TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama


May 05, 2021 V. Morrow Season 2 Episode 0
TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama
Show Notes Transcript

SET YOUR MIND on things above with TAKEN--A Metaphysical Fantasy Audio Drama. AND NOW the ADVENTURE CONTINUES with DIVIDED--The Days of Peleg.

Bow to the Image! Has the whole world gone mad? Or is there something wrong with a statue that speaks and the giant man who makes the people worship it? Peleg is virtually alone in his misgivings. Meanwhile, all the rest of Shinar follows the mighty hunter Nimrod in building a Tower to reach the gates of heaven and even the Ancient One Himself. Could the mysterious encounters and cruel whispers heard since the Tower Temple's construction lead to something good? To Peleg the matter is simple, find someone who remembers the truth, someone who still hears The Voice—before it's too late. So, Peleg embarks on a journey to learn the secrets his great ancestors Methuselah and Enoch knew. Little does Peleg realize, Enoch—the very one, taken so long ago to a dimension outside space and time—and his son Methuselah are both working just as fervently toward the same goal. With the aid of a wise, old King, the tales from the stones, and the "knowing" that burns, Peleg may be mankind's only hope to stop the darkness descending from the Tower. Never again will a Flood destroy the earth, the Ancient One promised—next time it will be Fire!

Also please check back for upcoming chapters on this Podcast channel. 

 Remember, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man, The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”  PLEASE share this UPLIFTING READ with your friends and get ready to SOAR. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR LISTENING and MAY THE FAVOR OF THE ANCIENT ONE BE ON YOU. 
Want to know the Beloved? – Visit - https://youtu.be/Bn4M7t69mB4



Methuselah bolted upright and swung around, looking wildly at the woods around him. His cloak was drenched with sweat. He ignored it as he clasped the scroll under his covering and exhaled. Thank the Ancient! It is safe. It was the dream again. Methuselah fell back onto his cushion beneath the towering Father Tree and tried to recall it. It always began the same. Through the fog, through the distance, stood a woman—tall, beautiful, long dark hair flowing. Then he heard the screams. People moaning, crying, and they kept reaching for him, calling to him, and then the water—or was it fire? The woman was in the fire! She was also screaming, crying out. Methuselah always ran toward the woman. But this time the dream was different. He had never been able to see the woman before. This time he could. It was Naamah. He was sure of it.

He’d been hearing rumors. Dark tales of something strange and powerful in the Seti of Nod. Methuselah tossed his belongings in his sack and thought of his father, Enoch. He knew what he must do. It is what Papa would have done. Methuselah ignored the trembling dread in his stomach as the fiery heat in his gut took over. “If I leave now, I can make it by sun’s birth,” he thought. “If something is awry, the tribe must know of it.”

“Good.” Onami summoned Delmar and Azam. “He heard me. On to the Seti of Nod.”


Methuselah’s Time: Location—Sheol, Adamah, 1st Dimension

Naamah stood on the stone pedestal, frozen in place with fear, trying to remember what brought her here. The last thing she recalled was pain, unbearable pain, then the cries of a childling, her childling. Where is my baby? This must be a dream. This cannot be. But everything inside her screamed the truth. It was real. Then her mind returned. Her memories flowed.

The creeping cold. She screamed and shouted to the top of her lungs, but no one heard her. Then the whispers came. 

“Swizzwhisspah. O Naamah—Ha-ha-ha-ha!” The wretched voices said over and over until she thought she would go mad. The Medici pulled covers over her head and left her. The hateful whispers were whispering no longer. They pushed her and shoved her violently down a dark path. Their taunting and jeering grew louder and louder as they traveled deeper into the depths. Gravel scraped her feet raw.

“Leave me alone!” She tried to yell but her voice was weak even to her own ears. She stumbled to her knees. “Take me back this instant or the B’Nai Captain Semjaza will hear of this.”

A coarse, hairy hand yanked her to her feet. “Semjaza, my claw,” he rasped. “He would be fortunate to get a dung hole. He has no authority where you are going. Keep moving, monkey girl.” The voices guffawed at the insult.

Naamah stumbled and tumbled deeper until light disappeared entirely, only the pushing hands and voices guided her. Her eyes burned with tears not so much from the acrid air but from their search for just a glimmer of light. It was as if her eyes refused to give up, not wanting to blink in case even a speck was found. Finally, they found it—red balls of flame gleamed from torches mounted on walls of granite. Finally, she could see again. She wished she could not.

The hateful voices came from creatures only a nightmare could create. Their eyes were intelligent, full of knowing. And they knew she was afraid. They enjoyed her fear. They wanted to prolong her fear and feast off it.

Naamah felt herself fainting, but before she could welcome the blackness, she became conscious again. She was more aware than she ever had been. The writing on the massive entrance confirmed it—The Gates of Sheol. Naamah screamed and kicked. “No, no take me back, take me back home.”

 This brought forth even more taunts, laughter and now slaps. They took turns pushing her down the path, slapping her and laughing. Naamah blacked out many times, but always regained consciousness with more feeling. 

Now she found herself standing on a stone pedestal, bruised, and battered, in the midst of a most horrid congregation—waiting. She took in her new surroundings. Rows and rows of creatures lined the vaulted room, giving them a prime view of the broad stage before them, and the stone pedestal on which she stood in the center. 

Naamah bit her lip and tried to control her trembling knees. The horde before her was strangely silent. What could make these brute beasts behave?

The answer strode in decked out in full regalia, with cape swirling around a dark, form-fitting uniform. Metallic plates covered his chest, arms, and legs. He also carried a sword of sorts. Is that fire or metal? Naamah was relieved to see that at least it looked like a man, a very beautiful man. He made her husband, the handsome Semjaza, look almost homely. 

Naamah caught her breath. He was so impressive she forgot her fear as she stared awestruck at his face. She gazed into his eyes and froze. Cold, cruel eyes returned her gaze. A hard knowing formed in her belly. Was this Satan?

He smirked.

Fear returned and all Naamah’s strength drained from her body. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor with arms outstretched and head bowed.

“A most appropriate greeting,” Lord L said. “I wish all my subjects were as gracious.” He opened his arms wide to the congregation and called out, “Gentlemen, please. Must you always act like beastly men? Where are your manners? Show the woman some respect.”

Surprised at his request, Naamah peeked through her long dark hair and gasped.  

The creatures lining the great hall shifted. No longer was she staring at misshapen fusions of animals with human-like traits. Before her were glowing men of superior beauty, covered in elegant robes. They are Elohim! Naamah cupped her hand over her mouth to prevent the words from escaping. They are like Semjaza.

“I suppose you must be wondering what brings a lowly creature like yourself before me and my grand hall?” asked the Great Leader. 

Naamah opened her mouth, but nothing came out. 

He laughed and continued, “Gentlemen, I fear we have taken her breath away.” They responded obediently with equal laughter.

“Lord L,” offered one of the beings, “Perhaps if she was dressed for this momentous occasion, she would regain her composure.”

“Yes, that is exactly what is needed, Hades. I am so beside myself with the success of our mission, I almost forgot protocol. A queen must have a beautiful robe.”

He clapped his hands twice. “Hades, go and fetch some finery for our queen.”

“Most immediately, my lord,” said the being. Then he flew upwards straight through the domed ceiling.

“Yes, my dear, we have big plans for you,” the Great Leader said, addressing the beings surrounding him as he strode in circles around her.

Naamah’s eyes widened as she shrank back trying to put distance between her and Lord L.

He stopped suddenly and leaned in so close she could feel his breath on her face.

“And they do not have to be excruciatingly painful. But that is up to you. If you are obedient and loyal to my will, I will exalt you above all women, even above Eve.”