Читать книгу CURSE of the HOLY ARK - Ted Miller III - Страница 4

As if God’s own hand was directing our actions, the twelve disciples of doom and I would drain our brains into our ink pens and as blood rich words flowed onto the paper we began our quest to compose the message of the new millennium.

Never would I have believed before my coerced conversion that these twelve tellers of terror and I could rewrite the words of redemption and direct the dogma of the devoted to recreate the worldly story of salvation. But my newest masters had trained me well, and my warm words carried the conviction of a Caesar backed up and reinforced with huge amounts of cold cash.

Our privileged group had been hand picked and assembled by the reich of the rich and never again would we walk the walk of normal men. As I looked about at the sensational surroundings we were ensconced within, it was only I that knew this ship was a paradise laden prison, and freedom was but a noun we would never again taste without the scent of sin.

Our mission was to find the righteous words that would convince the world to perceive all that is, isn’t really what it seems to be.

I knew from my earlier meeting that our planet was evolving towards the dawn of a new day. Each and every day new diseases were being designed and released upon the masses of mankind. Financial empires were crushed or collapsed under their own weight of mismanagement. Governments were failing as fast as they could be formed. And after we finished our task, that life would never be the same as what we had only imagined it to be.

The rich now ruled using as weapons misdirection, misinformation, mismanagement, mischief, madness and even murder. Humanity only knew what the owners of the communication empire told them they should know. The electronic bombardment of lies or illusions had indeed blocked our bowels until the b.s. backed up in our brains. We further inflicted injury upon ourselves as all of humanity became blinded and began to believe in the madness of what is not, but yet may be. Our overactive imaginations developed an illness of our own sense of self being and humanity entered a hell of its own making.

My earlier books had endowed me with the title of prophet of pain to my newest masters of misery. In “Writer’s Wrath” I pointed out the error of the reich of the rich to depend solely upon scientists to develop new infectious diseases which would have ultimately caused the rich to be dependent upon the doctors, who would then become the dictators to all of those still living. And within “Teller of Terror” my conceptual work of words guided their terrorist affiliates in their planned assassination of mankind’s dreams and desires and set in motion the forthcoming work of words that would be packaged and prophesied as the salvation of society.

As the rusty gates of hell slammed shut behind me I entered a new sadistic story that had to sound true to become true. I had become the architect of a reinterpretation of the divine prophecies and directed by my masters to build a new Bible that would usurp omnipotence, omniscience, and divine creation into a message that would explain our dogma of divine destiny.

The twelve disciples of doom and I would face our most difficult task to discover how to do the right thing for all the wrong reasons. We were to capture or create the written words of wisdom, that if spoken aloud would make you want to grab the air and hold it to your heart while waiting for more of the message.

I knew we couldn’t escape this life alive or evade our evil entrapment. I could only hope that heaven itself would provide the divine inspiration to become who I really wished I was, and that the twelve disciples would not die the deaths that their name sakes did.

But as the current twelve disciples would be supplied pseudo names during their new incarnations, I too would be re-branded to represent the apostle closet to my characteristics.

Most call me a sinner and a few call me a saint. My alternative history reads like a mythological tale. My mother Cyborea dreamed that I was destined to murder my father, have incest with her and then sell my God. Her prophetic projections led her and my father to try and avert this curse by enclosing me in a chest and throwing me into the sea. I was picked up on a foreign shore and educated at the High Court until I committed a murder of passion and to flee to Judaea. There I entered the service of Pontius Pilate as a page. It was during this time I committed the crimes of my first two prophetic fulfilment’s as foretold. After learning the secret of my birth I sought out the prophet named Jesus Christ to seek the forgiveness of my sins. Not only was I accepted by Jesus but I became his best friend…right up to the day I gave him his fatal kiss of deception and fulfilled my evil destiny.

However, other believed that since both God and his son J.C. were and still are omnipotent and omniscient and thus know the past, present and future that I had been recruited by them to help fulfill Jesus’ role on earth to display his Messianic powers. Therefore, Jesus foresaw, allowed and participated in his betrayal of the Passover plot.

Many times the truth is hard to discern especially when the events happened over 2000 years ago. I was originally reported in the Gospel of Judas written in 280 A.D., which was copied from an earlier Green version as dying in 30 A.D. My death as a disciple is the only one recorded in the bible and the Acts of Apostles 11:18-19 and Matthew 27:3, 10 don’t even agree, less many other versions that have arisen during the past two millennium. The strikingly apparent discrepancies include some of the accounts have me hanging myself or falling from a high place and being disemboweled or taking the place of Jesus on his cross or one of my personal favorites is that God saved me when I tried to commit suicide and made me walk the earth forever as the original undead and forefather of the vampires that still haunt the world today.

My noms de plume of years gone past included: Loudas, Ludas, Judah, Jude and Yehuda. And best known as: Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, the man of Kerioth from the tribe of Reuben.

Thus, as you turn the pages and witness my timely transformation, spiritual rebirth or reincarnation you will come to know me as Judas the Messenger.