||october 5, 2008
He is the bringer of the Apocalypse. This is his side of the story.This is a fast paced,Disaster happening,Ghost talking,Revelations following,Zombie killing,Demon spawning rollercoaster ride.
Waking in the pile of
Miraculously none of my bones were broken. I have to give a big thank you to Gaia.
I had opened my eyes to find myself looking into someone's dead eyes. I 'm not talking about a soul gaze. I'm talking about, my face being smashed against theirs. I am literally cocooned in place by dead bodies. My lungs have just enough room to barely draw breath. I feel like a steam roller has parked on top of me. This thought gives the tendrils of claustrophobia a chance to sink their hooks in. It doesn't take much to go into a complete panic.
I need to hold on. Get myself together. Take some deep breaths. Well, if I could I would. My breathing is becoming hard to control.
I can barely think.
I must move.
I must move, I must move. My breathing is sheer agony. I must move. I feel my head move a fraction.
This small movement gives me hope. I begin grinding my head against the face I'm smashed against. Fortunately for me, the near frenzied panic I am in, gives me the strength to make a difference.
For the first time, I felt my body slip. Which, in hind sight, is probably the most disgusting part of it. Because I realize that I am wet. I have a gel on me. Or should I say there is a jelly like slime. It's what you get when you combine all the wet stuff of the body. This stuff is the shit, piss, vomit, blood and slime that coat the intestine. The bodies are packed just close enough to create little pockets of air. I realize I can't tell which way is up or down. With this thought I almost lose hope.
This is when my olfactory senses kick in and I register the smell. I have no doubt this is the smell of hell. My body immediately rebels against it. My stomach starts to convulse. I am crammed in so tight I can barely breathe and this time my body chooses to begin vomiting. I can not describe the torture I went through vomiting. It was indescribable.
When I finally thought "this can't go on much longer." it would stop. Then it would begin again.
Finally I blacked out.
At this time I dreamed. I dreamed of the smell. The smell of putrid rottenness. Of the offal of all time. I dreamed of the weight on my body. The feeling of earth surrounding me. I dreamed of the creepy crawly things.
I awoke with a scream. I can only imagine what this must have looked like. Me naked covered with dead bodies, slimed with dead body jelly screaming against the face of some dead person who is covered with my vomit.
I can feel the laughter inside me begin. I tell myself not to let it out but I can't help it. The pressure inside me is building up to fast. It's going to explode from me. And once it starts I don't think I can make it stop.
It started with a whimper. The dam holding it back gave way. The laughter is flooding from me. I don't have any sense of time. It could have been a minute, it could have been hours.
Hell, I could have been laughing for days.
Then it just stopped, the laughter died in me. It was gone. I can see a few more inches in front of me than I could before. Water is trickling down through the bodies. I feel it dripping against my left cheek. The thirst in me takes over. I turn my face so that the water can drip into my open mouth. The water is by far the best tasting water I have ever had.
I won't think about what it had to go through to get to me.
And I don't. I just drink. I drink, and I swallow. I drink, and I swallow. After a while I realize the water has stopped.
Copyright. Dale Reierson
5.0 out of 5 stars Great theological thriller, September 9, 2011
This review is from: A Harbinger's Tale (Kindle Edition)
If God asked you to be the Harbinger of the Apocalypse ... would you do it? This is the question posed to both narrator and reader alike as both are taken on an original and refreshingly unpredictable fast-track into Armageddon and beyond.
On his eighth birthday, the narrator is blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with the symbols of the Seven Seals of the Apocalypse on his body.
Is the narrator suffering from some kind of mental illness, brought on by the trauma of his parents' deaths, followed by the horrific circumstances of his grandmother's death and the nightmare of the foster home ... or is he exactly who and what he claims to be?
A disaster on the moon results in calamity on earth, along with natural disasters, global warming on an extreme scale, entire nations wiped out. Survivors take refuge in an orbital space station, only to fall foul of the "have-nots" of the world. The cities that still stand and are still inhabited, then reform and reinforce themselves into "hives", with the remaining factions of humanity clinging on to existence and a semblance of order. Mankind seems to finally have it locked down tight until the breaking of another seal unleashes demons and zombies.
This is a ferocious, thought-provoking, and darkly comic horror story, told with a dry, sarcastic wit.
Excellent book for discussion in reading groups.
As the song goes: don't fear the reaper!
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