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Excerpt from Chapter Two One Thousand Years Genesage
One Thousand Years: Genesage
Excerpt from Chapter Ten One Thousand Years Genesage
One Thousand Years: Genesage
No longer listening and petrified in a memory, "Tom"was no longer there.
He was far, so very far…, far, far away in his mind…,
Nightmares were fewer for Tom now that He had reconciled himself to the idea that he
was NOT going to get out of this one alive. Not as though he had ever been in a situation
like this one before, no one had, or so he assumed. Oh he had seen the stories on
Television about the hostages and the wars and the atrocities. He had even watched and
paid good money to see the special effects done at his favorite horror show. Nothing had
prepared him for this and certainly no one else was doing any better. He was resolved to
the fact, even hardened of heart by it, that he would die. He was going to get killed.
At first as with anyone in any given situation where life and death is involved you always
start off with hope. Hope of rescue, hope of deliverance, hope that something unknown will
happen or someone somewhere was going to change their mind and set you free.
After all, all good story lines were full of that. The movies had the Calvary come riding in,
the heroes always lived, the heroines were rescued, everything worked out just in the nick
of time. Who was Nick anyways? Where were John Wayne and Clint Eastwood when you
needed them?
Watching the skin peeled off another "Christian" and their screams of agony were shocking
to his sense of hope. Or at least the first ones were. Then being forced daily to watch the
whimpering, the begging, the screaming. The echoes of the whimpering and screaming
would never leave his heart as long as he lived. He saw thousands change their minds and
accept "life". Life in the World of the Mark, the chip, the symbol of obedience. It wore
Toms' hope out.
He just didn't care anymore.
The only thing he cared about was the nightmares. They just wouldn't leave him alone
anymore. They had reduced themselves in number. Every night at this time before darkness
really fell, the nightmares hit again, and he would remember, or he would see a new person
tortured.
First would come the whimpering, the crying, sometimes a man sometimes a woman. They
would be quoting one thing or another till they started the tearing sounds. The shredding
were accompanied by wails and long terror screams. Over and over and over again, never
a release, never a sudden accidental dying, just a long drawn out nightmare.
He really didn't know if it was a nightmare again or if in fact it was what he suspected. Why
the number of "nightmares" were reduced. Reduced because they were still killing
Christians and the reduced "dreams" really was more people not accepting torture of
themselves or loved ones but accepting the marks. Marks of Evil. Marks of condemnation
and damnation. The one way ticket to hell.
Thomas knew his nightmares and dreams were real. He just couldn't face life. Not like that
and his mind had flipped. No one could deal with the nightmare on Thomas street that had
come real. This was more than a movie. It was life. It was his life and as such had taken it's
toll on his psyche. He couldn't get up and leave the movie screen behind when He was the
main character. No intermission, no listing of credits, nothing ending except the final curtain
of death.
But It hadn't ended there either. His time had not come yet.
Since the last Plagues and Curses had fallen there was really no light anymore and now no
one was dying. Death was not swallowed in victory it was simply taken away. There was
no death now because it had been removed by the author of life himself. No one could die
even if they wanted to. No matter how hard they tried. It was impossible they could live
and yet the impossible was that they
could not die. The sheer ignominy of it all, when death would have been such a welcome
release, and now it was missing in action. No one died. No one. No matter the reason, no
matter the cause, death was removed from the earth.
What kind of a God would put his people through this?
"Please Tom…,"
His wife had begged and pleaded,
"…please just kill me and get it over with."
-Excerpt from Chapter Three of One Thousand Years: Genesage
He was far, so very far…, far, far away in his mind…,
Nightmares were fewer for Tom now that He had reconciled himself to the idea that he
was NOT going to get out of this one alive. Not as though he had ever been in a situation
like this one before, no one had, or so he assumed. Oh he had seen the stories on
Television about the hostages and the wars and the atrocities. He had even watched and
paid good money to see the special effects done at his favorite horror show. Nothing had
prepared him for this and certainly no one else was doing any better. He was resolved to
the fact, even hardened of heart by it, that he would die. He was going to get killed.
At first as with anyone in any given situation where life and death is involved you always
start off with hope. Hope of rescue, hope of deliverance, hope that something unknown will
happen or someone somewhere was going to change their mind and set you free.
After all, all good story lines were full of that. The movies had the Calvary come riding in,
the heroes always lived, the heroines were rescued, everything worked out just in the nick
of time. Who was Nick anyways? Where were John Wayne and Clint Eastwood when you
needed them?
Watching the skin peeled off another "Christian" and their screams of agony were shocking
to his sense of hope. Or at least the first ones were. Then being forced daily to watch the
whimpering, the begging, the screaming. The echoes of the whimpering and screaming
would never leave his heart as long as he lived. He saw thousands change their minds and
accept "life". Life in the World of the Mark, the chip, the symbol of obedience. It wore
Toms' hope out.
He just didn't care anymore.
The only thing he cared about was the nightmares. They just wouldn't leave him alone
anymore. They had reduced themselves in number. Every night at this time before darkness
really fell, the nightmares hit again, and he would remember, or he would see a new person
tortured.
First would come the whimpering, the crying, sometimes a man sometimes a woman. They
would be quoting one thing or another till they started the tearing sounds. The shredding
were accompanied by wails and long terror screams. Over and over and over again, never
a release, never a sudden accidental dying, just a long drawn out nightmare.
He really didn't know if it was a nightmare again or if in fact it was what he suspected. Why
the number of "nightmares" were reduced. Reduced because they were still killing
Christians and the reduced "dreams" really was more people not accepting torture of
themselves or loved ones but accepting the marks. Marks of Evil. Marks of condemnation
and damnation. The one way ticket to hell.
Thomas knew his nightmares and dreams were real. He just couldn't face life. Not like that
and his mind had flipped. No one could deal with the nightmare on Thomas street that had
come real. This was more than a movie. It was life. It was his life and as such had taken it's
toll on his psyche. He couldn't get up and leave the movie screen behind when He was the
main character. No intermission, no listing of credits, nothing ending except the final curtain
of death.
But It hadn't ended there either. His time had not come yet.
Since the last Plagues and Curses had fallen there was really no light anymore and now no
one was dying. Death was not swallowed in victory it was simply taken away. There was
no death now because it had been removed by the author of life himself. No one could die
even if they wanted to. No matter how hard they tried. It was impossible they could live
and yet the impossible was that they
could not die. The sheer ignominy of it all, when death would have been such a welcome
release, and now it was missing in action. No one died. No one. No matter the reason, no
matter the cause, death was removed from the earth.
What kind of a God would put his people through this?
"Please Tom…,"
His wife had begged and pleaded,
"…please just kill me and get it over with."
-Excerpt from Chapter Three of One Thousand Years: Genesage
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Excerpt from Chapter Three One Thousand Years Genesage
