by Evan Ansot
Elizabeth tried to press on further, but Joan’s attention span was quite short, and she’d rather talk of the next show that was to come on the Nickelodeon channel instead of her father.
Between the meeting last night with Baphomet and her conversation with Joan, Elizabeth wondered who this blond-haired, green-eyed mystery was.
She put her head in her hands and wondered, The blood of the Nazarene flowing through my daughters’ veins? Highest pedigree? What the hell does it all mean? Are my daughters in the middle of some kind of spiritual warfare I have no understanding of ?
Later that day, she turned on her computer, went to the Internet, and looked up everything she could about Baphomet and Lucifer. She needed to know what this was all about. Who this goat-headed demon was that plagued her since she was a child and was now focused on her children.
May 21, 2010
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
Just three months after the event in Elizabeth’s bedroom between Baphomet and Thomas came the next attack on the twins.
Joan was in her playroom playing with her dolls, while Jessica was out in the backyard. Elizabeth had gone to the market to purchase fresh produce, so her mother Helen was watching the twins.
Around the backyard was an eight-foot-high fence built around it. Helen was washing the dishes while watching Jessica with one eye. One of the dishes was about to drop on the floor, so Helen reached down and caught it in midair. After she put the dish into the strainer, she looked out into the backyard and Jessica was gone. Helen then went out to the backyard to look around and didn’t see her.
Panic begun to engulf her, and she started yelling, “Jessica, Jessica!”
Joan came out of the bedroom and asked, “What’s wrong, Nan?”
“I can’t find Jessica, she was just here!” answered Helen.
Both of them proceeded to comb the backyard looking for Jessica with no joy. They searched every inch with no luck. Helen looked up at the tall fence and thought, There is no way that she could have possibly scaled those walls, especially in that amount of time. Where could she be?
Helen got out her phone and called Elizabeth. “Honey, Jessica is gone!”
“What!” asked Elizabeth?
“She’s gone! I took my eye off her for two seconds to catch a dish that was falling, and then I looked out into the back yard and I can’t find her!” shouted Helen.
“Oh my god!” yelled Elizabeth. “I’ll call the police!”
Elizabeth did call the police and explain to them that Jessica was missing and that she was an autistic child. She and several squad cars were at her residence within ten minutes. Helen showed them the fence and asked how Jessica could climb these walls in the two seconds she took her eye off her. They had no idea, but a police sergeant piped in with, “I’ve heard reports of these autistic children wandering. I’ll call for a helicopter and have them scour the area for her.”
Three hours of Sydney’s finest looking for her had revealed nothing. Twenty squad cars and two helicopters flying over the area had turned up nothing. For all intents and purposes, Jessica was gone.
By this time, Elizabeth was an absolute and total mess.
Sergeant Andrew Kinkaid was two blocks away from Elizabeth’s house when he noticed a sound coming from the bushes in an alley he was walking through. He looked and said, “What have we here?”
All he could hear was, “Mama, mama,” over and over again.
He crouched down to look into the bushes, and he saw Jessica naked with scratches all along her arms and legs. It looks like she has been crawling in a thorn bush for hours, thought the policeman. “Come here, honey,” said the Sergeant.
“Mama, mama,” Jessica repeated.
Sergeant Kinkaid looked into Jessica’s eyes and thought, She’s not all here right now. God only knows what happened to this kid. She’s in a total daze from some kind of event that happened to her. “What happened to you, darling?”
“Mama, mama,” was all Jessica could muster.
The policeman picked her up and walked the two blocks over to Elizabeth’s house. Cradling her in his arms, all she could do was mumble, “Mama, mama.”
Elizabeth saw the policeman approach the front yard and screamed, “Oh my god!” and ran to her missing daughter. She grabbed the child from him and thanked the officer over and over again. She took a look at Jessica and assessed where all those bruises and scratches came from.
“I found her in the bushes a couple blocks away from here,” said Sergeant Kinkaid.
“Praise God! Thank you Sergeant!”
Jessica’s twin, Joan, came running after she saw her mother with her sister.“They must have let her go,”she said.
The policeman looked at Joan and asked, “My dear, who had her?”
“The bad guys had her,” said Joan.
“Which bad guys?” asked the sergeant.
“The ones who took Jessica,” said Joan.
The policeman looked at her and asked, “Do you know what they look like?”
“Yes, I do. They look like small, pale guys with big, black eyes,” she answered.
“Can you draw me a picture?” he asked.
Joan—who, for a five-year-old, is very good at art—took the policeman’s pencil and paper and proceeded to draw a picture of three beings of what many would classify as “gray aliens.”
Small, pale guys with big, black eyes. “And these are the guys who took her?” asked the policeman.
“Yes, I’m sure of it,” said Joan.
Sergeant Andrew Kinkaid took the drawing, put it in his pocket, and looked at Elizabeth.
“Sir, if that is what she saw, then that is what she saw,” Elizabeth said to the policeman.
The veteran policeman looked at her. “I don’t doubt her sincerity one bit.”
April 21, 2011
Alexandria, Egypt
Twent-four-year-old Youssef Sherif put the local newspaper
away that he had been reading. He was happy about the overthrow of the Egyptian regime yet skeptical of the promised changes of the new one. A devout Muslim, he believed that the only justice Egyptians would ever receive would come from Allah and not corrupt politicians looking to line their own pockets rather than serve the people.
Revolution had been in the air with nation after nation toppling its leaders. What began in Tunisia would spread to Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Syria, Bahrain, Kuwait, Lebanon, Oman, Morocco, and Jordan. It seemed the entire Arab world had been infected with the spirit of rebellion.
Tired of authoritarianism, political corruption, human rights violations, inflation, unemployment, and sectarianism, the youth of these nations took to the streets to promote massive change.
Youssef, being one of those who led the charge in Egypt, helped organize two million protestors in Cairo, which was a big reason for the toppling of the Mubarak government. Now he reckoned he would see what the new leadership would bring. If it wasn’t widespread changes, they too would be overthrown by a restless youth hell-bent on change.
He started by setting up an Internet website that was against torture and police brutality. This website exploded seemingly overnight to over a million followers, mostly twenty-something-year-olds all wanting freedom and democracy. Youssef then realized that he had a gift given from Allah to help shape Egypt’s policy. With that number of followers to his site, he had massive influence on the minds of Egypt’s youth. He would constantly thank Allah for leading him to be that voice.
After the successful revolution, many Egyptians from differing political parties were vying for Youssef ’s attention. They either wanted his backing, which wasn’t very likely, or they wanted him to run for political office, which was something he wanted to talk to his wife and his mother about.
It was after five in the afternoon; time to leave his law office and head home to his wife and two sons.
He never knew his biological father, who, according to his mother, had passed away when he was a young child of
two. She never spoke of him nor had he ever seen any pictures of the man. Any time he had questioned her
Blood Royal about him, she had dismissed him as if he never existed. Apparently it was a touchy subject with her that she didn’t want her son to pursue in. He had no other relatives to ask about him, so it would seem to be a mystery to Youssef.
She remarried when he was four, to a good man who always treated Youssef like he was his own child.
His mother, like himself an attorney, had provided for Youssef the best education possible. Youssef, an extremely intelligent and gifted man, had taken advantage of the advanced education provided to him, excelling at every challenge set before him. A young man of very strong faith, he believed that Allah was guiding him in his endeavors and making all things possible for him. Mighty Allah had plans for him, and he wasn’t about to let Allah down.
After school, he joined his mother Sabah’s law firm. That was two years ago, and he was already becoming bored by its massive amount of useless paperwork. This isn’t what he signed up for, shuffling through mundane papers day by day. It was tedious work for him at best, and it was already time for a change. His restless spirit was demanding to him something fresh. Law was something good for him to know, but he somehow knew that it would not be his livelihood.
The revolution had showed him some meaning and also showed him what he was capable of—leading people. Three times he was asked to speak to his fellow Muslims about the corruption in the government and the legal process, and each time many had come to him afterward asking Youssef if he was interested in pursuing any further political aspirations. A gift from Allah, he gave passionate speeches with fiery rhetoric that seemed to hold spellbound those looking for something different in life. Mesmerizing those with terms such as “The people want to bring down the regime” and “Leave in case you don’t understand us.”
It was a refreshing change from the boredom of the office to the rallies held throughout the country. It made his blood pump hard throughout his veins when he was on the platform speaking to thousands who hungered for reform. Allah told him not to fear the state and that change would happen, which propelled him to speak from the heart and the soul.
Due to high unemployment, many Egyptians were overqualified in their jobs and unsatisfied with their present positions. These young, educated Egyptians were looking for a leader and many were tapping Youssef for that position.
Maybe Allah was trying to tell him something through the other believers? He would pray on it and find out, but first he must discuss such changes with the person who was responsible for his present position—his mother. It being such a risky venture, he doubted she would be happy with him joining politics.
A politician? I haven’t thought about it until the last couple months. Maybe I would give it a try and see if it held any result for me. In the end, as always, it would be the will of Allah, who would decide my fate.
February 22, 2012
Alexandria, Egypt
Youssef talked over his decision with his family then with
his gift of knowing, prayed to Allah for confirmation and ran for a member of the house of representatives in parliament in 2012. Backed by his popularity and financial interests generated from his mother and her contacts, he won overwhelmingly and was sworn in as an independent.
The only thing constant in Egyptian politics at the time was change. Being a young charismatic leader of the youth, many political parties had vied for his attention, yet he wavered in a decision. He had taken a close look at the political parties and thought it was in his best interest not to be presently aligned to any political group at the moment. He would weigh where the wind would blow before making a final decision in the matter. Youssef also thought most parties to be corrupt, and it was best if he ran alone for the time being. Though one thing was certain: Youssef ’s career would be set in Egyptian politics, and he, along with many of his brethren, were very unsatisfied with the present political system. The winds of change were blowing throughout Egypt, and Youssef would be one of those who would lead its charge. He was appointed to the foreign relations and youth committees.
Upon taking his position in politics, no one worked harder than young Youssef. He would attend several meetings with leaders of Egypt’s youth to garner the pulse of the nation. The general consensus being that they were completely unsatisfied with the status quo of Egyptian political corruption. Something had to give, and many were willing to take to the streets to effect that change.
He appointed a different administrator to his website and handled it all behind the scenes. It was updated constantly with images of brutality, torture, and corruption. Twice the government tried to shut down his website and twice Youssef had used alternative servers to keep it up and running. By Allah’s will—and a network of informers—he would stay one step ahead of those who resisted freedom and change.
Every time a protestor was jailed, Youssef knew about it. When the police would crack down on dissent, Youssef knew. Dozens of informers, both within and without the government, would tell him of the government’s next move against the protestors.
Blood Royal By early 2014, at the age of twenty-seven, Youssef was becoming a serious threat to Egypt’s status quo, and his enemies, as well as his allies, were beginning to grow.
His largest asset was his faith. A few times in Cairo he had been approached by those with deep pockets looking to bribe him. He flatly refused, and when he did, they threatened him.Youssef, knowing that Allah had put him in his current position, would look at them squarely in the eye and tell them that their threats meant nothing to him. No one was more powerful than Allah, and if he wanted him to lead, then he would. Nothing could stand against him.
Youssef was fearless in parliament. He thundered away with his speeches at the corruption of the government, constantly reminding its representatives who had put them in office. The youth, hanging on to his every word, would watch the television with its massive audience each time Youssef was scheduled to speak.
Convinced that his message didn’t belong to any one political party, Youssef formed his own reform party of Egypt. Soon after its inception, four million Egyptians, most of them in their twenties, joined in. Youssef would carry a heavy club in parliament with his new party. The old-timers of Egyptian politics were soon very concerned with this new movement led by this young, educated, fiery, charismatic leader.
This is just the beginning , thought Youssef. My ultimate goal would be the power of Egypt, and then my reforms would truly begin once I hold that power. I will be patient and strike at just the right time but not sooner.
November 21, 2013
Bald Eagle Bluffs, Michigan
Eddie’s life had been, for the most part, uneventful since
his crash in 1996. He’d never forgotten what Saint Francis had told him that night. “You’ve been chosen.” Why couldn’t those doctors wait another minute? Chosen for what? The question had driven Eddie to the brink of insanity. It had been seventeen years ago, and every night since he had replayed the conversation over and over. What the hell could a man like me be possibly chosen for?
Chosen? Eddie recalled the lines from Jesus in the Bible, “Many are called, few are chosen.” What did Jesus mean by those words? He read commentaries about it from so-called experts, but those left him unconvinced of its meaning. Many are called, few are chosen. The words would penetrate his soul for years.
Between the hand of God in ’86 and the talk with the friar in ’96, Eddie was never normal in this world. Two events in his life destroyed any chance of him becoming just one of the guys. He tried to move through life like everything was okay, yet it was far from it. His mind constantly wandered; this place just wasn’t for him. To Eddie, people were just mindless sheep walking around with no purpose whatsoever—work forty hours a week, pay bills, and do it all over again until they die. What the hell kind of life is that? he pondered. Yet that was exactly the life Eddie was living, and he didn’t care f
or it one bit. Work, eat, and sleep. Work, eat, and sleep. Is that what I was chosen for? That didn’t seem like any reward or choice to him.
Chosen? What the hell does it all mean? To him, the word meant that he would choose a Ford or a Chevy to drive. What breed of dog to raise or which woman to sleep with. Chosen? Francis, what the hell were you talking about? Yet the answers wouldn’t come to him, at least not yet anyway.
He gave up alcohol for good, and nature became Eddie’s God. In 1999, he settled down and purchased a cabin on twenty acres of property that bordered the Manistee National Forest. It was enough room to let his dogs—a German shepherd,an Akita,and a Labrador retriever,which are the only things Eddie ever trusted in the world—to run. It was these delights that Eddie could count on: nature and his wonderful dogs.
Never a hunter, he fed and watched the numerous wildlife that also lived on the property. He’d spend hours sitting on his favorite spot under his favorite maple tree studying nature. The one conclusion Eddie came up with was that God revealed all his secrets through nature. The more he studied it, the closer he felt to the source of all things. With all the spiritual books he had read, he learned more about God out here in the woods then he would ever learn elsewhere.
His twenty acres of property became his church. The maple, the oak, and the pine trees were his saviors. His saints became the squirrel, the deer, and the possum. He watched intently how the trees he had planted had grown through the years. There seemed to be a symmetry to them that explained how things worked in the world. Seedlings would turn into massive evergreens with many branches shooting off in every direction possible. If resistance was meant one way, the branch would grow somewhere else. Branch after branch would sprout, which would become a home for the nests of birds.It was truly a thing of miraculous beauty in Eddie’s eyes. No wonder Jesus had used the tree in so many examples—a tree of life, a tree of knowledge, a tree that brings forth good fruit, and so on.