A tribute to the Anobis

November 26, 2006

Part 17 Ozone Hole

Joel Akin

Of all places on Earth that the Anobis team should begin it was towards the mountains, through the Glacial Shield, down through a corridor of green that took them along the present day border between Washington and Western Montana. They were the Kee brigade and they were men and women of time who had been on a ship, part of three. They were the Anobis tribe, part of Deth’s house. They were men and women a soldiers who had parted company in Alberta with another group called the Shel Tee’s. They were part of the long brigands of time and were known for their care and compassion. They carried the Shield of Faith and it was their cry that they would be alight to the wilderness. And they were.

Both set out with a plea to find a home. Both headed south for various reasons but the main one was to escape the bitter cold of the region of the North. Ice and water had begun accumulating and a new ice age was forming. The temperature of the earth was beginning to plunge and it would be only a matter of time until ice set in permanently. The dark shield of dust and debris continued to rain down upon their heads. They called it Ra’s mon or Ra’s moon. And it was. It carried toxins and poisons and at times wounded them.

Now there were some from Hope Med Ici branches who had survived the trip. They were in free ships capable of star travel. A lot of the ships that had gathered around the mother hen ship were capable of traveling to the stars. But none knew for sure what would happen if they tried until the time fray was cleaned up. They spoke of it as a metacycle. A transformation of the region of this space. It were as if things had been mirrored and those who tried to escape came back to meet themselves leaving so they didn’t try again. It was too spooky.

The Anobis crew set a path towards what we now call Texas. They didn’t have any specific path in mind just a desire to find a way to keep warm and to find homes and lands for their families. They cried out to God on a daily basis and they carried the dust and the ashes of their loved ones. It was part of their belief that the people they carried who had died would return to them some day in those bodies. They called it resurrection and it was the promise of God that all who died, even those who were never found, would carry forth that promise to all future generations.

When we pass along the path of life and make our way down to the grave there are way stones. Each stone weighs the weight of a man and each man who passes trips a light to shine upon him. If he should pass a certain point on the long journey to the grave he is free. But if he should hit a certain weight that is marked with his name, then he is carried into the depths of the stone and it is marked to be. To be or not to be, that is a question Shakespeare asked and he sought out answers from the earth using knowledge available to him in his stay in Oxford. It was there that men sought out knowledge and tripped into the depth of the earth and stripped it down to find the place of souls. It was there that men weighed their souls to find a place that was called their weight. And if they were close to death they went on further and further into the depth of the soul machine.

And it was on this journey that they met a man we might call a reaper of souls. He was the grim man who waited below Sin. The one man who understood the intricacy of the soul machine. The one man who counted heads and reaped hearts. The one man who understood the blood of those who were in his soul machine. Death.

Now if death sounds terrifying to us then perhaps we were never meant to die. There are men who mock death and state I am not afraid. But in their heart is a trip, a switch, which has already been swung and weighed in the balance. And they have turned their soul over to sin. For sin waits, like a ravenous creature, waiting for souls to fall. For if it trips within his switch, he, Leviathan the great, takes their soul with him into his gravestone. And it is there that he takes them into the soul chambers of heat and porridge. And porridge is the food of the ridge. The poor ridge where souls are stripped down even further of their weight. And they are turned into monsters, keening and wailing upon the fire of hell. And it is there that they become the true monster that they were meant to be.

Now if this sounds like fiction perhaps it is because you do not know the road to hell and know that it is paved with good intentions. Gold, silver, copper and a few brass pennies. Perhaps thirty pieces of silver? Perhaps the price for the soul. But we do not speak just of Christ but we speak of those who went to hell because someone sold their soul to the demon. Sold their soul to the one who came and carried their soul into the grave. And if in that ride you find yourself crying out to God, perhaps it is too late as they drag you upon the weigh stone marked with to be. For if a name appears on that stone and if it is called R.I.P. then maybe you might breath a sigh called your last breath. And maybe at that moment your soul will weigh just enough to balance the great stone and it will prove to be your kind thought at the end towards those who gathered around your bedside. Perhaps that blessing you offered and not the curse that gathered on the lips of those left without a will of their own.

Perhaps we can find within our heart a mote of mercy. A mote that carries with it a beam. For if we reverse it we carry the weight to the grimmest reaper of souls. But if we carry the mote, the tiniest beam of light, and we carry that beam and let it pull us, there is released a new stone. It is called a perry white stone. And on it will be written a new name. A new name is the thing we seek for in the journey into this new world. For in that new name it carries with it a promise. A new promise that cannot be weighed in the soul machine. For the soul machine has little weight in heavens gates. It is there that the soul maker, the one we call God, calls to those souls who have turned to Him. It is He who passes them over the new stone. The white, clear white stone, marked with a tone, a song, a rhythm we call life. And in that stone it is marked with a new beat and it is carried forever into our heart and there it is joined by another stone. And that stone becomes the corner stone to ours. And if we can see it, some say that we will understand that those who have a full heart of stone are dead weight. But those who have a foundation stone heart have a heart that cannot be moved from its foundlings though all the porridge in the world were spoon fed that that one.

For it is a stone that cannot be budged. It is a stone that went over all the stones of the grim reaper and called them all be name and spoke to all those poor ridge stones and creatures in hell. It is a stone that woke up the dust, and woke up the grave, and woke up the beat and the twist of times own heart, and woke up Joy, and woke up those souls that were gathered into all the worlds of all time. And it took the to be sign down and remade it into or not to be.

Now we would say that is a foolish thing to do to turn the to be into or not to be. But to not to be is the path they were on. The path to hell, the path to the grim reaper, the path to those worlds that were. For God set a new course for the stone. The great corner stone. And he said “Listen, I shall grant a reprieve to those destined for hell. Fortell it from the cross. Fortell it those who are destined for death and hell. Fortell it that they might know that they now have a choice. A choice eternally written otherwise in the laws of Leviathan. For Leviathan is the creature that does not care for you. He waits upon the weigh stones we call the moon. And it is the moon which carries the curse to us from which the howl of the curses forever carries its weight on a pulley. That pulley marks out the boundaries and calls those in hell the Loons who swim. It is their song, like the mournful cry of the bird, that carries up a cry from hell. Do not forget us.

Now you who quake with laughter at this story beware. For Christ has become the new comparison stone. The new stone who gathers in the motes. The new stones that are called by his name now. Those white stones all carry his name on them or they are valueless currency. Currency which cannot carry us anywhere without his authority. Let me tell you that the grave and hell awaited all of us. Especially those of us who cry out “God, send their soul to hell. Teach them a lesson.” And in those voices we have reversed the beam called the light of blessings. For when we point at others and point them the way to hell we now carry the weight which swings open a new door called the path to hell. Now you say that doesn’t make sense. Why would God send us to hell. Think of it this way. Men of sin rise up and rise up and rise up crying from hell for repentance. Crying “God have mercy on my soul.” For that is the weight of hell. That those who carry the greatest of weights, the millstones, those who carry the biggest beams, are those with the greatest rolls of judgment you have ever seen fall upon our heads.

For we who judge harshest are those who judge with the heaviest stones. And there are things in the very depths of hell we would call creatures of the deep. They do not bear speaking of they only bear crying to God for mercy that we never see them. For in those depths lie the worst creations that have ever been created.

So you want to know. So you want to see do you? Then listen carefully. You will if that is your wish. For those who mock God shall have their wishes granted. And not all in pleasant circumstances either. For there is a hell and its gates are great and old. And they groan with the oil that I call black. And it is not pure or good or sweet to the taste. It is a foul oil of sin. Sweet to his eye. For Sin awaits those who pass within. It is he who is the darkest creature that existed.

Now you ask “Why is this so?” And I will say it began with a Gen. A Gen who fought against God. It spun off winds and dark storms and dark ways and dark methods. It took men and wrapped himself around their hearts and squeezed until he had wrung them dry. He wrote out lineage’s and traced himself into those lines. He carried men and women to the grave where even in death he tortured them with his dreams and his dark ways. He stole them from God, these souls until all the worlds mourned the loss of entire worlds. Palaces and wonders and lands and marvels of creation were demolished and torn down and spit upon because of men who served God. Men were cursed and dark sin entered into them and stole their blood. Sin worked into their thoughts and ruined their dreams until some believed that God had forsaken all.

Monsters were bred from beast and terminal oil came from turmoil. This dark, ugly, filthy mass of putridness became that which the Gen took. It was the worst of it. And he took angels and he took creatures of myth and he took beings of light and he took those who worshipped God. And he wrote a line in their lines and it was called Sin. And Sin wrote out balances based on his will and their lives as we know it ended with curses. And no one seemed capable of dealing with Sin. For he Sin became like unto god and wrote out the balance to Gods kingdom until the very home seat of God, Terra, became the new word for terror. Fear. And God lost the stars and he lost all of creation. And men fought against the Gens and the Grels and the creatures that could not be stopped.

It is not to say they didn’t try. They did. And there were successes. And there were victories. And there were stories of heroism that will speak to us someday. I hope those stories are told for always that we might cheer and not forget what men and women did to fight the scourge of Sin Gen.

Yet they were men and women and children who cried and wept as I have done. I have seen those terrors and I know the darkness that was there. Yet into these being their rose up new and worse creatures who souled out to Sin. They served him willingly without compunction. As creatures of dark nightmares they gave out to their new master. And Sin took them and made them ready slaves and turned their minds over to him, the new gore master. They became the Igor’s. The eyes for the gore creature that lived on the putridness of flesh. And they turned themselves into whatever their master wanted. And they served him until it seemed few men anywhere, anyplace, had the courage and the will to resist. Men did not know what they served. They thought they served intelligence as we understand it.

They were wrong. It wasn’t just a Gen but it was a creature of darkness. It was a spirit that walked by day and devoured by night. It was a creature that had no whim except that which it desired. And its whim fought the Holy Wind of God. And though God cast it off yet it rose up to take those He loved. And God fought it and fought it and fought it until it seemed there would be no end.

Yet God did not stop and did not quake and did not shirk and did not give us a spirit to fear. He gave us hope and a sound mind that we might have the courage to resist. Yet Sin was like a creature that swallowed men whole and it carried within it the dark void. The dark space between the cracks. The dark breath that stole men’s hearts into servitude. For even those who served Sin willingly did not know the creature they served was a Gen. A spirit that wrote the lineage of man to his own ends.

Yet in those dark times, just as in ours, God provided hope. And hope became the beam for our little light. And he became the light that provided us courage against these spirits. For Gen multiplied into Gen and into Gen and into Gen through dark ways and what they called dark magic. Manipulation of Gen Genes. They used women as hosts and carried women into the Gen breeds and there were few who became beautiful. Most men strove to produce the perfection generation so they could say they had created the generosa. The generation of the rose. It was that which they sought out and that which they fought for. For they carried women to the ring and men were taxed of their lineage so that they might ring the belle. And of Belle. Who can there be like her? For they were beautiful women that carried the Belle lineage yet of them all there was one. A woman entrusted to God who had fallen under the harrow of the Gens. They carried her to the ring where monsters vied with their sperm to ring the bell. It was a horrific match made in hell. For all creatures wished to be taxed and if their lineage carried even a small percentage of what they called hope they were able to carry prizes to them. Men and Grel, half breed creatures that spoke more of Planet of the Apes then anything we had seen. Something out of Jason and the Argonauts. It wasn’t just gods and goddesses who vied for favor but they played each other. They were not gods or goddesses they were devi’s and devils. Those who called themselves by that name. For they carried the Gen lines. And though not all carried the evil ways of their Pa Gen or as I like to call him Pa Tho Gen ic creature. A creature of darkness. It wrote out the wills and it was those who carried the belle to the ring who strove to fulfill the will of their dark master.

There were times when men rose up to fight it and there were other methods created to stop the ringing of the bell. Yet like the great prize fights or wrestling matches people were out for blood. And the blood they sought was the loss to those who carried no weight in the ring. For if their soul were found wanting they were hacked to pieces by the prize or price guardians. Those who found that their lineage held no worth. And it was those men, well, to speak of them requires us to speak of souls who had true worth. For some did. Perhaps not all. But some did. And it was those men who died in a worthless cause by a Dark Gen to strip men of their truest links to the All mighty God who created us.

These new gen lines were created to bring forth a hybrid based on darkness and light. A being that could appear as an angel of light and a heart filled with the dark gen lines. And this was the course for the further line. The line of women not yet born. The line of women still to be.

For those who lived as the Belles were attended by the beast. The creature not meant to love. Not meant to be anything but a beast for the mistresses protection. They were the worthless lots for of those some escaped the hack to become the heart line not just for men but for women. They were called the beast but in reality they were just those who did not have the dark gen lines. They were those who carried a salt link to the royal line. It was they who carried a precious commodity that lead them back to the true heritage of men.

There were a few of these ‘beasts’, as the Gore called them. They were men who carried the mark. Now some might laugh and say it is those who carry the mark of the beast, 666, which are evil. To the Dark Gen it was the opposite. They were the beasts that carried the full line back to the royal line. They were men who had escaped the hybrid tea. They were the wild roses based on men lines. It was not God who marked them it was the Sin lines that marked them. They were the failures. The creatures that could not be taxed. Sin wanted all of them marked so he would know which were worthless to him. For those who carried dark lines were rewarded with trips to the ring. And there they had a chance to be taxed with great rewards and great riches.

And perhaps I speak to the future. To any antichrist who might raise himself up to power. One who would be under the control of Sin, the dark Gen, the Leviathan. Beware who you play with. For those you mark may very well be true men and true women. Men who will carry that mark to the grave. Now I know that is not a popular thought but perhaps its one that should be said just in case men should desire to buy and sell under the antichrist system.

Still, I do not ignore scripture. I only speak of things that were. For God has a new number written for us called the seal of God. And we who carry it carry the new line forward. Not just the royal line that was but the line that God created for us so that we might have life.

Now how does this fit into the Sampo? Lets just say that of all the Gens who lived and still exist there was one who ruled earth with terror. It was not just the spirit of darkness which walked in between Time and Death. It was he, Satan, who became the Cap Ten of the heart la’s. It was he who rose up to power on the promise of the roses, the best of the Belles and the foresworn one we call Liberty. He rose up to meet the challenges of all his forebears and all those lines who were carried before him. For they were the challenge met. The lineage of the Dark Gen. The lineage of those who had challenged the darkest methods of earth. Those who had fought and conqurered their way across the galaxies. Satan, Gen line. It was he who betrayed the dark line, or so it seemed, in order to found what he called the Sin Clause. It was he who went out and ordered men to their deaths under the heart la’s. He who carried them and had them cast beams and all into hell. He who carted the gray spirits, those we would call demons, and into hell they went. And into hell with dark angels and dark spirits and Grel’s and monsters and myths. Into hell with dark lineages and dark paths and beasts and those who bore the mark of the beast.

Into hell until all souls everywhere who did not fulfill the laws and taxes of Sin woke up ferried down the river of time by the Grim reaper. They were souls for the furnace of affliction. And it was made with him in mind.

And he wore the souls down into hell until they were chained in darkness and chained in torture cells and chained in their mind and their bodies were liquidated for fertilizer. He twisted them up until it seemed they would all join him in cursing for that was what a dog did. Though it seemed all was at an end Satan made a major mistake and turned his back on the Heart La’s who repented of the evil they had allowed to transgress their cure. They spit him upon the fire and outlawed him from world after world and he joined with dark forces. And he went after power and dark magic and after things that are forbidden to speak of. And it was his lineage which allowed him to transgress his body and spit it out and enter into another. Like a writhing worm he entered into them and became their thoughts and their personality until finally we find ourselves circling a new star called Polaris. There he took Hope Katalina, the cat of hope, the woman of measure, and he stole her virginity and gave her a child we called Aapke or Cinderella. She inherited the Gen line but there was a difference. An unusual transformation that took place which none had spoken of. For she, the daughter of Hope, the quest of prayers of countless millions of people, found she had a gift. A gift that until now had not shown itself in women. Not of the line to which she birthed. She did not share it with anyone and it was a secret she kept to herself. But she became a JN. A Jen, a new Jen. A lineage of the Jen.

Now Satan had this ability and had hoped for a son that he might carry on the dark line of the Sith or Slith. Yet it was not yet time and he had to settle for one thing. Time to be brought to him.

For his daughter, Aapke, Cinderella, first of the Jen, went out in her craft built from the scraps of old ships, and she built that which we could not forsee. She went across the divide that could not be bridged. And she forged a new lineage, not of children, but of faith. For she found that there were still places written in the stones of a place called North America where the promises of God were on hold. She met up with those who were trekking across the continent, mapping it out. And this was more than 30,000 years ago, when that land from where I was born, was mapped out anew. Mapped down to his lines and its compass pointing. Mapped across the height and breadth of it.

And there were two things that happened with those groups that still speak to us today. One is the group of Anobis reached the heights of Texas from which they wrote a new song. A testament to their journey. In the heart of peanut country, Gorman, Texas, in 32,000 BN or before now, they settled down. They carried with them a promise, a draft, a resolution written which they hoped would be for all time and all peoples. That there is one God and it was He whom they served. And they would wait, no matter how long it took, for God to have his will done.

Now I could say that their journey ended and that was it for the Anobis crew. But it wasn’t. There was still surprises ahead. Journeys into the unknown. Journeys into liberty and freedom. A trip to paradise was on the agenda. For the chest, the ark, they had carried softly and quietly were the dust and bones of their ancestors. And among those bones and dust was one named Erich Deth. And there were others. They were of a special race. People who did make it down to paradise. They were called the people who wept. Yet they had another name which was written of them. That God would keep them in the garden and allow them to sleep and they did. They, the sleepers of Anobis, the people of God, were brought to a final rest in a world filled with turmoil. And it was given to them a promise. That someday Death would rise again and the people with him to meet their family in the air so that they might be with the Holy Spirit, the Lord God always and forever, even until the end of time and all things. And of those promises they would not end. But continue on.

Now Cindy, as I will now call her, met up with another group. They were the Singers of the Song. The people of the cry. The measure of the mist. They were people who charted their way towards Gorman, Texas and other places. They were the warriors, the true fighters of the Gen. Though Deth had fought with the Deth guards they had been cursed by Sin and carried a sting from death to which a curse was attached. It wasn’t the worst of curses but it was one that broke men in their soul so they were brought to the grave to sleep. That is why men who came under the power of death were called Sleepers. They slept waiting for the soul to rise and the soul to leap up from the grave. Of all those who slept in the grave there were none who did not carry that heart of leaping up from their sleep with the kiss of life. They were carried into dreams and into memories of hope. Those who had lived in the passage of mens ways were taught in their sleep of life and of who Christ Jesus was. Those parts of the soul that lived in wickedness strove with demons and devils in hell.

When Cindy tried to raise up men to help her she turned towards the east in the land we would call Tennessee. She turned there for volunteers and she found them in a rainy, cold valley forged on the witness of promise. She found soldiers and she found laborers and she found men who promised to help her in her quest to find a way down to the heart of the world where the Wisdom tooth still held the world together. It had been cracked before and was still cracked and its crown broken by the blow of Satan’s head. Yet it was there that she hoped to find cures for the curses brought upon the world by the dark oil and the dark messages that were written in mens blood. She had seen them with her ways of science and seen them survive even in the depths of the earth and knew they were the source of men’s changes.

It was there in Tennessee where she found love. It was there that she found a man who would change her life. She challenged him to love and she challenged him to follow her and she would carry him even to the darkest hell and back. It was a difficult quest she sought. And she went amidst the people who survived and those who wrote out wills because they did not think their light would withstand the growing darkness. She showed them that there was still hope. And she told them of the group in Texas and they rejoiced. It seemed that all would be well but she carried a burden she could not clear. And that is the promise she had made to her father that she would help him build the Sampo in return for a ship and freedom to find other centers. She did not tell him the specifics and he did not care. He just warned her that he was watching. And she didn’t understand that.

Now on the light side there were 12 women who had written out wills. They were song la’s. Women of wit. Today we would call them witches but in those days witches were not dull of hearing or haggard of face. They were women of measure and women of beauty. They held prize which meant they were worth knowing and they had a love for God. But they were captured in a debris field that surrounded earth. There in the debris they were put within a stasis chamber and fed dreams that carried them to a world of solitude where they were called to worship a man they called Loredo. Loredo was a dark spirit, a Gen, who had walked among men and played with their dreams on occasion. He had written out lyrics, dark ones, that they followed. He had stolen their vision and their songs and written his own lyrics that spoke of his success. Loredo was a Gen but he was a dark one written in the stones of a Tolien or Tolkien Mordor. It was a door he walked through into his field of stone. It was a stone path that was marked by darkness and dark ways and it was his methods that wrote the songs of depth and crushing and mutilations. But he needed women of virtue and of those he found 12. And they were women who were known by God but in those chambers that surrounded the earth they were kept apart for such a long time that they sought a way of escape from their dream. They measured out the curse and the solitude and found its founding but could not release it. So they waited until they found a way.

Among them was wit number two. I call her that for she was a woman who knew the measuring of stone and the measure of things like wood. She had a name and that name was Sampola. Sampola was the very essence of sweetness and humor. She had a gift that would allow her to tap out the measure of a stone or a tree and know what its heart wanted. With this she could measure out the song for hearts and the song for Hope. She was a woman who knew the cry of Hope probably better than most. And it was that cry that helped her to fill the measure. In a way we can owe a new word to the English language. A Sam which or a sam witch. For she had a gift with food that was meant to tempt the pallet and tempt meant no one was exempt. If there was one song of the 12 called to fill the measure of emptiness it was her, Sampola. It was her that Truth and Wisdom named the Sampo after. It was her from which the future of Halloween was given a new name. It was her that spoke of things of history that she had seen and others had spoken of her.

Now you might have others who rose up after who called themselves by her name but know this. She loved God. And that was the true measure of her wit. For wit is truly the first name for those who have to survive on their wits. When all else has failed they take the things they had, which in her case was stone and tree and she learned their gifts. And in learning their gifts she grew in knowledge so she could tell you what was at the heart of things.

So the next time a wit rises up and calls herself a witch know that if she plays with evil spells and evil things she is not a true witch but a spirit based on lies. And that is that curse that Loredo brought on future witches for they went after the dark ways not realizing that darkness had a beginning even in the realm of the Gen.

Now Loredo had a secret name and it took me awhile to search it out. It means dream eater. The stealer of hope and wishes. And he took the greatest wishes from Hopes heart. Woman who had the gift of the architect, the engineer, the writer, the song of mystery and the song of water and of air and of life. There were others and they carried it. That gift given to them by God so that they might help bring the dream of the Sampo among other things to life. And it was those woman who are meant to return to the table once again. For the dream eater, the liar of Gens, the one who walks in darkness is on his way out. And those 12 wits, those 12 woman are about to wake up and when they do, well, I think it might just be something worth waiting for. Especially one I call the Sam-witch. The one woman that can fill the heart of a stomach with joy and laughter and good food. Amen to that.