Michael's Journal Cache 5

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There I think this is

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Is this thing on? You do not know how much mucking I have done with this stupid little computer watch, and why anyone would WANT to write a diary in a watch is far beyond me. You know? There are computers around to do this on, with great big screens so you ca

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OKAY. Its working. Wowie. Wonderful. I mean, I am SO excited. I never exactly volunteered for this, you know. Of course, I brought HIM home...the things a girl does for a date, sheesh.

We just had our first fight.

But you tell me, if someone gave you a stupid watch the size of a turnip truck, whatever that is, would YOU know that it got charged from the sun? Who ever heard of a watch getting charged by the sun? Whatever happened to watch batteries is what I want to know. Now I sound like that Dead Dirty Duzzbee Dirty, or however he used to call himself...but I shouldnt be making fun of him now that someone killed him. He didn't deserve that. Almost, but not quite.

So Mr. Handsome wakes up and yells at me because Ive been storing the stupid watch in a drawer, I dont want Mami to find it afterall.

No he didnt say "Oh my angel!" or "Ive been dreaming about you!"

He just wakes up and asks for the stupid watch, he calls it a "journal"...does he think Im a journalist. Get it? Yeah, me too.

Well I must say hes doing much better. I got a nurse and a doctor checking in on him, actually Janie (the nurse) brought in the doctor, who is actually a premed student, and they are both Charismatics, so they are used to people hiding out from other people. I still dont know if hes hiding from the police but I did find out that both Michael and Joshua are still missing, the police are still looking for them. I sure hope they are okay.

Okay, so Mr. Handsome didnt really fight with me, just kind of snapped at me. And he called me stupid. Not really, he just said "Of COARSE it doesnt work, you had it a drawer, how stupid is that you need to have it in sun or at least a light, its a solar watch!" And he was pretty sarcastic about the whole thing, no thank you, no smile for me, his first words to me since he went to sleep about a hundred years ago.

It seems to be working now, this watch thing, boy is it complicated. I keep hitting CONTROL+S to make sure it is saving everything, and Im probably not writing the right kind of stuff in here but he says we have to keep it going, writing the truth, but dont ask me what that is. I mean Im tempted to write about Huck...okay I deleted that, Ill try to keep the four letter words to a min. Isnt that amazing about Huck, that what rhymes with his name is the main thing that he brings out in people, thats something about Huck, hes consistently himself. I've got four big marks on the inside of my arm from his hand, but I wont write about that here, but I WILL tell Mr. Handsome about it when he wakes up, no I wont, that wouldnt be a good thing, because Huck is a dirty fighter, Ive seen him hurt guys before, even guys this size...and this guy is big, I mean like huge, though he looks kind of skinny right now with all his fever and infections and stuff.

This keyboard seems the perfect size for my fingertips, I can kind of write fast on it, not like most computer keyboards which are too fat and clunky.

Sorry about that Ive just been sitting her staring at him and am probably wearing the batteries down, but I guess if it stays in the sun it will be okay. But its hard to keep my eyes off him, I feel like, I dont know if I stop looking for a second he will disappear and itll all be a dream, and aint no way I want to go back to when I thought he might just be a dream in the first place. Right now I know without a doubt that the Lord answers prayers, He is watching, and while things arent perfect, He has His hand in things. We are not all alone.

Mr. Handsome is living proof that God is real and alive and cares.

I should stop calling him that, Mr. Handsome, cuz I guess I'm being silly. Now if I was accurate I would call him Mr. Beautiful because I have never seen a being more deserving of that name, even with his horrible mat of beard, it almost grows up to his eyeballs! And it grows down into his chest hair, and there is way more of that than I have ever liked, but somehow with him I wouldnt mind if he was 100% apeman! At least his back is hairless...I guess I would make an exception there too, but that would be pressing the point a bit far.

I find that after I have watched him sleep for a long time that I have not been breathing. A couple of times I almost passed out. Breathe, girl, BREATH. Like that Faith Hill song, Just Breathe...stupid as that is, right now it sure is true.

Okay Im not supposed to be writing this baby stuff in here, all my gushing puppy love and stuff, but let me express myself okay, we can delete this later, you and I. You are who I am writing to, right over there, you lie sleeping, with your big mouth hanging open, and is that drool I see? To me, it is crystal clear waters, springs of love and hope and patience and joy and peace and love and hope and I could go on like this for hours. 

Whats this blinking light? It says message. I better put this away. Maybe when you wake up you can figure this out? Is this a phone too?

Peace out, word to your mother.

Bronte Chaplin.

* * *

Ive been trying to figure out how to get into the different caches, it looks like there are six, or maybe seven I cant really tell because one keeps blinking on and off, but Im not sure if the stuff Im putting in here is actually sticking.

He woke up for a while today, this is the fourth day Ive been hiding him, and his name is Stacey (Stacy?). I had figured his name would be Hank or Chuck or Joe, some kind of cowboy name, so I have to admit that "Stacey" isnt what I was counting on. At first I thought he said "Spaceman," but figured that couldnt be right, but that would just figure wouldnt it that the man I prayed for came from another planet, or at least a spaceship.

He does seem to be an average guy in a lot of ways, I mean in endangering the ozone layer with gas emissions...of course this isnt exactly fair as the poor guy is tangled up with fevers and infections and they think he has several hairline fractures in a bunch of bones, Blane thinks that some professional torturers, if there is such a thing, were at this guy.

* * *

Trouble. I mean that more like TROUBLE. Umberto has been asking a lot of probing questions. He's saying the Holy Ghost is troubled by me, that I am hiding something, something that needs to be brought into the light. Isnt it odd that the Holy Ghost doesnt know WHAT Im hiding. Im beginning to notice things about this whole scam that I never noticed before. I mean what if there isnt even a God, if the Holy Ghost isnt real?

Maybe that was always hiding at the back of my thinking mind. How it always works like that. That the Holy Ghost is kind of a like a psychic or something, not at all like He is in the Bible, so duh, maybe now Im starting to realize that Umberto and the group has never been plugged into the Holy Ghost. Either they are faking it, just faking it, or maybe there is a real power behind everything.

I didnt take chances, I got Janie and Ralph to help move him to my friends house, Katya. Shes POd at me, big time, shes kind of a loner that doesnt like people much, but shes a whiz and a genius shes only been here from Ukraine for two years and already speaks both English and Spanish. Ralph and Janie are about done with me too as they are JA and know that this is a guy connected to Joshua and Michael, but they love me and promised not to give up my secret (my secret my secret). Ralphie thinks Stacy is out of the dark, and should be getting better, except his fever is at about a steady 99.9 but the infections are losing ground.

Katya says she will not be cleaning up after my "doggy" but will provide water and "doggy chow." She says she doesnt like the looks of him, that he might be an American drug dealer, or a salesman. She is not JA I think she is safe.

I have not let myself think about the BIG BOOM as people are calling it. The science says it was just some sonic boom caused by a near miss from a rock going through space just nicking our atmosphere, but I heard it that day, it was the same day that I found Stacy. Ive been concentrating on him so much the past three weeks that I have not allowed myself to think about it, not at all. I mean it has happened, the official count now is that maybe 130K people are gone, just like that, just like LEFT BEHIND said, except the numbers are all off. Most Christians are saying it couldnt be that because most of us are still here, I mean only a few are gone from the world, but it was exactly as they said, piles of clothes, but nobody ever predicted that rolling thunder around the whole world, echoing, rumbling.

I just keep my mind on taking care of Stacy, and not letting Umberto know there is anything different. I mean I am so done with the group, completely, I will never be a part of them again. Mami is so happy since I have not missed a Holy Ghost Party, not one in the past three weeks. I feel like a double agent, a secret spy. To tell the truth I feel alive for the first time in my life. So what was I before, dead?

I asked Katya about the BIG BOOM and she says it is crazy, she thinks the CIA or the FBI did it. She says dont think about that, because it says in the Bible there will be all power in lying signs and wonders, and if it isnt the CIA then it is the devil, that I should not think about such stupid American tricks, and concentrate on Jesus. She uses her prayer language too, she told me, but only in private.

The elections are almost here and there is so much screaming, I havent been paying attention, but even with my blinders I cant help but here the demonstrations. There are the people who are saying CONSTITUTION and that now laws should be made concerning religion but the other side is screaming that everything has changed, that we have to make things right with God, because we have all been left behind, He is angry with us, and we have to clean up our act.

Katya says that Russian days are coming, she is not old enough to remember Communism, but her grandpa told her all about it, and she says this is going to be worse, more like the Russian Mafia days, except now it will all be about religion and faith and pretend spirituality. She told me to be very careful about what music I listen to and play, because there is a false spirituality, and she thinks music is the key. When she heard me playing my favorite Sarah Brightman CD for sleeping Stacy she put her fingers in her ears and started saying "Nyah Nyah Nyah" or "not yet not yet not yet" or something, maybe it was "Neeyet" is that how you say NO in Russian? But she told me I couldnt play that music in her apartment.

As I was leaving tonight she whispered to me "Tomorrow I tell you about hole in floor, underground, shhhh!"

I am exhausted. The world is a different place. It is crazy. Today I had the strongest impression, to just start walking, so I did that, after leaving Katya, I walked for probably two hours, my feet are killing me. I was in this terrible neighborhood and got the strongest urge to go to this alley where all this graffitti was on the wall, but I turned and started running, I dont know whats wrong with me, its just like that day that I caused that accident on the freeway and Stacy came to my car window, I just freaked. Boy did I mess up that day. What would have happened if I had stayed calm and just talked to him? I probably wouldnt have spent that night in jail! All the terrible things with Huck probably wouldnt have happened.

Maybe tonight in the neighborhood it was the same thing. It was almost overwhelming, like I was starving to death, and some food was pulling me in, I almost ran to that alley. But I was too afraid.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. I am so sleepy. Thank God there is no Holy Ghost Party tonight or I am sure I would just die.

BC

* * *

It is 3  same day, or the next, you know the next day after midnightta thayy woke me up and made me sit in the hot seat, they kept asking me about A FUGITIVE they kept saying it like that, all in capital letters. They even searched my bedroom, especially looking in the retreat, where Stacy had been staying. Endora stood in there with her eyes closed, nodding her head slowly, she kept saying YES, AH YES, YES over and over again. Umberto stood in my bedroom staring at my bed, his skinny arms crossed over his sunken chest. He looked like a demon.

"Did you defile the marriage bed?" He kept asking me. He was crazy like a bull stnortning snot out of its nose he was that bad gerrint his teeth jabbing his finger at my eyes.

Mami whugging me and I could feel her shaking andMichelle was in hallway and she laughing and laughing. When I looked out I could see her twitching. I could hardly look at her, her whole face spasming and her hands vibrating. Several of the women from the group were gathered about me, praying in tongues, laying hands on me.

It is a miracle that God got Stacy out of here. I dont know HOW I knew to get him out. Its not like the angel appearing to Joseph or anything. But I KNEW.

I went a little crazy. I started cussing at them and telling them to get out GET OUT but they all just started casting the demons out of me. Umberto got madder than I ever saw him before, he was so red, shaking, he was yelling in tongues and throwing GHOST on me, he kept grabbing handfuls and throwing them on me, and the crazy thing is I could feel it hhitttin me like a force of eltreity was smashing intoo me I was terrifried. I kept screaming at them. The women finally left and onhly Umberto and Sid stayed, Sid is this giant albino man who is about the size of Joshua except he is all spongy and pink and white and he kept grabbing onto me and squeezing me and I was afraid it was goi sexuale but he was only suezing my arms to my sides but I couldnt stand his minty breath breath on me like a fan. Umberto kept hitting my forehead and pushing me, not like he usually does for slain in the spirit but HARD.

This all started like at 10 at night when they got me out of bed the whole group in my room and it went on until about two in the morning with Umberto yelling and screaming until his voice was hoarse and Sid was crying ontop of me holding me with his spongy fat arms and finally I started screaming: "In Jesus Name, leave me alone! Jesus help me! Please God Please Jesus get them away from me."

Umberto ran out of my room. Then Sid started apologizing saying that we were only trying to help me, or you, he was sahying that to mee but he was holding me differently all of a sudden he was pressin me agisnt him and it was sick I wanted to throw up and I stareted calling him terrible names and he finally left and he was holding his hands in front o himself so I couldnt see what state he was in but I saw that creep I propped chairs aginst me door and thought about trying to climb aout the window but too high and Mami kept knocing at the door telling me it was going to be okay that I had to hett her in wo we ecnd bpray and Michelle weas prophesyin outside calling angels to open the door and I was crying hysterically for probably half an hour telling them jo leave me alone and finally they went away donte kown was toe eo so I tought Michaels watch could keep me wane aos I have been writeng in here to stay sane tomorrow i have to leave ill go to KATYas apartemente and tell her ill take stacy and go bakc to that neibhorhodd

* * *

I feel asleep a couple of times it is about 5 in the morning and they keept teyning to get in all night all morning until less tahem time ago I cant tell mwhat im writng or if it makes sense. They told me i was going to ENCOUNTER today which i dont know what is but ill be gone today i dreamed about SANCTUARY, that an Old Abraham will meet me, that I should start walking and angels will take me to SANCTUARY.

Ive been praying all night whenever i woke up or they banged on the door. I ehard them making Miss Kitty mew outside my door, they were hurting my cat, i have to see if I can get her out too. AT least Umberto or Sid never came back to the door I think they left last night, that pervert Sid I hate him, I weill never go to a graoup again, they are all sick, I think they are demon possessed.

I pary ed that God would get me out of here, so at 530 Im gonna go out the door.

I just turned on the news on my radoi softly and they said that the BIG BOOM number is now at 140K and they think it is going to be at 144,000 like in Revelation, that is a symbolic number and so everyone left behind is not a par tof that number and that the tribulation is going to start now. THis was all on the REGULAR news. The world is going craz;y.

It is about ten minutes to go, so I gotta get me stuffs toe gether and go, wish me luck, I love you Michael and Joshua and will see you soon!

BC

* * *

I have read back all caches, and I don't know if this is just more American craziness, or if all this is really happening. I find it to be like the Soviet oppression of Jews, not that I ever witnessed it, in fact, while back in country we studiously denied such a thing could happen, maybe in America, but not in the Soviet. But it was happening, and now I find myself embroiled in these peoples lives, and I did not ask for this. Russian Mafia, and now a Christian Mafia.

I hardly know this girl Bronte, other than appreciating her music (but not the Sarah Brightman,  as Bronte wrote about me, NO NO NO, for that is another kind of spirituality, this so-called trance music, wherein the enemy of mankind may wreak havoc). Let me record her, I do not consider myself a Christian, though I am a follower of Christ.

It seems this "journal" has now come into my hands, and I intend to faithfully record what occurs about it, as it seems to have taken on a life all its own. I do not know this Michael, though from his writing he appears very maudlin and self absorbed, as are most Americans I find.

Although I was born here, I can hardly consider myself to be American, as I have grown up in the Russian community here, and yes, even here in Colorado there is a Russian community, and English is very much my second language, although I have studied keenly to employ American idioms, and "think American" so that we do not come under attack.

As for this Stacey fellow -- Bronte specified the correct spelling of his name -- I do not know if I like him. He has somewhat an evil face, or I might say too good looking, he must be a vain man. I have not met him while he awake, but he talks and mutters constantly, it is truly getting on my nerves.

Bronte was supposed to have come back. She did not. I expected her two days ago. I must consider that something has happened to her, and she told me that if something has happened, I am to continue this journal in this watch -- this watch has many more functions than word processor, I have spent many hours experimenting and studying its attributes, it must have cost many a dollar, another vanity of America with technology, it has become an idol, a false god that supposedly shall save us.

More soon.

Katya

* * *

In the hole in the floor now two weeks. He is waking. Igor and Ivan bring food and water every two days. I read Bible and pray, trying to fast three days out of every week now. Things are happening. Bird flu crossed over. Mad cow every country. Much talk of Wormwood.

She came back this morning. Acted very strange, like she does not trust. Funny looks. Wanted to move him but we are not big enough to move him, even with his weight loss.

Such things Ivan tells me about, things like the big blades at courthouses and military bases. It looks like Cilantor will not be president, and people are angry.

It is time to take over they say.

More soon.

Katya

* * *

They die. I cling to Word. Though a thousand on side and ten thousand it will not to come near me. I cry out to Lord. I am yours, save me.

I am yours save me.

They say pandemic. World. World unto world, they die. I could not reach mother in Ukraine. 2 million in America after three weeks and 90 million in the world together. Such little things, these invisible animals that live inside us, but in their tiny world they could end our big world, across the seas, the world over.

In the hole in the floor. We exist here. I do not say live. This is not life. Life is coming, soon, I pray Lord come soon. We are not sick, he is not sick, I am not sick. Igor is dead. Ivan is sick, but he always is sick poor Ivanchka, skinny boy.

The man is fully awake, though I do not know if his mind is here. He is very irritating. Perhaps they broke him. He is yet a very large man, as skeletal his frame, still I see something of a strong man there, but ghosts live in his eyes, his spirit lives far away.

Church and State, that is the chant, those deadly monks. Jesus loves you, smile. If you don't smile, Jesus doesn't love you, and you must die too, or Inquisited first. Secret. Bye.

* * *

It is me, I believe it is the Lord's Day, or maybe it is the day after, yes I think so, it must be Sunday because I hear the kids playing soccer on the indoor greenway, and yes, I am alive. If I could shout it here, I would. Hmmm. I AM ALIVE!

I AM ALIVE!

Yes, it is me, or should I say it is I? I'll ask Stacey, he's here too, he's the expert at grammar, although he doesn't look well at all. Gone are the days of my angel, Stacey Colton the strong man, able to knock down four men in a matter of minutes. But the strength is still there, down deep, I think. Yes, I believe it.

In case you are worried, Joshua is here, and fine, so we are all together, and Bronte is here too, surprises of surprises.

The poor girl who was entering information here in my journal the last several weeks is gravely ill. Old Abe says it doesn't look good. The Great Influenza is slowing down, and it is horrifying that anyone who was taking regular flu innoculations are those most likely gone now, it is just too terrible -- five million over the age of 60 in the U.S. alone, and the children, I can hardly think at all about the children.

I'm sorry if I am not making much sense, but it has been so long since I have typed in my journal, it is strange to even think of this as "Michael's Journal" anymore, as it has been put up on the Internet.

I'm jumping around here, because there are so many things I'd love to blurt out, about the guillotines we saw, about how Jehovah's Army is using the telephone poles -- crucifixion has such a different meaning when it is alive and well here in the now of our time, it is too horrible to believe, but I have seen it, twenty people on one pole, alive, calling for help.

I met Douglas Christian Larsen when we went through Colorado Springs. I can't write any of that information here, as the vans are out in full force, and I know he is hard pressed to stay hidden, the eyes are everywhere. It is like he is Frodo, but he is livng on the rocky slopes of Mt. Doom.

So many good people we have met, that are now dead. Not from the flu, but Inquisited. Yes, that is the word we hear the most on the radio. TV is off, around the world, they're calling it a week of Spiritual Fasting, no TV, no Broadway or any kind of movie theater.

Billboards are only religious now, and there are so many of them, most with what we are calling the New Ten Commandments.

One of the worst tsunamis in known history petered out in the Pacific Ocean, and it is staggering to know that when it started in Antarctica, in the Ross Sea. They say it is, or isn't Global Warming, but something like that, the opposite, where it is a Butterfly Effect, as the planet warms the poles are getting COLDER, and an upheaval in the ice, I think it was called the Ross Ice Shelf, the whole thing exploded like a volcano -- some think it WAS a nuclear bomb bored down into the ice, that it was JA, of course, but whether it was or not we will probably never know unless they admit it, so yes, perhaps we will know, because they love to brag about being the hand of God. And God says that every secret thing shall be revealed.

The Ross Ice Shelf went miles into the sky, and left such a hole in that part of the sea, that when it came down it met the first tsunami of the waters rushing back into the hole, and created a super tsunami (I don't even know if I'm spelling it right, but I should be able to spell it, as I've been hearing about it and seeing it so much -- this was last week with the Ross Ice Shelf) that was over two miles high and it rushed right past New Zealand and they say only the secondary spillage hit the southern parts of the lower island (is it considered an island?) and then went onto scratch across a small portion of Australia, very few people died -- which was kind of a miracle, because if the wave had rushed slightly more east probably New Zealand would not exist, or the city of Sydney in Australia.

If Joshua was here beside me right now, I could fill in some of the blanks, more and more it's like my brain and Joshua's brain don't really function completely, unless we are together. We call it the Super Brain.

Oh, I have to tell you something, Dear Diary (that's a joke, you know? see, I'm even making real jokes these days!) . . . but I have had a miraculous healing. I don't have any more pain in my spine! You probably don't believe me, but it TRUE. I have not had a Spine Day in about six months!

Yes, I know, you are wondering if I have real legs, too, but no, that would be expecting too much. I don't expect those until my whole body is renewed, glorified, and reality is different (and I think that is very SOON, I truly do, and there is such a sweeping feeling of delight among all of us, we are getting so excited about that day, that glorious day, it is just out of sight!).

So many miracles, it is hard to imagine that the world miracle even means what it means, I mean I'm not even talking about the "old miracles," you know, all the fake ones they used to have on TV (well, as soon as the TV comes back on, trust me, there will be more and more of that -- they are running that stuff 24/7, and MORE, I mean when the signals are broadcasting), this is REAL, like when Jesus used to heal people, and raise people from the dead, and stop the wind.

Oh, it looks like there are going to be TWO weddings next week, isn't that exciting? I never thought that was possible, I mean it is a miracle in its own right. And I'm so glad we're all of us together for the exciting event!

Except of course, Grampy Doc won't be here -- oh I wish he was, that would have made it all so beautiful. But Grampy Doc died about three months ago, and the amazing thing he did, well, it deserves a whole other chapter, I'm going to have to devote a whole day to the story of Grampy Doc.

So I am a new man, hardly the guy you used to know, am I right? I can actually laugh, now, I mean like a belly laugh, like Stacey (well, nobody laughs like Stacey, I mean like he used to in the old days, I haven't heard that healthy, manly laugh since we've all joined together in Sanctuary, now Stacey just gives me that sad, beautiful smile, I can't admit it anywhere but here, but yesterday when Stacey passed me and gave me that sad smile, and he reached out and ruffled his fingers through my hair like I was his little boy, I raced into our little cubicle and burst into tears, they weren't my tears of pain, my tears of years, so many years, but they were tears for Stacey, because it seems there is something gone out of him, that I don't think will ever come back until we all become real boys and girls).

The months we were apart, I missed Stacey, with my whole heart. He is my father, and my big brother, he is the clean manliness that I never had in my life as a child. He is the strong protector that would step in front of a bullet to save me (I'm not using that as an expression, back on that day at Dane's house, when last I saw Stacey until last week, Stacey saved my life, and Joshua's, AGAIN, and we only found out now that he was shot three times, and then the terrible things they did to him later) -- Stacey is both King David and Samson, that's how strong he is, how gutsy.

But for some reason poor Katya hates his guts. He was holding her hand yesterday, we thought it would be the end for her, and she looked at him and then pushed his hand away. She said: "Nee yet, leave me alone. I don't want to see you, Big Man." Or something close to that. And Stacey looked so sad.

I'm glad he has Bronte now, it is probably his only, only, only touch of happiness. Boy, what a story they had, it's like they've been together forever, except they never saw each other -- they even used to go to the same library, the same coffee house (not the Coffee Dump, which Rachel and Joshua and I all miss so much, it was kind of our place, but that's at least some more good news, as none of us drink coffee, yep, we've kicked the habit, as hard as it was, now it's just Green Tea for the Three Amis, that's how we refer to us, the two midgets and the giant -- hey, did I tell you? I mean DID I TELL YOU????).

Okay, it's only right that I start a new paragraph for THIS NEWS. But after my healing? I am three inches TALLER! Can you believe it? Now that my spine is straight for the first time since I was four years old, I am three inches taller! I feel like a giant myself!

So I'm taller than Rachel, now! Whoo-hoo!

Well, to be perfectly honest, we'd reconciled that a long time ago. You remember, my rule that I had to be the same height, or at least half an inch taller? And Rachel was almost two inches taller than me, so now I'm almost an inch taller than her. And she REALLY IS a midget, that girl, I never knew how short she actually was until I became so grandly HUGE (did you know? I'm over five feet! Maybe it's not too late for me to take up a career in professional basketball! See? I can really JOKE now!).

Oh, it is time for supper, I just heard the brass bell ring. I am so hungry, I could eat food by the BUCKETS!

Great to be back, Dear Diary.

Michael.

Ps. Yes, it's me, believe it or not!

* * *

I was just reading back over my earlier entries, back when the world was almost a normal place to live in. So much has happened since then, and I was just so self-absorbed, complaining about everything, grumbling, and I had so much to live for, so much to be happy for. All the blessings in my life, and I could only focus on my pain. Granted, there was quite a lot of pain -- I still have some of that, my asthma, and there seems to be some arthritis in both my legs and spine, but nothing like the old days.

God has been so good to us, even those of us that have been through some hard times of late. Joshua was hit hard by the GF, but his body is so big and strong that I guess the viruses just couldn't spread far enough to fill his vast landscape (pretty picturesque, don't you think?), he's recovered, at about 90%, but he's having dreams, very vivid dreams that he feels are from God, and far out in the night he hears what he thinks to be lions roaring. Not in the real, physical world around us, but in his dream world, and he can't think of what it could mean, only that God is moving him toward something, and he feels afraid.

I've never known Joshua to be afraid of anything, even at his sickest, he was always smiling and trying to make jokes (I still don't think Joshua knows what a joke is, at least I've never found his sense of humor to be, well, a sense of humor). But then again, Stacey and Joshua seem to get each other that way, with what they call their "Rhymefests."

We are all drawing near, to each other, and I think toward God, all of us in our own ways are more and more practicing what we refer to as "constant prayer." When we are not talking to each other, we are talking to Him. It seems the more we rely on Him, the more we need Him, and the less we need other things that we used to find so important. Believe it or not, I have not had a cup of coffee in over three months! And I think we used to miss a day at the Coffee Dump about once every year or so.

The thing that we are finding more important, each day more important, is TRUTH. It's like there are rubies scattered about us, and when we walk and disturb the sand, suddenly we'll see a wink of red light, and we'll get close, blow sand away, and suddenly there is something new, something bright, something that is so familiar, and yet it is as if we have never seen it before.

Without bragging, I can say that I've read the Bible from cover to cover twenty times. But now, I am reading with new eyes. It is as if I have never really read the Bible before!

To think, some of the things of God, so plain and evident in the Bible, they used to make me angry, fiercely angry when I thought about them. Not because I hated God, but because I had been trained all my life to hate certain of His truths.

Now I've been reading and rereading Psalms 119. I can't believe what is there, what I always used to close my eyes to. Now, more and more I feel there is one verse that leaps out like a red-hot missile, it strikes me right between the eyes, and floods my very soul with tears.

SAVE ME, I AM YOURS!

How many times have I read that?

How many times have I misunderstood that?

I think the whole Bible balances, teetering, on that one little verse. Save me, I am yours.

All my life, Sunday Schools across time, I was trained and programmed to hate the Testimonies of God, and yet, now, seeing them with His eyes, I can say that they are more precious than gold, I finally understand sweeter than honey.

* * *

I feel that life is new, even though my life is really not all that different. God only needs to breathe across you, and you will see the world differently. You will see reality differently.

C.S. Lewis, the Shadowlands, that this entire life is merely shadow, that "real life" has not started yet. I believe that. And yet, sometimes, the shadows can be unbelievably real, unshakably sweet, and yet we know it is just a foretaste of glory divine.

I'm in kind of a bittersweet mood right now, nothing like the Blues that used to sweep me along in its current. The Black Wave that kept me in the dark troughs, a bare survivor floating in the Sea of Despair.

I have so much hope now. My whole life is hope. Hope for reality, for true peace, for a life with Him, for a reality sublime.

Yes, this is a dark world. In steel halls of gloom, beauty yet survives. I saw that somewhere, a board that was burned with rusty nails protruding, a nest of coiled barb wire, rusty, blackened, a then a perfect rose growing in the midst, a rose with wicked thorns, and yet a beautiful reminder of reality. The whole thing was varnished, I mean it was just someone's slick piece of arts and craft, but sometimes I think I can smell that rose, better than any flower in any boquet, it is as if the imagination smells better than the nose.

Even with this fixed body of mine, I am nothing much. A very, very short man (Rachel measured me against the doorpost in our Sanctuary cubicle, and I have grown an inch just since last month, and yet as the world sees things, I am practically a midget, even at my new towering height of five-foot three inches -- and this height seems undreamed of tall, in my wildest dreams I never could have imagined standing this tall, a whole three solid inches above five feet!). Just a few short months ago I could only stand at four-foot ten inches, well, on a good day, anyway. I think with my curled spine and twisted legs, that four-foot eight was my norm. Today Rachel wore actual heels, like towering four-inch heels, and do you know that we could look across and see each other eye to eye? To you that probably sounds silly, but to me, I am now a giant. Sometimes I feel that I am as tall as Josh, and Stacey just forced a measurement of him today -- Joshua kept trying to cheat and slouch down, he keeps insisting that he is ONLY six-foot nine inches! But even with all the cheating, Stacey was able to measure him at seven-foot two inches! And Stacey believes he never got an accurate measurement, he thinks Josh is closer to seven-foot four!

That's the thing about Joshua, he doesn't SEEM tall, only big. Huge. Like elephant huge. Then again, Stacey doesn't seem tall, only strong. Yet to me, both of my friends are giants, Stacey about a foot taller than me, and Joshua two feet taller.

This healed body of mine, in the bigger picture it is a small gift from God -- I know that He has far greater gifts in store for me, waiting. But it is as if He gave me a ten-pound diamond that glows in the dark with pure light. In the daytime it winks with such fire it is almost impossible to look at. A thing of dazzling beauty. Yet, someone that doesn't know me well, or hasn't known me for long, would think things hardly changed for me, that I am much the same that I was a month ago, or a year ago, or five years ago, that I am a pathetic mess.

But they cannot feel the peace in me, where there used to be pain. They can't feel the joy in me, where there used to be depression, fear, frustration, and utter torment. They cannot feel the vibrancy in my bones, where there used to be dull aches and flashing stabs of pain. My body is now like a green pasture, where it used to be like parched desert always struck by lightning, never graced by rain. Dry and smouldering.

Yeshua, I feel you at every moment of the day, You are more real to me than the health in my body. I know You are real, and true, and that everything that I believe that seems impossible, it is all true, that I am surrounded every moment by Your love, Your grace, Your peace, Your Truth, Your joy, Your affection.

I can love this life, more, than ever possible before. Yet I can release it, today, without fear, because I know this is just the Shadow, that real life has not yet begun. That the bestest, greatest, goodest, purest, funnest and sparklingest happiness I've touched on here, is just a dim, dark, mulled-down taste of the delights You have prepared for me. I have tasted the love of a man for a woman, and more importantly the love of a woman for a man -- I know what "one flesh" means, impossible as that seems, and it is heavenly -- yet I comprehend that this is just the scent of roses, the scent of imperfect thorned roses, and that the reality awaiting me would kill me if I even glimpsed it today, I have only glimpsed the shadow of its scent, and I can say that I know what love is.

I know what love is, and yet cannot possibly know. I can imagine it, and yet I believe what God has just around the corner is so far above and beyond my imagination, oh, God! Yeshua! Jesus my Christ, I believe what I can barely imagine.

I belive it.

It is true.

TRUE.

* * *

I don't want Stacey to go, but he's like that, when he sets his mind on something all of us together can't deter him. That's a good thing, in some ways, and a bad thing too you know. I mean he is really pig-headed.

Old Abe says that if Stacey goes out there to meet them, we'll never see him again. Not in this world.

But it is horrible, what they are doing out there, on some blocks there are as many as ten people on telephone poles. How can they do it? I think that's one of the very worst reasons about people worshipping the cross, I mean the actual execution tree -- people think about the cross, that it is wonderful "The Ole Rugged Cross," and yet it's like loving the electric chair, or the gas chamber, if people had executed Yeshua on the electric chair there'd be people walking around with little golden electric chairs hanging from their necks, singing out the wonders of "The Chair." How can we expect them NOT to repeat what the Romans did to Jesus and think it is wonderful, believing fully that they are "doing God's work." That God is in the torture. That God is blessing this abomination of murdering innocent people in the most gruesome of ways.

The guillotines are assembled. In the major cities like New York and Los Angeles, the many guillotines are exaggerated, bloated and huge. The execution squares are stadiums, and the mechanisms of death in the center stand sixty feet high, like a telephone pole on top of a telephone pole. The blades are the weight of a tractor engine, and the baffled holes are for the delight of the crowd, not only do they slow the speed of the falling blade, but the holes whistle and scream. It takes like five seconds for the blade to travel from the top to the bottom, and it screams so loudly that it can be heard above the roars and shrieks of the crowd.

Maybe I shouldn't write about these things. Maybe I should stay focused on my interior realm, the Kingdom is within, but I feel if I don't write about the horrors that they will catch up to me in my dreams, and I might never wake from them, never escape from them, the pursuing horrors.

The guillotines are like new temples, glistening with gold, sparkling with stainless steel, the ornate housings two stories tall for seated officials, television cameras, the diamond vision monitors that show all the angles at once, the profile of the "wicked" lying on his back, sweating, crying, praying, lying on his back to watch the fall of the blade that hangs suspended in the heavens. The bas relief sculptures all about the "temple," scenes of Christ's birth, His baptism, as a child in the Temple, fishing on the Sea of Galilee, casting out the demons, calling Lazarus from the tomb, the trial and all the Jews with devil horns and pitchforks, the crucifixion, the glorious Resurrection, Jesus in Hell fighting the legions, being tortured, Mary in Heaven, and the Public Rapture of Bobby Cilantor, always that. Someday, they say, they will add "His Triumphant Return!"

They are things of beauty, the guillotines. Glistening obellisks, in the same general dimensions as the Washington Monument. They sparkle from great distances, giant and graceful crosses in the sky. The bases domed like the Capitol Building, all the pillars in concentric circles, druidic circles of stone.

And guess what people are calling them? The blood offerings to appease the Angry God. The "Cleansing of the Temple." All manner of abominations, these temples of worship, blood letting -- and don't forget the entertainment. You can even purchase a scale model of the temple to keep in your house, with a working blade that can cut a carrot in half!

I am crying as I write this. Why do I bother writing this?

The twin channels that lead from the "wicked's" neck, one that leads to the right where there is an actual fountain, that is kept to overflow, human blood, the life is in the blood, the other channel leads to a mini refinery where samples are bottled and distributed to the "righteous," wonder-working bottles of sacrifice, each stamped with the slogan: "Saved by the Blood."

I don't want Stacey to go. I don't want him to enter their "sacred temples." I don't want him to become their "holy hamburger." I don't want them to nail Stacey to a telephone pole.

In steel halls of gloom, beauty yet survives.

We have to believe this. Our belief in the better world. Our belief in Christ. Our belief in the end of this Tribulation, this Great Tribulation like nothing the world has seen before and will never see again. Our belief in the ultimate triumph of Good over Evil.

* * *

At least he won't be alone. Ram is going with Stacey. Nobody trusts Ram, nobody by Old Abe that is.

I know we shouldn't judge him, Ram, as he is no worse than any of us. And he has even apologized to me, face to face, he has held my hand in his with tears in his eyes and sworn to me that he is changed, that Jesus lives in his heart -- but still, I feel chills whenever I am near him, those steely gray eyes, the eyes of a cold killer. I know we can't judge a book by its cover, but I admit it, I am afraid, so very afraid of Ram...

...the night he struck me, repeatedly, is still too vividly alive in my memory. When he did those acrobatic kicks to topple mighty Joshua, like a chopped down tree. And the things he said in his piercing whisper-shriek of a voice.

And then after, the hunting. He tracked us like a bounty hunter, fully intending to kill all of us. I can't forget that if it wasn't for Ram, Grampy Doc would still be alive, even though it wasn't Ram, directly, that shot him.

But Ram accepts full responsibility, for everything. He admits to everything, without flinching.

Ram is a formidable man, every bit as strong as Stacey, despite their difference in size. He deserves the name "Ram," too, for all the head-butting he's done with Stacey.

The important thing is, I guess, that STACEY himself accepts Ram as a brother. Though Stacey is pretty open about admitting that he doesn't like Ram, but that he has finally accepted him as a brother in Christ, and that he DOES trust him.

So Ram goes with Stacey. I have to admire Ram, even if he scares me. He stepped up to the plate, only one of two that volunteered to go with Stacey into the land of the Nephilim.

The other? It's Katya. She is going with Stacey and Ram, and she has shaved off all her beautiful hair. She's a pale whisper of the person she used to be, emaciated and frail, but none doubt her strength, that she is every bit as strong as Stacey, or as resolute as Ram.

Just as Ram will not answer to his old name, Katya now says she is "Magdalene," and she swears even though she will be walking behind Stacey, that it is only Jesus that she follows.

This world is shadow; real life has not yet begun. This world is shadow; real life has not yet begun. This world is shadow; real life has not yet begun.

* * *

The three set out this morning, at dawn. About a 100 of us were waiting to say good-bye, to pray for them as they left the protection of Sanctuary. They carry no provision, not even coats. Magdalene's bald head seemed paper-thin and blue in the cold morning, her eyes dark smudges in her face. And Stacey was grim, grayer than I've ever seen him. Bronte was there, but she did not embrace him when they left. She watched, as if in a coma, with no expression on her face.

Old Abe wept. He kept saying "God's will be done! Thy will, Father, not ours!" But he blubbered like a baby.

"Should I go?" Joshua kept saying, but he stood by my side, not moving. "Maybe I should go," he kept saying.

"Some of us will be martyrs, for a better Resurrection," Old Abe said, as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance, and I wanted to go then, too, on my new legs, I wanted to be with them no matter what we