Author Steven Clark Bradley

There are many today who see the unusual events that are even now causing the world to take notice of the diabolical happenings that raise the blood levels of millions of people around the world. America has been attacked. We are engaged in a seemingly endless struggle against dark forces that never tire of inflicting their torment upon the globe. People are now in fear and have started to hoard food, forcing stores to limit purchases. Today, the evil of the Culture of Death is pushing abortion on demand, gay marriage and euthanasia; things that would have been inconceivable in a forgone day.

Recently, I spoke with one of my readers about how similar various sections of Nimrod Rising are to what actually happened on September 11, 2001. I agreed with her and then went on to tell her that even though the similarity is very great, the sections of Nimrod Rising about which she was speaking were actually written in 1996. Of course, she did not believe me, and I understand why it is difficult to accept such a revelation that seemed too far-fetched to accept when there are seemingly no answers. Yet, there are answers to why we now walk in concern and fear for what the world will face in the future and why it is happening. What I wrote and what we have seen come to pass are really not as difficult to predict as one might think. There are plenty of sources, both biblical and extra-biblical that have predicted the various actions that will face the world at a time of great calamity and change. What we face today is in reality nothing less than the birth pangs of a new world, one that will be free of terror and strife, one controlled by a benevolent despot who will restrain evil and build security for his people. Yet, just as a mother suffers great pain and hardship prior to holding her new little life in her arms, so also, the world will experience massive sorrow and will walk in the valley of death before peace and sanctuary are established on the Earth.

Now, read the rest of Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part Two and feel watch iniquity and wickedness firmly dig in their claws of the evil one into Alex Maefield’s soul as he finally succumbs to the wrenching call of the forces of darkness. It's as real as it gets!

Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part Two

1995

It was now 4:30 p.m. The team had already sat down for an early evening meal of Ghobbi-Ghosht. Meat with cauliflower curry was one of Alex’s favorite Pakistani dishes. Everyone was relaxing before the all night trip back to Lahore. While the food was being prepared, Alex could smell its aroma as he sat outside the base compound under a large papaya tree in the back courtyard. Alex desired so desperately to sit down with all the team members and just tell them that he was in trouble! He wanted to tell them everything that had happened to him in the past day, but he knew they were not that approachable. In fact, his inability to have this type of closeness where he could reach out for help with a certainty that he’d not get judgment instead made his work seem so futile and worthless. He and they were proclaiming a gospel of love concerning a God of understanding and mercy, and he was experiencing none of it! He knew what they were saying and how their tongues were wagging, “The boy’s possessed.” “He’s mentally ill.” “Alex needs to return home because he’s obviously lost and in need of salvation.” Perhaps, all the above were true, but weren’t they the ones who should lead him back to Elyon? Instead, he was left alone. Alex was fairly sure Mike Wakely would help him and reach out to him, but Alex knew there was no helping him. It was over. They were not his people. Alex had always suspected it. Today’s experience had simply confirmed it. Alex had left the Pakistani Day parade to do some research back at the team base.

When he got to the base, he went directly to the base library and began to scour the base library for reference books. Throughout the parade, he had felt that thing in his right eye squirming and groaning. It was clear that even Lucia had respected the worship he had received in the name of Allah! The devil was way too selfish and egotistical to tolerate another Elyon of any kind. Alex had always believed that the devil had persuaded himself that he was Elyon. Alex recalled the words of Vineyard founder, Rex Wagle, his mentor in the Vineyard, “The devil reads the book. The devil knows how it ends. The devil believes the book and still believes he can win. By any standard of sanity the old devil could be declared theologically insane!”

Alex knew, then, that he too had to be crazy because he knew suddenly where his allegiances really lay, and did he not know also how the book ended? It was clear to Alex that Abaddon felt so much more comfortable around the Muslims. Alex had long before realized that the Islamic God was Lucia. Though the spark of evil that Alex had received tantalized him and altered his commitments to the supernatural, he knew that the god of Islam could never be Elyon under a different name! The Elyon of the Bible was a God of love and desire who wanted to help his creation commune with Him. The Jihadists and the innocents, the children slaughtered not as collateral damage but rather as primary targets, could never be condoned or encouraged by neither Elyon nor the Branch. Yet, this so-called God of Islam, this idol had been infiltrated by the old Serpent and now was in the throws of building the Swarm. The war threats would completely shift and would bring about the day of the war of thunder that was now being prepared. This would be a war between the forces of evil and the Realm of Elyon that would be waged through the blood and bodies of mankind. It would be Allah vs. Elyon! Alex found a five-volume work called The International Bible Encyclopedia. He choose the first volume, A-E. He immediately looked up the name Abaddon. It bore light on what this creature was.

“Abaddon is said to be the keeper of the abyss or of the bottomless pit of Tenebre,” the book said. “During the tribulation period, this demonic guard will open up the abyss from which the Swarm of stinging creatures spoken of in the Revelation shall come to persecute those left upon the Earth.”

Alex lifted his head to contemplate what he had just read. He could see all the team members through the bases screened-in porch, seated at the table waiting for the curry. They were all staring at him, except for Sally. When his colleagues realized he was looking at them, they all turned their
heads away from him.

“They know, don’t they?” Alex thought. “They fear me…I fear myself!”

Somehow, he liked it. Alex turned his head away from the compound and felt a strong gust of wind crash into his face. As the wind continued past him, he heard that distinct voice whisper out at him in an echo that was like a vapor in its brevity: “Peygamber.” The wind caught the pages of the volume in his hands. The pages flipped forward until it stopped abruptly at the reference for “Antichrist.”

“The antichrist, the son of perdition, the Prince that shall come, the Lawless one, is spoken of in the Bible as the final, great one-world leader that shall unite a large portion of the world into one great world system of godlessness called New Babylon.”

Suddenly, the wind began to blow again. The pages flipped forward to the B section at the article, Babylon.

“Babylon was founded by the great warrior, Nimrod, the son of Cush, the great-grandson of the Patriarch, Noah. During the process of building a tower in defiance of Elyon, the Lord split the tongues of the people of the land of Shinar so that the work could not progress. Babylon later
became one of the four great empires prophesied by the prophet Daniel. Recently, archeologists have found a scroll called the Book of the Cave of Treasures that detailed Babylonian contentions that the world would be ruled from the land of Babylon and that a great plague shall erupt upon
the world not caused by war nor pestilence but by rage resulting from an over abundance of what can be clearly interpreted as terrorism.”

“The scroll also detailed that the second part of this scroll, which has never been found, would have to be placed into the crevice of the Mount of Olives just prior to the return of Christ to cause the mountain to split down the middle giving the people of Israel an area from which to flee from their pursuing enemies in the final battle of Armageddon. There is a lack of credence on the scroll theory, but it is said to have two possible purposes. The antichrist can use it to open the sealed door to the Garden of Elyon thereby allowing him to let Lucia eat of the Tree of Life and never die and become equal with Elyon. It is also widely believed that the second scroll will have the power to thwart the plans of the antichrist’s actions by placing it into the crevice of the Mount of Olives. This crevice
or crack was discovered in the Mount of Olives thirty years ago running from top to bottom”

Alex lifted his head. His eyes were open wide. He looked down at the book again.

“The city of Babylon today lies in ruins. Therefore, Babylon appears to be a symbolic reference to a world system.” Alex raised his head again. Abaddon really does exist! Alex knew he wasn’t just losing his mind. He looked down at the book again and saw a small piece of paper stuck in the center as a bookmark. Alex pulled it out and read it:

“Do you believe me now, Manassa Dormin? You must go to Basra!”

______________________________________________________________________________
Because Nimrod Rising is a vast story of International significance, my setting is really two/fold. Steven Clark Bradley spent a large portion of his life in the cradle of civilization. This book should be read because it will speak to us about where we are going and what will be our consequences to bad actions in the future. It is a real treatise on America. Take a look at "Nimrod Rising - A Remnant Remains"There is a always a faithful remnant. On which side will you be?

______________________________________________________________________________

Alex’s hands began to shake violently. There was a presence. It was there, but somehow wasn’t. Alex could see it, but somehow couldn’t. Alex squinted to make out the sight that was, but somehow was not. He reached out to touch the aberration that had appeared before him as real as touching his own arm, but as non-existent as a voice in the wind. The team members were sitting on the screened in porch doing some Christian gossiping. Christine Harris walked in from the kitchen with an harmful of place settings. She looked through the screening and stared at Alex. As Alex sat in his chair under the papaya tree reaching out to the cloudy image, Christine could only stare at him, frozen while she dropped the spoons and forks on the floor.

“There is something deeply wrong with that young man!”

The rest of the team members looked first at Christine and then in the direction that she was staring. Sally began to cry and started to get up and run to Alex. Christine gently pushed down on Sally’s shoulders.

“No Sally, leave him. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to startle someone when they are in such a state.”

Alex heard it then, that voice that proved the entity was real. “I’m not here to frighten you, my Peygamber. I am here to prepare your way, the way to fold up this present day and to bring in the Master’s day. It is yours! You shall have it! Your seed shall reveal it and bring it to pass! The world shall be yours and you shall ensure that the Master will enter into the garden and eat of the tree!”
Suddenly, Alex grabbed his head.

“I don’t want it! I don’t want this…this…gift!” But he knew he really did! A light flashed behind Alex’s eyes. The other team members who were now greatly fearful were frozen solid in their stares. Alex was oblivious of their condition. Alex saw a man with long wavy black locks of hair appeared before his eyes. The wind thrust the man’s hair back as it rushed past the man and collided with his face. He rode a black horse. He pushed hard, harder, and harder still! Behind the man were twenty horses mounted by black-hooded men rushing in pursuit of the fleeing man. They were screaming out in some strange language. The man was unafraid, but distinctly determined to escape the fold of pursuers behind him. Alex’s eyes were closed but obviously moving to the right and left, upward and downward behind his eyelids. Suddenly, the scene came up close and focused on the fleeing man’s face. He was muscular, Middle-Eastern in appearance with olive shaped eyes. He fixed his eyes directly forward. Alex could hear what the man was thinking. Then Alex realized that he was looking out of the man’s eyes.

“I must deliver it and then they may cut me to pieces!” The man thought. “Elyon requires it!”

Up ahead, there was a castle; a temple of some kind. The man on the horse never looked back. He listened hard to the sounds of horse hoofs pounding the Earth like thunderclaps and to the voices of those screaming and wishing to tear him to pieces. Alex had been somehow linked to the man’s mind. He could understand him. Alex was now standing and so were his team members staring at him through the screened window. Sally was screaming, “Alex! Alex, are you alright?”
He could not hear her. Alex could only hear the men in pursuit.

“He who is darkness! He has commanded us! Stop him! He must be stopped! Peygamber demands it!”

The mysterious man pushed his horse harder as he moved closer to a temple. As he approached the entrance, the gate swung open. He entered the courtyard and quickly dismounted his horse. Alex looked intently through the man’s eyes. Behind the Temple walls, Alex can see a broken down tower structure that was still tall, but obviously ancient even for the moment in time which his eyes were viewing. The focus shifted. A young, beautiful, black-haired woman walked out of the huge front
doors of the temple with her infant at her breast! She looked down at her beautiful little girl held tightly in her arms and silently prayed that Elyon would give her life at all costs! As this young, slender and beautiful woman loved on her greatest reason for living who was eating at her breast,
suddenly she heard his voice!

“Look up towards Elyon; it’s there just as He had told me!” the man insisted.

She looked up into the night sky and there she saw it! She looked again and there before her was a scroll falling from the heavens.

A Watcher of Elyon appeared and asked her, “What do you see?”

She answered, “I see a scroll.”

The Watcher said to her, “This is the curse that is going out over the whole land for today, but the seeds shall take root at a time of Elyon’s choosing. For according to what it says on one side, every thief will be banished, and according to what it says on the other, everyone who swears falsely will be banished. Elyon commanded me to come and that I should deliver it to you. He has sent it out, and it will enter the house of the thief and the house of him who swears falsely by Elyon’s name. It will remain in the evil man’s house and destroy it, both its timbers and its stones.”

The Watcher of Elyon who spoke came forward and bade the woman to look again to the twilit sky.

“Look up and see what this is that is appearing.”

She told him she could not understand and asked what it was she would see. He replied that she would comprehend when she beheld it.

“Now, my fellow servant and the mother of my brother’s child, look up and tell me what you see.”
A basket descended from the sky and was held by a woman and a small child. The woman and small child touched the Earth and brought the basket over to the woman holding her infant to her breast.

“I see a measuring basket, my lord.”

She could hear the Watcher’s voice. He declared, “This is the iniquity of the people throughout the land. Evil shall cover the land.”
The woman removed the cover of lead; there, in the basket, sat a woman, naked and fondling herself. The naked whore rose up in the basket like a serpent slithering on the ground and had a sensuous smile across her face while she caressed her own breasts and pleasured herself. She sought to step out.

The Watcher said, “This is wickedness.”

The Watcher then pushed the evil woman back into the basket and pushed the lead cover down over its mouth. The Watcher looked down at the covered basket.

“Your time has not yet come.”

Then Thomas’ servant looked up at the women and the girl child with her. The girl child walked over and picked up the scroll that had descended from the heavens and gave it to the servant with her infant nursing at her breast.

“Hide it in the evil house until my mother shall find it and never be afraid. Elyon is real!”

Suddenly, the woman and the child ascended into the air with wings fluttering in the wind! They had wings like those of a stork, and they lifted up the basket with the evil woman and suspended it between heaven and earth.

“Where are they taking the basket?”

The servant asked the Watcher who was speaking to her. He replied, “It shall remain suspended here over the land of the country of Babylonia until a house is built for it from the evil woman’s
seed.”

The Watcher pointed at the group of black-clad hooded men ready to enter the courtyard of the temple.

“When it is ready, the basket will be set there in its place and the evil within shall cover the whole Earth. Take the scroll now!” the Watcher commanded.

“Thomas! Are you there?” The woman asked with tears flowing down her face and tightly holding onto the child. Then she saw his silhouette in the moonlit night.

“Never be afraid, for Elyon does indeed rule in the affairs of men!” The Watcher disappeared.

Suddenly, she could hear the hooves and the shouts and demands for blood to be spilt and she knew that she had to get to him! She took the child back into the temple and placed it in the arms of her sister who was watching from the Temple doorway. Then the woman turned and ran to the man outside. Alex could see the woman’s face clearly. The woman’s was distinct and clear and he knew her and he screamed a bloodcurdling cry.

“Sally! This cannot be!”

The woman stopped abruptly and looked around. She heard Alex when he cried out.

“You are the evil one! Elyon curse you and make your way fail, O wretched seed of Nimrod!”
She ran outside and down the stairs and directly out of the palace to wait for her fellow disciple, friend and lover! She saw the night shadow of the black horse he had ridden and Thomas prostrated on the ground!

“Thomas, my Instructor” the girl said. As she bowed she showed him what she held in her hand.
“The Watcher of Elyon gave it to me and I will conceal it in the Cave of Treasures beneath the evil one’s place of sacrifice. You shall depart from us for a time, but many times will reveal your will. Your will be accomplished, I pray.”

The nightrider gave the fair young girl a sad and lonely glance and then looked again down at the ground.

“You must flee! Take the scroll into the cave in the heart of the Earth beneath the great builder’s house of the lambs and hide it there until the time is revealed by our seed, your child and my child.”

“My Lord, I will die with you here!” she entreated him.

“It is not appointed to you to die now.” Thomas didn’t look up at her. “But you shall join me shortly later and we shall return to this putrid place together with the armies of Elyon! Now, run like the wind and obey the word of Elyon!”

The woman stood frozen in place, crying and staring at her baby’s father lying flat on the cursed ground of Nimrod’s kingdom. Thomas looked at her and screamed:

“Go now! Do not look back! Do not hesitate again! Obey the word of Elyon and I will love you forever!”

She fled away from the approaching pursuers. As she disappeared from sight and into the temple, the gate again swung open. The pursued man bowed to the ground on his knees in readiness to face his pursuers. Twenty men rode in and looked down at the man for a moment. The lead man dismounted his horse and took out his sword.

“Filthy servant of weak Elyon! You shall not prevent us forever! You have written of treasonous virtues that defy the master of darkness. You are not of my seed! Where is the scroll?”

“Ask your master. He does not know because he is the weak one!” The prostrated man declared. “My Master, the true one, is waiting for me,” the servant of Elyon declared. “Is it not he who holds the keys to destiny, in spite of your rebellion?”

“We have requested knowledge of its whereabouts of the master, but he does not tell us of the scroll’s location.”

The man who was bowing began to laugh and to sneer, “You say it is he who shall shake the earth? He has no knowledge of a mere scroll?”

Thomas looked up at the group of evil disciples intently.

“I dreamed that I saw the Earth open up and the sacred mount divided in two with the hordes of Tenebre swarming in a vain revolt against the plan of Elyon with your master finally cast headlong into the pit of Tenebre! You serve a very pitiful master. You are a sacrilege!” Thomas screamed at the man, “Elyon Reigns!”

Then chief pursuer nodded to a black-hooded man close to Thomas with his sword drawn. He swung his sword and severed Thomas’ head from his body! Alex, standing out in the Vineyard courtyard grabbed the sides of his own head and the woman fleeing with the scroll stopped and felt Thomas’ pain. She fell to her knees and wept.

“Find the scroll!” The dark leader ordered. “It must never enter the crevice of the Mount of Olives, lest it beckon the call of the Branch of Elyon! Its words must be read aloud in front of the Tree of Life where the two rivers collide, for it spells out the terms of the Master’s revenge and the destruction of the Master’s enemies. It must be found so that we will ensure that the rule of the Peygamber will be one that will endure forever.”

Suddenly, the walls of the temple began to shake and the Earth quaked. One by one the walls fell. The young woman who was clutching the scroll to her breast ran down into the deep tunnels that ran under the Temple of Baal in the city of Babylon. The Great Father had started this palace, and now it was falling like the tower Nimrod had once built. She descended and found the entrance to the Cave of Treasures that lay under the last altar in the House of the Lambs like all the evil altars she had passed all the way down into the belly of the Earth. She pushed past centuries of filth and growth and placed the scroll under a large stone at the entrance of the cave. She turned to run upstairs and heard the sound of a crying infant.

“Where is my little girl?” she cried out.
The walls were folding in like a house made of cards. The woman reached the entrance of the temple and saw her sister. Her sister tried to give the woman her baby girl but the servant told her sister to take the child to safety. Alex watched the young woman who looked like Sally. She took a deep breath and thanked Elyon. Then a pillar fell and struck the young woman in the head. She collapsed on the floor as the walls fell over her. Alex began to scream.

“Sally! Sally!”

At the porch, the whole team was mesmerized and staring. Sally screamed. “Alex, are you ok?”

Sally ran out to help him. Alex screamed loudly and the dark-clad men in the vision turned and seemed to hear him. All the horses reared up on their hind legs in fear. They all got off their horses and bowed down and chanted, “Peygamber! Peygamber!”

“Let us go! May the scroll that was lost today be revealed and the Prince forever enshrined! Hail to him who shall rival the power of Nimrod! It must never be found until that day!”

Alex turned his head and rose suddenly. The encyclopedia fell to the ground. Alex turned and headed for the darkening streets of Lahore. Mike saw him and shouted, “Alex, don’t go far, Alex! We’ll be leaving soon.”

Alex never looked back. Mike mumbled to himself, “This lad is marked, touched by an evil force. I can feel it.” Mike had seen how everyone in the village had tried to worship him. “Alex rather…rather liked it,” Mike stated cautiously.

Sally became angry with Mike.

“What are you trying to say, Mike? Do you think Alex is possessed or something?”

“Sally, my sister, I did not use that term.”

“No, but you are certainly implying it aren’t you?”

“Look Sally, I know that you and Alex are very fond of each other, but you mustn’t forget that you are a servant of Elyon here. You must discern the spirits and see if they are of Elyon.”

“Mr. Wakely, my father is one of the godliest men I know and personally led me to Christ.”

“I agree, but he’s also one of the most high-profile Christians in your country, is he not?”

“Perhaps, but, concerning Alex, he’s up before any of you, prays more than all of you and has the best results seen to date in reaching out and in learning the language.”

“He sure does!” stated one cocky German team member named Gerhard.

“He’s got results in raising the dead, seeing a boy’s spirit, what was it Mike, hovering over the boy’s dead body. Can’t you just picture it now?” Gesturing as he thought Alex may have done.

Everyone started laughing except Sally.

“Why don’t you all just grow up?” Sally insisted. “You’re all just jealous of him, that’s all! We can’t turn our backs on him now. He needs our help!”

Tears began to roll down Sally’s face.

“Let’s go find him.”

“I don’t know, Sally. He took off in one of the motorized rickshaws” Mike stated.

“No need to worry. He’ll be back…I hope…” Mike said under his breath.

He turned around and saw Sally’s back as she headed for a rickshaw.

“Sally! Sally! Oh my dear Elyon there will be crisis to speak of tonight, I just know it!” Mike worried.

Alex ran towards the international airport and Sally sought him out desperately. She got out of the rickshaw and looked down each street. Her heart began to pound now, not so much because Alex was nowhere to be found but because it was now dark and she was lost in the land of snakes and sinners. She walked in one direction. The street was silent right now and she thought her heart would stop when a whining, speeding rickshaw zoomed past her. She looked ahead down the street and saw a horse-drawn old wagon coming towards her. She squinted but could make out that the man on the wagon was old and hardly seemed dangerous. Sally walked up to the old man.

“Sir, do you know where I could find Mohammed Ali Jinnah Street? I am lost.”

Sally started crying and the old man seemed to have mercy on her and spoke to her.

“You not need cry. Every town, village or city in Pakistan has a street by that name. Follow your way. It is your destiny my child. Anyway, your street is just over that way behind you.”

He got off the wagon and Sally turned to look in the direction he was pointing. The man came up behind her and placed the tip of his first finger on his left hand between her shoulders and she gasped and fell to the ground. The old man bent down and his face turned to that of the beast
in the corner of Alex’s right eye! He picked her up and placed her in the wagon. He directed the wagon to the right and a car pulled up. Three black-hooded Muslim militiamen got out and lifted Sally’s limp body into the car. He laid her down on the back seat and spoke to the man seated
next to him. It sped away, north to a private hanger at the international airport. The plane she was loaded into took off in a somewhat northwesterly direction towards the place where the two rivers meet.

When Sally awoke, she looked up and felt comforted by who she saw.

“Alex? Alex, are you ok? Where are we?” She asked as she felt herself being taken somewhere.

“Sally, welcome back. You are about to make history, my sister!” Alex said to her with a sinister smile on his face.

Sally looked around and panicked.

“Alex, what’s happening here?”

“Don’t worry, Sally. It’s just a transformation, an alteration of sorts. Ha-Ha!”

Sally looked at Alex’s face and saw it transformed into the diabolical, lizard-looking face of Abaddon. His voice became deep and as Alex spoke his voice echoed and sounded strong and deafening.

“You will be a wonderful mother of the son of my master, Ha-ha-ha!”

Sally felt her mind fade away as she felt a needle enter her neck. Her eyes became faint and her scream that she knew she had hurled loudly was silent and she lay in a narcotic stupor as with the flight plan set, Transponder encoded, the private jet rolled down a runway.
Destination: Basra, Iraq.

Here are a few other sites where you can read more of Steven Clark Bradley's material:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising
Author Steven Clark Bradley

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com


Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

I became interested in the topic of my new novel, Nimrod Rising, when I returned back to the United States in 1995 to live here after having lived abroad for over 17 years. America had changed so much and the values the nation had cherished seemed to have disappeared to a great extent. One night, back in 1995, I remember so well, I sat down and started writing out of a consuming need to research and describe what had come about in America to provoke the change I saw. In short, the result of hours and 12 years of work was possibly the most powerful book you may well ever read, Nimrod Rising.

Nimrod Rising is a work of fiction based on truth. No one knows what the terms, 666 or Antichrist really mean. We can only put together what seems historically and biblically logical. Nimrod Rising is not a Christian novel, but does declare its premise to be based on what I believe to be truth in the Bible. It is scary, not so much for its content as because it is such a timely and realistic story. I do not write material for the purpose of making people afraid. I like to think that I tell the truth and the truth scars them. All the background about Nimrod is true and factual as well as the scenarios of war.

We are more than mere accidents on this tiny planet. I think anyone who feels that they want to know more about why they are here and the inquisitive soul who loves history and whose imagination needs stimulus and challenge will love this book. Also, readers who have suffered things for which they may never have an answer could find a few very helpful explanations about the things we cannot explain. I myself am one of those. I think it is important that young adults read Nimrod Rising. Today, our children, the heritage of our race as humans, are being taught how to have sex, encouraged to engage in things concerning sexuality and to accept things that once were held as categorically wrong. Those taught in such an atmosphere need to see what may be the motivations of those who teach as right that which was once held as completely abhorred. Nimrod Rising will cause you to pose those questions that we never pose to ourselves without such a challenge.

Read Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part One aand watch as Alex Meafield gives himself over to Perdition's beckon call. It's as real as it gets!

Nimrod Rising - Unsought Gifts Part One

1995

The weather was scorching in Islamabad. As the parade of terrorists unfolded down the street, Alex Maefield worked alongside his teammates very carefully distributing their literature to any who cared to take it. Everyone seemed to be in a trance. All the faithful seemed to take no notice of the piece of Elyon’s Word that they had taken and thrown to the ground. They all seemed more enthralled by the huge photos of their hero and rising murderous star, Osama Ben Laden training his teams of terrorists across the border in Afghanistan, and historic national father, Mohammed Ali Jenna, the founder of the nation of Pakistan. These photos were carried down the street by the black-hooded parade of Jihadists who represented the militant form of Islam that was festering and growing throughout the country and the whole Muslim world.

Alex had the strongest urge to jump in front of the line with them and lead them into every corner of the globe! He knew that out of the remnants present in this show of Wahabi Muslim fervor would come a force that would have as its very public but completely ignored goal the destruction of the Western World! The true face of terror was to destroy the person of Elyon and remove the Watcher of Elyon set to guard the tree of life so that the Master could enter in. It would mean the black-hooded face of terror would have to be spread throughout the entire world. There could be no more Geneva Conventions! It would be survival and the supposed “temporary” lifting of certain rights for the sake of success! This force would eventually build its web of underground tunnels, and cells to breed its haters of Elyon like evil germs dividing and expanding its network right under the nose of a pacified society. A son would lead the Swarm and unite and implant it to do the Master’s terror at will. A father would eventually tear it apart.

Alex heard a jet plane flying low overhead. He looked up and saw a 757 flying into a tall building close to the parade. The explosion made the skin on Alex’s face wave back and forth. He fell to the ground and screamed. He could see the face of Lucia in the flames leaping from the two towers that tumbled to the ground.

“Everyone, GET DOWN!” Alex Screamed.

Alex looked up and saw the ground open up. He saw human-like things flowing out of the cracks in the ground created by the falling towers. They wore turbans for crowns, had long flowing hair like that of women and wore the bearded faces of men. Across their chests were jackets of C4 and wires and the determination to die for their Master! They poured out of the cracks like a supernatural infestation of locusts, and no one else could see them! They all looked in Alex Maefield’s direction and bowed to the ground chanting,

“The prophet is with us, the Peygamber has come!”

They would spread out and gather together, plan and await their day to be released to induce a torment that could never be completely eradicated in the future, a future which was flashing before Alex’s eyes, as he lay flat on his back on the ground! Alex opened his eyes and saw the parade going forward. His teammates who were close by had seen Alex fall and heard him scream. He looked up and saw them, as well as the parade going forward as it had been before he saw the crash. Only he himself had felt it! Alex stood up and tried to get his bearings. He was getting used to all of these weird things going on in his head. He walked along the parade line. He came up to an area where there were many different types of Army hardware on display in the parade. Alex looked at a tank that had been purchased from an international arms dealer who only dealt in Israeli things that went “boom!”

He watched the tanks all in formation, and then one of them left the line, and then another, and another, until they were all pointed in different directions. Alex heard the shells being loaded into the massive chambers. He saw the tanks apply their brakes; they then fired in every direction and, within seconds, the city turned to rubble! Again Alex screamed and covered his face. He slowly removed his hand from his face. He lifted his head and the muted sounds all around him suddenly came to life. He saw tanks, again in formation, traveling along the parade route. Two of his teammates again saw Alex as he was seeing something that no one else could see. One of them was Sally Michael. Alex walked back to the base. He had to get some time to figure it all out. He needed information…
_____________________________________________________________________

Nimrod Rising! - Is This Really The World You Knew As A Child



______________________________________________________________________

News had spread fast in the seemingly technologically-advanced grapevine that was the Vineyard. They had heard that Alex had received the gift of the laying on of hands.

“Alex could heal and the spirit of the Apostle Paul was upon him!” people were saying.

Several were impressed and admired Alex, but most of the team members were afraid of him and insisted that he was possessed with the devil. Alex agreed with the last opinion. As far as Alex was concerned, it all gave him a massive headache, and he knew that whatever it was that had given him these powers, it was not from Elyon. Alex had a serious case of confusion and depression that frightened him. A certain part of it all had challenged and energized him by his sudden endowment of miraculous powers. The other part of him felt dirty and apostate. Alex knew that what he had seen and the way he had exercised the gift of healing was more than a spiritual gift. It came from Alex himself! Alex had produced it! He had seen into the spiritual world, which was operating within a new hidden world about to be revealed! Deep inside Alex Maefield’s heart, he knew he had not received anything that he had not already possessed. Abaddon was simply bringing out of him what had simply been latent within him since birth, wherever that had been.

“My faith! There’s something exciting about leaving everything behind! Faith?” Alex thought. “In whom shall I believe? Myself? Was it not me and from within me that these things were done?”

He believed in Elyon wholeheartedly, but a certain voice in a certain corner of his mind, and in the corner of his right eye, questioned and made him wonder who this Elyon was.

“Don’t worry, my peygamber, the Master believes in Elyon too and hates him.” Abaddon declared behind Alex’s eye.

Was Elyon someone who would let the masses starve and decay while having the power to change it? Was He this evil thing stuck in Alex’s eye? Something made Alex know that even in the midst of the fear that had invaded his mind, somehow everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have done the things that had transpired on the way to Islamabad. Who cared how they were done? A dead man was alive now! A man’s family will eat another day because his horse could walk again!

“How could it not be of Elyon?”

Of course he would be told that he was rationalizing, and, of course, he was.

“Is it really who I am?” Alex reflected.

Alex had always overcome doubt by believing that working for Elyon in the midst of insult and skepticism was the true exercise of his faith. Not now. This time it was his own voice. It was his own mind that was plagued by fear and trembling and he wouldn’t have it any other way! How could he argue with himself or with that thing that kept on popping up in the corner of his right eye? He had always had that neatly tucked away fear. Perhaps one day, after having maligned other faiths and persuading many to come to Christ, he would wake up in the midst of an angry Elyon with Mohammed’s hands stretched around his throat forebodingly glaring down on him! Alex had consistently fought off his latent, yet natural inclination to think intellectually. There was that voice that always said, “You can’t know for sure.”

He now wondered if that voice had not been Abaddon all along. “You have to believe like a little child!” Alex always told himself.

Yet, even as a little child, Alex never believed easily. He was not exactly a doubting Thomas. He was pragmatist. He was logical, though he had taught himself not to be. He had learned to believe, but he had always had a somehow inert knowledge of where the world was ultimately headed. The thing had all gone wrong in the world and it was heading toward the Master. He had worked at it! Alex had learned to put logical reason so far away from him that even now it seemed easier for him to say that he had had it all wrong than to believe that this was an attack from Satan. That would be far too reasonable!

“This was an attack from the evil one!” Alex thought briefly.

“Was there really an evil one down there? Was this thing stuck in the corner of his right eye really there? Could an evil one do good unto others?” as Alex had been allowed to do today.

“Was it possible,” as Abaddon had said, “That there was a divine creature embodying both good and evil?”

Right now, that proposition made more sense to Alex than the Judeo-Christian Elyon at war with a created egotistical fallen cherub.

“Man does both good and evil. Why not Elyon also?”

The thought caused Alex to clutch the sides of his head in confusion and guilt. What was going to happen next...?

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.comSteven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising
Author Steven Clark Bradley

All of Steven Clark Bradley's novels are widely available all over the net. Here are a few links to help you read these exciting stories now.

Amazon.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
bordersstores.com
barnesandnoble.com
copperfields.com


Nimrod Rising - As Real As It Gets!

Change! It is craved, it is what turns unknown men of no distinction into world wide fame. It is undeniable! Well world, concerning change, you are all about to get your fill of it, and then some. look around you. The values we cherished have not so much gone away. It's more like The simple list of "do's and don'ts" had simply been rewritten.

Take a trip with Steven Clark Bradley into a world which is certainly our own, though now casting only the shadow of her decay. Follow today's logic and the end result of a society where no one trusts another, their sister or their brother in a Land that no longer is at all what she she was.

Read Part Three of "Open Your Eyes" and see the roots of Nimrod Rising and the lie that drove man suddenly and permanently out of the Garden of God.

"Open Your Eyes" Chapter 2 Steven Clark Bradley's Quality of Life (This is a work still writing itself...)

“Kasadya”

When he had mumbled the word, the light in the cave flickered and the cave shook slightly and dust and small stones fell to the cave floor. Masters bent down and picked up another of the flat stone plates. It showed the images of the two boys again. The smaller boy was smiling and still raising his hands into the air while the image of the taller one had his head drooped downward with a look of sadness and anger drawn across his face. Masters took the next plate and when his eyes met the drawing, he had a sharp pain fill his hand which crawled up his arm and into his head, forcing his head to snap backward. His eyes closed and saw it all happening before him!

Sergeant Masters looked and saw two young boys. One of them was younger than the other and busy feeding his sheep and herding them out into a large field. The other one was tending his garden and hitting the ground with a sharp tool in hard, aggressive, angry strokes. He kept glancing up at the other boy and stared at him. Masters’ eyes were fixed on the scene that appeared before his eyes. His eyes widened when he saw an image appear behind the older boy. It was tall, massive, like the angelic figure he had seen outside the cave. Only, this one did not shine. It was charred and black and had leathery wings with claw-like tips on its wings. Smoke rose up off its body and its eyes seemed to bleed hatred and death! It looked down at the older boy and watched him. The boy was oblivious to its presence. After a few moments it bent down and began whispering into the boy’s ear.

“God hates you, boy!” The boy looked up as though he heard a voice, but saw nothing. He went back to his work, striking the ground hard in anger.

“There is no satisfying such a hateful person as this one your brother seems to please so much. Look at him over there. He is happy…smiling…peaceful. Did God not accept his offering? Did he not reject yours?”

The boy looked up and over at his younger brother. His face grew angrier, to the point of rage!

“Are you going to let him rob you, boy? Did he work harder than you? Did he toil as you have and did you not put much more effort into your offering to this ungrateful creator?”

The boy looked straight up into the sky and raised his fist into the air. The beast behind him grinned and began to laugh.

“How easy they are! With no effort at all.” the Watcher thought.

“Look at your hand.” The watcher told the boy. You need to take that tool in your hand show your brother that you won’t tolerate such disrespect! Are you not the eldest? Should he not bow down to you?”

The boy looked at the sharp tool he had been using to break open the ground.

“Take that thing and strike him down!” The Watcher instructed the boy. Show him you are the leader of the clan! Show this God that you demand your rights!”

Suddenly, Masters saw the taller boy turn, with the tool in hand, and walk slowly toward his brother. The older brother’s murderous thoughts were interrupted with memories of their childhood. He told himself that he loved his brother! He remembered playing outside the cave of treasures and learning the life that their father had been given since the great fall. He stopped walking and lowered the tool in his hand to his side. Then the beast appeared again.

“He’ll grow up and take it all away from you! He’s not your brother! He’s your enemy! Your mother loves him far more than she does you. He’s smarter!”

The boy raised his head and stared at his brother. His softened expression stiffened again and anger crossed his face!

“He’s blessed and you’re cursed!” the beast whispered to him.

The boy raised the tool again up to his eyes.

“He has to die or you’ll have no future!” The boy started walking again to his brother. He hid the tool behind his back.

“You have a right to defend yourself!” The boy walked faster.

“He’s plotting against you! He’s a thief, a liar, a…”

The boy took off running towards his younger brother. The younger brother looked at his older one and smiled at first and then saw his brother’s face with an expression he had never seen before!

Endangered, When he got to where his brother was standing, he stopped and stared at the boy he had grown up with, the one he had lived with his whole life until that very moment.

“Why have you lied to me?” he asked his younger brother.

“Lie, what does that mean? I have always been with you. What is mine is yours as well! Come, let’s sit and eat of the lamb I offered to the Lord today.”

The words enraged his older brother!

“See, he’s mocking you!” the evil Watcher, Kasadya taunted the older boy. “He is belittling you! Have some pride boy! Take that tool from behind your back and slay the little bastard!”

“I don’t want your filthy meat! You are mocking me!” the older brother declared. “I don’t want anything from you!”

He gripped the tool and his little brother looked very perplexed and did not understand why his older brother seemed so vexed at him.

“My brother, I love you. I’d never mock you!”

“He’s a liar! The Watcher insisted. “He’s going to destroy you! Take that tool and strike him down!” The boy hesitated.

“DO IT NOW!” The demon from hell roared inside the boy’s head!

Suddenly, with one swipe of his hand, the older brother swung the tool! Just before it entered his skull, the younger brother cried out.

“Caine, NO!”

The smaller boy fell to the ground and blood was gushing from his head; mixing with the lamb’s blood that had only hours earlier been sacrificed to God! The Watcher laughed out loud and the boy seemed to hear it, looking around and then finally down at the sight of his younger brother, the brother he had always loved, lying dead on the corrupted Earth. He bent down and cried out and took his brother into his arms and screamed when he heard a voice from the heavens.

“Caine, what have you done!”

The image before Sergeant Master’s eyes disappeared and he heard the word again that he had uttered earlier.

“Kasadya!”

Steven's books are about issues that will make you think and reevaluate the things you've never questioned before. Steven's three novels are listed here. Read some stories that are as real as they can get!
Amazon.com
Booksamillion.com
Borders.com
Barnes and Noble.com

I do not write scary material for the sake of startling people. Many of the things that our scary world faces today are the results of things that happen over which men and women exercise little or no control.

In Nimrod Rising, I wrote about the final culmination of disaster after America had already turned it's back on the ideals and values that forged us into the most powerful nation in the history of the world. In my new novel, which is in its infancy, for now, I will seek to show many of the steps into darkness that America is even now taking and which will lead us to disaster if we do not take a sharp detour into sanity. I hope you will find the following chapter from my current project, "Quality of Life" not just scary, but revealing and challenging to make you think that just perhaps, we can still correct our mistakes and return to morality and live a true quality of life.                   

Steven Clark Bradley

Quality of Life - Chapter 3 - Open Your Eyes

“Open your eyes, Sergeant Masters! Come on man! You’ve only got 20 minutes!”

Marine Corp Sergeant Jacob Masters opened his eyes, but only for a second, because the light was so bright that flooded his vision. His eye lids refuse to stay open. He heard his father’s voice, but it sounded so far away, but it gave him hope nonetheless.

“Come on Jake! It’s dad!” The Marine Sergeant could hear his father’s voice as though he was screaming to him in the middle of a hard-pouring rain, making it sound muffled and hazy.

“Jake, we’re running out of time here!” Jacob Masters understood the words, the meanings were unclear though. At least where he was, time marched on forever, it seemed. He had nothing but time and it was driving him crazy.
“Jake! Open your eyes now! They’re going to…”

Sergeant Masters could even feel his fathers hot breath splashing across his face. Then, his father finally shouted, “OPEN YOUR EYES, BOY!”

Sergeant Master’s eyes exploded open! He was staring straight upward. He saw trees, thick, green trees that were shrouded in rich glimmering light. Had he died and gone out of that dreadful place he had remembered being in moments earlier? Then it all came back to him. He thought his way through the maze of bewilderment his mind was racing through.

“Running! That’s right! I was running and firing and my men…they were screaming, yes I remember! They were screaming and…and falling…then it hit and I hit the ground!”

Masters had found his bearings and recalled it all as they had been on a recon mission. Basra, Iraq had been pacified, or so declared the President, the Pentagon and his direct superiors on the ground there. It had made a good pretext for the Britons to leave, having done a great job in their own right. There were still pockets out there who refused to lay it all down though and he and his men had done this task for weeks and it had become good exercise and a way to chat as he and his five men walked the trek with their guns drooped over their shoulders and their voices not muffled in the least. This war was over, right? They were simply bringing up the rear and keeping it all in place. The Brits were long gone, Al-Queida was at least mollified and gone off to lick their wounds and blowup some meaningless target just to let the world know they were still alive. The Iraqis had had enough and turned on their warlords a while ago. Now for Masters, this was nothing much more aggressive than walking the beat of some shopping mall and looking for children who had lost their mom or dad. Yet, he could here it, tracers of fire being fired overhead. He extended out his right arm blindly and felt the ground around him and his palm felt something laying next to him…a body…one of his men who was not moving. As Masters’ senses returned, he turned his head to the right, he saw the marine he had been chatting with when all hell had broken out! He was obviously dead. Masters felt his own chest and reached behind him and felt his back. He found three holes in his vest. He pulled his hand up to his eyes saw there was no blood. He had simply been knocked out by the impact of some large shells that had not penetrated the Kevlar inside the vest. He turned his comrade’s body over and his face was gone. He had taken a couple of the large rounds right to the face and had killed him on impact, “Thank God” thought Masters.

“Jake, they’re gonna pull the plug, my boy! It’s now or never!”

Masters heard his father’s voice again and he jumped up to his knees and looked around quickly.

“Dad? They’re trying to kill me, dad! Where are you?”

“Yallah…Yallah!” Masters heard the voices in Arabic calling out and trying hard to quickly find them. He pulled out a bottle of pills that he had already determined to take before falling into enemy hands and having his head slowly sliced off like a sacrificial lamb! Then, they were there, in the breaches, so close he could hear the leaves rustling. There’d be no way to run, not with their guns, that he’d already cheated death from once. His mind raced and he debated whether to swallow the pills and die quickly or to just pretend to be so. Before he could make up his mind, he saw the silhouette of one of the long-haired-bearded men break through the foliage. He saw the boots and heard them shouting orders back at each other. He poured out the contents of the bottle and pulled his automatic rifle under him and held his finger on the trigger. Masters lay flat on his back and extended his right hand with his palm open, revealing the deadly tablets. He quickly turned his head and saw only one of his men still moving. He saw the boots appear out of the brush and approach them in the opening where they had been attacked. Masters closed his eyes and waited.

The terrorist soldier walked slowly and radioed something back to his group. Masters understood nothing except the proverbial, “Allah Wakbar” at the end. He laid completely still. The Marine Corps training had kicked in, which amounted to being patient to live to kill another day! The Al-queida terrorist turned and headed in Masters’ direction. He knew it even with his eyes closed by virtue of the loud approaching steps that the terrorist overkill attitude had never leaned to be careful of. Masters tensed inwardly and gripped his gun solidly under his back. Masters knew that the timing was everything and it had to be just right. He was fairly sure that only one of his men was still alive from his group. He also knew that marine to his left was regaining consciousness, because loud grunts and groans were emanating from him. Masters’ task was not to get the hell out of there, but to take his comrade with him even if he had to carry him out.

The terrorist came close to Masters’ rigidly still body.

Masters started counting with 10 as the D-day number! When the terrorist came next to Masters, he looked down and started to bend down to check out Masters’ vitals. Just as he bent all the way down and when Masters was ready to make his move, the marine to Masters’ left groaned loudly. The terrorist stood upright quickly and hurried over to the groaning Marine. The enemy combatant saw the American flaying on the ground and took his automatic and pointed it at the still breathing Marine! As the enemy Islamic soldier of terror placed his finger on the trigger, Masters rolled suddenly to his left, lifted his automatic and fired four shells into the terrorist! He fell with a thud to the ground.

Shouts reverberated through the trees in the rich underbrush of the area of Southern Iraq, the most fertile area of the country; very close to where the forbidden garden sprawled outward at the intersection of the Euphrates and Tigress rivers. Suddenly, like the sound of horses’ hooves, Masters could hear what seemed to be hundreds of enemy combatants coming his way! Then, he heard the shots from their weapons firing as they evident ran in his direction firing at will as they approached! Masters stood up, or at least tried to. His legs didn’t want to cooperate at first, but he managed to lift himself up to a world the twirled in circles for a moment or two!

The shots that had knocked him out had also left him dizzy and out of focus, but he got his bearings soon enough. He looked at the other four men who were on the ground. Three of them were dead, he was sure, or hoped, because he’d not have time to check them out. He knew that one was alive and ran over to him. He turned him over and looked at him and slapped him lightly across the face as the pounded earth around him grew nearer and nearer!

“Baker! Are you with me Baker?”

Private Baker only grunted and that was proof enough for Masters. He very aggressively hoisted him up and threw Baker over his shoulder!

“Sorry dude, but no time for fear right now!” Masters stated as a bullet whizzed past his head followed by screaming and even faster movement from the terrorists’ feet! He lifted Baker over his shoulder and stood up to run! Then he heard it again!

“Sergeant, ten till twelve and after that little hand touches the big one, it’s all over but the deep six!” someone said who Masters knew was not his father! This voice sounded almost playful, sarcastic.

Masters had no time to evaluate it! He took off running deeper into the brush and foliage that grew thicker with each over-weighted step! It was almost like watching some movie he had seen before making a decision to join the Marines. He had seen the Hollywood heroics, but now here he was running for his and Baker’s lives and had no idea where to go, how to hide effectively. This was a movie without a screenplay!

“Improvise, Dude!” he thought.

He could see the forest, or whatever it was, thickening up ahead! In front of him, he saw a deep, rich green spread out as far as he could see to the left and to the right like no vegetative growth he had ever seen. It was a great place to hide, but would be an impossible place to find his way out of. He kept running toward it simply because the danger behind him was so much greater than that which loomed in front of him! Soon his mind seemed to have caught his second wind and his feet and mind simply took over. He felt the air rushing past his face and he knew he had reached a threshold of either collapsing right there or running faster than he had ever done in his whole life! Shots rang out behind him with screaming voices in Arabic that Masters could not understood in words but fully comprehended in the full weight of their danger they posed for him and Baker.

Baker suddenly roused and looked back at the scenery that grew smaller as Masters ran forward.

“Where the hell…”

“Just shut up, Bakeman! I’m getting us out of here! Don’t move or I’ll break stride! You still got that pistol?” Masters asked with fleeting breath.

“Yea, here under my vest.”

“Get it out and if you see one of the Allah suckers, send him to paradise!”

“Yes Sir!” Baker affirmed as he pulled out the gun and pointed out into the air whizzing past him.

Masters heard a shot and felt Baker’s body go limp and heavy! He knew that his comrade was gone! Masters thought he should carry him away, but his probably dead body was now heavier than ever with buoyancy at all! He wondered if he should lay him down on the ground and see if he were possibly alive, but that would only spell two kills for the terrorists! He was torn, but his own death, as selfish as it seemed, was far weightier at the moment than trying to save an already dead man!

Instead of stopping respectfully and lowering Baker’s body to the ground, he raised his right arm and without slowing down, he catapulted Baker’s body off his shoulder and it hit the ground hard and loudly! Masters didn’t let it slow him down! He ran faster than ever now. He felt the same way he always had as a child when he’d hold three bats and swing them before taking his turn at the plate. The loss of baker’s body from his shoulders made his legs feel all the more light as the terrorists followed suit! His stride broke into the quickest his sprinting his legs had ever moved. He had been told that fear and that innate pulse for preservation of life and limbs were his best friends in just such a situation! He looked forward and the thick stuff was right there ahead of him! He just needed to get ahead and run into the thick area and then break to the left or right and lay low and pick them all off either one by one or all at the same time. It sounded feasible! In reality, it was his only option! Five more feet and shots rang out! They couldn’t be more than thirty feet behind him! Then he heard their feet pounding the earth! Three more feet and he increased speed and then felt his body slam into some kind of invisible wall like a huge pane of pristine glass made his momentum come to a crushing and painful screeching halt!

When Master hit the barrier that was completely invisible, his body crashed and then was propelled backward about five feet! On his back, he looked up and saw nothing there, but strangely felt no pain and simply stood up and ran to his right. He saw about twenty terrorists running toward the imperceptible obstruction and felt his lips move into a smile! He wanted to watch them crash into it but he had to get out of sight! He gave all his attention to finding a place to hide. He ran and heard the combatants drawing nearer. Just ahead of Masters, he saw a cave. It was small, but the opening was large enough to crawl into and to get his breath and check his rounds and get ready to blow them all to hell!

After he had almost dived into the cave, he slid himself around and watched the terrorist as they got only about ten feet from the barrier. They were running and the first five slammed into it with such a crushing speed that two of them were killed instantly from the sheer trauma of the impact! Masters knew he had smashed into it with no less force, but he had simply stood back up and run! The others stopped and looked up and down, to the left and right and tried to feel what was there stopping them. One guard began to scream!

“Iblis! Shetan!”

Another pounded the butt of his gun into the side of the man’s head!

“Shhh! Dur!” he shouted!

Masters watched as the sounds that filled the forest grew deathly silent! He watched the area where the men stood! That thing, whatever it was seemed to change! It was not clear anymore and it seemed to form a spinning mass of molten colors that revolved and twirled until suddenly, in front of the terrorists stood a towering figure! His face shown like the sun at noon day and he extended his wings that appeared to cover the whole area of the entrance way! The terrorist insurgents looked up at him! He was beautiful and perfect to behold. He looked down at them and smiled and they bowed to him! When they looked back up into his face, his smile turned into a frown, melted into a grimace, transformed into a face of anger and collapsed into a visage of rage! The men rose to run away! The great strange entity reached behind him and pulled out a massive sword!

“You have been judged and found wanting!” it cried out.

He raised the great sword over his head swung it from left to right! The blade connected with every fleeing neck and their heads fell to the ground followed by their bodies which took another couple of steps before limply crumbling downward! Masters watched with eyes that would not blink! He looked into the great image’s eyes and the face of fierce anger melted back to a peaceful and harmless smile. It waved its hand and the cave into which Masters had run became lit and bright and Sergeant Jason Master turned and looked at a massive expanse of rock and walls of stone! Then he heard it again, his father’s voice.

“Jacob, Jacob, you’ve got to come out of it, son! They’re going to pull the plug unless you…” The voice faded.

Masters walked over the cave wall directly in front of him. He saw a series of primitive drawings scrawled on the wall. It seemed like the drawings told a story like ancient hieroglyphics. Masters carefully started to walk over to the wall and touch the drawings. Then, it occurred that the light inside the cave seemed to be coming from nowhere. After what he had just seen outside the cave, the light seemed almost passé. He reached out to touch the wall and then hesitated. His hand was shaking and he felt a certain energy flow out of the rock and it produced a tingling sensation on his fingertips. He pulled his hand back and looked around the cave.

Though he had not noticed before, probably out of shock, amazement or sheer exhaustion, he realized that the cave was massive. It seemed like it had been carved right out of the stone. He turned and walked around the site. He could see where carved out stones had been placed in organized fashion, obviously ages ago. On the cave floor, next to a large flat stone that had clearly been used as a table, Masters saw a hollowed out stone that resembled a cup and flat slate stone plates scattered around the area. One of the plates had a primitive drawing on it as well. It showed two boys, one slightly taller than the other. One was tending the field in a field of vegetables. The other boy was slaughtering a lamb and draining the blood into a vessel of some kind. Masters placed the plate on the table. He picked up another stone plate and it too had a drawing carved into it. This one showed both boys offering there sacrifice to God and holding their hands high into the air. The taller boy’s offering was is fruit from his field of labor. The smaller boys offered the body of a slaughtered lamb and had poured the blood over the body and into a primitive alter. Masters looked over at the image of the taller boy and he picked up the plate and held it close to his face. He saw something drawn behind the boy. It was a bit obscured but he was sure he could make out the image of an angel. The wings were there, he was sure of it. Its face was grimacing and looked evil and cunning. Then a word filled his mind. He spoke the words quietly to himself that he had heard in his brain.

“Kasadya”

I hope this sample chapter of my ever growing new novel, Quality of Life. I hope it spoke to you of our world's need to find its moral high ground once again. Thank you for reading. You can also get your own copy of my three published novels at the the fine stores linked below.
Amazon.com
Booksamillion.com
Borders.com
Barnes & Noble.com

Thank you for reading! - Author Steven Clark Bradley

Nimrod Rising and the Green God of America:
When you enter a bank in the United States, have you noticed the quiet and serenity in the space? There seems to be a reverence rivaling that found in most churches. It is easy to see that such a display of piety in the unassuming financial institutions across America is because they are practicing the country’s fastest, biggest and most powerful religion, the worship of the Almighty Dollar. It can be truly stated that God is now green in America. I wrote Nimrod Rising because of this devotion to this pious paper and pristine plastic that has plunged this nation and the world into the abyss of despair for the lives of the unborn, the infirm and the aged.

The World of Manassa Dormin:
Nimrod Rising transports the reader into a world of mayhem where unborn children do not contribute to a thriving economy, so their demise is of no avail. The world of Manassa Dormin, the villain in Nimrod Rising is one without mercy. Those of us who cannot work, cannot walk, cannot feed ourselves are unproductive citizens, and are discarded as so-much rubbish if they cannot demonstrate some utility to the masses. “Should they not just get out of the way and die so there is a bigger piece of the pie for everyone else?”

Utility or Futility:
Does this sound like lunacy? Quite possibly, such words are reminiscent of a page or two out of Orwell’s 1984 or Huxley’s Brave New World? In reality, these unspeakable new age “Values” are found throughout the pages of yesterday’s and today’s newspapers, all throughout the country! Fitting examples are inexhaustible all around us. Perverted pedophiles are abducting and raping our children at an all-time alarming rate and they receive sentences that allow them to return back on the streets in incredibly short amounts of time only to again steal our children out of their beds and finally kill them. Yet, if you are the chairman of Enron or WorldCom and you can expect anything between 25 to 200 years. That should not be seen as shocking. After all, the offering up of our unborn and growing children, our disabled and bedridden citizens and the early demise of our elderly pales in comparison to any premeditated sacrilege against the Green God of America. So, Nimrod Rising is a scary read. This is not because of the spirit world it describes or the evil men and women doing their mischief, but rather because the seeds of many of the diabolical deeds detailed in Nimrod Rising are only germinating today in society around us.

Quality of Life vs. Quantity of life:
Is all life worth living? Do the old, unborn, the infirmed or mentally ill have no social value? The proposed and not so secret response from the brokers of the culture of death is a resounding, “NO!” In fact, it is easy to see that the whole catalyst of the death culture is centered around one overriding maxim purporting that population reduction must be accomplished without delay and by any means.

Such culture transforming issues as abortion and such organizations as Planned Parenthood have led the way in what is considered to have changed the thinking of Main Street America in what now seems a permanently calloused culture and is considered as groundbreaking and deepening into a six-foot social grave. The money and power such groups wield are also powerful points of persuasion for the mostly lukewarm and milquetoast “leaders” who now control the present and plan our futures. Though abortion is by far the most widely debated issue facing traditionally valued Americans, there are many movements afoot that are not even so quietly laying their framework of treachery and social engineering that also use the premise of population control as their dictum.

The Government of The Culture of Death:
One of the big themes throughout Nimrod Rising is how the government of the world of Manassa Dormin is the power of the Euthanasia movement. Again, the forces of the culture of death are even now gaining great expanses of their foundation for their social house of cards, in the fertile mental ground in the American psyche.

Due to the message purported by a very loud minority to a passive majority that life is based on quality rather than quantity, the old, infirm and mentally impaired and their “safe” are even now being told to accept a “dignified” and “self-determined” death, which is considered one of the biggest pieces of the diabolical picture that is even now being sketched by the workers of woe within the Culture of Death. Matters such as the homosexual movement, assisted suicide, animal rights vs. human Rights, the environments movement and the dangers of socialized medicine in America and the financial constraints of such a program will place on the keepers of the very life you cherish the responsibility of isolating and identifying such drains upon the social banks of goodwill, within the society at large. These things speak loudly within the 596 pages of Nimrod Rising. Yet, it still remains that even the most docile and sanitized amongst us still require ears that hear and eyes that see.

Fact or Fiction:
Perhaps, you will say that such men and women described in Nimrod Rising do not exist. Then, take a look at many of the current leaders of the culture of death in America today. Though I am absolutely for planning a family and for the use of contraception, I would never support the use of abortion as a means of reducing the world's births. Margaret Sangor, the Founder of Planned Parenthood said herself, and I quote, "The most merciful thing a family does for one of its infant children is to kill it." She propagated wiping out the African American race and was a huge supporter of Hitler's views. Yet, today, her organization, with these goals, is supported even with federal dollars. George Felos, the attorney who assured the death by starvation and dehydration of Terri Shaivo in 2005, is the leading lawyer for encouraging assisted suicide and euthanasia of the infirm, the elderly on the basis of some vague standard of the quality of life.

Based on such a standard, would it not be logical to simply walk down the streets of our cities and rid the poor homeless of their lives devoid of quality? This is where such views eventually lead; to a place where no one has the right of self-determined longevity unless they possess some utility other than life itself? One need only use their mind to go beyond what your teachers taught you and let humanity speak to us and follow the statements to their logical end result. Nimrod Rising does just that and creates the unspeakable world that such current-day values will ultimately produce.

Perhaps, there are those who feel these words are far fetched, but I have been around the world in 34 countries and I can say of a truth that the family and life itself is at risk by those who no longer hold anything sacred or of lasting value. The story you are about to invest your time in shall speak its mind and challenge you in many different ways concerning the dangers facing us. We fight to preserve a nation from terrorism, but if this is what we are fighting to preserve, would you lift a finger in the defense of an obtuse and reprobate society as that which I have just described? Nimrod Rising goes a step beyond most books that seek to warn a society of its plunge into an abyss of despair and ruin. Nimrod Rising seeks to reveal that the true catalyst for the ideas espoused and widely accepted today. This world, hidden from human sight but as real as the hidden cells that give life to our bodies, extends beyond our own sphere. It wishes to pull down the kingdom of man to reestablish their rule of the Watchers on the Earth.

A Society Without Faith:
This is the world of Nimrod Rising. It is written as fiction and is based on reality. Therefore, I wish to dedicate this book to all the Theresa Shiavos of America whose unfortunate lives have run headlong into the merciless, unrelenting will of the false god in whom increasing numbers of common people have placed their trust, in this country today. This is not a book written against the liberals of this country. Nor is it a vindication of the political right. In fact, it is an indictment of both sides of the massive green beast that runs roughshod over friend and foe alike.

The real purpose of this book is to reveal the true nature of the culture of death that has come to pervade over every major decision we face. It has been penned to warn a great nation that a land is nothing without the care and mercy shown to its less fortunate. It is submitted to you to underscore that the measure of a great nation is not in its GNP or its S&P but in its TLC. On the contrary, the words written here have been tempered with fear and trembling for the nation I love. The indisputable facts laid out herein are written in shameful disgust over the failure of the moral base of America to adequately speak out and stand up to be counted. No great nation can long endure under the strains of the obtuse who seek to systematically destroy those whom our nation had so long defended, in a word you and me.

Learn From History or Repeat:
America threw its youngest and brightest into WWII to fight an intolerable tyrant and the idea that only the State could decide who was worthy of life. We fought and died to bring Adolph Hitler and his regime to an utter end because of his disrespect and utter disregard for life. Now, today, in America, we have Judges seated in a leather chair behind some large desk not making choices to help someone live but rather deciding who should die. America stood tall and brave against the forces of Communism because of just such an evil philosophy as this, which religiously and progressively marched its people to a dreaded drum right to the very precipice of death and defeat; a defeat brought about by our commitment to freedom and life.

Ride The Storm Of Nimrod Rising:
Yet, today in America, are we really better than those we destroyed? Are we really different? Perhaps the Nazi movement and the Communist ideals are not so much dead as they are renamed Republican or Democrat and recast in more benign and more beguilingly subtle silhouettes; wrapped up in a tattered swath of red white and blue and empowered by a document that no more represents nor resembles the original constitution of the United States of America than did the Communist Manifesto or Mao’s Little Red Book! The diabolical forces at work in Nimrod Rising are the seeds of destruction in America today and must be rendered powerless.

How Shall We Then Live:
We cannot stop them from speaking out, lest we defeat the very freedom we seek to preserve. Yet, we must always be vigilant and ready to work against them by recognizing the forces at work, and the masters they serve, which make up America’s emerging culture of death, lest none of us have any quality of life. It is imperative that we take another look and reaffirm the words of Philosopher, Francis Schaeffer when he said that there is no life that is not worth living. If we believe that, then we should pose ourselves the same question he asked, “How shall we then live?” Come and ride the storm of Nimrod Rising. It might scare you to life!

Steven Clark Bradley
Don't Forget
Nikki Leigh’s Virtual Book Tours

www.inspiredauthor.com/promotion/february-authors-2008

(-Go To Stories That Read You!-)

For more information or to purchase Nimrod Rising:

Click this button to bookmark at your favorite site:

amazon.com
barnesandnoble.com
bordersstores.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
copperfields.com

• Main
• Archives
• Albums
• Links
• Send us a story or an E-Mail
• Summary-Blog Directory
• Admin

• The United States of America Vassal State of The People's Republic of China
• Automated response - A New Line Emerges by Steven Clark Bradley
• All Fall Down - Patriot Acts Part Three by Steven Clark Bradley
• Take A Look At "Homeless Like Me" by Donald James Parker
• Take A Look At "Homeless Like Me" by Donald James Parker
• have You Ever Felt...?
• What I Am Prepared NOT To Do? by Steven Clark Bradley
• Four Lessons For Willow Morgan by Steven Clark Bradley & Selin Alicia Bradley

• stevenbradley [66]
• General [6]

• RSS 0.90
• RSS 1.0
• RSS 2.0
• Atom