears.

            But after the plague fell, he needed to be sure Anna was okay. When Brad, his former neighbor opened the door, he hadn’t expected him to be glad to see him. What he hadn’t expected was to see the grotesque, puss oozing sores on Brad’s face. He had liked and respected Brad when they had lived next to each other. He had always thought of him as a Godly man, so he was sure that he would have been safe from the plagues. He wasn’t so sure about Anna.

            Despite Brad’s current attitude, he had graciously forgiven them both not quite a decade earlier after a guilty conscience had forced a confession from Anna. But then she had begun calling Tim again only a few months after their fling. Tim had patiently, kindly ordered her to stop trying to contact him. Yet a half dozen more times she had sent him texts pleading that she needed to see him.

            As painful as it was, he had ignored them. He didn’t know that she simply wanted to tell him the not so simple news that he was going to be a father. He didn’t know that Brad had actually insisted that Tim had a right to know. He didn’t know that Anna felt like it was news to be delivered in person. He didn’t know that Brad planned to accompany her in the possible meeting.

            As our numbers increased, the Storm’s large farm house began to feel like a bed and breakfast. Then it was like a college dormitory as we were doubled and tripled in our rooms. The children were sacking out on the living room floor. Despite uncertainty in the world, God blessed the kids for their simple faith and allowed them to treat our current living like a slumber party.

            I was sitting on my bed reading my Bible when Tim walked in. He and I had been paired up in my room. He had a look of awe and wonderment on his face. He and I had become fast friends, so he used a shortened version of my name as he addressed me. Sitting on his own bed he said, “I can hardly believe it, Lou. I have a daughter.”

            I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I said as much. “What do you mean?”

            “Anna, she just informed me that that little angel Brianna is the fruit of my loins.”

            I frowned. Maybe it was our age difference, for Tim had a good quarter century on me, but I found his term describing his parentage to Brianna odd. Yet I knew exactly what he meant, and I was stunned. Oh I knew Anna had confessed to infidelity, and that Brianna wasn’t her husband’s biological daughter. What caught me unexpectedly was it turning out to be this humble, pious man who was old enough to be Anna’s father as well as Brianna’s.

            “This is good news then?” I asked.

            He looked at me with a bewildered expression. “I don’t know. That one amazing night with Anna left me with years of guilt.”

            He began to whimper, then cry, then sob to the point his whole body shook. “How can such beauty come from ashes?”

            I suddenly knew why God had paired him and me together. I shared a common bond with him, a secret not even a half dozen people knew. A secret that left such a huge scar of shame on my soul I fought to keep the words inside that felt compelled to come out.

            Why, oh why did I feel this urge to confess to my brand new brother in Christ? This man I barely knew who was my complete opposite. He was soft spoken and gentle, compared to my history of gruff and abrupt. He was well to do, and I had mostly lived paycheck to paycheck. He drove a new Volvo, and I drove a car I bought at a police auction. Yet I felt a kinship with the man I couldn’t explain. Maybe we would even end up with our arms around each other singing ‘Ebony and Ivory.’

            “I know how you feel,” I heard myself say. “I too have a daughter out of wedlock.”

            His gaze was intense as we locked eyes. We didn’t know each well enough then for him to be surprised. But his countenance expressed, ‘You mean I’m not alone? Someone knows what it means to claim to follow God and fail big time?’

            As reluctant as I had been, it felt good to get this off my chest with someone. Someone who would not only understand but benefit as if we had our own little support group. But then he asked a question that caused my thinking to do a one-eighty. “Are you two close?”

            I looked away from his penetrating blue eyes. “No, she’s mostly wanted nothing to do with me.”

            “I see,” he said blankly.

            “But our situations are different, even though they’re similar,” I said, and then frowned at the contradictory statement. “It was a complicated time in my life. But when hasn’t there been a complicated time in my life.”

            “In the world we will have tribulation,” Tim said reassuringly.

            “But be of good cheer, I have overcome the world,” I finished. (John 16:33)

            We aimed forced smiles at each other. Then we sat in awkward silence for minute. Then he told me about him and Anna. How he fell in love with her after the initial harsh grief of his wife’s passing. He told of the afternoon they had innocently talked for an hour or two over a bottle of wine and things spontaneously turned romantic.

            I gently rebuked him. “Tim, there’s nothing innocent in sharing a bottle of wine with a married woman, especially when mutual attraction is present.”

            “Fair enough,” he nodded. “But in my defense, I thought the attraction was one sided.”

            “Did you? When you broke open the bottle of wine, what was your motive?”

            He considered me for a moment, sighed. “I wanted to loosen us up to see if the chemistry I felt was one sided or not. But I truly thought we would have only a glass maybe two, not the whole bottle.”

            “The human heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,” I said.

            “Who can know it,” he finished. (Jeremiah 17:9) Then he added with a forced chuckle, “Well, thanks for putting me in my place, Brother.”

            I chuckled myself and said, “How about I share my own wicked and deceitful heart?”

            “Please do,” he grinned.

            I sighed. “You infiltrated Anna’s marriage; I betrayed my own vows. You seduced with wine, I with power and rank.”

            “You mean like David with Bathsheba?” he interjected.

            “Well, David was a king, while I was merely a police sergeant at the time. But now that you mention it, there was one similarity. The department gave us officers memberships to a gym. The first time I saw Ronda, she was in a hot tub wearing next to mothing. I asked a buddy who she was, and he said she her name was Ronda Jameson, and she had recently been hired on after working as a part time deputy for the Sherriff’s Department.

            “As you know, David summoned Bathsheba to his palace. Obviously I didn’t do that. But a couple days after seeing Ronda, I was put in charge of a vice sting operation. I was asked to ask two female officers if they were interested in working undercover as prostitutes. Ronda was the first one I summoned. She was beyond excited at the opportunity and very grateful.

            “What I’ve told you so far makes it sound like I had nefarious intentions. But that wasn’t the case. I never, ever intended on an affair with Ronda. I never ever thought I would cheat on my wife. But back then I did live by the worldly philosophy, I’m married not buried. It’s okay to look but not touch. However, do you know what Jesus taught regarding this idea?”

            “I certainly do,” Tim replied. “If you look upon a woman with lust you have already committed adultery in your heart.” (Matthew 5:28)

            “Exactly! When I not only saw but studied Ronda in that hot tub, I began the process of adultery. My buddy even pointed out the fact that I was staring. But you know how guys can be. Without the shame I should have felt, I simply told him that I was honing my investigative skills.”

            Tim chuckled politely and asked, “So what was the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

            “It came about very complicated, yet simple if that makes sense.”

            “It doesn’t,” he laughed.

            “Ronda had an abrasive personality. She didn’t have many friends, and she didn’t care to make friends. But she took a liking to me. I think it was because I chose her for that special assignment when she was very much still a rookie.

            “Even though I found her attractive, I never, ever thought I would act on it. But figuring it was one sided, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. Sure, I was one of the few people she allowed into her small circle of friends, but romance? She knew I was married, and although I was in good shape back then, I never won any beauty contests. And she was a knock out.

            “Plus there was another factor. Being one of the few people in her small circle of friends, I was also one of the few people that knew she was in a relationship with a woman. So add it all up and what do you get? A recipe that makes nothing, right?”

            “It would seem so,” Tim replied. Then he arched an eyebrow. “So what happened?”

            “Like you and Anna, we were having adult beverages together after work.”

            Tim shook his head. “Think of all the problems alcohol causes.”

            “Well Tim,” I said with a little smirk. “I can’t speak for you, but nobody was forcing it down my gullet. My brain kept instructing my hand to put the glass to my lips.”

            “Fair point.”

            “So we were at a favorite cop hang out,” I continued. “I normally never had more than one drink. But Ronda was picking my brain about my first years on the force. So I’m telling war stories and we’re downing beers. She’s leaning on her fist, listening intently, and smiling like I’m the most fascinating man on the planet.

            “We both lived twenty plus miles from the police station. It had also started snowing and there was a blizzard warning. In between the bar we were at and the police station, there was a Holiday Inn Express. All was within reasonable walking distance. Due to the weather and likely having to work overtime with the winter storm, I already had a room booked.”

            “Let me guess,” Tim interjected. “A winter storm led to a perfect storm for infidelity?”

            “You got it,” I replied and then sighed. “Between both of us having too much to drink and drive coupled with the storm, I invited her to my room. I suppose trying to come off as a gentleman, I told her there were two beds. But, yada, yada, yada, we ended up only using one.

            “But unlike you and Anna, ours wasn’t a one off after coming to our senses. We saw each other a half dozen more times over the next couple months. Then at one of our rendezvous’, instead of having sex, she very cooly informed me that she was pregnant and the affair was over. She threatened to make the affair public if I wanted to be part of the child’s life.

            “It was truly a nightmare and the most complicated predicament I had ever been in. Seemingly overnight she and I went from being lovers to enemies. I was worried for my job, worried for my marriage, and worried for my reputation. My wife was unable to have children so it also hurt to have a child I couldn’t acknowledge.

            “Ronda kept her word. I kept my distance, and she never divulged that I was the father. She stuck around until she had the baby, then when her maternity leave was over, she quit the force and worked for an insurance company or some such.

            “She was a complicated woman that I never did figure out. To this day I don’t know how genuine her feelings were for me. If she was acting during our fling, she deserves an Oscar. She just flipped a switch overnight and I became a leech in her eyes. I suspect she just used me as a sperm donor and once she was pregnant, my usefulness had expired.

            “Long story short, I confessed my infidelity to my wife. To my utter surprise she tearfully forgave me. But the tears were not due only to my betrayal. To my utter shock, she confessed of infidelity herself.”

            “Why did that shock you?”

            “My wife was and is very religious.”

            “I’ve come to realize that doesn’t mean much,” Tim said with a sigh. “I’ve always been quite religious myself.”

            I nodded solemnly and continued. “By the time our daughter was a preteen, Ronda and her partner had broken up. Our daughter was having behavior problems, and she finally wanted me to be part of her life. But talk about fire and ice. ‘Lou, meet your daughter. Now discipline her.’

            “So, my relationship with my daughter has been volatile and on again off again. And as I sit here with you today, I am sick inside wondering if Aliyah is covered in loathsome soars or not. She has had moments of being open spiritually. But even more moments of ‘don’t preach to me, Lou’. She never got around to calling me Dad.”

            “How old would she be now?” Tim asked.

            “She just turned nineteen.”

            Tim and I continued to chat when the greatest miracle of my life happened. There was a knock at our door. It was Inga. “Hey Double Lou, there’s a young lady here to see you. It’s yet another case of apparently being led here by an angel.”

            And there she was! Aliyah! And she had no soars!

            I was so relieved, so thankful that she was here and okay that I couldn’t stop the tears. Then I wept for joy after she ran to me with open arms and said, “Daddy!”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 16

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 16

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IF WE CONFESS OUR SINS, HE IS FAITHFUL AND JUST TO FORGIVE US OUR SINS AND TO CLEANSE US FROM ALL UNRIGHTEOUSNESS (1 John 1:9)

            The first of the seven last plagues was beginning to fall. I had butterflies in my stomach as my husband, my cousin, and Destiny’s husband were making their way back to the relatively safe haven of the Storm’s remote acreage. There had been a dozen of us in the Storm’s living room watching my husband, Seven Sallie, debate religious freedom with Congressman Redburn. It was during their dialogue that we began to notice sores rapidly develop on most of the faces in the courtroom.

            As our minds spun, and we offered up prayers, there had been a knock at the door. It was Anna Clayton and her eight year old daughter, Brianna. We invited them in, and our body count went from twelve to fourteen. Right behind Anna was her friend Debbie Smallmon and her eight year old daughter, Saddie. Fourteen now became sixteen.

            They too had escaped the first plague and exhibited no sores. However, one of Debbie’s eyes was swollen shut. Both women wore denim skirts, and there was a huge tear in Debbie’s black pantyhose, a large enough tear to reveal coagulated blood.

            I had only met Debbie and her daughter once. Anna had brought them to church at the beginning of the loud cry. But as with Anna’s husband, Debbie’s husband was adamant about Sunday reverence and the conjoining laws. So she was one and done with our fellowship. Until now.

            It was clear that Anna and Debbie were very close friends. I had known that Anna had led Debbie to Christ four years ago. Then over the last year, both had accepted the Sabbath truth together. Although best of friends, the two couldn’t have appeared to be more opposite. Yet they shared a common bond with the aftermath of sexual sin. We would come to find out that both of their husbands held this over them after they differed on Sunday verses Sabbath.

            Anna was forty-nine, tall and gangly, her light brown hair usually in a ponytail. Her gray eyes looked out of wire rim glasses, giving her a bookworm appearance. Debbie on the other hand was thirty years old. She was blond, blue eyed and had a slightly stocky, athletic build. I guessed she had been either a cheerleader or gymnast. It turned out she had been both.

            The two women and their daughters were barely in the door when I spotted my cousin’s dark blue Crown Vic come racing up the driveway. I stepped out on the porch and witnessed Seven come out of the back door before the vehicle stopped. He did an unintentional summer sault on the Storm’s lawn.

            Patience wasn’t one of my husband’s virtues. Yet he ultimately exhibited the patience of the saints in spiritual matters. (Revelation 14:12). One virtue he did have was being positive and light hearted in the midst of stress and trial. This would prove true, even during the chaos of the seven last plagues.  

            He quickly hopped up and pranced toward me with open arms. In a voice like a British monarch, he declared, “I have returned to you, my love, safe from the coming wrath.”

            He picked me up in an embrace and spun me around once, causing me to giggle. For a few seconds the world wasn’t in turmoil. Then Seven himself almost had person turmoil after he said, “Ooh, either you’ve put on a few pounds, or I’ve gotten weaker.”

            “I assure you it’s the latter,” I said shoving him away.

            “Seven, you are so blessed to have Zella for a wife,” Destiny said. “Most women would have given you the boot by now.”

            “Don’t I know it,” he said shaking his head. “Even at our wedding I had to pull my foot out of my mouth to say, ‘I do.’ And just for the record, it is the latter, I have gotten weaker, for my bride is more lovely now than the day I married her.”

            Everyone laughed, enjoying the small window of levity in the midst of world chaos. Then after a minute we sobered and entered a group prayer session. When our thanksgivings and petitions to God our Father were complete, we rose from our knees. Then Destiny and I retired to a guest room with the two women who had shown up at her doorstep. Billy Bob Booker and his wife, Willa, along with their two children, entertained the two eight year old girls.

            “Debbie,” Destiny said gently as she stepped toward the young woman with a bottle of peroxide in one hand and bandages in the other. “May I ask how you were injured?”

            With chin lifted, she stoically answered, “My husband hit me, and I stumbled over a kitchen chair. I dropped the glass I was holding in the process. It broke, and a shard cut my leg.”

            As Destiny played nurse maid on the wounded leg, Debbie shared part of her testimony. “I met Anna four years ago at a playground when our kids began playing together. I suspected by the way Anna was dressed that she was a born again Christian. She reminded me of a preachy aunt of mine. One of those people that act all high and mighty. So I recoiled at first when she struck up a conversation.”

            “She actually thought I was Brainna’s grandmother,” Anna said chuckling.

            “I did,” Debbie admitted with a giggle. “I actually asked her how old her granddaughter was. I was so embarrassed when she goes, um, she’s my daughter. But God arranged the meeting, and she blew me away with her openness to a complete stranger. I was at the lowest point of my life, longing to die, but knowing I had to hang in there for Saddie.”

            She gazed affectionately at Anna. Her eyes welled with tears. I assume from feeling emotional, but it also could have been the peroxide bubbling on the gash on her leg.

            “So I told her that, ‘no, Brianna’s my daughter,’” Anna explained. “She apologized profusely, and I reassured her by saying, ‘no big deal, it was defiantly a late in life pregnancy, and that I had twenty-five and twenty-three year old sons.’”

            “So I said, ‘wow talk about a surprise pregnancy,’” Debbie added.

            “For some reason I felt compelled to confess my transgression to Debbie,” Anna said. Destiny and I perked up as if antennas were on our heads. What is it with human nature and our tendency to be nosy? But we still didn’t know the details from when Anna let it slip that her husband wasn’t the father of Brianna.

            At the time she dismissed it by saying, ‘it’s a long story,’ and we didn’t pry. What made it so curious was Anna didn’t seem like the adulterous type at all. She was like a wholesome Amish mom morphed into a librarian. But only God knows the secrets of the heart. (Psalm 44:21)

            “I told her that my husband had a vasectomy after our second son was born,” Anna said and then laughed. “Can you imagine? A few minutes after meeting someone, I tell them my husband had a vasectomy. Then I admitted to giving into temptation and getting pregnant by a man who wasn’t my husband. So I told her I wasn’t surprised by the pregnancy. Horrified! But not surprised.”

            Debbie and Anna glanced at each other, and then Anna bowed her head as Debbie patted her leg. Destiny and I glanced at each other, and it was as if we could read each other’s mind. We both wanted to shout, ‘Who? Why? How?’

            Anna looked up and thankfully explained. “My husband and I became quite close with our neighbors, Jill and Tim. We lived next door to them for almost twenty years. My husband and Tim weren’t overly close, typical neighbors I guess. Visit by the fence, borrow tools, help move a couch, you know. But Jill and I became best friends. Their boys were about the same age as ours, and eventually she began attending our church as well.

            “She ended up getting breast cancer, fought it and won, and then got it again and lost. She was only forty-eight. I was devastated, and naturally Tim was too. Ironically, we bonded in our grief, and our mutual love for Jill. We began walking our dogs together every day. Helped each other with our gardens. Often I would fix him lunch. You see he was older than Jill, in his sixties and retired.

            “So the first year of Jill’s passing, as we bonded, I developed a crush on Tim. I tried to push it aside, but as we got to know each other I grew to love him. I had an empty nest at that point, both boys were in college. My marriage had grown cold. Brad spent more time at his country club than he did with me. Then not long after the first anniversary of Jill’s passing, Tim began dating a woman, a widow.

            “I was surprised by how jealous I felt. He started skipping out on dog walks. He rarely came over to help with the garden. He completely stopped having lunch with me in favor of dining with the widow. This all happened over four or five months. I slowly got over him, but on his birthday I made him a cherry pie. I knew from my long time friendship with Jill that this was one of his favorite treats.

            “He seemed pretty glum. I asked him if he had the birthday blues. That’s when he said he had ended things with Roxy. Her name gagged me in my throat. She looked like a Roxy. Piles of white, blonde hair, over size chest. Happily, an oversized midriff to go with it.

            “I asked why, and that’s when we entered the danger zone. He brought out cheese and a bottle of wine to go with the cherry pie as he told me that she just wasn’t in the category of Jill… Or me.

            “I wasn’t a prohibitionist, but I rarely drank. But his not so subtle admission of feelings for me had me rattled and I took a glass. Then another and another. He and I had never expressed feelings for each other beyond a chaste hug. But with the wine lubricating our minds like toxic oil we expressed fondness, longings and then desire. Our pie and cheese was hardly touched, but we drained every drop from that bottle of wine. The next thing I knew we were kissing, then we were in his bedroom… I guess I don’t need to give any more details. I’ll just conclude by saying Brianna was conceived.”

            Anna looked at Debbie with a pensive face despite a forced grin, “Next.”

            Debbie chuckled and asked, “Do I have to?”

            “Yes,” Destiny said, then smiled and put a hand on her knee. “I’m teasing, Sweety. You don’t have to say anything.”

            “No, you gals feel like friends already,” she replied, a little choked up. “I need to get some things off my chest. Like why don’t I have sores, but my husband does? Despite what happened, he’s been a better person than me.”

            “I guess we don’t know your husband,” Destiny said. “But we do know he hit you.”

            “He’s not like that though,” she pleaded. “It’s all this, this chaos making things nuts.”

            “Just tell them you testimony, Deb,” Anna suggested, patting her knee like Destiny had just done.

            “But it’s so shameful,” she whined.

            “It’s okay, Zella was a nude model, and Destiny was a porn star,” Anna explained, then frowned. “Sorry, girls.”

            Destiny chuckled. “It’s okay, it’s not a secret. As a matter of fact, I have a ministry that specializes in helping women get out of the sex industry.”

            This seemed to free Debbie of her inhibitions about sharing her past. “So toward the end of my junior year of college I got pregnant. My boyfriend was a senior about to graduate and go into the Air Force as an officer. The pregnancy was definitely not intended, but my boyfriend accused me of trying to trap him.

            “I admit that it had been my hope that he would ask me to marry him. I even would have postponed or even skipped entirely my last year of college. Instead he proved to be anything but an officer and a gentleman. He threw some cash at me to get an abortion and dumped me like yesterday’s trash. We had been together for almost all of my college career, so it wasn’t like a brief relationship.

            “As much as I hated to, I went down to Planned Parenthood to get an abortion. Believe it or not, the same aunt that Anna initially reminded me of was there with her church group picketing. So I turned tail and fled. I also felt it was a sign, and I ended up not getting an abortion, having Saddie. Thank God I did! She’s been my world despite the difficulties. I shutter when I think back to how I almost extinguished her before she had a chance to exist.

            “So with the college year at an end, I worked full time at the grocery store I had worked part time at and quickly became an assistant manager. It wasn’t long after having my baby girl that I realized being a single mother put a damper on one’s social life. I was also bitter, and not all that interested in a relationship.

            “I was angry, rebellious, yet lacking self-esteem. I was also longing for intimacy despite not wanting a relationship. A girl I worked with turned me onto a hook up site on the internet. I was hesitant at first, but I felt like it was a way to get back at my ex. What a ridiculous notion in hindsight, but I guess I needed an excuse to behave badly.

            “So, with my sister willing to baby sit while I supposedly had a girls night out, I hooked up with a guy I met on line for the first time. Forgive me, but the illicit encounter was thrilling. It became like a drug, and I began doing it on a regular basis.

            “Another excuse was it was hardly any time away from Saddie. I used a variety of baby sitters. My mom, my sister, friends. And it only took a couple hours, and I was back with my daughter, and the baby sitter was not overly burdened. Meet online, meet for a drink, go back to their place. Sometimes dinner if they were somewhat classy. Yeah right, classy guys hooking up with broken, lonely women.”

            She did a finger in her mouth to insinuate gagging.

            “But I can’t blame them, not one of them forced me to connect with them on line or go back to their place with them after we met. But I began a cycle of hook ups, self-loathing, stop for a while, get bored, start hooking up again.”

            She shook her head and continued. “So the day before I met Anna, my gynecologist informed me that I had herpes. Self-loathing hit a new low. I truly would have committed suicide if I didn’t have Saddie. The weird thing is, I know my former boyfriend was gonna end things after he graduated regardless of whether I was pregnant. So I still could have ended up in that cycle of promiscuity. But without Saddie, what would have stopped me from suicide? So in an odd way, I saved my own life by saving hers.”

            “I didn’t know what to do at this rock bottom point in my life. So I just started this mantra. ‘God, if you’re out there, please help me, I don’t know how to go on.’ I must have said that a hundred times over the next twenty-four hours. Then low and behold I meet Anna at the playground and we, I don’t know, just ended up clicking. God answered my half-conscious  prayers by putting Anna in my path.”

            She croaked out that last sentence and began to weep. Destiny and I both put a hand on her back, and Anna knelt in front of her and took both hands in hers. Debbie laughed through her tears. “Now that’s what I call the laying on of hands.”

            “So how did you meet your husband?” I asked.

            “I met Grant on a Christian dating site,” Debbie explained. “It was kind of strange after all of the internet hook ups. This time when I met a guy, the most we would do is share a chaste kiss rather than go to bed. Another strange element is it took a couple dozen dates before I met Grant. I was about to throw in the towel. Not a lot of guys want a woman with a kid, that has a history of promiscuity, a behavior that gave ultimately gave her a permanent STD.”

            There was a knock at the bedroom door. Destiny opened it and Seven came in.

            “Hey ladies,” he said, giving everyone of us a glance. “Quite a party ya got going on here. Say, there’s a guy that showed up down stairs. Brock’s been sort of interrogating him. He doesn’t have any sores and seems like a decent enough guy. But he claims to know Anna and he desperately wants to talk to her.”

            “Who is it?” Anna asked hesitantly.

            Seven frowned. “He said your husband threatened to kill him.”

            “Did you get his name?” Anna asked impatiently.

            “Not his last, just his first,” Seven replied. Then he put his hands on his hips. “What were you gals discussing?”

            “Seven!” I said incredulously. How is it some people can be so talented and brilliant, and yet occasionally come off as completely dense. “What’s his first name?”

            “Oh right. He said his name is Tim, and he’s concerned for you and your daughter’s safety.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 15

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 15

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

BUT YOU, DANIEL, SHUT UP THE WORDS, AND SEAL THE BOOK UNTIL THE TIME OF THE END; MANY SHALL RUN TOO AND FRO, AND KNOWLEDGE SHALL INCREASE. (Daniel 12:4)

            There were about a dozen of us watching Seven’s program in stunned silence. It was a live podcast feed from the congressional hearing featuring my husband and Congressman Redburn. Brock Storm was operating the camera from his seat twenty feet away. Whether or not he was recording in secret I didn’t know—God knows.

            The stunned silence in the Storm’s home wasn’t because of the dialogue between Seven and the Congressman. Our eyes were riveted to the TV screen due to the chaos in the courtroom. What was causing the pandemonium was apparently the beginning of the seven last plagues.

            As Brock operated the video camera, he had been rotating back and forth between which of the two men on display were speaking. He had just zeroed in on Mr. Redburn when the Congressman’s face began to discolor. He truly seemed to be living up to his last name.

            His complexion suddenly transformed from a pale alabaster to something like a bad sunburn. Then in a matter of seconds his skin transformed again when his face seemingly broke out into a case of severe acne. That’s when we noticed murmuring and shrieks. Brock rotated the camera around the courtroom and virtually everyone in the room had the same thing happening to them.

            Then the video screen took in both Congressman Redburn and Seven. The appearance of pimples on the Congressman had now turned into boil like sores, oozing puss. Yet my husband was not affected! His light complexion was as smooth as could be. That is for a man over forty with a five o’clock shadow. He seemed to be staring at the camera with a stunned expression. But it was actually Brock he gazed at as he nodded an acknowledgement of some type of communication between the two.

            Next the camera swirled and jiggled as Brock, my husband, and my cousin, Louis Lewis, quickly exited the courtroom.  We caught glimpses of people screaming and clutching their faces. Then the camera bobbed up and down as the trio ran out into the street. The picture on the large TV screen gyrated so much it started to give me motion sickness.

            Yet I couldn’t take my eyes from the scene on the screen. Then the picture stopped vibrating and stilled. Out on the street Brock had stopped and allowed the viewers to take in the commotion outside even the courtroom. Scores of people were clawing the loathsome sores on their faces. Thankfully there were some unaffected as they looked around, amazed at the turmoil.

            For about two seconds my cousin’s face appeared on the screen as he made his way past Brock. Thankfully his ebony complexion was unaffected by the plague. But his brown eyes were super wide and intense as he said, “Come on, Brock!”

            Then Brock whirled and captured the sight of my slightly overweight cousin scrambling down the sidewalk. Between Louie’s wide eyes and the sight of a middle aged man in dress shoes high step running as fast as he could, it caused several of us to snicker, despite the gravity of the situation.

            That view only lasted a few seconds as well before we heard a grunt and the picture on the screen briefly giggled. The camera spun around and captured my husband, the venerable Seven Sallie, sitting on the sidewalk with his arms behind him propping himself up. His gray-green eyes were as wide as Louie’s. “Why’d you stop, Brock?”

            “I was taking in the scene around us, just like you apparently were, as you weren’t watching where you were going.”

            With surprising agility for a middle aged man, Seven leapt up and sprinted away as he said, “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

            The picture began to giggle again as Brock pursued his two companions. My husband, an avid runner, passed my chunky cousin. It reminded me of John chapter twenty when John out ran Peter to Christ’s tomb. But leave it to my husband, he flung open the back door of a dark blue Chevy Malibu and dove in.

            Three cars away, Louie opened the door of his dark blue Crown Vic, but he then froze as he gazed toward the car Seven dove into. “Seven, over here.”

            “I’ll get him,” Brock’s voice said as the camera caught his muscular forearm opening the door to the Chevy Malibu. “Seven, you’re in the wrong car.”

            “Shoot!” he said as he scrambled out. Suddenly my husband’s eyes filled the entire screen for a couple seconds as he said, “Is that camera on?”

            “Yeah, this is a historical moment.”

            “What, by sticking it in my face as I get out of the wrong car?”

            “I’m just trying to help you out.”

            “Well turn that camera off or we’ll have to call this ‘The Three Stooges Escape the Plagues.’”

            Next we see Louis Lewis fumbling with his keys, starting his car, and then a view out of the windshield as they shot out of a parking lot. They had to make their way cautiously down the city streets. Cars were pulled over left and right, and people were running around in a panic.

            “Can you believe what we are witnessing?” Seven said.

            “That’s why I’m filming,” Brock replied, as he turned the camera back on Seven as my husband leaned on the front seats from the back. Seven’s eyes as well as his nose filled the screen this time.

            His eyebrows too as he frowned. “Will you stop sticking that thing in my face?”

            The camera rotated to Louie. My cousin glanced at it, then did a double take. “Well, don’t be pointing it at my ugly mug.”

            As we watched the trio escaping the city via the live feed, Destiny turned her pretty face toward me. She was chewing nervously on her lip but then chuckled. “I’m kind of glad they’re reluctantly playing ‘The Three Stooges.’ It’s sort of relieving how freaked out I feel.”

            “Me too,” I said as we both gave each other’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

            A knock at the door made us jump. Destiny clutched my hand tighter, so together we cautiously made our way to her front door. She peeked through a window and sighed with relief. Glancing at me, she said, “It’s Anna Clayton and her daughter, Brianna. They have no sores, but they both look terrified.”

            Dee opened the door and with her typical warm smile, in spite the turmoil. “Anna, Brianna, please come in.”

            Anna Clayton had learned about the true Sabbath during the loud cry. The loud cry came on the heels of the national Sunday law, in conjunction with the out pouring of the Holy Spirit, which was the Latter Rain.

            I knew the Sabbath issue had become a divisive sticking point between Anna and her husband. After fellowshipping with us a couple of times, she and her eight year old daughter Brianna stopped coming. Her reason was for the sake of her marriage. Her husband was in adamant favor of the Sunday laws.

            However, a few weeks earlier, when Sunday worship became mandatory, she showed up at our fellowship with a tear steaked face. She informed us that when the rubber met the road, she couldn’t deny her convictions. She clearly saw the Seventh Day Sabbath as the seal of God, and the mandatory worship on Sunday as the mark of the beast. It now had seemed to have driven a wedge between her and her husband. Her husband refused to let their daughter come with her.

            We didn’t know much about Anna those few weeks ago when she took her ultimate stand of faith. She was a plain Jane, meek and kind of timid. Her shoulder length hair was somewhere between dirty blond and light brown. In the limited time I had been around her, it had always been corralled in either a ponytail or hair clip. She wore glasses, but no makeup, and no jewelry other than a wedding band. Her gray eyes were close set, her nose small and her lips thin. Her smile, although rare, was lovely and made endearing by slightly crooked canine teeth.

            “I didn’t know what to do other than to come back to your church,” she had told Destiny and me after we led her into the pastor’s study for some privacy. “Brad refused to let Briana come with me.”

            “First of all, lets pray,” Destiny said, and then led us in a heartfelt prayer petitioning God’s help with Anna’s family situation as she courageously took a stand for her convictions.

            “There’s something else I should share,” Anna added. “Our two sons take their dad’s side in this controversy.”

            “Oh?” Destiny replied with raised eyebrows, looking as surprised as I felt. “I assumed Brianna was an only child.”

            Anna shook her head vigorously. “Brad and I have a twenty nine year old son and a twenty seven year old son.”

            I frowned. “I see, but I thought you had told us before that you were married the summer before Brianna was born?”

            She shook her head again. “We renewed our vows the summer before Brianna was born. We actually got married two weeks after we graduated from high school. Bradely Junior was born late the following spring.”

            “Oh, so you two have been married thirty years then?” I asked.

            She nodded. Then she bit her lower lip nervously. “I feel I should share something else with you as well. It’s actually making my situation with Brad much more complicated than just our differing views on the Sabbath.”

            She paused and looked at her lap. She wore a blue and white house dress, and she twisted her fingers nervously in the folds between her legs. The church she had belonged to was very conservative and the women always wore skirts or dresses.

            She looked up at us and a tear leaked from her eye. “I feel like I’m betraying Brad with what I’m about to share.”

            She paused for a very long time, but Destiny and I sat quietly and gave her space. Anna surprised us by suddenly snorting a laugh. “Well, you two sure aren’t the nosy, gossipy type. So at least I can trust you to keep it to yourself.”

            She paused and looked at her lap again. Especially given the little compliment she had given Destiny and me, I had to stop myself from saying, ‘Keep what to ourselves?’

            “Brad isn’t Briana’s father,” she finally and quietly admitted.

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 13

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 13

LOIUS LEWIS

FEAR GOD AND GIVE GLORY TO HIM, FOR THE HOUR OF HIS JUDGEMENT HAS COME; AND WORSHIP HIM WHO MADE HEAVEN AND EARTH, THE SEA AND SPRINGS OF WATER (Revelation 14:7)

            “Lou, right now they’re single file,” Brock’s low voice said directly into my ear via an ear bud. “I still don’t know what kind of weapons they have. One of them is wearing black cargo pants and a black shirt. The other is wearing blue jeans and a green shirt. You take the guy in black; I’ll get the other. I’m moving in on them so I’m gonna be silent now.”

            Inga and I were in a make shift tent, a good half mile from the closest road. I could tell she was scared, but she had a determined look on her face. A crack from one of the tarps that worked as a shelter put a band of late afternoon sunlight across the top half of her face. It made me think of it as a mask of righteousness across the courageous young lady’s face. I was prepared to take a bullet for her if necessary.

            A few days ago, when I was still a police lieutenant, there was no way I would be part of a mission using a twenty something year old woman as bait to catch bad guys. No private citizen for that matter. Now I was a private citizen myself, and I guess playing a private detective. I ended up going along with a plan to entice some of those possibly involved with the murder of Inga’s sister into a trap.

            I also did another ‘no, no.’ I pulled a twenty-two pistol from a coat pocket and whispered, “Glow Eyes, have you ever shot a gun?”

            Her arctic blue eyes looked startled. But she still wore a stoic expression as she shook her head. I gave her an extra quick lesson, then sat the pistol not far from her. “Don’t touch this unless the bad guys somehow get the edge. But be of good courage, WE have the edge. They’re walking into a trap WE set. There’s three of us and two of them. And one of our three is Brock Storm.”

            She took hold of my hand that wasn’t pulling a Glock 17 from my other inside pocket. I looked at our joined hands and then at her. “We also have a decorated police veteran.”

            I forced a smile and refrained from saying former, but she did it for me. “Before you got fired.”

            I had discovered that Inga usually followed a compliment with a slight. Yet I’m not sure she did it on purpose. She was one of those people like Seven Sallie that had a hard time stopping their mouth from speaking what came to their mind.

            I could almost feel the approach of the bad guys, even though it was quiet. That is except for the noise of the woods. That being the chirping of birds and the chatter of squirrels. Then a twig snapped. Suddenly there was a rush of footsteps, and I aimed the Glock at the makeshift entrance. There was a brief scuffling sound, then Brock’s voice. “Lou, it’s me. You two can come out.”

            Inga and I exited the tent, and I scratched my head. The guy with the blue jeans and green shirt laid unconscious. The guy in all black had a bloody nose as Brock put handcuffs on him. As he did so, the suspect talked about wanting a lawyer.

            He continued. “I know my rights, all we have is knives and they are perfectly legal. That old pervert appeared to have kidnapped the young lady, and we thought he was gonna rape her.”

            Destiny and Zella came down the dear trail, with Destiny carrying a black tool bag.

            “You seem to be mistaken,” Brock said. “I’m not the police. I don’t care one bit about your rights. Just as you care nothing about the lives of Inga and Paloma Likas, and Priscilla Rosenwinkle. I only care about justice.”

            A propane torch in Brock’s right hand popped to life from a lighter in his left hand.

            “What are you doing?” the man in black asked nervously.

            “Executing justice for the murdered young ladies.”

            “We didn’t do it, I swear!”

            “Maybe not, but you know who did.”

            “No I don’t!”

            Brock flashed the flame across the man in black’s bare arm, and he howled at the dipping sun.

            “That was only a second, think what a minute, maybe two will be like,” Brock warned.

            To use an old fashioned gangster movie term, the man in black sang like a canary. No sooner had he finished, when FBI Agent Nora Medora came down the trail along with Benito Bonanno. They were accompanied with a few other Federal agents. At least I assumed they were since I was out of the loop.

            Inga sat on a nearby boulder, crossed her arms, hugging herself and watched a discussion ensue between Brock and Nora Medora. Zella went to her, and Inga sprang up like a jack in the box and hugged my cousin fiercely. Destiny joined them and rubbed Inga’s back. When Inga separated from Zella, she took Destiny’s hand and squeezed.

            I wasn’t good with emotional stuff. Maybe that’s yet another reason I ended up with marital problems. The Sunday law issue that came up between my wife and me was probably only the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I owed Inga, what? Respect? Gratitude?

            I approached the trio of women, and they all turned their gaze on me. Discomfort made my skin crawl, but I pressed on, duty bound. I made a fist, gently placed it on Inga’s upper arm and gave a little shove. “You did good, kid.”

            Those striking arctic blue eyes were watery as she looked into mine. She opened her arms and the next thing I knew I was in an embrace with the little twirp. It was like hugging a bag of bones. Although it was loose and awkward, it also felt surprisingly good and comforting. It seemed to allow everything I’d been holding back to flash before my mind. My marriage, my job, this little mission, what the future held.

             Then I heard whimpering and was horrified to realize that it was me. I braced myself for a smart-alecky remark. But she surprised me by kissing my cheek and saying, “Lou I know you’re going through a lot. Don’t feel embarrassed for having feelings. Remember, Jesus Himself wept.” (John 11:35)

            I gave a little shrug and nodded. Then she reverted back to the Inga I was more familiar with. She shoved me with both hands and said, “So who do you think you are?”

            “Who do I think I am? A man who is blessed to have friends like you during a time like this.”

            She chewed her lip, and her eyes watered some more. Her face scrunched up and she threw herself in my arms again, but this time our hug was tight. “You’re becoming like the grandfather I never had.”

            I felt myself frown. “You know, I’m actually three months younger than Zella.”

            “Oh, well, you just look a lot older, more gray, less peppy.”

            I turned our embrace into a bear hug, and she emitted a high pitched squeak. “Lou!”

            I released her and we both laughed. Then she looked at me with sympathy. “I don’t recall you ever laughing before.”

            The way I felt was either laugh or cry, right? But I didn’t tell her that.

            It felt really strange to be part of something like a police operation, yet not in the loop. It also felt strange being part of an operation where I questioned the ethics. The thing that bothered me was the threat of torture. What also troubled me was that the potential torturer had the reputation as a devout Christian.

            After the proverbial dust settled, Brock approached me. “Thanks for your help, Lou. You did great.”

            “Listen, Storm, can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course.”

            “Let me say first, you’re amazing at what you do. But…”

            “You had a problem with the torch incident,” he interrupted with a rueful smile.

            “I did. It’s not something I would have done as a police officer.”

            “You weren’t allowed to.”

            “True enough, but there’s plenty of bad cops that skirt rules and ethics.”

            “But you were a good cop.”

            “I tried to be.”

            “No, you were a good cop. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our side on the Sunday law issue. You care about doing what is right.”

            I shrugged, then gave him my own rueful smile. “Are you avoiding the question?”

            “You never asked one.”

            I frowned. He was right, he had interjected my discomfort with the torch. “Fair enough. How do you balance being a Bible believing Christian and torture?”

            “I didn’t torture anyone,” he said as he reached for the propane torch and lit it. He ran it across his arm just like the suspect. Only Brock winced rather than howled. “For the record, I was not gonna do any more than what I just did to myself.”

            “But you asked him how that torch would feel on his skin for a full minute or more?”

            “I never said I was gonna do it. I’m pretty sure he thought I was though. You may not agree with my tactics, Lou. But I suppose between my appearance and demeanor, I have only needed to give bad guys an implied threat. Keep in mind though, since becoming a Christian, I don’t do this chasing bad guys for a living anymore. Only when an acquaintance is in some type of trouble.”

            “Before becoming a Christian, did you follow through on threats?” I inquired.

            “You don’t want to know.”

            “Sure I do, or I wouldn’t have asked,” I replied, and then grinned. “But I think you actually answered my question by your avoidance.”

            “You are a good detective,” he replied with a smirk.

            The next few weeks for me were a blur. But not just because of my personal life. Every day the chaos in the headlines intensified with wars and rumors of wars, calamities, hunger and homelessness. Yet at the same time, false revivals across America were increasing in staggering numbers. Miracles and supernatural encounters abounded.

            A so called prophet that many believed was Jesus was adamant that the Bible Sabbath was changed to Sunday. My wife was one of the many that were buying in to it. Until then it seemed my wife and I might have been making headway in repairing our marriage.

            Then when I explained that Jesus’s second coming would be visible to all, and that there would be false Christ’s and false prophets, she didn’t like it. All of our endeavors at marital healing started to go sideways. Then the call for mandatory worship on Sunday became a reality. One would no longer be able to buy or sell unless they proved, mostly via their phones, that they had checked into a religious service. They could even do this through zoom if they were housebound.

            I vehemently refused to comply, and my marriage went from sideways to backwards. Karen filed for divorce and wanted me out of the house for good. She was very concerned that my refusal to comply with the Sunday laws would make her guilty by association.

            I never felt so alone that first day as I gathered some things and moved out. But things looked up rather quickly. My cousin Zella and I had fully repaired the breach that separated us for years. I joined her little band of believers, and they all, even her husband Seven, welcomed me with open arms.

            The Storm’s graciously invited me into their large home after my wife kicked me out of ours. They were living self-sufficiently. They had an abundant garden of which we all chipped in to help keep up with maintenance and harvest. There was also a network of fellow believer’s living the same way with all of us working together to defy the mark of the beast and its national Sunday law.

            God had a remnant people! During the loud cry, everyone was given a choice. Either embrace the commandments of God and the seventh day Sabbath of the Creator, or the commandments of men and Sunday, made popular by human tradition. Although most of humanity followed the beast and adhered to Sunday observance, many came out of spiritual Babylon and embraced the Bible Sabbath.

            The out pouring of the Holy Spirit was being experienced in abundance. Despite my many trials in the recent past, I had never experienced such peace and contentment as I did with my new life. There was a deep satisfaction that came from giving my all to God. Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10) became something I had experienced to the fullest. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

            Seven Sallie spoke before congress. Brock and I accompanied him. It was dangerous. In some parts of the world, Sabbath keepers were being put in prison and even to death. Sabbath keepers were being blamed for the calamities and strife throughout the planet. And what happened in that government building that day did not make things better.

            Despite Seven Sallie fluently and eloquently explaining Bible truth, the majority of our political leaders would have none of it. Suddenly people began to get rashes. Then the rashes turned into blistering sores. A rancid smell filled the room. Murmurs turned into shrieks. I was beyond confused. Compared to my spiritual brethren, I was still somewhat of a child in Biblical matters.

            “What is going on?” I mumbled to Brock, dazed by what I was witnessing. Yet he, Seven, and I were unaffected by the sores.

            In a solemn voice he replied, “It seems to be the first of the seven last plagues.” (Revelation 16:1, 2)

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?

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 19

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 19

NANCY

  THE ANGEL OF THE LORD ENCAMPS ALL AROUND THOSE WHO FEAR HIM, AND DELIVERS THEM (Psalm 34:7)

             “Dad?” Drew had petitioned. My fiancée had his phone on speaker and had just told his father that his former bandmate, Donald Reed, was my biological father.

            Donald Reed was more known by his stage name Izzy Iscariot. He had been a hardcore satanist, whereas Arlo, Drew’s dad, had been, shall we say, a nominal occultist. Then Arlo left the band he shared with Izzy when he became a devout Christian. Not long after, Izzy had committed suicide in a very violent manner.

            Apparently the news rendered Mr. Aldo speechless as Drew tried a second time. “Dad?”

            “Oh, yeah, son, I… I’m sorry,” he finally stammered. “This just takes me by complete surprise.”

            “Yeah, I can imagine,” Drew replied. “Maybe I should have waited to tell you in person.”

            “No, no, that’s fine… But are you sure? How did you find this out?”

            Drew told him about how my mom was actually my biological aunt. He explained the connection between my mom’s family, their occult ties and Izzy.

            There was a long enough silence that it prompted Drew to say “Dad?” again.

            “Yeah, Son… Maybe you should reconsider marrying Nancy.”

            I felt my face flush as Drew looked at me with a stunned expression. I loved Arlo Aldo, and I thought he loved or at least liked me. So his suggestion to his son hurt and I felt tears sting the back of my eyes. But I clenched my jaw and pushed them back.

            “Dad, I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. She’s a child of God and her own person, no matter parentage.”

            Yet again Drew was a balm to my tortured soul. I loved him more than anyone in the whole world and desperately wanted to spend the rest of my life with him as well. So his father’s words were very much a threat to my insecure psyche.

            “I understand that, but you see… What you just told about her parentage. It’s, I don’t know, all wrong.”

            “Dad, I’ve been on speaker, so Nancy is hearing all of this.”

            Silence again. But before Drew could say Dad, I meekly cut in. “Hi, Arlo.”

            “Nancy, hi. Listen, I didn’t mean anything personal. It’s just that there are things you don’t understand.”

            “You mean about me originating from demons?” I replied cooly.

            “No, no, no!” he responded. “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

            “Then why do parents I never even knew make me unworthy of your son?”

            “It’s not that. It’s complicated. You see, before Izzy offed himself, he wrote several people letters, me included. Actually they were notes cuz Izzy was too deranged for a proper letter. Anyhow, he threatened to, um, have me haunted me in a particular manner.”

            “Oh come on, Dad, you can’t be serious! You know what the Bible teaches about the state of the dead.”

            “Yeah, yeah, of course, the dead don’t know anything (Ecclesiastes 9:5). Notice I said have me haunted. In other words curse me with the demonic.”

            “Dad, you also know God is bigger and stronger than the devil.”

            “Yes of course, but I can’t escape the ramifications of what I was involved with. You don’t come away from years of dabbling in the occult unscathed. Jesus Himself referred to Satan as the ruler of this world.” (John 12:31)

            “Yeah and He also said, ‘If I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself.’ (verse 32) Of which you are a part.”

            “Jesus also said we would have tribulation.”

            “Yes, but what did He say before and after?” I began to clarify. “Before what you quoted, He said, ‘In Me you may have peace.’ After, He said, ‘Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.’” (John 16:33)

            “You’re missing the point. Even though we are Christians, we shouldn’t test fate. The devil goes about as a roaring lion seeking who he can devour. (1 Peter 5:9) Look, I don’t do certain things regarding, say, lust or drugs, so I won’t be tempted. I also should heed the warning of a curse Izzy promised to put on me and my family.”

            “A curse? You’ve got to be kidding! What exactly did this lunatic write that has you so bent out of shape, so unreasonable?”

            “I don’t know verbatim; I haven’t looked at it in years.”

            “You mean you still have it? You saved a, um, suicide note?”

            “I did.”

            “Why? What for?”

            “For a reminder of what God rescued me from. Also for a possible time like this.”

            “I don’t understand, Dad. What could he have possibly threatened you with that has you freaked out about me marrying Nancy?”

            “You just told me she’s his daughter.”

            “Biologically. But he apparently didn’t even know he was gonna be a parent. He died a half year before Nancy was even born. Shoot, the woman that birthed her didn’t even raise her. So how dare you accuse her of bringing a curse to our family.”

            “It won’t bring a curse if you don’t marry her. I’m sorry, Nancy. I love you like you have been part of the family. But some things just aren’t meant to be, like if you would have found out you were siblings separated at birth. You certainly wouldn’t marry then.”

            “I don’t mean any disrespect, my father,” Drew told him calmly. “But you are being superstitious and ridiculous.”

            “Am I? Do we or do we not wrestle against principalities, powers and the rulers of darkness, spiritual hosts of wickedness in high places?”

            “Once again you are leaving off the before and after. By that I mean the putting on of the whole armor of God. (Ephesians chapter 6) So tell me what Izzy said that has you this rattled.”

            Arlo sighed heavily from more that fifteen hundred miles away. “Izzy wrote a half dozen notes to people he thought betrayed him. Most of his message to me was crazy rambling. But he ended it by telling me that I sold my soul as much as he did, and you don’t get to just leave the band, just like the mafia. He said I was breaking up his family, so he was gonna infiltrate mine and curse it. The very last thing he said was, we mingled our blood and seed, now my sacrificed blood will mingle with your lineage unto the third and fourth generation. Then he signed his name in blood.”

            “What did he mean by you mingled your blood and seed?” Drew asked.

            “You don’t want to know.”

            “Of course I do, that’s why I asked.”

            “Haven’t I told my children that I didn’t want them researching my time in ‘The Sons of Molech? The person I was then is dead, just in a different way than Izzy.”

            “And I’ve honored that request. But now you’re telling me that something about your time in that situation has rendered the woman I love unworthy to marry.”

            “When I partook in the ritual to sell my soul for rock and roll, we drank a strange concoction. It contained three ingredients mixed in a large chalice.  The base was liquor, but the other two ingredients came from our bodies. We each submitted a vial of blood and…”

            “Okay, I get what was in it.”

            “You wanted to know,” Arlo said with more hostility than I had ever heard from the man.

            “I had no choice… So you guys drank each other’s…”

            “Eli and I were nineteen. Izzy and our drummer Kyle had already had a taste of success in the rock scene. Eli and I were young and dumb and on our own in LA. We were willing to do whatever it took to achieve fame and fortune.”

            “Okay, I don’t need to know any more about that aspect,” Drew said and looked me right in the eyes as he continued speaking with his father. “But I still don’t find that reason enough, at all, to call off our marriage. As a matter of fact, after we get back, I hope Nancy will agree to marry me as soon as Pastor Samson will perform the ceremony.”

            I was confused, distraught, and unable to hold Drew’s gaze any longer. I looked at my feet.

            “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Drew’s dad said forcefully. “What are the odds that you and Nancy just happened to become friends? Then romantic? Then to find out she shares fifty percent of her DNA with a deranged satanist who warned that he was gonna mingle his blood and seed with mine. I have the written documentation to prove it.”

            “Documentation?”

            “Hey, he may have been an out of control nut job in the end, but he took his demonism seriously.”

            “So what exactly do you think is gonna happen?” Drew asked incredulously. “You seem to be putting more faith in Izzy cursing you, or us, or whatever, rather than trusting God.”

            “No, it’s not that at all. Let me be frank for a minute.”

            “You mean other than Dad or Arlo?”

            “Under normal circumstances I would find that funny. However, to be frank, I don’t like the idea of Izzy and I having both of our DNA existing in the same grandchild.”

            Rather than tell his dad I likely couldn’t bear children, Drew simply replied, “Look, if we ever have a boy I promise we won’t name him Damien.”

            “That’s not funny.”

            “I’m not trying to be. Forgive me but this whole conversation has seemed ludicrous.”

            “I know it has. But on the other hand we live in a strange, fallen world.”

            “Look, here’s the way I see it, Dad. The flesh profits nothing, it’s the Spirit that counts. As in the Holy Spirit. You look at Nancy and my lives converging as a bad omen. The way I see it, her mother came to Iowa as an answer to prayer. And that answer to prayer was seeing you and Uncle Eli on the cover of a Christian magazine. She read how you and Eli repented of your lives in ‘The Sons of Molech,’ and were both living for God and family in the heartland, and she moved there herself in hopes her daughter could find healing from extreme abuse. That causes me to trust in light rather than fear darkness.”

            “I respect that, Son, I truly do. But I’ve also tried my best to protect my family from the dangerous dark stuff I was involved with for many years. God saved me and blessed me, and I’m very thankful for that. But there has also been an element that has haunted me all these years. With all that you have just informed me, I feel like the walls of protection I have constructed with God’s help through the years are collapsing in on me with this news.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way, Dad.”

            “Please tell me you’ll consider my warning.”

            “With all due respect, I don’t need to consider. I love Nancy, I trust God, and I’m not superstitious. For me, she’s a gift from God, not an obstacle from Satan like you seem to think.”

            Arlo sighed heavily. “Look, we’ll talk when you get home. This conversation is not going anywhere.”

            “I want to see Izzy’s letter or note or whatever it is.”

            Pause. “Fair enough.”

            Drew and his father exchanged goodbyes. Then Drew took my hand. “Sorry about all that.”

            I shrugged, looked away from him for a few seconds, then back and asked, “How come you left that call on speaker?”

            “You want the truth, right?”

            I nodded. “But it hurts. I don’t get why Arlo is blaming me.”

            “He’s not blaming you.”

            “How can you say that when he was practically insisting that you don’t marry me?”

            “I don’t know what to tell you. He has always appeared to me to be such a man of faith. It completely took me by surprise to hear him react so irrationally. But I also thought his time in the occult was behind him. It never occurred to me that he felt haunted.”

            “His reaction surprised me too.”

            “Please don’t take it personally.”

            “It’s hard not to.”

            “I know. But his problem ultimately is with Izzy.”

            “I didn’t choose who my parents were.”

            He smiled warmly and said, “But Phebe chose you.”

            “Yes, she did!” I replied. Then several sobs burst forth. Drew hugged me tight, but I felt so tired and weak I could barely get my hands onto his shoulders.

            When I calmed and we separated, he said, “Despite my Dad’s bizarre reaction to Izzy being, you know… We will still get married as soon as possible.”

            “No,” I replied shaking my head vigorously.

            The smile left Drew’s face. “Why not? Don’t tell me you agree with his reasoning.”

            “It’s not that. I don’t want to get married without both of your parents’ blessings.”

            Drew began to chew on his lower lip as he looked away from me. I knew what he was thinking. His mother was repulsed by Izzy every bit as much as his father.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 18

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 18

DREW

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

          “Mom,” my beautiful bride began meekly. But then she paused, and I feared she was battling hostility. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

          “What is it, Sweety?” Phebe asked with concern.

          “Are you actually my aunt?” Nancy blurted.

          Phebe’s face looked stunned. Then it morphed into sadness. Then she took a deep breath herself and blew it out slowly before saying, “Yes.”

          Nancy’s demeanor became calm and business like, which I suppose was better than out right anger. “So how come you never told me?”

          Phebe was clearly rattled as she nervously twisted a napkin in her fingers. “I was always torn with what to do. The time to tell you never seemed quite right. Also, there was this side where I felt it was better to leave sleeping dogs lay. There was also the aspect that I raised you more than your biological mother did, and I mean even here in California before all the bad stuff came to light.”

          “So where is she?” Nancy wanted to know.

          “After everything went down with the creep she was married to. How he was abusing you and others. She died of a heroin overdose the day after he was arrested.”

          “Suicide.”

          “Who knows?”

          “I also have reason to believe the creep wasn’t my biological father,” Nancy told her.

          Phebe shook her head. “No he’s not, regardless of what your birth certificate states.”

          “So you knew? That also would have been nice to know. Do you know what it was like believing half of my DNA was from him all these years?”

          Tears began to leak from Phebe’s eyes. “I’m truly sorry. It was such a difficult time, especially before it was found out that the creep was making that vile filth. He and your mom divorced, and they had joint custody. That’s how he was able to use you in…”

          “Did you know?”

          “No, Honey, you know I didn’t.”

          “Well, you let me think you were my birth mother all these years.”

          “All I knew was that there was something off about the man. I swear to God that I didn’t know he was making porn until that brave boy jumped through the window.”

          “He’s how I found out the truth.”

          Phebe nodded. “I figured. He came to talk to me some time ago.”

          “And you still didn’t tell me, knowing he knew your secret?”

          “What can I say? I’m a procrastinator, and after all this time, I didn’t know how to go about it.”

          “I don’t even know my real mom’s name,” Nancy said testily.

          Phebe hung her head, and her lower lip quivered. “It’s Phoenix.”

          “My real mom’s name is Phoenix?”

          Phebe was unable to lift her eyes, and my heart broke for her. I gently said, “Nancy.”

          “What?” She snapped, as her fiery gaze shifted to me.

          I don’t know what she saw in my face, but hers softened.  And I said, “The flesh profits nothing, it’s the spirit that counts… Phebe is your real mom.”

          A look of wonder came into my fiancée’s face. Then she quickly moved in front of her mother and knelt. Hugging her she said, “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry! Drew is right, you are my real mom, and I love you so much. I just want the truth.”

          “I love you too, Honey, more than anything in the world.”

          “Yes I know. You proved that by moving me halfway across the country. But I do wish you would have told me about our family situation.”

          After the two women hugged for a minute, Phebe said, “You were traumatized, Honey. Your first therapist suggested I let you believe that I was your mother. It wasn’t hard because when Phoenix had her turn with the joint custody, it was usually me looking after you. And she and I looked identical, so you probably didn’t know the difference.”

          “Where is… where are her remains?” Nancy asked.

          “She was cremated, and her ashes were scattered in the ocean.”

          “Who are your parents?”

          “You don’t want to know.”

          “Yes I do. I’m an adult now, I want to know my roots.”

          “Your roots have been severed. Like Drew said, the flesh profits nothing.”

          “Why don’t you want me to know about my grandparents?”

          “Because I ultimately hold them responsible for what happened to you, and what happened to my sister.”

          “I don’t understand.”

          “Long story short, my parents were heavily involved in the occult. I shunned their belief system, while Phoenix embraced it. Because of my sister’s involvement in satanism, she became associated with the creep that abused you. She also became strung out on drugs, so much so, she neglected her own daughter.”

          “Where are your parents?” Nancy asked.

          “My father is dead, and, the last I knew, my mother lives in Santa Monica.”

          “I assume you don’t associate with her.”

          “Your assumption is correct.”

          “When did your dad die?”

          “Almost two years ago.”

          “Yet you apparently never let on, because I had no idea.”

          Phebe shrugged. “He was already dead to me.”

          “When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”

          “When my dad died. Mom wanted me to come to his funeral. I refused, and she was angry.”

          “So if the creep isn’t my dad, who is?”

          Phebe looked at me, and then back to her daughter. “This is also another aspect I never knew how to explain. I know you think I moved to Iowa because of my friend Grace. Which it was truly a part of why I went there. But I went there because of Drew’s dad, and his friend Eli.”

          “Huh?” Nancy frowned. “How did you know Drew’s dad?”

          “I didn’t.”

          “I’m not following.”

          “Well, after everything went down with the boy jumping out of the window, I felt the need to take you far away from the situation. I didn’t know where to go. I saw Drew’s dad and his friend and bandmate Eli on the cover of a Christian magazine. I knew they had been in the satanic band ‘Son’s of Molech.’

          “I read the article, about how they had turned their lives around, became Christians, and formed a Christian band along with Eli’s son and his son’s wife. The article mentioned they  resided in eastern Iowa after living in California for most of their adult lives. They said Iowa brought them a fresh start, that it was where the two friends met as teenagers. I felt like it was a sign for you to get a fresh start there as well.”

          Nancy looked stunned but managed to say, “Well, you must have been amazed when I became friends with Arlo’s son.”

          “Indeed I was.”

          “Yet you didn’t tell me the connection.”

          “Honey, like I said…”

          “That’s so weird,” Nancy said with a deep frown. “You moved halfway across the country because of two guys on a magazine cover. Two guys you didn’t even know.”

          “Well, I didn’t know them, but you see, they knew your father.”

          “Okay, now that’s the million dollar question. Please tell me who the sperm donor was.”

          “He was a man named Donald Reed.”

          I felt my toes curl, my body tense, and my mouth drop open. Nancy did a double take when she saw my reaction. “Drew, do you know this Donald Reed?”

          “I know of him,” I told my bride to be. “He was bandmates with my dad and Uncle Eli in “The Sons of Molech’. He was the singer but went by the stage name Izzy Iscariot.”

          Nancy’s expression was one of bewilderment. But she asked, “Was he the one that got really drunk and choked to death on his own vomit, or the one that killed himself in a very violent manner?”

          I cleared my throat. “The latter.”

          “I was so glad to find out that I didn’t share DNA with the creep that abused me,” Nancy replied numbly. “But I don’t know that this Izzy character is a very big step up.”

          “I don’t know what to tell you,” I told her. “I don’t know much about him myself. Both my dad and Eli never wanted to go into detail about their former band after God helped them turn their lives around. They just warned about the dangers of the occult. My dad even insisted that Jerry and I never look into his old band.”

          “So your dad won’t tell me about him?”

          “I don’t know,” I shrugged.

          “What do you know about him?” she asked Phebe.

          “Not much, I only met him twice, and that was enough. He was like a feral animal.”

          “If my dad won’t tell you, maybe Jerry can tell you something,” I said.

          “I thought you said Arlo told you guys to stay away from learning about the band.”

          “I obeyed; Jerry didn’t.”

          What would my dad think? I had to call him and find out.

          “Hey, how is it out west?” my dad greeted cheerily.

          After very brief small talk, I told him. “So Nancy found out who her biological parents are. It just so happens you know her father.”

          “I do?” he chuckled. “Small world.”

          “Very small!”

          “Yeah? Well who is it?”

          “Donald Reed.”

          Silence.

          “Dad?”

          Silence.

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES – PART 2 – CHAPTER 17

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

HEAVY METAL MIRACLES

PART 2

CHAPTER 17

NANCY

STAND FAST THEREFORE IN THE LIBERTY BY WHICH CHRIST HAS MADE US FREE, AND DO NOT BE ENTANGLED AGAIN WITH A YOKE OF BONDAGE    (Galatians 5:1)

          As Nancy gazed out of the airplane window, she reminded me of the girl I saw for the first time more than a decade ago on the playground. Her demeanor was both defiant as in ‘don’t mess with me,’ coupled with sad and lonely.

          I had a hard time concentrating on the book I was reading since I kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of my eye. During one such peak her head snapped in my direction, and my eyes flipped quickly back to my book.

          I felt her fingers on my chin, then she gently turned my head to look at her. She was grinning as she said, “Always keeping a watchful eye on me, huh Drew?”

          “Whatever do you mean?” I replied innocently.

          “I mean, you’ve always been there for me, even when I wasn’t there for you,” she told me as her eyes welled.

          “You’ve always been there for me as well.”

          She snorted. “Hardly. I’m sure you recall our three year hiatus, instigated by me.”

          “We were kids, foolish teenagers that needed time to grow.”

          She laughed, and for the first time since she was told her mother was actually her aunt, she looked somewhat happy. “Have you forgotten that we’re still teenagers?”

          “Maybe so, but we’re much closer to twenty than twelve.”

          “Maturity wise, you’re more like forty,” she said, and then looked at the book in my hand. “Make that more like sixty. How many teenagers have a physical book in their hands on a flight, rather than a phone?”

          “Hey, stop aging me,” I joked. “You’ll have me over a hundred by the time I really am forty.”

          “Just think how wise you’ll be, though.”

          “Well, okay, as long as I don’t have a hundred year old body when I’m forty.”

          She looked at me fondly, but behind her eyes was that unbearable sadness again. “Those three years without you in my life were so empty.”

          “There was a huge void for me as well.”

          She looked at me with a baffled expression. “I completely understand why I love you. What I don’t understand is why love me. I tend to be moody and witchy, I have hard time being girly, I come from an incredibly dysfunctional family. So you’re, like, too good to be true.”

          “Well, let me address these one at a time,” I told her. “When you go through a spell of darkness, your light shines all the brighter when you come through the other side. As for not being girly, I like that you’re not. It makes your natural femininity all the more beautiful to me. And obviously you have had a dismal childhood, whereas mine was very blessed. So I want more than anything to bring you into that fold by making you my wife. But first we have to repair the breach you feel with the only family you currently have.”

          “I don’t know how I could make this trip without you by my side. Even with you, I don’t know how to confront who I thought was my mom about her actually being my aunt.”

          “Are you that angry with her that you view our trip to California as a confrontation?”

          “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just… confused.”

          “How do you feel about her?”

          She smiled wryly at me. Then she said softly, “You really get me.”

          “Do I?” I asked with a shrug.

          “You’ve always known when to leave me be, and you’ve always known when to talk.”

          “Are you avoiding my question?”

          Her mood swung back to seeming happy as she laughed. “See, you even knew I was avoiding the question.”

          “Are you gonna answer it?” I asked gently.

          She looked away from me and her expression turned pensive. After a minute she looked at me and spoke with a bit of hostility. “I’m angry that she lied to me all these years. It was bad enough I endured, you know… Then the rest of my childhood, I grew up believing my mom was my mom, when in reality she was my aunt. It rattles my faith in everything.”

          “Including your new relationship with Christ?”

          She nodded. “Can you blame me?”

          “No, but it’s not surprising.”

          “Why is that?”

          “You remember that there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repents?” (Luke 15:7)

          “Yes, of course.”

          “Well, on the other hand there is anger in the demonic realm. Jesus warned us that in this world we would have tribulation, or trouble. (John 16:33) Then he told us what?”

          “Be of good cheer I have overcome the world,” Nancy finished with anything but cheer, her arms folded, her gaze at the back of the seat in front of her. Then she turned to me and said a bit testily, “Well, then you tell me what I should think and feel about Phebe.”

          I had never heard her call her mother/aunt by her first name before. So I cautiously replied, “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

          Nancy snorted and turned her gaze back to the back of the seat in front of her.

          “Here’s what I do know. Your mom…”

          “She’s my aunt,” she interrupted stubbornly.

          “No, she’s your mother,” I relied with equal stubbornness.

          “If she was truly my mother, I would have known she had a twin sister. It seems I know nothing about my family, and Phebe would never answer my questions about her parents or any other relatives. She would just tell me it was best I didn’t know, or you don’t want to know. So that’s why I don’t feel optimistic about this trip. I don’t know who she is.”

          “She’s the woman who raised you.”

          “Under a huge lie.”

          “She’s the only family you’ve got.”

          She looked at me again, and any semblance of happiness was gone. She appeared so lost and vulnerable, I couldn’t help saying, “Until we are married. Then you and I will be family.”

          Nancy and I were not a couple prone to public affection. But she emitted a little whimper and kissed me firmly on the mouth. Although delighted, as soon as our lips separated, I looked to my right, slightly embarrassed. But the seat next to me was vacant, and the older lady in the end seat appeared to be sleeping.

          “There’s something I want to make sure you’re considering about your mother,” I said.

          “Stop calling her my mother,” she said quietly, yet menacingly, then folded her arms abruptly. “Phebe’s my aunt.”

          “Maybe she’s biologically your aunt,” I said gently. “But she left her life in California and came to Iowa, far away from your trauma, to raise you, to protect you. Obviously you’re aware of all the beach décor in the house you two lived in. Then practically the minute you left for college, and moved in with Addie, she returned to California. She came to the Midwest knowing only one friend here, and then spent a decade away from the ocean and other friends she loved.”

          “Yeah,” she replied with a look of wonder on her face. Then after staring trance like at the back of her seat for half a minute, she spoke as if to herself. “How did I not see that? I guess couldn’t see the forest because of all the trees.”

          “I have no doubt that Phebe loves you,” I declared.

          “Yes, thank you for opening my eyes,” she responded softly, squeezed my hand. “I do believe my mom loves me.”

          Nancy’s mother/aunt lived in a condo with two other women in Huntington Beach. It was in walking distance from the Pacific Ocean. Despite the deceptions about her childhood, Nancy and Phebe hugged warmly. I was thrilled when Nancy said, “Hi Mom.”

          “Oh Sweety, I was so excited when you let me know you were coming,” Phebe told her, then smiled warmly at me. “And doubly excited that you brought Drew.” Then she laughed. “And triply excited that you two made up and are friends again.”

          “We’re more than friends, Mom, we’re engaged,” Nancy said happily, looking at me and then back to her mom/aunt.

          “Oh Honey, that’s wonderful!” Phebe practically shouted, then hugged her daughter/niece again. Then she hugged me, kissed my cheek, and told us ‘Congratulations.’

          There was a clear family resemblance between the two women. Especially with their hair since Nancy’s red gold hair was now shoulder length, and her mother/aunt’s hair that was once down to her tail bone strawberry blonde hair was now in a short bob.

          Phebe was very much a modern hippie. Long flowing colorful dresses, plenty of beads with rings on most of her fingers. She also had a laid back surfer drawl, which may or may not have been enhanced by the imbibing of marijuana.

          One of Phebe’s roommates was conveniently in Oregan visiting kids and grandkids over that Labor Day weekend. So Nancy was able to stay in her room over our three day stay. I slept in a hideaway bed in the living room. Nancy’s mom/aunt was puzzled that we didn’t sleep together, even after we explained that we weren’t married yet.

          This opened the door for Nancy to share her new Christian faith with Phebe. Her reaction was neutral. Although her vocal response was affirmative by saying ‘that’s nice.’ Her bodily reaction was stiff, as if to say ‘don’t push it on me.’

          Nancy was usually a very gung ho type of person. So I was a little surprised that we were there more than a full twenty four hour day before Nancy broached the subject that had inspired our trip out west in the first place. It came after dinner, during our second evening at Phebe’s.

          “Would you like some dessert?” Nancy’s mom/aunt asked. “I have strawberry ice cream or a coconut Pepperidge Farm cake. Or we could have both.”

          “No thanks,” my bride to be answered with an eerie calm, her fingers laced together and resting on top of the table. “But there is a serious matter I’d like to discuss with you.”