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The Amulet REL2018

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posted on Sep, 13 2018 @ 11:15 PM
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The team had been working in the hot sun without a break for hours. It was just about time to call it a day. Then, with one swipe of a brush, the top of the box appeared. Intricately carved, it seemed to be mocking them. How could you take so long to find something so beautiful? Word traveled through the team quickly and what had moments earlier been sweltering fatigue became excited energy. Each swipe of the brush revealed more detail on the beautiful box. This must have cost a small fortune in its day. Not many people would have had the means to acquire a piece like this, or better still, have it commissioned to their specifications.

Slowly, the team cleared away the layers of time that had accumulated around the box. Each swipe of the brush a step further into the past. Finally, the box was free to be removed and inspected more closely. By now the wonder of what may lie within had reached a fevered pitch.

Gently the lid was raised on its hinges revealing an ornately and brightly colored disc, round and thicker in the center than at the edges. Even with a thin layer of dust upon it, it shown brightly in the afternoon sun. There was a small ring on one edge suggesting it was meant to be worn or suspended. There were dozens of runes or writing of some sort that was not immediately recognizable. On the reverse of the disc was an image of a large outstretched hand, with a smaller tightly clenched fist within it. More of the mysterious writing encircled the image. Three rings of the unknown characters on the back and three on the front.

The lead archaeologist gently pulled the disc from its resting place in the box. As lifted the disc he heard nothing but the sound of roaring thunder as if it was coming from deep within the mountains and his eyes began to fill with a thick swirling mist. Though he could see the mist clearly he got the impression its sole purpose was to prevent him from seeing anything clearly at all. The roaring thunder grew louder, like the pounding of hooves in a canyon, until it drowned out the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Then from within the roar came a deep and resonant voice. “I am the darkest moment on a dying planet. I am the purveyor of fate. The vengeful one. The hand of God. You are not the chosen...” With that the thunder faded away to silence and the swirling mist withdrew. As his senses returned to him the archaeologist found himself on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together as if praying, tears streaming down his cheeks and staring at the heavens, unable to speak. The disc lay in the sand in front of him.

Another member of the team, a young woman, grabbed the disc to protect it from harm. Immediately she was overcome by the roar of thunder that only she could hear and blinded by a swirling mist only she could see. Then the booming voice, “I am the darkest moment on a dying planet. I am the purveyor of fate. The vengeful one. The hand of God. You are not the chosen...” The woman was screaming, her eyes shut as tightly as she could close them. In her mind she was left with only the suggestion of four horsemen, glimpsed for just a moment, then they were gone as if waking from a dream. She swooned and fell gently to the ground as she was caught by her teammates. A third member of the team, seeing the first two falling victim to the strange object, lifted it gently with a large cloth, careful not to touch the object itself, and returned it to its resting place in the box. This needed to be studied by experts at the University.

Professor Hilllborn had been contacted well in advance of the artifacts arrival. Having been told of the events at the dig site he dismissed them as some sort of college prank or perhaps a weekend of binge drinking, which had been known to happen occasionally. Pictures of the disc had been sent to him from the site. He had studied them with keen interest but had to admit there was something about this particular piece that had him stumped. He began studying the disc as soon as it arrived. As master of ancient languages, the writing on this disc had him utterly confounded. The larger the body of text the greater the chances of deciphering it. There were only six rings of text around the circumference of the disc and few of the characters actually matched. The professor emailed a colleague and old friend at another university. He specialized in religious history and artifacts. In the email he attached a new picture of the disc taken in his office. Upon seeing the image his colleague immediately called and laughing said, “Subtle never was your strong suite.” Professor Hillborn thought for a moment and was about to respond when his colleague and friend said, “The picture with the mirror image...”

Professor Hillborn was stunned. It had been staring him in the face the whole time. The picture he had taken just happened to show a reflection of the back of the disc right next to the front of the disc. The writing on both sides was identical, only that the writing on the back was a mirror image of the front.

“That's a damn fine representation of the seventh seal amulet.”

“You mean, the seventh seal? I thought that was supposed to be on the scroll itself, wasn't it?”

“Yes, and no. Its always a test to determine if Biblical reference is literal or philosophical. You know that.”

Overcome with curiosity Professor Hillborn snatched up the amulet forgetting the stories from the dig site. Thunder swelled in his ears and a swirling mist enveloped his sight. Then the booming voice, “I am the darkest moment on a dying planet. I am the purveyor of fate. The vengeful one. The hand of God. You are not the chosen...”

Hillborn's colleague, unaware of his friends predicament continued, “The amulet seeks out the anti-Christ, the Dark Messiah. It only has power when both Messiah walk the Earth simultaneously. In the hands of a Messiah it brings forth the final battle. Everything depends on which Messiah controls the amulet.”

Horrified, Professor Hillborn began to slowly collapse like a giant timber falling unseen in a forest, without making a sound. The image of four horsemen lingered in his mind, with something in front of them. Something they were chasing, or perhaps something leading them. His heart, having succumbed to the fear of his vision, stopped as he uttered the word, “Horsemen...” Professor Hillborn fell the last few inches to the floor of his office where he lay lifeless. His college and friend, upon hearing the weak utterance, knew his friend had departed and why. Hurriedly, he punched the numbers on his phone and breathed heavily as if the exertion was too much to bear.

“State Department, Roger Pearce...”

“Roger, its Will Jensen. I don't know how to tell you this...”

Many governments over the years had sought out the power of religious artifacts and ours was no different. It was standing practice to make sure that experts in the field knew to call the State Department when something critical was discovered. Will relayed the entire tale to Roger who responded with only, “We'll take it from here. Tell no one.”

Less than 24 hours later the ornate box sat proudly on the elaborate desk of the head of the State Department. As her feral eyes glazed with the lust for power she threw open the lid of the box and clenched the amulet in her talons. Thunder surrounded the State Department. From deep within the roar came a deep and resonant voice, “And so begins...The End.”




posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 03:10 AM
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a reply to: Vroomfondel

Good on ya mate. Can't expect anything less from you Vroom. I look forward to your stories.

Kind regards,

Bally



posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 03:12 AM
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a reply to: bally001

Flagged but won't let me star.

Kind regards,

Bally



posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 07:10 AM
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a reply to: Vroomfondel

That last paragraph has me stumped.

Is this the end of your story ... or the beginning?

Something about it rang as familiar.



posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 11:47 AM
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originally posted by: tinymind
a reply to: Vroomfondel

That last paragraph has me stumped.

Is this the end of your story ... or the beginning?

Something about it rang as familiar.


I often begin and end stories with a similar statement. Its kind of a signature of mine.

Or, it could be that hillary ended up being the anti-Christ. I know I am not the first to suggest that....lol



posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 11:50 AM
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a reply to: bally001

Thank you very much. I enjoy your work as well.



posted on Sep, 14 2018 @ 11:53 AM
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My apologies to the readers. Auto-correct nailed me a few times. I thought I caught them all but apparently not. Sorry if something seems out of place or misleading. I will triple check next time. Double obviously isn't up to the task...



posted on Sep, 17 2018 @ 06:20 AM
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a reply to: Vroomfondel
That was great. You wove it like an old fable which added to the feeling of the story.





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