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!
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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.
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Methuselah’s Time: Location— Seti of Nod, Adamah, First Dimension.
“I was wrong,” Tiph’arah said, grunting. “You be heavy as two wild-beasties.”
“No arguments here,” Methuselah said, also bending under the strain of carrying their larger kin. “Do not use so much eldenrod next time, Tiph’arah.”
“I do apologize for the trouble,” Tubal-Cain said, “Not much further. Once we get to the Seti, I will get someone to help—” He stopped when he saw his brother running toward them.
Jabal panted as he ran down the path from El Tevah. “What have we here?” he asked, almost crashing into Tiph’arah.
Tiph’arah glared. “You can have your brother back now.” She dropped Tubal-Cain into a heap at Jabal’s feet.
Methuselah couldn’t help but release Tubal-Cain as well, once Tiph’arah dropped her side.
“Tubal-Cain, being carried by a woman!” Jabal exclaimed. “I can’t wait to tell Father Lamech.”
“Don’t bother,” a rich baritone voice said from behind. “I would be more than happy to take this heavy load off your hands.” The B’Nai Elohim Captain Semjaza sat high on a white four-runner, decked out in the formal attire of the Watchers.
“Thank you, Captain Semjaza—that would be most appreciated,” Tubal-Cain said, trying to pull himself up.
“And I will be happy to take the other beautiful guest for a ride,” Hazazel said, slowing his four-runner to a halt behind Captain Semjaza. He too was adorned in his best wear.
“That will be entirely unnecessary,” Methuselah said firmly. He stepped between Tiph’arah and the other B’Nai Elohim. “We prefer to walk,” Methuselah said.
“Yeah—we prefer to walk,” Tiph’arah said casually as she snatched a double-blade from her pack and held it steady, “We don’t ride four-runners with the likes of you.”
“Beautiful and feisty too,” laughed Hazazel. “I am intrigued!”
“Why, you rebellious—” Onami whipped his weapon out and almost sliced into Hazazel, but Delmar blocked Onami’s blade with his own sword.
“Did you see the way he was ogling her?” Onami asked. “He ought to be ashamed of himself!”
“Steady now,” Delmar said calmly. “She is in no danger right now. We don’t want to engage if we don’t have to. Remember, he can’t see us anymore. His senses have been dulled by his corruption.”
“Oh—right,” Onami said. He took a deep breath and put his blade back into its sheath.
“Besides, aren’t you supposed to be guarding Methuselah,” Delmar added.
“Well, Methuselah is guarding Tiph’arah, and I am guarding Methuselah—so it just makes sense that I would be involved.”
“Uh-huh,” Delmar said.
“What?” Onami asked.
“Nothing—for now,” Delmar said. “Just remember to keep your emotions in check.”
Methuselah gave Tiph’arah a warning glance and continued calmly, “We were just on our way to honor Naamah at her Rite of Passing when we ran into Tubal-Cain who—”
“Got himself caught in a very nasty trap,” Tiph’arah interrupted. “Which is why we ended up delivering his heavy bottom here to you this day. Tubal-Cain promised to take us to see Naamah before she is laid to dust.”
“Indeed.” Semjaza noticed the fine garment covering Tiph’arah. “I see you have arrived dressed for the occasion.” He gave Tubal-Cain a knowing look. “Your garment bears an uncanny resemblance to Mother Eve’s mantle.”
“It doesn’t just look like Mother Eve’s mantle,” retorted Tiph’arah, “It is her mantle.”
“I see,” Semjaza said, quickly hiding his excitement. “I was just informed of her passing—such an unfortunate series of events. I do offer my deepest sympathies.”
“Do you really now, you Watcher,” Tiph’arah said. Her voice cut into Semjaza like her best blade. “Our Naamah has died birthing your childling, Mother Eve is dead and all you care about are clothes!”
Methuselah walked along silently, refusing to participate in the spat. He continued on the path to El Tevah—observing.
His gut was on fire.
The Voice burned within him.
Methuselah could see the stone table covered in flowers and gifts at the bottom of El Tevah,
Many tribesmen, and even some of the Elders, were already taking their seats in the arena carved into the hillside.
Banners from each generation waved in the breeze.
The drums beckoned all kinsman to come.
The rhythm to congregate could be heard for many spans. It would not stop beating until all arrived, and in the middle of all the activity lay Naamah.
Tiph’arah gasped and almost broke into a run down the paved steps toward her beautiful cousin—her only friend. Tiph’arah recalled the day she heard Naamah’s cries from Semjaza’s tent. “If only I had done more,” she mumbled to herself. “This never would have happened.” Bitterness rose inside her like bile.
She stopped long enough to glance back. Captain Semjaza sat high and pretty on his white four-runner. “Someone should make you pay!” she spat out.
Tiph’arah spun around. In an instant, she had her bow and arrow drawn and ready to aim at Semjaza. “I should have done this when I had the chance.”
“Be calm,” Onami said, waving a hand around the girl. Her words of revenge drew fallen to her like bees to honey. Now, several lessers swirled around her, cackling.
Methuselah ran after her and grabbed her arm. “Tiph’arah! We are not here to settle accounts. Only the Ancient One can do that. We have come to honor Naamah. More bloodshed will not do that, nor will it bring her back to us.”
Onami sang a tune.
“Methuselah’s right,” Tubal-Cain said, “Tiph’arah, I felt the same way you do, but Captain Semjaza grieves too in his own way. The B’Nai Elohim do not express their emotions as we do.”
“How can you sing at a time like this?” Delmar asked. “It’s time to rally the troops, don’t you think?”
“Sometimes a song is all that is needed,” Onami answered, “and, I have rallied the troops,” he said, pointing to his forehead, “using this.”
Tiph’arah sighed and settled down.
The lessors dissipated as Tiph’arah let go of her rage. Several Guardians emerged from the wooded area surrounding El Tevah and saluted Captain Onami.
Tiph’arah didn’t speak.
Delmar shook his head, and grinned. “Nice work. It still amazes me that none of the Watchers can see us anymore.”
Tears streamed down Tiph’arah’s cheeks. The reality of Naamah’s death hit her as she gazed at the lifeless body on the stone table. “She looks just like a sleeping beauty—”
“She does indeed,” Semjaza said in a much gentler tone. “Tubal-Cain’s words are true.”
Tiph’arah glared at him again.
“Perhaps it would be best if I leave you with Tubal-Cain to remember Naamah.” Semjaza dismounted and approached Methuselah. “I would be privileged to escort you to the seats of honor with the Elders as you are the only representative here from your clan’s Council.”
Methuselah hesitated. The fiery sensation was back again. It yearned within him, filling his entire being with heat. At last, the Voice spoke, “Methuselah, find the childling.”
“I would appreciate that, Captain Semjaza,” Methuselah added quickly. “But first, I would like to refresh myself before the rite begins.”
“Of course,” Semjaza waved his hand and immediately a sebassi walked toward them. “She will take care of your needs.”
Medici Yabbesheth! Methuselah was startled to see her serving as a sebassi but said nothing.
“And you—see to this,” Semjaza commanded, tossing the reins of his four-runner toward Medici Yabbesheth.
“Of course, my lord,” she bowed obediently.
Once Semjaza was a distance away, her demeanor completely changed. “Come!” she whispered. She pulled Methuselah toward a hidden trail near the steps to El Tevah. “I will show you what you seek. Follow me.”
“Delmar, stay with Tiph’arah,” Onami said, as he trailed close behind Methuselah. “Alert me at the first sign of trouble—” he paused. “I leave you in charge. Act as you see fit. I trust you.”
Delmar nodded, blending into one of the stone pillars inside the tent on the circular platform—just in case.
“Tiph’arah,” Tubal-Cain called gently to the woman who clung to the pillar nearest Naamah’s body. “A moment ago, you said you wished there was something you could do.”
“Will you now revive my guilt, seeing there is nothing to be done?”
“But there is something you can do.”
Tiph’arah eyed him warily. She was suspicious, but curious too. “Speak.”
“Remember I when I ran into your trap, I told you I was searching for elements that could turn this mourning into a celebration?”
“What of it?” Tiph’arah tapped her foot. “If you have something to say, say it!”
“You are wearing one of them.” Tubal-Cain pointed to her beautiful garment.
“This?” Tiph’arah tugged at the elaborate robe. “How can this do anything for Naamah?’
“Let me explain,” Tubal-Cain said.
Outside Time: Location—Incubator Room, Heaven’s Realm, Seventh Dimension
“Enoch, notice what is happening on Eye 1704,” the Beloved said.
“Tubal-Cain is talking to Tiph’arah—a little too much if you ask me,” he said. “I do not trust him. I wish Tiph’arah had stayed with Methuselah. She is strong, but too impetuous.”
“What else do you notice, young one?” the One Mind asked. “Look closely.”
The Beloved enlarged Eye 1704, giving Enoch a better view.
Enoch squinted. “For truth! I see light,” he said. “There is light inside Tiph’arah!”
“Good,” the Beloved said. “That is the light of my Life I placed inside her. It is strong and sure, is it not?”
“Well—it was,” Enoch said, squinting again. “The source of the light, coming from her midsection, from her gut—it was a steady flame, but now it is flickering.”
“Excellent observation.” The Beloved patted him on the back. “What does the flickering mean?”
“Uh—I am not sure, my Lord.”
“Learn,” the Beloved said. With a snap of his fingers. Tiph’arah’s voice flooded the Incubator.
Methuselah’s Time: Location—El Tevah, Seti of Nod, Adamah, First Dimension.
“Well, Tubal-Cain,” Tiph’arah said, “if you are sure, it will help Naamah—perhaps I can allow you to borrow the garment—for just a moment.” She walked closer to Naamah, staring at her cousin for a while.
“Do you promise I will get the garment back immediately after the rite?” Tiph’arah thought of Naamah and her poor childling. It is such a shame for Naamah’s childling to grow up without a mother.
“I swear you will have it back immediately,” Tubal-Cain insisted. “Captain Semjaza is certain Naamah only needs to touch the hem of the garment and she will be healed. He says it is a promise of the Ancient One Himself.”
“Well—if it is a promise from the Hidden Father, then I do not see the harm in letting you use the garment for just a moment.”
Fallen swarmed around Tiph’arah. They whispered, snickered, circled, and repeated—
“Yes, yes, just for a moment,” the shadow voices insisted.
“A moment is all that is needed.”
“Think of Naamah—think of her poor childling.”
“One moment will not matter.”
“Yes, yes you will get it right back.”
“A moment is all that is needed.”
Tiph’arah shook her head to clear her thoughts. She tried to remember Mother Eve’s last words. She said something about the garment. Right—Mother Eve said it was powerful—Oh what else did she say?
Tiph’arah asked Tubal-Cain, “Can we not wait until Methuselah returns? As an elder, he should approve it too.”
“I am afraid if we wait,” Tubal-Cain said, “we will be too late to save her. Captain Semjaza said this healing power of the Ancient Father is only accessible on this certain eve at moon’s peak, once every sun cycle. This eve is our only chance until this time next sun cycle.”
Tubal-Cain walked to where Tiph’arah stood, gazing at Naamah. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You have just a few more moments to decide. Only you can save her now.”
Methuselah followed Medici Yabbesheth down the path, covering their tracks as he went just like the wise woman requested.
“Why the secrecy?” Methuselah whispered, almost running to stay in step with her.
“You will see soon enough, and you will be glad for our cunning once you do,” Yabbesheth said. “We are almost there. Semjaza’s men are patrolling the area. See that you keep your wits about you.”
The Medici stopped, held her finger to her lips and spoke softly, “We must be quiet like the wee mice.”
She handed him a small pouch. “Take these alroue leaves and rub them along your arms and legs. The childling is just beyond this ridge.”
Methuselah nodded and did as he was told, knowing the pungent scent would mask his own. He handed the leaves back to Medici Yabbesheth and whispered, “How did you know I sought the childling?”
“I had a dream last sunsleep—.it was from the Ancient One, for truth. In my dream, Mother Zillah was laughing with Naamah—on Mount Hermon, and I was there with them— I don’t know why, but I was. Mother Zillah was as happy as can be—and Naamah was asking for her little one—I was glad for it and was sent forth to fetch her childling. In the dream, I ran as fast as I could back to the Seti of Nod—but when I got there—” she trailed off.
Yabbesheth dropped down to her hands and knees and motioned for Methuselah to do the same. Together they crawled the rest of the way. She stopped abruptly and held her palm up.
“—but when I got there,” Yabbesheth said. Her voice shook and was barely audible. “Everything was destroyed—the people were—like this—” she pulled back a couple of low branches so Methuselah could peer into the opening.”
Methuselah leaned forward and gazed into the ravine. He jerked backwards, covering his mouth and nose. “By the Ancient!” he said, almost too loudly. The smell was nearly as gruesome as the sight. His eyes grew wide. He drew a sharp breath and peeked again.
Piles and piles of bones were scattered all down the sides of the ravine. Huge piles of refuse were everywhere. Half dead animals were lying about, moaning in agony—drenched in their own blood. He heard a young voice bellow. “More, more, please,” the boy said. “I am still so hungry.”
“The wretched Watchers are back!” mouthed Medici Yabbesheth, as the voices came closer. “Do not make a sound.”
Methuselah looked toward the direction of the sound. Around a cropping of trees, out walked a monstrously, huge man with child-like features. The resemblance was unmistakable. He looked just like—Naamah.
“Now young one, you have already eaten so much, and you have not even finished what is here before you. You know Captain Semjaza says you must learn to eat like a B’Nai Elohim. Won’t you wait so I can drain the blood and cook the meat for you?” the Watcher said.
“But I like the blood—it tastes better that way,” the boyish voice said.
“Then at least allow me to kill it and store the flesh,” the B’Nai Elohim said.
“But it tastes better when it is alive and wiggling,” the young one whined.
“This cannot be!” Methuselah whispered. “He has to be at least—twelve cubits tall!” Methuselah shook his head in disbelief at the horrific scene. “He was birthed a couple of sun-sleeps ago, right?”
“Tis’’ true,” Yabbesheth whispered. “You see it as I do. It is Naamah’s offspring. The childling was different almost right from the start—he never stopped feeding—I wanted to tell someone before—but Captain Semjaza threatened me—he made me serve as a sebassi and said he would hurt my daughter Chalal—he said he would make her a common nuta to be used for their pleasure if I said a word to anyone. But I had to—just look at it!”
The giant child-thing picked up a wolf that still had life in it and tore right into it. Blood drooled down his fair cheeks. “My real father says I can eat the blood if I want to!”
“Now young one, you must have misunderstood our Great Leader. That is not the way of the B’Nai Elohim,” the Watcher said, trying reason to coax the great child-thing into submission.
“But I am not Elohim,” the giant child-thing said. “My real father says I am Nephilim—part Elohim and part dirt-man.”
Suddenly another voice joined the conversation. “Greetings, my good man,” a beautiful male voice spoke. “Let the young lad alone. Captain Semjaza and the dirt-girl, Naamah, were merely my instruments. The childling is indeed, truly my son. As such, he may do as he pleases. He needs freedom to explore his full potential. After all, do we not have dominion over all the beasts of this world?”
“Of course, my lord.” The Elohim who had been speaking bowed low. “It is as you say.”
“The way I see it, this world is here for our good pleasure—wherever that may lead us. Tell me, have you explored all Adamah has to offer?”
The Elohim laughed. “Of course, my lord. Why, I have my eye on a new beauty even as we speak.”
“Good, good. We shall be fruitful and multiply, eh?” the Leader said, nudging the Elohim in the ribs. “Our seed is magnificent indeed, is he not?”
The two Elohim paused to stare at the child-thing who was carving a shape out of the discarded bones. The child-thing held up a figure with an amazing likeness to the Great Leader, except it had two horns attached to the figure’s head.
“Just look at his stature, his intelligence, and his creativity.”
“I do see what you mean. He took to carving almost as soon as he took to eating. He is crafty,” the Elohim agreed. “He even has extra digits, making his dexterity greater than that of those five-fingered humans.”
“The sons of dust will submit to our offspring,” the Leader added. “They are but insignificant monkeys compared to our giant Nephilim. All will cower to the greatness of our first-born son and the others, soon to follow, will help him rule this planet on our behalf.”
“You are true to your word, my lord,” the Elohim said, who at first seemed disgusted with the child-man, but now beamed with pride. “What shall he be called?”
“Ah yes,” the Leader said, “as his father, of course, I have the perfect name for him.”
“Well, what is it?” asked the Elohim.
“A little more patience, Hazazel.” The Leader was jubilant. “I will reveal his name soon. I must say I am most pleased with you and Captain Semjaza. The garment of Mother Eve has been obtained as requested. All has been made ready for the unveiling. Let us go at once to present the childling and his mother to their subjects.”
Methuselah and Medici Yabbesheth waited for B’Nai Elohim Hazazel and his leader to leave. Somehow, the giant child-thing’s “real father” was able to convince him to obediently follow along.
Yabbesheth looked around before speaking. Still, she whispered, “I did manage to tell Father Lamech and the Council. The men are armed and ready. We talked about going to Enoch for help, but you know Father Lamech. He will never admit he and Tubal-Cain made a mistake in trusting the Watchers. But something must be done—the Elohim have taken many of our daughters as wives. The other women will be birthing their childlings any day now.”
Yabbesheth recounted all the details of Naamah’s delivery, the rapid growth of the childling and how they tried to feed him. She went on and on, but Methuselah did not here most of it.
The fire was back. Methuselah felt the burning within him even stronger than before. It was furious fire. He was furious. The fire consumed him, giving him courage as it flowed through every fiber of his being. Then a thought came to him—use your sling. Methuselah’s hand automatically went to the pack on his hip. He dug inside pouch. Good, I still have them.
Medici Yabbesheth droned on, speaking faster and faster. “It is impossible to feed him. He is insatiable. What will happen if the other childlings are born like him? There are at least two hundred of our daughters with child and the Elohim take more wives every day. They do not even bother to consult their fathers or marry them properly anymore. I have been praying to the Ancient One daily, making the supplications the way Father Adam taught because I didn’t know what else to do—without Enoch, we cannot make the sacrifice and hear the Voice. Only the true Bearer of the Seed can do that. Then, I had the dream— there was a Voice in the dream—the Voice said, ‘Find Methuselah. Show him.’ So, I brought you here.”
Finally, Yabbesheth paused to breath. “What should we do?”
Methuselah did not hesitate. The Voice had already spoken. He merely repeated the words.
“Destroy them all.”