Time To Choose
When Riley and Willa ue wake up the next morning in their 5-star Los Angeles hotel room, Riley checks strangerthanfiction.com and sees two new comments, which he clears from moderation.
The first comment is by Uke From Denver:
Divine Mother, sweet caretaker of humanity, Adam's true lover, our own humanity—she is our rib, she wraps around our vital organs to protect and nurture our necessary processes. Without her we are just bees, using up vital resources for the production, maintenance, and distribution of the hive-mind ruled not by a benevolent God, but an evil queen. A demon.
She is not human. And they call her a whore, but this isn't very descriptive, she isn't interested in sex, but in making clones. Worker drones. Bile-filled, with horns. They swarm in hypnotized unison, call it a movement
Without Eve we have no sense of being, no self. Even going to sacred spaces, or attending religious services, or even doing our own rituals and ceremonies filled with 'meaning', it is just symbolic and empty without Eve's touch. Our saving grace.
Because sometimes we run afoul of Mary, for she is holding the kingdom together, and she is stretched thin, and she is going through the motions, but there isn't a lot of buy-in. But sometimes in order to fit into her scheme we have to murder our sense of self, our connection with Eve, something secretive within us we can't let go of, something that makes us unique.
Eve knows us, she knows our individual story, down to the gory details, she was there with us, and she held our hand, even though we couldn't conceive existence could be so complicated. She gives us the apple so we can learn what is good for us, not just to be a honeybee in the hivemind of sub-human queens.
To which Riley replies:
Yep! But I think the evil Queen has a yang variation.
The second comment is from one of Riley's pen pals, when he was in prison:
TIME TO CHOOSE
I cry out from my within my soul, a place filled with such grief that only my subconscious ventures there
Out of fear of never returning from the guttural screams and wails, I awake only to find the world to which I am returning, the war that is not
finished…..
The principalities, the powers, the unseen,
Einstein measured math and explained the unexplainable.
There is no formula for this world though, the war between good and evil.
It was attempted, the explanation many and many times in the past with the Koran, the Bible, the tribal languages.
In writings and in generations passed down time and again.
The invisible weapons.
The Indians trying to explain a gun to the village.
No comprehension, no words to describe the terror of it.
The tribe saw his fear as he explained in terrifying images,
the death of his friend and brother.
The village looked on. Was he crazy? He tried so to convince them.
He warned them.
He knew the weapons would come on the shoulders of the evil warriors.
Calling for the heads of the Indians on a platter,
like John the Baptist, delivered.
Where were the laws of the U.S. then? Where were the Courts?
What was the difference? They called for the heads to be delivered on platters.
They still do.
The principalities, the powers of darkness, calls for heads everyday.
And unknowingly you choose your side.
When the Indians, the homeless, the children are not worth standing and fighting for, you have become a tool of darkness, watching the deliverance of the Saints.
“Don’t be surprised when they hate you”, said Jesus, “for they hated me first without a cause.”
But that is terrifying. Who wants to be hated?
We run a popularity contest in the U.S.
We can’t win, can’t succeed without our friends. Then what would be the measure of our worth?
Jesus said his saints would be like the salt of the earth scattered abroad.
Some have lost their savor. How many are left?
Few, outnumbered, holding the ground, fighting the wars of the unseen.
And the village hears of the weapons and can’t imagine, so they prepare not.
How do you prepare for the unbelievable?
“Only with God, the armor of the Lord, and the Holy Spirit”, says Jesus.
But these words are pungent in the ears of the Christians, the civilized.
“No heads are called for”, they say. Yet they are, by Satan everyday.
And the idle stand by and do nothing as the saints are delivered,
And the idle claim innocence of the blood of it all,
because they carried not the gun to slaughter the Indians, the Jews, the homeless, the children, the Saints.
But I tell you truth, idle ones, you are guilty!
You chose not to engage in the battle and the battle engaged you,
knowingly or not.
When you said, “No”, to the chosen, you said, “Yes” to Satan.
You said, “Yes, Satan carry on and deliver him on the platter, but I want no part of it.”
You watched the slaughter but raised not a word in protest.
Fear of losing the popular friends, fear of becoming the salt of the earth scattered about and preyed on by Satan and his devouring angels.
Why would Satan destroy one of his own? Of course not.
He would not target the idle, who allow him to deliver the heads on the platters.
The ones he despises are the workers of God, the salt of the earth.
Where is their army, where is their law?
We believe we live by rules. We live by rules other than those we see.
The rules were written, they tell us the price.
They are written in the Bible, in the Holy books of old.
We read with our lips and see with our eyes but believe not in our heart.
Or we would become the salt, the persecuted, sawn asunder, living in caves, destitute, beheaded, tortured in prison and so the Book goes.
And so the sale is void. There are no takers.
They want none of the hardships of the Lord elect.
Those promised, those delivered.
The idle fall by the wayside, planted shallow, planted on rocks,
Yielding nothing but thorns.
And Jesus says, “It is hard to kick against the pricks.”
The pricks of the fallen, the fence walkers, they will not choose a side.
The side is too torturous that bears the eternal promise.
The other side, Satan’s side, is full of success, victory in this world,
and awards and accolades.
The elect sleep without a home, without a country, alone with our wounds with only God to comfort us.
Speaking to the unseen as our only friend.
“Too hard” the idle say. “Not appealing.”
Then go and take your reward. Sit alongside as they deliver the heads on platters,
And know…. you will have your reward! For it is written.
It can’t be seen, but it is explained in the Book, the Bible;
You have chosen even if you refuse to.
You have chosen if you are not engaged.
You are not the salt of the earth if you are comforted, and popular.
No words of Jesus offered prosperity.
No words of Jesus have offered rewards here on earth.
Jesus spoke of trials and tribulations, and persecutions on earth.
Only above from the Father in a world yet to be seen, will our efforts be rewarded.
In a world Einstein could not explain.
In a world where the formulas work, but no man can figure them out.
In a world too grand.
“Do you understand how I hung the moon and the stars?”, said God.
“Then how can you understand things greater?
They only heard from the Indian, who had seen the gun.
They didn’t recognize the evil ones who carried it.
Nor did they know when the evil ones would come,
or how many there would be.
But the heads have been called for and surely they will be delivered,
as always.
And the platters with the blood will be full,
And your hands will not be clean if you sit idly by,
And you will be rewarded with your portion for the killing.
It is written.
Sandy Downs, Cudjoe Key
To which Riley replies:
Cowa-fucking-bonga! You tell it, Sister!!!
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