ANCIENT ALIENS: MARRADIANS AND ANUNNAKI: VOLUME ONE: EXTRATERRESTRIAL HOLIDAYS

by ILIL ARBEL

  “But it is not really their child?”

  “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. You must realize that normal impregnation and the nine months of carrying the baby does not occur. The Grays take the eggs out of the woman, the way you just saw it on the monitor, put them in a tube, fertilize it by an electric or sometimes atomic way, and the hybrid grows in the tube until it is of term. No woman has ever given birth to a hybrid.”

  “This is beyond words,” I said. “And I thought most of the extraterrestrials would be like you.”

  “There are many species,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. There are those humans call ‘The Nordic,’ they look and behave much like humans, they are rather kindly, and other kinds are reasonable as well. But there are a lot of horrible species. The closer any species get to the demonic dimension, and particularly if they trade with them, the worse they become. Some look reptilian, some insect-like. Some eat human beings and other sentient species, in what we see as almost cannibalistic behavior. Some make sacrifices of sentient beings to their deities. The reptilians have a specialized digestive system. They don’t eat solid food, but only suck blood through pores in their fingers. That is why some researchers on earth connect the extraterrestrials with vampirism. The Grays sell them cattle blood, since the reptilians don’t particularly care where the blood comes from. But anyway, are you ready for your field trip? Let’s go and visit a Grays’ lab.”

  I thought I was ready. I thought I was tough. But what I saw on this field trip would remain with me for eons.

  Sinhar Inannaschamra took me to her spaceship, and informed me that the trip would be very short. She had been to this lab before, and knew the conditions very well. Just before we landed, she pulled out a suit that was needed to protect me from any radiation. Apparently, for this trip, she needed no protection herself, but she could not tell as yet if I could tolerate such conditions or not, due to my human existence for the last thirty years. The suit was made of lightweight, soft metallic material that was actually rather comfortable and moved easily with me. Then, I put on a helmet, which was entirely transparent and allowed me perfect vision.

  We landed on a bleak field covered with some material that looked much like cement, gray and unpleasant, but with a smoother finish. Right before us was a huge building which looked like an ugly airport hangar, completely utilitarian without any ornamentation. The entire area around it was an empty prairie-like field with stunted, grayish vegetation, stretching into the horizon without any feature like a mountain or a city. The sky was gray but without clouds. We walked to a large door, tightly closed and made of metal.

  Sinhar Inannaschamra put her hand on it, and it slid immediately to the side and allowed us to come in. “They know my hand print,” she said to me. We entered a small hall, empty of any furniture, and from there, a door opened into a long corridor, brightly lit and painted white. On each side there were doors, also painted white, all closed, and it was entirely empty of any occupants. Sinhar Inannaschamra lead the way to one of the doors, and again placed her hand on it. The door slid open silently, and we entered an enormous room. It was so huge that I could not see the end of it, and had gray walls and a white ceiling. Round, bright lights of large circumference were placed in the ceiling, emanating a very strong illumination. The impression the room gave was that of a hospital ward, or a surgical hall, but there were no beds or operation tables, only large tanks containing some objects I could not as yet see. And while the place was scrupulously clean, the smell was nightmarish. I recognized the stench of formaldehyde, mingled with some other malodorous liquids. I was surprised I could smell anything through the helmet, but Sinhar Inannaschamra explained that they deliberately made the suits and the helmets allow as much interaction with the environment as possible.

  “It smells like that because this is the warehouse, where they keep all the spare parts,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Come, look at this tank.”

  We approached an enormous tank, transparent in the front parts and increasingly opaque as it extended further into the room. Inside floated a large number of severed arms and legs, all human. I recoiled in horror, but quickly recovered. We went to the next tank. It was arranged in the same manner, but inside floated severed heads and torsos. And so it went on, each tank filled with body parts, some even with full bodies. Smaller containers had interior organs, such as livers, hearts, and some others I was not sure of. In addition, there were containers of blood, some red, some green. I already knew that the green blood became like that after preparation for sale to species that needed the adjustments.

  Suddenly I heard sounds of conversation, as if a group of people were approaching us from somewhere. The sounds were in a language I could not understand, and uttered in a metallic, screeching way that was almost mechanical. To me, it sounded demonic and inhuman. A group of five Grays approached us. After what I have seen on the monitor, I was about to escape in terror, but the group bowed to Sinhar Inannaschamra, and went on about their business. One of them approached a tank. He looked at what seemed to be a chart, like a hospital chart but in a language I could not understand, that was positioned above the tank, and just stared at it for a short while. A line on the chart lit up, and some equipment that was build above the tank came down, entered the tank, and using a robotic hand pulled out a specimen and placed it in a tube, along with some of the liquid. Then the robotic hand came up, moved forward, and handed the tube to the Gray. The Gray took the tube, looked at the chart, and the robotic hand withdrew.

  The Gray took the tube to a wall and placed the tube against it. To my amazement, the wall sort of swallowed the tube and it disappeared. I looked at Sinhar Inannaschamra for explanation, and she said, “The walls are not solid. They look solid, of course, but really they are constructed of energy. The Grays can move things back and forth, and even pass through it themselves. Some of the walls contain drawers, where they place equipment.”

  The other Grays were all communicating among themselves in their demonic language, mostly ignoring us. “Let’s go to the next room, where I can show you what they do with their specimens,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. We went to the wall and she put her hand on it while holding me with her other hand, and I found myself passing through the wall as if it was made of thick molasses.

  The room we entered was designed just like the others, architecturally, but had work tables instead of tanks and containers. Hundreds of Grays stood there, each at his table, doing things to the limbs, torsos, and blood. The smell of formaldehyde was so intense that I almost fainted. “Here,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Let me adjust the helmet so you don’t have to smell the liquid.” She did something at the back of the helmet, and I felt better.

  “And now, let’s go to the area where they fit the spare parts on the creatures I have shown you, the ones that want to buy substance,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra.

  We stepped into a third room, again through the wall, and this was a much smaller room. On the walls, there were a number of monitors, just like the ones in Sinhar Inannaschamra’s office, but much larger. Before each monitor stood a Gray. We walked to one of them, and the Gray bowed to Sinhar Inannaschamra, and returned to his work. The Gray adjusted something, and a swirling shadow attached to one leg appeared on the screen. Behind him were numerous other shadows, but the Gray managed to separate the first creature from the others with some walls of energy that looked like white fog. The creature waved desperately at the Gray, who had before him a torso in liquid. A large robotic hand came from above the monitor, picked up the torso, and allowed the liquid to drain into its container. Then, he passed the torso through the screen, which now I realized was made of energy, like the wall, and placed it on the shadow. The shadow shivered, as if in pain, and I heard a deep moan or sigh, as the torso attached itself to the swirling gray form. I had a glimpse of a shadowy face, contorted in agony, but whether it was physical or mental pain I did not know. The shadow seemed utterly exhausted by the bizarre procedure, and floated
away.

  “What will happen to it now?” I asked.

  “It will be back again and again, and when the Gray decide, they will give it more parts, allowing it to adjust and become more substantial.”

  “Are there any of them ready to leave and serve the Grays?”

  “Yes, but I think this would be too dangerous to visit in person. The demonic creatures don’t have the restraints the Grays have, regarding the Anunnaki, and often they are too stupid and just lash out as soon as they are brought into our dimension. Their transport, therefore, is done in a different part of the lab, under tremendous precautions. Besides, we don’t want to stay much longer, since I think you had seen enough for one day…” I could not agree with her more, and we retraced our steps back to the spaceship.

  “Some time I will show you how the creatures are taken out and put to service,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Only not in person.” This sounded good to me. I was already so shaken from my day’s adventures, I did not think I could take much more instruction, nor did I have a wish to meet such creatures in person. But, of course, I knew that one day I would have to do exactly that.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Visiting the Hybrids

  “The base we are visiting today is under water,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “We are about to descend way down into the Pacific.”

  “What about air?” I asked, a bit apprehensive about the idea. Surely Sinhar Inannaschamra won’t forget I could not breathe under water, but still…

  “We pass through a lock that is safe for both water and air,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra, “and inside, it’s geared for the hybrids, which, just like humans, need air.” In a few minutes, we stopped and I assumed, correctly, that we were already inside the base.

  “They are expecting us,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Don’t worry about them. They know I can blow the whole place up if they dare to give me any trouble.”

  The spaceship’s door opened and I saw that we were inside a huge, hangar-like room. If I had expected a beautiful, aquarium-like window, showing the denizens of the deep playing in their blue environment, I would have been disappointed. But knowing the Grays, I expected nothing of the sort, and so the beige and gray room, all metal and lacking any windows, did not exactly surprise me.

  “This base is enormous, you know” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “It is used for many operations, but we will just concentrate on the hybrids today.”

  I was pleased to hear that, since I was secretly apprehensive about the possibility of stumbling on one of the Grays’ hellish laboratories. I will never forget, or forgive, what I saw in their lab. But I said nothing and waited to see what was going to happen next. Sinhar Inannaschamra walked me to a solid wall, put her hand on it, and the wall shimmered a little and then moved, allowing a door to form and open for us. We entered a long corridor, illuminated by stark, white light, with many regular doors on each side. Sinhar Inannaschamra opened one of the doors and we entered a large room, obviously a refectory since it contained extremely long tables, all made of metal. The room was painted entirely in beige – tables, chairs, walls, and ceiling, and had no windows. It was scrupulously clean.

  Suddenly, the tables opened up, each table revealing a deep groove on each of its long sides. Plates of what seemed to be normal human food were released from the grooves, and placed each before a chair. At this moment, a few doors opened at various parts of the room, and from each door an orderly file of children came in and settled at the table. They were completely silent, not a word was heard, as they picked up their forks and began to eat. None of them paid any attention to us, even though we stood in plain view.

  The children seemed to range from six to twelve, but it was difficult to be sure of that. On one hand, they were small and fragile, so I might have mistaken their ages. On the other hand, their eyes gave the impression of almost old age. They seemed wise beyond their tender years. Their hair was thin, their skin was pale to gray, and they all wore white clothes of extreme cleanliness.

  Despite these similarities, which made them look as if they were all related to each other, I could tell some differences between them that seemed rather fundamental. It was almost as if they fitted within three distinct groups. I mentioned it, in a whisper, to Sinhar Inannaschamra, and she nodded.

  “Yes, you got it,” she said. “They consist of early-stage hybrids, middle-stage hybrids, and late-stage hybrids. The first group is born from the first combination of abductees’ and Grays’ DNA. They closely resemble the Grays. Look at their skin – the grayish color is very close to that of the Grays, and so is the facial structure. The second group, the middle-stage hybrids, are the result of mating between these early-stage ones, once they are old enough for reproduction, and human abductees. The resulting DNA is closer to humans, and so they look much more like humans, and many of them lose the Progeria gene. The third group, the late-stage hybrid, is the most important. Middle-stage hybrids are mated with humans to create them – and they can hardly be distinguished from humans.”

  “Yes, I can tell who the late-stagers are quite easily,” I said. “But there are not too many of them here, right?”

  “This is true, not too many are here. A large number of these hybrids, who represent the most successful results of the experiments, are placed for adoption with human families.”

  “Are the human families aware of the origin of their children?”

  “Yes, in most cases they are. Generally, they are adopted by a high-ranking United States military person, who had worked, or still works, with extraterrestrials, in secret military bases. This happens much more often than most people suspect… the spouse of the military person may or may not know, depending on circumstances and character traits. These lucky hybrids lead a much better life than whose who are raised in places like this one, communally.”

  “Are they badly treated here? Are they abused by the Grays?”

  “No, the Grays don’t want to lose them, they are too valuable. But they receive no love, no individual attention, there is no real parenting, and the environment is barren and depressing. They live like that until they are old enough to be of use in the experiments. Not a very nice life for any child.”

  “And what about Progeria? I mean, for the adopted ones.”

  “Only the hybrids who are entirely free of Progeria are adopted by human families. We even suspect, though we are not sure, that many of the Progeria stricken late-stagers are killed, since their Progeria gene is too strong. The Grays believe that after these three attempts, it cannot be eradicated by further breeding.”

  “And so they kill the poor things… what is the motive for all these atrocities?”

  “All for the same reason I have mentioned. They think they somehow will save their civilization. But they are doomed.”

  “But in the meantime, they harm, torture, and kill so many people. I don’t understand why it is tolerated.” Sinhar Inannaschamra did not answer.

  The children finished eating, still in complete silence. Each child, as he or she finished his meal, leaned back into the chair, and as soon as all of them were leaning back, the groove from which the plates came opened up, and re-absorbed all the plates. “They now go to an automatic dishwashing machine,” explained Sinhar Inannaschamra.

  The children got up, and left the dismal room in the same file arrangement they came in. As soon as the room was empty, large vacuum cleaners emerged from the wall and sucked up every crumb, every piece of debris. Then they sprayed the tables and floor with a liquid that smelled like a disinfectant. The room was spotlessly clean again, ready for the next sad, depressing meal.

  “Shall we go to the dormitories now?” asked Sinhar Inannaschamra. I nodded. We followed the children through one of the doors, and entered a place that was a combination of an old-fashioned orphanage and military barracks. It was a very large room, but the ceiling was not high, only about twelve feet. Again, everything was beige and gray, and there were no windows to relieve the mono
tony. The room was full of beds, arranged above each other in groups of three, like in a submarine. Dozens and dozens of such rows seemed to stretch to a very long distance. The beds were made of some metal, very smooth, and of silver-gray color. They seemed to be assembled like prefab furniture.

  “Sinhar Inannaschamra,” I said, “there are no ladders. How do the children reach the upper levels?”

  “They can levitate,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Look at this. Part of each bed is magnetic, so each child can have his or her toys attach to it. As for the lower beds, the toys are stored next to them.”

  “So they have toys,” I said. “That’s a mercy.”

  “Yes, the Grays discovered that mental stimulation is highly important to the hybrids’ development. There are plenty of other activities, mostly with abductees, that relieve their lives of the tedium, at least to a certain extent.”

  “But they have no privacy at all.”

  “None whatsoever, they only get their own room when they are more mature, but they have one thing that pleases them. If the children want to, they can put their things in their bed, close the bed with a panel, and hide it inside a wall. They like that.”

  “I wonder, too, if it is not a comfort for them to be together, after all.”

  “Their feelings and emotional climate are not exactly human… it’s hard to explain. I think it’s time for you to see them interact.”

  “Where are all the children now?”

  “They are attending various activities,” said Sinhar Inannaschamra. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  We entered a room that opened directly from the dormitory. To my surprise, it was really a glass bubble. You could see the outside, which was an unpleasant desert surrounding. I found it nasty, but I figured that to the children it might have represented a pleasant change. About ten children, seemingly between the ages of six and eight, sat on the ground, which was simply the desert sand. They were playing with normal human toys – trucks, cars, and trains. They filled the things with sand, using plastic trowels that one usually sees on the beach. They were also building tunnels from the sand, wetting it with water from large containers that stood here and there. They seemed to be enjoying their games, certainly concentrating on them, but their demeanor remained quiet and subdued, and they did not engage in the laughter, screaming, yelling, or fighting that children of this age usually produce.