Teotwawki [CWC]

Part One: Silent Arrival

Its official, we are not alone.

The ships arrived, of all days, April 1st. But this was no April Fool’s Day joke. The conspiracy websites have been screaming with activity ever since.

False Flag, The End of the World, Return of Jesus, the last I’mam, the final battle, you name it, there is a thread about it.

Teotwawki, The End of the World as We Know It, has come. We will never be the same.

During the first days after their appearance, it seemed as if the aliens were observing us, but at the same time keeping us at arms distance. The government had sent up all types of planes and helicopters but the visitors seemed to be able to control how close they got. Eventually the militaries noticed that any type of vehicle that could be perceived as a threat would not be allowed to get within the range to cause harm. There were reports that any pilot attempting to breach an unseen barrier would lose control of navigation and steering systems until the vehicle reached a seemingly preset distance. Only then, would control be returned to the pilot. However, scientific and observation vehicles were allowed much closer. We were allowed to observe them, as it was clear that they were observing us. None of our communication systems seemed to have been affected, and the official word from our government was that communication with our visitors had yet to be established. The conspiracy forums are full of threads accusing the world leaders of knowing much more than they let on.

Most television channels are covering the events as they unfold, and there is no “entertainment” of any kind, unless you count the channels broadcasting the people spouting the usual doom and gloom rhetoric.


I look out my windows and I can see them. Massive golden discs, silently hovering there, suspended in the sky. News cameras are everywhere. Each reporter is hoping to be the first one to get a glimpse of our visitors.

There are port holes on the ships, and we assume that they might be windows. Occasionally, when the sun glints through the clouds, you can almost see what appears to be a humanoid figure. Brief glimpses, and only possibilities. On the bottom section of the ships there is an iris looking portal. We assume that it can open, as has been portrayed in various science fiction movies, but we have yet to see any evidence of this.

Images taken of the ships seem blurred and out of focus. There is much speculation that this is just a “psy-op” operation by the world governments, and if I couldn’t see the ships myself, couldn’t hear their low mechanical hum, I might believe it.


Have they done something? Well, that remains to be seen. My best guess is that they have. The world is literally at a standstill. No newer vehicles will run. Some planes cease working as soon as they are on the ground. Nuclear plants have completely, but safely, shut down. The only way to travel is either by foot or by animal; the government has seized all working vehicles in the name of “Public Safety”. Power is limited in some areas. People without power are massing in the places that do. Schools and businesses have closed and people have gathered with their family and friends.


Is this the calm before the storm?


I live less than two miles from a military base. We are on the base grid, so we still have power. I have seen the return of old roommates, friends, acquaintances, and nearby relatives. My house is full and getting fuller still.

I used to discuss a gloom and doom scenario, and always told my friends to come here, that everyone was welcome, bring blankets and food and celebrate the end of the world! We used to laugh, but now that we are faced with the uncertainty of what will happen next, they are gathering here. I always touted my home as a safe haven, and now I have to live up to that. I feel satisfied I have been deemed worthy and yet I am overwhelmed with the responsibility I used to joke about.

I’ve received calls from friends and distant family; I’ve made calls reaching out as well. Some ask to come to me; some ask me to come to them. No matter what the outcome, we promise to stay in touch.

As each day passes, curiosity, and a fair amount of apprehension grows, but people have remained calm.

For the most the adults have sat around watching the television, listening to the radio, or surfing the internet for scraps of information. The children have been playing in the back yard as if there was not a care in the world. It is oddly comforting.

I know that we are all in some way scared, and I spend a lot of my time discussing what to do next, what to do when something eventually happens.

My sister is in charge of the meals and organizing the staples that any newcomer brings. My oldest son was activated, as all the military seemed to have been, and he has been at the base since the day our visitors arrived. He calls every so often just to check in, and give us any news that he can.

We’ve reached out to our neighbors, and tonight we are planning to have a small bonfire. It feels like a celebration of sorts. The children seem happy, and play with reverent amounts of glee. Hearing their laughter fills us all with a sense of normalcy. But, we all know that we are gathering to discuss what we are going to do when “it” happens.

My boyfriend arrived earlier today, and it is a relief, if it is the end of the world, the one place I want to be is in his arms, by his side. He is my strength, my balance, my courage in the face of uncertainty. I need him now more than ever.

As evening starts rolling in, and the little ones get tuckered out and tucked in, the adults of the house start gathering outside and the neighbors migrate towards the backyard. The teenagers choose to play Xbox or Wii games, keeping a close eye on the smaller children.

The adults collect; some bring beer, wine and other bottles of various kinds of alcohol and mixers. More and more it begins to feel like a party. I guess that is what it is, a party, some of us joke that it will be the party to end the world.

It isn’t long before drums, bongos, guitars and other musical instruments join into the fun and it really does turn into a celebration. Someone brought marshmallows. Drink, song, dancing and laughter around a campfire soothing us all in this uncertain time. The hours pass quickly and before we know it dawn is rupturing the darkness of the night the sky.

As the sun is breaks the horizon the show begins to start. That low hum has intensified and someone notices that the ships have begun to slowly rotate. We just stand there watching the ships, waiting.

The children start waking up, breaking us from our trance. Each of them happy, excited, and wanting to get outside, some of them nearly fighting to do so. My sister’s dog whines and barks, pawing at the door. Some of the adults seemed to remain transfixed, just staring and watching the ships, mesmerized by the hum. The children and the animals vault outside.

My sister’s boxer stops just outside the door and lets out a banal wolf like howl. He’s’ never made those types of ancestral wails, but it was if he was beckoning others. Other dogs echo his cry, seeming to respond, and he bounded after the children.

As soon as the children were outside they started singing and stomping their feet in a rhythmic marching beat. They lined up, every single one of them marching in place. Another row of children started massing in the street creating a formation of sorts. Even my two year old granddaughter was marching. She was looking around, seemingly communicating with the other children with facial expressions and hand gestures.

Our street only had about twenty children under the age of eight and it took about fifteen minutes for them to form their ranks. The youngest formed the front, leading the way with the eldest in back. They were chanting something that none of us recognized, but it seemed to me to be a counting cadence, reminiscent of my boot camp days. Not a single child was out of beat, and if you tried to take them out of formation, they would scream and fight until they were free and then run back singing their tempo, marching their beat.


Without warning they started clapping their beat, and the hum of the ships changed to match it, echoing a human heartbeat. As this happened, the animals started to join. All the neighborhood dogs filed in front and on the sides in the first few rows of the children’s ranks, seemingly guarding the youngsters, keeping the adults at bay by barking and snarling at any adult that ventured near.

I was the first adult to join the ranks beside the dogs. I mimicked the children, while making my approach, and the animals let me stay. Others filed suit, and it wasn’t long before our little dead end street had ranks of adults, children and animals marching in place to a magical beat.

Suddenly there was a low whistle from what seemed to be a nearby ship, and the ranks of children started moving forward.

Part 2: To Gather Them

We marched forward to the end of the street, and turned toward the center of town. As we marched we were joined by other ranks of children, animals and adults. Each formation began merging into ours as the center column of children under eight, ranked by age and size, began to grow. And while they sang that unusual cadence, the adults shared bewildered looks.

We paraded down the main road, some of the adults communicating that they had no idea what was going on, but wanted to find out what the children were doing.

Usually I couldn’t make it more than a quarter mile before my hip started giving me problems, but for whatever reason, I was feeling no pain, and a sense of surmounting joy filled me for no ascertainable reason.

We continued until we came to the local park about one mile away. It was a small park, less than a block wide.

Ranks of children were massing at the center of the park, coming from every direction, marching and singing the same cadence. As we entered the park, you could hear dogs barking, traveling in packs and some of them circling seeming to be herding the children while other packs were isolating the adults from them. I spotted what appeared to be some coyotes and wolves among the dogs. Eventually it became evident that the adults and children were being separated. If an adult tried to join the ranks of children, a pack of 3 to 5 dogs would gather and start snarling, pushing the adult back to an invisible dividing line.

The mass of children grew for the next hour, all marching, singing their cadence, guarded by the dogs, wolves and coyotes.

Another low whistle and all the children stopped marching, singing and clapping. Reminiscent of a football game “wave” , the children and animals started to seat themselves, all facing toward the center of a circle they had formed.

About five feet of space separated the adults from the children, and a row of dogs faced toward the center seeming to shield the youngsters, while another ring of dogs traveled in the space between the children and their elders. Keeping them separated. Eventually the adults started sitting down too, and among those that stood, the pacing dogs would start howling and barking at them as if saying “Sit down you fool”. When the last adult finally sat down, a nearby dog howled, signaling that we were ready, everything was in order.

Again, the low whistle came from a nearby ship and all the children raised their hands up reaching for the sky. A small group of adults started to mimic what the children were doing, only to be set straight by a group of barking canines. I could almost hear them saying “NO, this is not for you. Not for you! STOP!” As soon as the adults had all lowered their arms, the dogs stopped barking, silence returned to the park, and the dogs returned to their posts.

We all sat there just watching the children for about thirty minutes. They resembled statues, calm, still, their young faces turned to the sky, their arms lifted up.

I could see my granddaughter and grandson in the front portions of the ranks. My niece, who was seven, was in the back of the formation. My sister sat with her husband not very far from me. I could hear many of the adults whispering among themselves. What’s happening? What will happen now? What is going on?

The ship was now centered above the field where we had all gathered. The children had formed a ring with a distance of about 50 feet of empty ground in the center. As we sat there waiting, I began to count the children. There were about 750 children present, and at least an equal number of adults.

The day was now warm, and a slight breeze could be felt from time to time. Small wisps of clouds traversed the sky.

The group of dogs, wolves and coyotes continued pacing the separation line, and occasionally you could hear barks ring out, as an adult tried to move toward the children. There was no way to cross the space between the children and the adults. The dogs hadn’t yet harmed anyone, but it seemed that if necessary they would. Their job was to make sure that the barrier was not breached, and the adults eventually came to understand that.

We sat and watched the ship as it slowly turned, observed the children as they silently sat faces and arms raised above their heads, reaching toward it. Occasionally one of the children would cough or sneeze. Every once in a while one of the youngest ones would giggle gleefully as if knowing some secret.

I tried to communicate with my niece, but she would not respond, and eventually, her mother, making the same attempts, and I gave up. We weren’t the only parents that tried, and all of us failed to gain the attention of our youngsters.

Media had gathered at the edges of the adult circle and you could hear various reporters broadcasting the activity to the unseen viewers.

A shout rose up from one of the adults “Look!” and we all witnessed as the center iris began to open. From it some small translucent golden orbs seeming lit from inside, began emerging. A group of about a dozen or so egg-shaped orbs drifted slowly downward. They landed in the center of the circle of the children settling perfectly spaced and opened like the petals of a flower, and revealed what appeared to be a small child, no more than 5 years old. More rounds of orbs emerged, settling the ground forming matching ranks to our children. As each landed and opened, they took the same posture as our children, faces and hands raised, to what could only be their “mother ship”.

Part 3: Assembly of the Mount


I counted as they came. Two hundred and fifty child visitors had landed.

I had received text messages from those watching at home that this was occurring all over the world. Packs of dogs were guarding children from their adult counterparts. In some cases, they would mildly injure an adult when they tried to force their way into the circle of children.

Once again a low whistle and the alien egg children started exiting their “vehicles” and turned to face ours.


Their appearance was as diverse as our own children: blondes, brunettes, redheads, white, black, Asian. Some had blue eyes, others with green or brown. The only thing that set them apart from our own was their clothing, otherwise you really couldn’t tell from a distance.

I knew that I was watching a ceremonial greeting of sorts, and something inside me told me that this was the most efficient way of contact. It was the least threatening way to greet without instigating fear and war.

The alien children were facing ours, and our children began to stand. The alien children then began to clap the cadence the children had marched, sang and clapped on their journey to the park. Our children responded in kind, opening their arms in greeting. Suddenly the two groups of children surged toward each other laughing and giggling, hugging and laughing as if they had met a long lost friend.

I think that the dogs sensed our mixed emotions of wonder, amazement and fear. A few of them turned their heads, as if to reassure us, sending us an unheard message that it was ok.

The adults remained seated and watched as the children appeared to begin to play. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a group of children who appeared to be playing a game of tag.

There was laughing, giggling and all sorts of babbling going on. Some of the older children were talking to the aliens, just like they could understand the hand motions and sounds coming from the child visitors.

My granddaughter had paired up with an alien child that seemed to be about the same age as she was, and it seemed that they were having quite the involved conversation, but I could understand none of it.

My grandson had also paired with a child, and he answered the questions in English to the alien child who asked them in his alien language. I could only make out my grandson’s side of the conversation, but it seemed typical of two children meeting for the first time.

I could also hear my niece talking with her counterpart, but she seemed to be a part of a larger group of children that were conversing with that one alien child.

All the adults could do was watch and listen, and not much of it made sense. Eventually I gleaned from the parts of the conversation that I could make out that our children were teaching the alien children to speak our language, and the alien children teaching our children to understand theirs.

We watched them play and converse for about twenty minutes, some of the dogs joining the children in play, others staying to make sure the invisible barrier was not crossed.

Then… the increasingly familiar low whistles from the ships.

All of the children, as if understanding some signal, began once again to form ranks and seated themselves .However, now they were intermingled, alien and human children joined.

A lone wolf that had made its way to the center of the circle began to howl. The children began to chant and sing a chorus of high pitched children’s voices joined in a perfect and beautiful harmony.

Our eyes were drawn upward once again as the mother ships iris opened.

Another orb, much larger, appeared and floated down settling itself next to the lone wolf. From its size I surmised that this vehicle was one that could have contained an adult.

The “egg” unfurled in the same manner as the other orbs had, revealing two adults, a male and a female. They exited and greeted the wolf. They held their arms out toward the children in ceremonial greeting.

They walked together toward the seated children and began traversing their ranks, stopping to speak briefly with groups of them, sometimes picking up a smaller child to hug or kiss them. None of the children seemed afraid, but a few adults became agitated. When they did, the dogs became agitated, and again took a protective stance.

The adults eventually went back towards their egg shaped ship and stood waiting, seeming to be surveying the crowd of adults.

The alien female whistled, and a number of larger dogs bounded toward her and settled in front of her.

I watched her make hand signals, and whistle, and bark and yip to them, and it was obvious that she was communicating with them. It was a fairly large pack of dogs, thirty or so of them, and I thought that I could almost see them nodding in agreement, responding to her. One of the dogs was my sister’s boxer Rocky.

When it appeared that the alien female had finished giving the dogs their instructions they all bounded off in different directions toward the adults. They started making their way through the crowd as if searching. My sister’s dog stopped in front of my sister and looked at her, and then at the alien. He would take a couple of steps toward the alien woman, and look back at my sister. When she didn’t move, he came back and repeated his movements until my sister finally started following him.

She was about half way through the crowd when he took off from the alien toward me, repeating his performance until I began to move forward. When other adults tried to follow, the “guard dogs” would block their way and push them back. My sister had stopped about half way across the field, and Rocky made his way back toward her, and began to once again urge her on. I kept walking.

The dogs continued searching out and beckoning people, but they were very particular about those they chose. When all was said and done, there were about 100 adults that were “called”.

With their task completed, the dogs went back to their segregation duties.

We all stood in front of the alien man and woman, and I could read curiosity on some of the faces of my companions, and utter fear on others.

Among the adults chosen and brought to the inner circle, there was a news reporter. She was allowed to bring her camera, but not her camera man. She focused the camera on our visitors, giving the world an up close and personal view and first time portrait of our adult visitors.

Part 4: First Initiates

The man and woman visitors both had long flowing white hair and big amber colored eyes. The male reminded me of the character played by Steve Carell in “Evan Almighty”. His face portrayed natural warmth and nurturing charm. He seemed young, but his countenance seemed almost grandfatherly in appearance. They wore flowing white robes, which appeared to be made of cotton or linen type fabric that was loose fitting. They seemed slender, but well muscled and they exuded an omnipotent physical strength. The female had very Elvin like facial features. She seemed to be more commanding in stature than the male, and it was easily perceived that she wielded great power and strength. She was obviously the one in command, and yet she still seemed to exude a motherly presence.

For the most part they did not differ very much from any other human, and at first glance there wasn’t anything really extraordinary about them. There was one notable exception. Their eyes seemed almost like crystals. The color was sharp and clear, and almost transparent in nature. I noticed it with the children too. It seemed to lack the murkiness apparent in human eyes. All the colors seemed reminiscent of flawless gems. Looking into them you felt a sense of non judgment, vibrant intelligence and there was wisdom that could be perceived in their essence. They were the type of eyes that struck awe inside you almost instantaneously, and put you at ease in the same moment. They captured your attention, and the desire to swim in their depths engulfed you as you looked deeper within.
The combination of their eyes, attire, and the color of their hair, made them almost angelic in appearance.

They looked placidly into the camera for a few brief moments before flashing a brilliant smile full of warmth and welcoming. It was touched with a barely perceivable note of ecstasy that made you feel humble in its distinctive amount of joy.

They nodded in salutation to the world before turning back toward the adults gathered before them.

The female reporter walked backward with her camera as she began capturing the ceremony of our first contact broadcasting it live to the world.

The male walked up to me, placed his hand on my chest and uttered “Keeper”. There was a radiant heat from him, and his touch was soothing, as if he was transferring some information through his touch. He then placed his hand on his own chest and said, “Teacher”. I looked at him quizzically, and he repeated the action. Then, as if to clarify, he reached toward my sister placing his hand on her chest. “Mother.” He then placed his hand on my chest and said “Keeper”. He placed his hand on his chest and uttered “Teacher”.

I then placed my hand on his chest “Teacher”, on mine “Leea” then on my sister’s “Katlin”.

He let out a robust laugh, nodding his head with understanding. Again, repeating the actions and words. “Keeper, Mother, Teacher”. He then followed the actions with the words “Leea, Katlin, Mikkaal”.

A third time he repeated the action. “Keeper… Leea, Mother…. Katlin, Teacher…Mikkaal”.

I finally understood that “Mikkaal” was identifying us with some sort of title. I wasn’t sure if the title was given by Mikkaal, or one that he was acknowledging.

I mirrored his actions trying to disclose a limited understanding of the exchanged information.

With our titles and names acknowledged, though I barely understood its purpose, he moved on to the others and repeated the action. The lady next to my sister and I was named Connie. She was a messenger. Among us there were teachers, learners, chroniclers, messengers, mothers, fathers, and guardians. It seemed that each of us was chosen for something that we did, were doing, or were going to do. None of us seemed to be really sure which, but somehow understood that our given title held some fashion of honor. I was the lone “Keeper”.

The reporter had been identified by Mikkaal as a chronicler, and her name was Joyce.

When Mikkaal had finished the ceremonial greeting and identifying each of the adults, he returned to stand by his female counterpart. A nearly imperceptible moment passed between them, easily recognizable as some sort of special connection between the two of them that went beyond the roles that they momentarily portrayed.
The female finally introduced herself as Gadriel. She was a “Chooser”.

The low whistle from the alien craft sounded yet again and it seemed to be signaling the end of the meeting was nearing.

One final golden egg emerged and began to drift downward. The vehicles that the children had arrived in started to close and some of them were hovering about twelve feet above the ground.

Gadriel spoke briefly in English, her voice almost musical, to all the adults and addressed the world through Joyce’s camera.
“We will meet again.
We will only speak to these chosen ones.
We will return to our ships.
When we are ready, we will call the chosen. “
She turned toward me and my companions, and said “Mothers and Fathers, care for our children. Guardians, protect them”. Her lilting musical voice made the words not only a command, but also a heartfelt request.

Gadriel and Mikkaal turned once again faced Joyce and her camera. They did not say anything but stood there staring at the camera. The wolves and coyotes had exited from the formation gathering in front of the adult visitors, they too facing the camera Joyce held.

Behind Joyce, outside of the view of the unseen audience, the children had begun moving into what could only be perceived as exit formations, small gatherings facing toward the park boundaries, slightly larger with the added visitors, again beginning their chant and rhythmic march in whispered children’s voices.

Gadriel addressed the contactees once more, and instructed us to wait here. A final lone alien ship landed. A young girl who appeared to be about 3 years old emerged and came to stand between Mikkaal and Gadriel.

She was dressed in a similar manner as the adults, only her vestments had a cowl that covered her head, and the front collar was bedecked with jewels of all colors. She looked up at Gadriel, and removed the hood.

Gadriel addressed me. “This is Dinah, she will assist you. Your keepers come. What comes must be. Look into the eyes of the beast, and do not be afraid.”


Her directive seemed to be pointedly for me, and I tried desperately to decipher its meaning.

Dinah placed her tiny hand within mine, and looked up at me with pale Prasiolite eyes.

Some sort of deep memory tickled at the back of my mind, urging me to explore something that I had long ago forgotten.

Gadriel and Mikkaal turned toward the golden egg shaped vehicles. They entered their original conveyance and as it closed.

A high pitched whistle sounded and as the alien compartments rocketed toward the sky, the ranks of children began to run out of the park, the dogs following howling, barking and growling behind.

I turned around to face the tree line at the west end of the park. Soldiers carrying rifles with bayonets attached to the tips began to approach.

Part 5: The Mechanism Within

The west end of the park was the only section that could have concealed the approach of the military contingent, and there was a part of me that knew that the small gathering of adults that had contact with the aliens were their target.

Within a minute the “chosen” were surrounded, and we gathered in a tight circle facing the upheld weapons.

Dinah looked up at me, and she appeared to have a reassuring look on her face. My insides were a pot of tumultuous emotions. Fear, anger, sorrow, courage, anticipation and joy all filling me at the same time each one ready to boil over at any moment.
In the distance I could hear the dogs barking, howling and snarling and without turning around, I could tell that they were protecting the wave of exiting people, their directive to see them all safely home.

I scanned the group of soldiers and located what appeared to be their commander.

I mustered up all the courage that I could, and I shouted to him. “Leave them go, it is us you want. Let the others go. We will go with you, but let them return to their homes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an approving smile on Dinah’s small face.

Eventually “the chosen”, as I began to call them in my mind, and how we had been addressed by Gadriel, were herded into vehicles, and we began the trip to the nearby military base.

Dinah refused to leave my side, and clutched tightly to my hand as we were steered to the different vehicles.

I sat with Dinah curled up on my lap, her head resting on my shoulder. At some point a tear began to slip down my face. Dinah reached up and wiped it away with a tiny finger. She looked at the tip of her finger, with a slightly bewildered look on her face and then said to me “It’s empty.”

I looked into her pale eyes, and I knew that she could sense my confusion. She held my eyes steady for a moment and I watched painful emotions cross their depths. Ultimately I began to understand that she felt sorry for me, but why escaped me.

She continued to look at me, and I at her. I watched as plump tears began to well in her eyes, and my heart sank. Just as those tears were on the edge of brimming over, she buried her face within the crook of my neck. As soon as her first tear hit my skin, I felt a blinding pain and I had to clench my eyes shut to dampen its brightness.

Suddenly my head was filling with visions, thoughts, emotions, ideas and knowledge. It overwhelmed me momentarily, and I felt like I was spinning and falling from some dark place. I was flowing within a tsunami of experience and drinking in wondrous knowledge.

When things started to settle down inside my brain, I heard Dinah say “Now you will know.”

I opened my eyes to look at her again, and I saw a satisfied look on her face that bordered on being smug. I had to laugh a little, and I smiled. She had transferred a wealth of knowledge to me through her tears, a biomechanical device they had developed and now, I had a sort of telepathic and empathic connection to her.

The empathic connection was nothing new to me. My whole life I had experienced the ability to connect with people on an emotional level, and often I was able to tell what they were feeling even when there outsides were telling a different story. I had learned to compartmentalize other people’s emotions, and being able to do this helped me adjust the flow of information now invading my being.

I knew the history of our existence, and how the stories that we had grown up with had been changed, by whom, and why. I marveled at the sudden knowledge bestowed upon me by this young child of not only our past, but theirs, and how they were intimately intertwined. Every previous intervention of theirs felt like it had happened to me personally. There was a part of me that knew that I was now an outsider to the rest of the human race, and in that split second I had transcended into something that may be perceived as greater. I filled with a deep sorrow for humankind, knowing that once they knew the truth the most likely scenarios would not play out well.

I knew why it was children that were placed with us. It took me a few moments to puzzle it out, but eventually the duality of the situation made sense to me. Strictly from a military perspective it was a profound and exceedingly effective maneuver. They had prepared well.

It seemed that our children could easily receive the information that the aliens were about to impart unto us. After the age of eight, which coincided with the onset of human puberty, the ability to accept and understand the knowledge became near impossible. It was through the children that the aliens hoped to raise humanity back into a state of grace from which we had fallen long ago.

The purpose of the children depended on humanity’s reaction to them. They were here to teach, or they were here to experience our destruction. The ultimate outcome really all depended on us.

I also knew that there was a strong possibility of controversy breaking out among zealots of all kind, as barriers were broken, the reality behind the legends of old were unfolded, and the truth was unfurled before our eyes.

I knew how painful their transcendence would be. How much pain they would endure not being able to accept what would be revealed to them. But I also knew that their eventual transcendence would free them from the pain and fear that had become our human existence.

The human race as a whole was a mere child. Some adults had managed to grow and evolve over the last few millenniums, breaking free of the chains that bound us here, but the majority had a lot of growing up to do.

I noticed, as I looked around at my compatriots, that my vision seemed to have changed slightly as well. I could see a glow around the others, and I suddenly knew why we all had been chosen, what had made us all stand out, and made us easily recognizable to the aliens. I could read and understand the patterns of colors that enveloped each of us, and I found the common denominators.


In some circles, we were called Indigo Children. We all had some form of what was often referred to as ADHD, and our brains worked on a different level than most of the others around us. All of us were extremely intelligent, and our spiritual nature seemed to be unbiased and compassionate on a level that most people could not understand. For the most part we had freed ourselves from the mechanisms of indoctrination and fear that had come to inundate our world, evolving to a level where we would be able to process, and eventually accept, the nature of our origin. Now there was a chance that our branch of humanity would be able to join the rest of our family ….The Elohim.

Part 6: In the Council of Thirteen

Within a half hour we had arrived at the base and Dinah had continued to convey information to me. Eventually the sudden rush of information stopped causing me physical pain, as my own personal demons that had been attempting to claw their way to my psychological surface, succumbed to revelations given to me. My fear whimpered out of existence.

The other adults sat complacently around me, and began introducing themselves to each other using the monikers given to us by Mikkaal and Gadriel.

We arrived at our destination on the base, and were ordered out of the vehicles and into what appeared to be a small building. Armed soldiers guided us through the doors and through a hallway that sloped downward. I realized from its pitch, that we were being led into an underground structure. I had only heard about them, and usually from unreliable sources and people that I had unfairly labeled crackpots. In a small manner began chastising myself for being so unbelieving, but there was a part of me that knew as crazy as some of the claims had been, there was among the stories a fair amount of truth.

The maze of corridors eventually led us to a room with TSA type scanners that we were all prompted to go through. I had been carrying Dinah on my hip the entire way, and had slowly fallen to the back of the group so that we were the last to go through the scanners.

Just before it was my turn, Dinah managed to disconnect herself from me, and walked holding my hand for the last few feet.

Finally a soldier raised his weapon to me, and growled “One at a time”. As Dinah let go of my hand, I turned to face the soldier and looked directly into the eyes of my son.

His face was hard and appeared stern, but I could easily read in his eyes his plea for me to comply. I knew that he was only doing what he was ordered, what he had been trained to do, and I also knew that this was a tactical move by his commanders to force not only me, but him into subservience.

Suddenly I laughed raucously as I realized the amount of arrogance currently on display. My son was being used as a weapon of compliance. What fools they were, what fools they had become and I was looking forward to the moment I could finally put them all in their place.

I moved through the scanner, and onto the other side where my clothing was confiscated and put into a sealed plastic bag to be taken off to be analyzed. I donned the jumpsuit provided, fluorescent orange, and thought to myself “Welcome to the prison planet”, and laughed silently yet again.

Dinah was the last to go through the scanner, and she was directed to go with what appeared to be a military doctor. She looked back at me, and I did not sense fear from her. She knew that they would poke and prod her, and I knew that ultimately this was the role that she was to fill.

Anger surged within me. “She is a child” my mind screamed. “How dare you violate her!’

Dinah conveyed back to me that it was expected, and that she was not afraid. It did not reassure me, but I knew that there were other duties that I needed to attend to now, and I forcefully tamped down the urge to run after her.

The chosen were led into what appeared to be a large conference room. There was a large round table that had what appeared to be some sort of high tech viewing screen in the middle.

There was some sort of vapor that aided in the projection of the images, flowing from the top and bottom of the viewing area. Some of us marveled at it, and commented on how science fiction was gradually becoming science fact.

We all found places to sit and conversed in low voices amongst each other, waiting and wondering.

Eventually our attention was drawn to the images seeming to emerge from the vaporous screen. Images of similar occurrences to ours took part in various places in the world. It was a scene repeated over and over: children gathering, the arrival of the aliens, their greeting, their departure, and the eventual capture of the groups of men and women identified as “The Chosen”.

Altogether there were 13 groups. Each time a singular “Keeper” was accompanied by a single alien child. I was the only female Keeper, with the only female child. I knew each identifier for each child and I repeated them off in my head as their face materialized in the vapor: Rahuben, Cyman, Levee, Jusha, Issacahld, Zeebluhan, Dane, Neftal, Usher, Josefth, and Behamin. In the back of my mind the names were familiar, but I was just about to tease out the depths of my memory when a sudden flood of vision and information started saturating my mind.


Altogether there were 13 groups. Each time a singular “Keeper” was accompanied by a single alien child. I was the only female Keeper, with the only female child. I knew each identifier for each child and I repeated them off in my head as their face materialized in the vapor: Rahuben, Cyman, Levee, Jusha, Issacahld, Zeebluhan, Dane, Neftal, Usher, Josefth, and Behamin. In the back of my mind the names were familiar, but I was just about to tease out the depths of my memory when a sudden flood of vision and information started saturating my mind.

I finally puzzled out that the names were the twelve sons of Jakkob, one of the emissaries previously sent to in an attempt to guide us out of darkness. These names had been chosen in the hopes that they would elicit a form of recognition. They had been designed hoping that in some from their seeming familiarity would help with the transition about to occur. Dinah was his single daughter. She became the mother of the fabled thirteenth tribe of Israel. She was known as the mythological figures Danu and Diana, the female patriarch of the Pagans.
As each legend formed in my mind, they unraveled and another story shaped, intertwining previous interventions with historical accounts and the folklore of mankind’s history. In an instant they all became one, lies unveiled in the blink of an eye, mysteries solved with the intake of breath, questions answered with the exhale.

It was both invigorating and confusing at the same time. Fact became fiction, and fiction manifested into fact. The lines blurred and a then became as real and fluid as all that I had known before, as well known to me as my own experiences.

I was brought out of my information filled visions as the presidential seal appeared on the vaporous screen.

We found ourselves face to virtual face with the P.O.T.U.S, and what appeared to be a contingent of high ranking military generals.

The president addressed us and explained that all around the world, this event had taken place. We were then informed that we would be debriefed and fitted with tracking devices. We were instructed that if we did not comply with the orders about to be given to us, that we would not leave the building we were currently in, and would not live to see our families again.

Anger flamed inside me once again at the arrogance being displayed.

I stood up and began to address the president.

“Mr. President, can you hear me?” I asked

A paper was handed to him, and after glancing at it briefly he said “Yes, Leea Wilson, I can hear you.”

I laughed. “So, you know my name? And I suppose that you have complied a listing of each of us?"

He nodded acknowledgement.

“And I am sure that even as we speak there is a group of scientists, psychologists and other types of pathologists profiling each and every person that sits here in this room?” It was more of a statement than a question, but again the president nodded in ascent.

“Good, than you are doing your job well.” I stated.

I turned briefly to scan the faces of my fellow contactees, and I received nods, grins and smirks of agreement from them.

When I turned back around, I changed my posture to the “parade rest” stance that I had been taught in boot camp so many years ago. I focused my eyes sternly on what appeared to be the face of our president, and cleared my throat.

“Mr. President, generals, unseen members of congress, NATO and you so called members of the corporate elite, let me tell you how this is going to go down.”

Part 7: The Truth About Angels

A brief moment of surprise crossed his face, and I could see some of the generals in the background attempting to cover their snickers.

Whether they were snickering at me, or at the response of the P.O.T.U.S, I did not know, and I did not care.

“The first thing that you are going to do is contact the other governments with those that have been detained, and arrange a teleconference with all of us. The second thing that you are going to do is return Joyce’s camera to her, and allow her to broadcast the rest of this meeting to the world. The final thing you will do”, my voice becoming stern, “is return Dinah to me .You have thirty minutes.”

I waved my hand in dismissal and the “screen” went black.

I was taken aback at the sudden cut off of communication. Even though the gesture seemed natural, I really didn’t expect anything to happen.

My companions began clapping, and I heard Dinah inside my head telling me that I had done well.

I knew then that the connection between her and I went much deeper than between just the two of us. I had been connected with all the ships, all the alien children and all of the others that had been connected through Dinah and her biomechanical laced tears: the tears of knowledge.

I nearly collapsed into my seat. I was physically exhausted, my head spinning with voices of the other Keepers, knowing that the same scenario had played out in twelve other places in the world.

The soldiers that were in the corners of the room had lowered their weapons, and now stared at me in awe. I scanned each of their faces, and found my son’s among them.

He beamed with pride, and I could sense an outpouring of love and thanks from him. His relief filled me with renewed purpose.

I let my head fall back and closed my eyes muttering “Give me a moment” to the questions suddenly engulfing me from my companions.

A few minutes later a door opened and Dinah came bounding into the room, jumping onto my lap. Her presence energized me, and I was finally able to sort and compartmentalize the voices in my head.

For the next ten minutes, Dinah answered question after question occasionally giggling at what now seemed like a childlike question. Finally, growing exasperated she said to everyone, “Let me show you” and suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears that began to flow freely from her eyes. This time the tears were of joy, and exhilaration of being able to share with the others.
One by one each of the chosen wiped away a tear, each momentarily feeling the searing white hot pain, causing them to clutch at their head and then revealing a face filled with wonder and joy.

One of my companions remarked that it felt like being touched by an angel, and I smiled.

I hadn’t noticed before, but the glow around Dinah had become bright white and flowed out of her like wings, tendrils of connection reaching out from the crown of her head in feathery wisps touching each and every one of us.

We all came to know in that brief span of time that name of that which embodied greed, hate and fear, that which promulgated acts of war, and the need for control was Azazeel, and we cast off those desires like a filthy garment.

The room began to fill with joy and love, the emotion so thick that it seemed like it was about to become tangible.

I looked up at the clock, and realized our deadline was almost a minute away. I looked again at the soldiers, and some of them had fallen to their knees in what appeared to be prayer.

I realized then that the glow I had seen emanating from each of us earlier had increased and was now visible to the soldiers, and I wondered if somehow we had begun the process of our transcendence.

There was a part of me trying to reach out, wanting all that I knew to be shared with the world, and not just with the occupants of the room.

Just then the vaporous screen leapt back to life, and the president’s face once again materialized.

Joyce’s camera had been returned to her, and she hoisted it onto her shoulder, adjusting its focus onto my face and once again resumed her broadcast to the world.


The President looked agitated, and I could sense his fear and confusion. I watched as the camera that was projecting his face on the other end bounced erratically. I knew that wherever he was, they were experiencing an earthquake.

“We need more time.” He pleaded.

Again I stood, and as his gaze seemed to focus on me, his eyes widened.

“Mr. President, what you don’t seem to understand is that humanity is running out of time. What you don’t seem to understand it that this is just the beginning. What you don’t’ seem to understand is that those stories of the end of the world, what we have called Armageddon for all this time, are true!” My voice rose with each statement, the shaking on the other end growing more powerful with the escalation of my voice.


My face had turned red with anger, and I had to take a deep breath to compose myself. As I did so, the shaking had on the other end had calmed.

I looked at him, as if I was chastising a small child, and I finally said to him “The world needs to know what is going on. They need to know what I know. Your secret bunkers, your seed banks, your hidden stores will not save you; they will save no-one. We are being given a chance, and to keep this from mankind is a travesty and a transgression of universal proportions.”

I sighed, bowing my head and shaking it.

I lifted my gaze, and pleaded to them.

“Gentlemen, stop being so self righteous and selfish. This is the moment that you decide if you are the savior, or the destroyer. The war begins now, or it ends now. The choice is yours.”

Part 8: Redemption of the Fallen

A young lady came and whispered into the president’s ear, and his mike picked up her saying “The connection is complete.”

She looked into the camera for a moment, and I saw the crystalline sapphire blue of her eyes.

I smiled.

The screen split into multiple views, and I could see the other groups gathered together. I had felt them all in the back of my head prior to seeing their faces, but it seemed more real seeing their images on the screen. We all smiled at each other in greeting. It was decided telepathically between us that I would begin.

As I sat down visions started forming in my head, and I did my best to put into words what I was seeing of humanity’s past, knowing that my words were being heard around the world, and translated into many languages.

I related, as best as I could, the beginnings of our world. Evolution was not wrong after all, at least for the first chapter of the existence of our planet. There was a fair amount of truth to the formation of our sun and our planet, and the beginning of life evolving here. The part that had been unknown to us then, was that the original star had collapsed and had caused the disappearance of the original evolving life forms, and was ultimately the cause of the extinction of the dinosaurs.

One of the other “Keepers”, Aashish, who’s name meant “Blessing” continued the story. He was from India.

He related how in Krittika, known now too many as the constellation of Pleiades, had the same timeline of evolution had occurred, but millions of years ahead of ours. It was from this constellation that Earth, and many of the other planets within the star grouping had been seeded and reseeded by the most advanced race known by many names , the most recent being The Elohim.

The group that re-established our planet had attempted to contain some of the energy of one of the Pleiadian stars to reignite ours. In the process, they inadvertently caused the star to burn out, and it is from this event that the legends of the displaced star mentioned in many legends had come. It was also at roots of the original flood stories.

Pablo, from the South American group picked up where Aashish left off.

Our sun had been reborn, and the renewal and transplanting of life began. Among our “star cousins” there was a splinter group that had been banished from the majority because of their penchant for violence. They followed the assembly here to earth and warred with them. Portions of the stories of that war are contained in the bible, ancient Chinese writings and in the Vedic literature of India describe the actual battles of these factions.

Kajetan, who hailed from Italy, piped in almost gleefully “It is here that the truth becomes skewed, and the lying and manipulation of mankind begins. The Nefhelium, literally “Those out of Grace”, were known most notably in Biblical History as the Fallen Angels, were the winners of this war. Eventually the Nefhelium eliminated themselves, but not before teaching of the art of war, greed and methods of control to some of the inhabitants of the newly seeded planet Earth. “

Each remaining member of the Keepers related various stories of intercession of the contingent of visitors hovering in our atmosphere, known as the Iosis, attempting to bring us out of the darkness of violence, just as a mother or father attempts to correct an errant child’s behavior. The last approved successful intervention had been well over two thousand years ago. The Iosian child endowed with the knowledge now being imparted and given to a woman known as Myam and became known as Jesus.

The lust for power, which had become ingrained into a growing society, led to the royal screwing up of the message we were supposed to receive, and would have brought humanity back into the fold from where we originated.


The final approved intervention had been a complete and utter failure. The remains of the Iosian female sent to a man named Muhommed, whose directives ultimate seen her slain, lay buried within the Dome of the Rock.

Other interventions had followed, but they had not been approved by the Council of The Elohim, and explained many mysteries and miracles occurring between the time of the last Iosian intervention and now.

Somehow, despite the continual inundation of negativity some of humanity had managed to evolve enough that The Fallen were finally deemed worthy of redemption.

Dinah addressed the world then, her confident clear voice and words contradicting her childlike face.


“We have a name for your sun. It is Zhatan. The one you call Satan. It goes through a cycle of growth and rebirth, just as the souls of humanity do. As many of your scientists already know, and some of those you refer to as “Remote viewers” have told you, this solar cycle is very intense, and a massive Coronal Mass Ejection is imminent. We are very aware of the cycle, and we have calculated the date of the next great burst, a burst that will nearly destroy your planet. We have attempted many times to prepare you, plotting cycles and inducing the creation of calendars warning you of your pending demise and imparting visions written down to warn you of the severity of the situation. You have been to underdeveloped to understand, to immature to see. “

She closed her eyes momentarily, and it felt as if she was pushing down an immense sorrow.

“Our warnings have been ….they have been….compromised, twisted and used for gain. It is not what we had intended. We have intervened because we do not want to see our brothers and sisters die. We can feel your pain, we know your sorrow. We are all connected. “

A sadness that I had not seen before had overtaken her, and her shoulders seemed to slump slightly. Tears filled her eyes, and these were not tears meant to impart knowledge, they were true tears of pain and sorrow. It wasn’t the empathic connection that told me this, it was my evolved humanity and compassion that recognized it for what it truly was. I truly felt her pain. This was “tough love”.

“Your war of good and evil begins now”, she continued. “The adversaries are your own stories of your existence, and ours. You must decide which version is the one that you are willing to accept as truth. We are here to answer your questions. You are as much a part of us as we are of you, and the only thing that separates us now is distance and the knowledge of our existence. I want to be with my family, but I want my family to be complete. You are a lost child and we are here to guide you home. We are here to attempt to save you from the danger you now face, or stand by and watch you be destroyed by your own ignorance and arrogance.”

Dinah turned and looked pointedly at Joyce’s camera.

“Your time is running out.”

Part 9: From the Mouth of Zhatan

Joyce lowered her camera and turned it off. The broadcast to the world had been cut, and silence filled the rooms.

Dinah looked toward the president. His face had become somber, and many of his generals appeared to be in silent prayer. Her eyes held his, and I knew that many other world leaders were looking into their depths.
She spoke again, addressing the president and the other unseen advisors.
“Most of the ships that are stationed above the planet are empty, prepared to take those who are willing to safety. Many more ships are stationed nearby and be called to help with the intercession. We are willing to send a number of our group to meet with you to help organize their boarding.”

I saw a visible nodding of heads in the president’s war room.

“However, I must make it clear that there is no choosing of who boards the ships. Those who come will come willingly and no one will be left behind if they choose to come. Your technology, your material wealth, will remain.”

It seemed as if she had spat out the words “material wealth”, and even to me they felt sour and dirty in my mouth.

The intensity of our connection was becoming deeper.

There was a brief conversation between Dinah and our president, between the other alien emissaries and the leaders that had detained them. Finally reaching what appeared to be some sort of arrangement we were informed it was time to go home.

I looked over at my sister who had not said much during the whole ordeal, and not only did I see the relief on her face, I felt it. I looked around at my companions, who now felt more like family than ever before. Our shared connection conveyed our relief, joy and anticipation. We watched each other as we all seemed to sprout ethereal wings of multi-colored light. We basked not only in the knowledge given to us by the aliens, but with the shared knowledge and recognition of each other we all now felt. We were comforted by the knowledge that no matter how far the distance, our friends were just a mere thought away.

The doors to the room were opened, and we filed out into the corridors and began to transverse the upward slopes back to the outside world.

A series of handshakes, cheek kisses and other forms of warm embraces were exchanged as we all headed toward our abodes. We ignored the vehicles, and walked the distance each of us filled with a new vigor and energy.

As my sister and I walked down our street with Dinah in tow, we were greeted with cheers and shouts from our neighbors. During the walk home we came to terms with our lifetime of experiences, their meaning and their ultimate impact on what had just occurred. We were now keenly aware of our reason for existence, our purpose in life, and we mentally began preparing ourselves for what was to come.

Not lost in our elation was the knowledge that destruction was still on the horizon and we both knew there were great challenges ahead of us.

I looked up into the sky for a moment, surveying not only the ships, but our sun, Zhatan. I visible darkness seemed to cross it momentarily, followed by a spike of brilliant white light. Others noticed, and stared up as I had.
“Teotwawki comes”, I whispered under my breath.

The ground beneath our feet began to vibrate slightly, and I felt a sudden influx of sadness.

I looked up to see Mark, my boyfriend, standing about 50 feet down the street from me. I broke into a run and rushed into his arms. As his arms enfolded me, I collapsed into them. A sudden wave of overwhelming exhaustion overtook me and I lost consciousness.

I awoke several hours later as a radio blared nearby. I heard a masculine voice emanating from it, and I walked into what had once been my living room, I saw somber and nearly distraught faces filling the room.

The reporter continued on and related the latest information coming from NASA scientists. Our sun seemed to have leapt to life, and was now convulsing with hundreds of thousands of new sunspots, more forming as they continued to observe. SOHO footage was displayed on the television, but the sound had been muted. I watched as images of these developing sunspots appeared on the surface on the sun.

I heard someone shout “She’s awake!”, and the radio was clicked off.

Mark stood up and crossed over to me, asking me how I was feeling.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked him.

“Three days” he replied. “I was beginning to get worried, we all were. Welcome back to life.”

Silence was thick in the room, but the sense of fear was even thicker.

I moved into the crowd of frightened faces sitting in the room and seated myself in the center. I began to relate my knowledge of what was going on, and what would happen in the near future. Some of it had already begun.

One of the teenage boys, a face I didn’t readily recognize, related to me how there had been a large earthquake in Russia the day before, and how one of the ships had landed and taken the people of a small village to safety moments before the ground began to shake and the village was engulfed in a mudslide.

Another story surfaced about a Midwestern town being overtaken by tornadoes, the only remaining survivors being children. The oldest was eight. A ship had landed in a cornfield and taken the children away.

I heard an adult in the group say “The beast has awakened, they are stealing the children!” I recognized her as a neighbor from down the street. She was nothing short of a doom saying zealot, and she was trying to incite fear. I would have no part of it, and would not let her cause problems.

She stood and looked down at me, challenging me. “Are you going to keep the truth from them, have the demons enslaved you?”

I stood and looked at her steadily. “You need to leave… NOW.”

“These are the last days, she pleaded to the crowd. “You must repent, you must repent!”

“GET…..OUT…..OF….. HERE…LEAVE ……LEAVE….. NOW!” I nearly shouted.

My anger and frustration were building and I could hear it echoed in my words.

Mark had stepped in front of me, breaking the gaze I held with my neighbor Mary, and my anger suddenly subsided.
Mark looked at her and told her that she had a choice, leave through the door or through the wall, he didn’t care which.

I heard a small child whimper in the crowd as she turned her back to leave. She stood in the doorway for a moment, and I could see a blackness surrounding her. I felt sorry for her.

I looked over at the child. He looked up at me with crystalline emerald eyes. “Why is she so ugly?” he asked me in a tiny voice.

I looked at him, and knew it was a question that could not be answered. I also knew that this was only the first of many little skirmishes I would have to stand and fight.

Just as the sun was seemed to rise from its slumber, so was the battle awakening.

I had no intention of losing.

Part 10: Hegira

Over the next several months the world became witness to escalating world-wide cataclysms.

Many stories of alien saviors surfaced, and the airwaves, chat-rooms and conspiracy forums filled with various forms of chatter.

Not unexpectedly, there were many calling out and claiming themselves messiah.

Hundreds of thousands of people were attempting to make treks to Israel and Rome. Others gathering in houses of worship joined in prayer, crying out for their God to come save them from alien demons.

At night, when I thought that no one else was looking, wrapped in the arms of my love, I cried silent tears for the so many that had been deceived, that were being deceived.

I became exhausted as I stood with my sister and other contactees that had joined us on our little dead end street as we verbally clashed with the fanatics that ventured near.

Occasionally I was summoned by our visitors, and walked across the river to meet with them in moonlit silence in the middle of the river.

The first time I walked the water, it was a strange sensation, feeling if I were sliding across ice, and feeling the warm water of the river splashing on my ankles at the same time. A lone witness had managed to video the event and had posted it on YouTube.

I nearly fell off my chair laughing when I saw it beneath the caption “Demons Masquerading as Angels”. There was a blurb claiming intimate knowledge of the conversations, and the alleged revelation of the gathering of human children for demonic sacrifice. I laughed at how wrong they were, and how the author presented it as fact, even going so far as to name me.

The number of people camping out on our street had grown, and there had to be nearly two thousand of us by the time August began, and twice that when the equinox rolled around.

Was it really only six months since first contact? It had seemed like so much longer. I hadn’t heard from my eldest son for days, I hadn’t seen him since that day in the underground bunker. My only reassurance of his safety came from my five year old grandson.

I was counting down the days, preparing our gathering for our coming exodus.

My days were filled with tamping down small skirmishes among the adults and children, reassuring frightened people and receiving affirmation from my grandson, his sister and their companion that my son would make it home in time.

My fear and anger had left me long ago, but the desire to have that piece of my heart, the son I had first birthed, returned to me. He was a piece of me that was missing, and the only piece of remaining personal sorrow that I carried in my heart.

I often looked over at his half brother, my youngest son, marveling at how much he had grown and matured. It didn’t seem that it was that long ago that he had celebrated his sixteenth birthday as a scrawny awkward teenager. He had filled out tremendously over the last several months, and his body now rippled with sinewy muscle.

Despite the dwindling store of food, positive physical changes seemed to have overtaken everyone. The neighbor across the street, Geoffrey, who once had been a rotund man, had thinned a bit, and corded muscle had replaced the girth that had once surrounded him.

Some of my nephews and other local teenagers now sported mustaches and beards. My niece, who had celebrated her eighth birthday two months ago, was now showing the beginning signs of evolving into womanhood.

The younger children spent the daylight hours out in the streets in carefree play and the nighttime saw the adults frolicking in the water of the river, the glinting moonlight casting shadows over their naked bodies.

Mark and I had indulged in our own form of adult play, often running into the wooded banks of the river seeking refuge from prying eyes during daylight hours.

I had noticed over the past several weeks that some of the women were proudly displaying baby bumps.

During the first few days that I had returned from the base, I had unknowingly connected Mark to the rest of us with my tears. He had not made mention of it, but on occasion I could hear his voice in the back of my mind expressing his pride, reassuring me occasionally urging me onward. There had existed an intrinsic bond between us before, and it now reached deeper and strengthened each day.

My eldest sister Victoria, had arrived only days before. She had travelled nearly a hundred miles by foot just to be with us during these end days. We had kept contact via cell phone as she made what she phrased as her final journey home. She had arrived alone, her husband refusing to leave. A part of her had been torn away, but each day as she made it closer to us, her pain seemed to subside. Her lonely pain finally washed away with our reunion. The circle of the three sisters was renewed and she joined us in the fold with the joyous tears of my younger sister Katlin.

I was cleansing a child’s scraped knee in my sister’s kitchen when I received the news I had been waiting so long for. My grandson burst into the house with his sister and otherworldly companion in tow screaming “Daddy is coming home, Daddy is coming home!”

The four of us bolted out of the house and began running down the street. I felt my being unfurl. I physically lifted myself and the children off the ground hurtling towards my son.

We flew into his waiting arms and I lifted us higher off the ground dancing in midair at the end of the street.

The time had come, it was time to leave. My heart was whole.

I arched my neck and let out a primal scream. A song of joy sung from the deepest core of my being and reverberated on the wind.

I held my arms around my son and my grandchildren, embracing them as tightly as I could and we floated to the ground.

As our feet once again settled on to the pavement, I looked at my son.

His face was battered and bruised, and it was obvious that he had been beaten. He looked like he had aged quite a bit, but his eyes were crystal clear as mine had become. He appeared to wince in pain as his children hugged him, but joy and relief filled his eyes as they finally rested on the faces of his offspring. I put my arm around him and we began to limp our way to the house we had called home.

As we reached the edge of the driveway a wave of people exited the house, clamoring to get near me.

The news had just been broadcast. SOHO had detected a massive CME and it was hurtling directly toward Earth. The phrase “Earth Killer” had been used, and I sensed fear beginning to fill the crowd.

Although I was sure that my stance had been assuring, I wondered for a moment if in my selfish desire I had waited too long. I had known for days that masses of people had begun boarding the ships, and I kept declaring to those in my care that we were still safe. Had I failed in my duty? Had I fallen?

I looked out over the river, and to my relief, I saw Gadriel standing in it’s midst. The ship that had hovered in the sky for many months was lowering and a platform had begun to extend from the iris.

My sister handed me a bull horn and smiled a reassuring smile. Her silent words formed in my head. “You’re still human.” It was accompanied by a mutually shared sisterly laugh.

We had long ago agreed on the signal that would be used to alert the others.

I lifted the bull horn to my lips and shouted the Latinized Islamic word loosely meaning exodus: Hegira.

Part 11: Into the Garden

Air horns began to sound, alerting the others that the time had come. Our group had grown, and now encompassed three streets.

Families gathered and began to form a line down the street. We watched as the ship that had been designated as ours lowered, revealing for the first time its massive size.

The ramp extending from the iris was nearly a mile long and only about 4 feet wide. The ship appeared to cover five city blocks, but it was still nearly a quarter mile above the surface.

I stood with my sisters, my now husband Mark, and my brother-in-law John at the edge of the upward leading ramp preparing to guide the people onto it. The others that had been designated as chosen flanked the other side, and we began to guide the populace toward the opening of the awaiting ship.

I knew every face, every name and I ticked off a mental list for the next hour as each began their journey up the ramp. Children were clinging to their parents, riding on hips, shoulders and backs, their eyes filled with wonder. The last of the stream of people mounted the steely incline and the flanking chosen followed. My eldest sister stepped up to the ramp followed by my youngest, her husband and finally my husband. I was to be the last. I realized that there was someone missing, and as I looked back into the now empty street I saw Mary, once an adversarial zealot, huddled on her porch, rocking back and forth clutching her obviously pregnant belly.

I approached her as my husband looked back realizing I was not behind him. He faced me holding the rails, pleading with me to hurry.

I kneeled in front of her and lifted her face to look at me. “Come Mary, it is time to go.”

I could see her fear, I could sense it, and I could feel it. It nearly engulfed her and was the cause of her inability to move. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I was so wrong, so mean to you I don’t deserve to go. Let me stay here to die.”

I took both her hands in mine, and lifted her up into a standing position looking deeply into her eyes. “I can forgive you. We can forgive you, but it means nothing if you cannot forgive yourself. Let go, come. Come with us.” I pleaded.

She looked toward the ship, and dropped her head again. “It’s too late.” I looked over my shoulder to see that the platform had begun to retract into the ship. I grabbed her hand and began to drag her along with me as I attempted to run towards it. She fought me half of the distance slowing our progress as the ship and its humanity filled protrusion started moving away. My husband was reaching out, his cries begging me to run.

Finally Mary gave in, and we bolted hand in hand toward the riverbank. I reached forward towards my husband’s outstretched hand, and Mary finally reached hers out in front as well.

Our feet splashed into the water and my fingertips barely brushed Marks as he stretched out. His grasp suddenly out of my range.

Mary fell to her knees in the shallow water, and cried out, finally burying her face in both of her hands. I looked up as the distance increased between me and my husband shouts now only echoed inside my head.

Again I lifted Mary and I firmly grasped her shoulders. A sudden ancient knowledge loosed itself from the back of my mind. I looked firmly at Mary, and lifted an eyebrow, a quirky grin twisting my smile comically. “Do you believe in miracles, Mary?” When she vigorously nodded her head, clenching her tear filled eyes shut. I turned her around in front of me, placing one hand on her belly, feeling a strong kick against the palm of my hand from the growing child inside her. I looked back over my shoulder to see a visible wave of air hurtling towards us, debris scattered in its wake. I projected my free hand upward and angled toward the now fading view of the ship’s closing iris and I screamed.

A sudden force lifted us up and thrust us forward so forcefully that our clothing began to tear away.

I had remembered how to fly.

Ancient power coursed through my veins, flaming hot and searing my insides. We rocketed upward passing the still ascending ramp into the belly of the ship. A cheer rose up from below and a horn seemed to trumpet our arrival. I felt a wave of relief from my husband and my sisters and I released the flow of primal power.

While Mary and I momentarily remained suspended in midair, I suddenly realized that I did not know how to land! We began falling downward crashing through leaves and branches of absurdly tall trees, descending painfully downward, finally landing in a pool of water.

As we bobbed to its surface, Mary began to laugh. We were both naked, but neither of us seemed to care. We paddled their momentarily, exchanging silent glances.

We reached the edge of the pool of water, and were greeted by two women holding out what appeared to be linen robes toward us, attempting as best they could to shield the on looking children’s view of our nudity.


As I wrapped myself with the garment offered to me, I began to look around. Although I had seen the inside of the ship in visions, I still marveled at its beauty.

Trees laden with ripened fruit stood only a few strides apart, and bright green grass supported our feet. In the distance I could see grain fields, and vegetable burdened gardens neatly laid out, nearly ready for harvest.

A spicy sent of flowers filled the air, and I heard “Eden” being whispered in astonished breaths. Along the outside perimeter, a mile away it seemed, there were what appeared to be woven huts. They were thatched with a pinkish grass that I had never seen before, corded by metallic looking vines. Just beyond them lay the port holes from which we could view the outside.

Mark had pushed his way through the marveling throng making his way toward me. He ran the last few yards, embraced me so wantonly that he lifted me off the ground. He held me tightly against him, and I could feel his heart racing beneath mine, his joy surging from deep within.

Many minutes passed before he was willing to let me go, and though he had physically let me go, his emotional grip through our shared bond grew becoming nearly desperate and reeking of possessiveness. I let myself fall into it, and we eventually began to make our way toward the windows that lay hidden behind grape vines that traversed the walls of the ship.

We all knew that we were inside a space faring vehicle, but due to its massive size, it still felt as if we were on the planet. Above us a golden sun type light emanated, and I could hear birds chirping in the trees.
Many wandered around in complete astonishment, and the children ran merrily about.

Suddenly I felt a pressure growing on my shoulders forcing me downward. I could see people around me doing the same. A loud voice rose up somewhere in the distance shouting “Shields up” in a voice reminiscent of Captain Kirk. “Was that Estrella’s husband, Jorge?” I thought to myself as some of us who actually understood the joke began to laugh.
Still holding onto Mark’s hand I began to curl up and I lay down on the grass. I curled up to Mark, and each one of us started to drift off to sleep.

Part 12: Rebirthing Pains

I woke to intense pain coursing through every fiber of my being. Between the sobs that racked my body, I fought for breath.

I lifted my head, fighting searing pain and I looked around at the peacefully sleeping bodies. I knew that they were sleeping, caught in wondrous but tranquil dreams. Some shifted in their slumber, and serene looks graced their faces.

Somewhere in a distant part of my head, shadowed beneath the pain trekking through my body, the recognition of this experience formed. I clawed my way toward the portals. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see it, this thing that was tearing at my very soul.

I peered out the port hole, and watched as the tidal waves of radiation began inundate the planet on which we all had been born. I watched as a massive fireball of solar plasma jetted toward the planet. Just as it hit the atmosphere, I watched the Earth ignite like the head of a match, and I began to feel each remaining vestige of humanity beginning to die.

Invisible flames licked my body, and I heard each and every earthbound voice cry out inside my head. Their pain was filling me, engulfing me, swallowing me, and spiraling me downward into a flaming abyss.

“Shields up” seemed almost humorous now. A secret signal embedded deep within our psyche, causing a type of protected slumber. I had forsaken that with my primal energetic burst when I had saved Mary. I knew the consequence, and I had accepted it, just as I accepted the pain I now experienced.
Tremendous sorrow replaced the searing pain. I curled up into a ball, and bawled banally as Gaia whimpered out of existence.

I watched through Marks eyes as he searched for me, as my sisters searched for me, crying out my name internally and externally. My body lay there against the cool outer shell of the ship curled up into a fetal position. It was there that Mark had finally found me, my robe soaked in my own blood and tears.

He tenderly lifted me and began to walk toward the center of the ship where a tall golden leafed tree grew, tears streaming down his face. I saw as he looked down at me. My body had withered away and a skeletal figure lay cradled in his arms. I left his mind and opened my eyes looking into his.

Everyone surrounded him, and looked sorrowfully at me, they knew I was dying. During their slumber, the connections had been finalized. I projected what I had seen toward them, and their eyes widened in horror. I held back the experience of physical pain, the intensity of the emotional sorrow from my projections but they saw, as I had seen the end of the world.

I managed to muster a smile, and once again looked up at Mark, giving him my final directives. Tears still streaming down his face, he emanated his love for me. He placed my body between the nearby exposed roots of the Bo tree where he had sat cradling my dying form.

As the final remnants of my Earthy form seemed to melt into the soil between the roots just before I closed my eyes, I projected again.

“Rejoice, I’m about to be reborn!”

Darkness surrounded me. I could feel others nearby, as every previous existence I had lived through was unveiled and joined into my current pool of knowledge. The darkness began to fade into light, and I could touch those around me.

I felt the existence that I had known most recently as my mother, and her presence filled me with joy. I could feel them all, I could see them all. They were points of light bouncing, flickering and dancing in my perceived range of vision.

“Go! Rebirth!” a voice cried out to me.

I turned. Or I perceived that I turned. I looked down, or I perceived that I looked down. I could see those that had gathered beneath the Bo tree. I perceived my youngest sister. Could I touch her? I reached out and perceived that I touched her, and she looked up.

“Hurry! Hurry! Rebirth!” a second voice cried to me.

I began to fall, and I watched as my sister caught a golden egg shaped fruit as it fell from the Bo tree.

I felt her motherly warmth beckoning me, calling me. I perceived her warmth and wanted to be near it, and I was.

I began the process that I knew was my rebirth. I had been through this many times before. The difference this time was that I took the knowledge of all my previous existences with me for the first time.

I knew on the other side of this wall, there was someone wanting me to return to him. I reached out and tried desperately to quell his pain.

There was a wall that was between us, and I knew I just had to break free.

It was hot, and I was cramped. I wanted to reach out, stretch out and liberate myself of this slimy confine. So I reached. I reached and I wiggled, and I stretched. I kicked. I stretched. I turned, and I reached again. I pushed against the walls of my detention.
Suddenly I felt it give way, and I was plummeted into icy coldness. I cried out, and a choir of voices cried out with me.

“Rebirth! Rebirth! She has rebirth!”

I opened my eyes and I could see my husband again cradling me in his arms. His tender love reached toward me, and I reached toward him.

He recognized me! Tears began filling his eyes, but these were not tears of happiness. I shifted my view and I looked down at myself through his line of vision.

What the frack??! No, no, no, no, no! Oh, no! NO!

I was but a mere newborn babe!

I shifted again and I peered at him from my new corporeal existence. It was hard to focus, but I saw Mary over his shoulder reaching toward me, and I heard her whisper to him as she laid me once again between the roots of the Bo tree “I believe in miracles. Do you?”

As she said those words I knew. The Bo tree was the tree of life and tree of knowledge.

I knew that I had within me, through the experience of my past existences that I had the power within to become. I held within me the knowledge of becoming. I knew that I could exist in what ever form I wanted.

I reached deep within, and I became.

Part 13: Dance In Chakina’s Blue

I rolled over and snuggled a bit closer to Mark. His joy surged toward me, echoing his physical desire welcoming my presence.

I looked up at his now bearded face. His long hair fell over my shoulder. I giggled, a bit, and physically reached out to touch him, intimately, and we cuddled deeper in our blankets.

I had remembered my form, and reconstituted it, with a few minor modifications. My husband’s first embrace had made my skin tingle, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with him again.

That had been months ago, or had it been years? Maybe it had been thousands of years ago. I could no longer tell, and it no longer mattered.

The fruits in “the garden” had begun to heal us, and many of us had returned to a youthful vigor and appearance.

The ship seemed filled with hormone riddled teenagers. But, it was accepted. We had a brand new world to seed.

We had travelled to the Pleiadian constellation, and visited the birth worlds of our ancestors. Some decided to stay among those the seeded our planet so many millennium ago.

My husband and I were among those who wanted to return to what we knew as our birth world. My youngest sister was among those that I knew by name that continued along with us. My older sister had decided to stay behind, having met a young man that attracted her fancy. She stayed behind.

It didn’t matter how many spans lie between us, we were only ever a thought apart from one another.

Our days were filled with reclaiming ancient arts that we had abandoned long ago with the onset of technology. We learned again how to build, to plant and to harvest. We revived ancient technologies that embraced and mirrored nature.

A contingent of Iosians travelled along with us to guide us to a new beginning. We were, after all still mere children in the grand scheme of the Universe.

It had been decided, that should the seeds of discord be planted ever again, it would not be allowed to grow. The responsible party planting these unholy spores would be subjected to a full head on, no holds barred, onslaught of the experience I had felt during my companion’s shielded slumber. They would experience the full physical, emotional, and spiritual occurrence of over four and a half billion people dying, just as I had. They would see the culmination of the fruit those seeds would bear, and why its profane existence would not and could not be allowed to thrive.

That experience alone would be punishment enough.

Mark and I peered out of the port holes as the ship neared our final destination.

Thirteen groups of one hundred forty four thousand old and new corporeal existences disembarked the ships to begin the process of spreading out to seed the world again. We knew it would be special this time around. We had become Elohim “those who had joined the fold”.

Her rightful name was Chakina, and she had become more beautiful than how we had remembered.

The air felt crisper and smelled fresh, each breath invigorating us anew. Her waters echo the hues of clear blue skies, and we danced merrily on her new formed shores, basking in the waves of her re-enlivened oceans. Dancing and singing in Chakina’s blue.

There were those of us that remembered all that we had become before, and there were those of us who vowed that we would never forget.

We planted the seedlings of the Bo tree. This time it would be different. This time around we had another choice, to be reborn of the tree. We now called the trees Gaia, a remembrance of the world before. It was a token reminder of the darkness from which humanity had been lifted.

Oh my.

This is very well written. I couldn't help but think of this song,while I was reading..........



"The Sun was born, so it shall die
So only shadows comfort me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me
Each day shall end as it begins
And though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me"

If aliens decided to visit, I would take to heart,in this kind of visitation,being a father of three.

Bravo. I have to re-read this again............

reply to post by sonnny1


I really did not expect a reply so soon.

I've actually been working on this since the first day the contest opened. I had hit a "brick wall" for a while, but felt the need to finish it and bring it to a conclusion.

I was finally inspired again yesterday, and wrote the second half of the story last night. The final chapters had come together today.

I never meant for it to be so long, but I am glad that you read it and took the time to comment on it.

Thank you.

reply to post by ThreeSistersofLoveandLigh





Actually,I was reading it,as you were putting it together yesterday.I never thought my parents giving me speed reading courses,when I was young, would be beneficial. The story is compelling,thought provoking,and in a ancient,and mystical way...real. I could totally see "something" like this taking place,as my eyes are open to any and all possibility's. That's what makes your story,even more special ! Kudos again.........

Wow. Oh my goodness, Wow. I am really having a problem finding the right words to say how wonderfully stupendous this story is. It touched my heart, it gave me hope...wow. Thank you so very much for this beautifully written piece of hope.

reply to post by lokin


Thank you lokin, your response made me smile. Your reaction is exactly what I wanted for this story. I am not really in this for the stars and flags (though they are a nice form of recognition). My true desire is to inspire, and to give hope... To have that recognized in a reply like yours means more to me than "winning", and really does mean the world to me.

Well Done! Excellent blend of many beliefs and scenarios. Is there more?

reply to post by Windancer


actually, it is being considered. Many members are writing different entries playing out the same scenarios from different perspectives. I'm working with my two sisters (yes they are real) to create their perspectives.