It was fun but also challenging writing and directing this commercial. I've always been a big fan of parodies, can you recognize which one this is? Hope you like it!
Geico Parody
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
About the Graphic Novel!
Divine Apocalypse: Distant Nirvana, is the first graphic novel in a series of 12 I plan to write as an extension of my novel Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End and my visual novel Divine Apocalypse: Rise of the Nephilim and the Missing Days, both to be released in January.
When the New Year breaks a pact formed between Heaven and Hell, the earth becomes an unbiased zone, four angels born as men are awakened in down town Manhattan. Neil, Aurora, Ezekiel and Amanda create the Descended Radiance, the fist of God, to battle the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse along with other hell raising demons both real and metaphoric in this thrilling and imaginative fantasy based novel. New to a life of fantastic creatures and mystifying strangers, can the four cope when the fate of the entire world is literally on the line? If you want to find out, then you should get look out for Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End, the novel.
My series focuses on Armageddon through various religious lenses, creeds and myths. To prove everything is connected, each book I focus on two different creeds and bridge them together. The novel is based on Jewish/Christian beliefs and the visual novel is influenced by the Book of Enoch and Greek myths, but all works include the same characters and general storylines. Common themes include, the dangers of secrets, overcoming personal hardships, unity of the human race and the unknown but real connection between, science, religion, and faith. The graphic novel series in particular concentrates on the themes that death is only a beginning and that there will never be a peace in the human race and are the cause of our own undoing.
I chose to centralize these themes because the graphic novel is inspired by Egyptian and Aztec/Mayan influences. Hieroglyphics were basically the first graphic novels so I thought it was only right to pay homage. In my novel Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End, a character, Aurora, has a vision of the end of the world. She and three other angels discover their powers and based on Aurora’s vision, embark on an earth saving adventure. The first few chapters are available.
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/prologue/ ,
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-1-enter-neil/
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-2-im-aurora/
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-4-welcome-amanda-steward/
The graphic novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic future, year 2012, an alternate reality, if the angels fail at their mission. There will be 12 books and based on Ra’s 12 hour journey through the Underworld.
Manhattan is now a ransacked city, broken down and covered in ash. Soot rains down from the sky as it is covered in a thick constant smoke, concealing the works of hell from the eyes of heaven. The city is a demon free killing spree containing commonly Tzitzimime which are apocalyptic Aztec star demons, and riddling Sphinxes, which are evil winged women demons who wear long and elegant lion coats and claws.
The series begins with Aurora alive and trapped in a smoking pyramid, regretting that she ignored her visions 5 years ago and could have prevented all of this. The story quickly changes gears to Rhion Galloway an ex FBI agent shooting and killing a Tzitzimime. He is partnered with his lighthearted ditzy and super powered friend, Amanda and a comic worshiping nerd Cody.
Traveling in the tour van Mandjet, thats disguised in magical amulets, the three come across an old church that seemed to be untouched by the surrounding apocalypse. Breaking inside they notice a grave that is surrounded by the only live plants they’ve seen in months. Searching through this church they discover information about Amanda, identifying her as a Sacred Angel and member of the Descended Radiance, the order that Aurora’s vision was supposed to help form. The ended world now has five great wonders influenced by the Aztec/Mayan Suns. These five wonders are huge pyramids ran by evil Egyptian Gods/demons. Of the few humans left on the earth, none are free as they are enslaved, tortured, bred and trafficked into these pyramids. Cody then urges the group to embark on finding the other angels, forming the order, and saving what’s left of the world.
When the New Year breaks a pact formed between Heaven and Hell, the earth becomes an unbiased zone, four angels born as men are awakened in down town Manhattan. Neil, Aurora, Ezekiel and Amanda create the Descended Radiance, the fist of God, to battle the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse along with other hell raising demons both real and metaphoric in this thrilling and imaginative fantasy based novel. New to a life of fantastic creatures and mystifying strangers, can the four cope when the fate of the entire world is literally on the line? If you want to find out, then you should get look out for Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End, the novel.
My series focuses on Armageddon through various religious lenses, creeds and myths. To prove everything is connected, each book I focus on two different creeds and bridge them together. The novel is based on Jewish/Christian beliefs and the visual novel is influenced by the Book of Enoch and Greek myths, but all works include the same characters and general storylines. Common themes include, the dangers of secrets, overcoming personal hardships, unity of the human race and the unknown but real connection between, science, religion, and faith. The graphic novel series in particular concentrates on the themes that death is only a beginning and that there will never be a peace in the human race and are the cause of our own undoing.
I chose to centralize these themes because the graphic novel is inspired by Egyptian and Aztec/Mayan influences. Hieroglyphics were basically the first graphic novels so I thought it was only right to pay homage. In my novel Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End, a character, Aurora, has a vision of the end of the world. She and three other angels discover their powers and based on Aurora’s vision, embark on an earth saving adventure. The first few chapters are available.
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/prologue/ ,
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-1-enter-neil/
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-2-im-aurora/
http://novalpublishing.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/chapter-4-welcome-amanda-steward/
The graphic novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic future, year 2012, an alternate reality, if the angels fail at their mission. There will be 12 books and based on Ra’s 12 hour journey through the Underworld.
Manhattan is now a ransacked city, broken down and covered in ash. Soot rains down from the sky as it is covered in a thick constant smoke, concealing the works of hell from the eyes of heaven. The city is a demon free killing spree containing commonly Tzitzimime which are apocalyptic Aztec star demons, and riddling Sphinxes, which are evil winged women demons who wear long and elegant lion coats and claws.
The series begins with Aurora alive and trapped in a smoking pyramid, regretting that she ignored her visions 5 years ago and could have prevented all of this. The story quickly changes gears to Rhion Galloway an ex FBI agent shooting and killing a Tzitzimime. He is partnered with his lighthearted ditzy and super powered friend, Amanda and a comic worshiping nerd Cody.
Traveling in the tour van Mandjet, thats disguised in magical amulets, the three come across an old church that seemed to be untouched by the surrounding apocalypse. Breaking inside they notice a grave that is surrounded by the only live plants they’ve seen in months. Searching through this church they discover information about Amanda, identifying her as a Sacred Angel and member of the Descended Radiance, the order that Aurora’s vision was supposed to help form. The ended world now has five great wonders influenced by the Aztec/Mayan Suns. These five wonders are huge pyramids ran by evil Egyptian Gods/demons. Of the few humans left on the earth, none are free as they are enslaved, tortured, bred and trafficked into these pyramids. Cody then urges the group to embark on finding the other angels, forming the order, and saving what’s left of the world.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
New Sketches Came in!
Lookie here! It's one of my villains! Isn't he scary? I think the artist did a great job! 
Sunday, November 15, 2009
ISBNS and Barcodes!
Yup! I got em! My ISBNs and Barcodes came in today! Perfect, now I can move on with publishing! My website should be up soon, within the next two weeks or so and I'm very excited! ^_^ I asked for a suggestion box to be put in on the website and also I'm working on an online magazine! Along with an advice column by a super secret writer! Trust me, they're good. The magazine will feature short works from other artist and allows them to communicate safely online! Until next write!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Prologue
Audio Prologue coming soon! Until then click here!
Or read here!
Divine Apocalypse:
The beginning of the end
- Angels born as men and bestowed with the powers of Gods.
To understand the convoluted meaning of life, the minds of men created erratic myths, most of which are lies. Details twisted from mystical events made into epics of tedious quibbling. Demons and ghosts thought to be Gods, fairies and muses being disassociated, trolls being mistaken for creatures such as werewolves—all deteriorated by the hands of time and the foolish perspective of man. To understand the meaning of life truly, however, one must begin by always remembering: All myths have a seed of truth.
Reincarnation is proven by Collective Memory. No matter what form we have, we understand the same notions. Despite the incarnation of species, our bodies know when and what to eat, know what to fear, when to protect our territories and automatically we know what we are attracted to and how to satisfy these attractions and desires. As we realize our instincts, our imaginations are reminded of pivotal celestial events. Basic imprinted concepts corner the edge of our psyches and manifest as various religions and creeds, different at first glance, but often share the same characters under different names, with similar underlining messages and exact themes.
In science, like faith, there is more of the unknown, than we are ever going to ultimately understand but fundamentally everything is connected. Collective Memory is something unexplainable, proven in history and still everyday by worldwide leaps in science, art and discovery! It is a telepathic link we all share when the world spontaneously changes. It’s like we as a people can only learn something when something omnipotent decides that we are worthy. Yet we are egotistical beings and rather than unify, accept, understand and grow, we categorize, separate and judge. This is our ultimate defeat.
The New Year was the end of an ancient calendar and the spark of a new celestial war. A pact formed 2000 years ago, now broken by the new cycle, between good and evil sides had now reached its stature of limitations. After the forces of good won a war over the ownership of this world, the arms of evil were obligated to sign a treaty; a treaty that stated the earth would belong to good for 2000 years. Under a loophole, evil was still allowed on the earth and was very able to express itself. With the birth of Jesus Christ, a new eon began and 2000 years later, the earth fell into an unbiased zone, awaiting the winner of the new war to take rule.
Prologue
Bright and lit streets were swarming with hundreds of people pending for the New Year. The night was a correspondent’s dream, as people flocked the streets hoping to get a glimpse of the traditional dropping of the ball in Time’s Square. Fanatics dressed in glasses, hats, and other headwear expressing their theories of the oncoming year. The entire audience shuddered, and reporters alerted their cameramen as electronic numbers appeared on the vast screen. Together the crowd chanted, “Ten!” The huge silver ball began to plummet down its pole. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” The screen flashed the number one as the sphere reached its end. “Happy New Year!” they shouted in unison, throwing their hats and liberating hugs and kisses to perfect strangers. Confetti poured from the sky and they welcomed it with cheers and signs of affection.
Dana’s brown eyes teared as she took hold of the scene that unfolded before her. On her knees, she was last in line. There were 3 other girls to the left of her and 3 other men that stood beside them. The first man drove a chill down Dana’s spine as he took a step forward, lugging his gagged woman behind him. Dressed in an ivory robe, his hair was shoulder length and white, his lips were thin and his nose was long and bony. The girl looked as young as Dana, just about 15, and her large blue eyes were red in strain of crying. “I am Odium, I bring a virgin from the North.”
Dana didn’t understand a word of English, but her brown ears still listened between whimpers.
Throwing her polished blonde hair backward, a spectator advanced. Eyes like blue enchanted diamonds atop rosy cheeks and perfectly painted lips. She wore a pink sweater above a white shirt and a blue cardigan tied around her shoulders. Giselle shined a flawless grin as she daintily crossed the floor. Opening Odium’s hand, she placed a golden cross in it, moving it upside down.
“Over this death I do prophecy that families with the strongest holds shall loathe and kill one another under the sway of the Horseman of Strife!” With that, he raised the cross high above his own head, and then brought it down into the neck of the virgin. The pain was so great she was voiceless. Dropping the girl he opened his mouth revealing short sharp teeth. He let a droplet of blood fall from the cross onto his tongue.
“With my wounds, I sacrifice my body to the root.” Odium ran the sharp edges of the already bloody cross on his left wrist. He passed the weapon to the fallen angel, Giselle, and she passed it to the Hallowed One, who licked the cross clean.
Odium lifted his hood and placed his palms together before him. An image of a thick-faced demon appeared, its skin was milk white and bald, two blackened strips were strung across the cheeks of it, under gray eyes and above small pointed teeth. As the face faded, a huge bubble lined with a white light appeared before him. Out of it stepped a white horse and on its back rested a long bow with long-stem arrows at its side.
The man in a red hood took a step forward out of the line, lugging a Spanish woman at his side. His wild red hair matched his dangerous red eyes, “ I am Bellum, I bring a virgin from the West!”
Giselle handed him the cross.
Bellum held the cross over the tan-skinned woman beside him. She struggled until the strip of cloth around her mouth ripped and she screamed. The sound pushed pins in Dana’s soul and she refused to watch. “Over this death I do prophecy that hot blood will run through the veins of all that live and neighbor will turn upon neighbor under the sway of the Horseman of War!” The woman continued to cry and scream in Spanish as Bellum shoved the golden cross into her neck. As her eyes bulged, Bellum lifted the cross above his head and drank the few drops of blood that fell. “With my wound I sacrifice my body to the root.” Like Odium, Bellum slit his left wrist with the cross then passed it on to the Hallowed One for his blood to be drunk. Bellum put on his red hood and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. A waving image appeared over Bellum’s face; the skin of this demon was red. A huge, rapidly wiggling opening appeared before him. Out from it stepped a red horse and on its back was a large Roman sword.
The third man dressed in black took a single step forward, tugging an Asian girl behind him, “A quart of wheat for a day's wages, and three quarts of barley for a day's wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!” Dana’s eyes widened. She didn’t understand English but she knew he said something different from the others. Smugly, the man continued. “I am Fames, I bring a virgin from the East.” He was handed the cross. “Over this death, I do prophesy that mothers shall smile at the deaths of their children. For there will be not a grain of wheat to bud, nor a tree that will bear a single fruit under the sway of the Horseman of Famine.” He drove the golden cross into the neck of the Asian female.
As she died, Fames slit his own wrists, declaiming, “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He handed the cross to the blonde woman and she passed it on to the Hallowed One. Fames placed his black hood over his head and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. The shimmering image of a black-skinned demon with dark eyes and even darker strips painted over his cheeks appeared above Fames’ face. As it faded, a bubbled lined in black became visible and out of it stepped a black horse bearing an unbalanced weighing scale made of pearl and marble.
Dana’s heart dropped in her chest as she realized she was last in line. Her huge brown eyes looked up to the man dressed in a pale yellow that was only slightly darker than his unhealthy skin. This man was slender, and his sickly yellow eyes bulged out of his head. He took a step forward and dragged Dana behind him. She was unsure there were any tears left in her. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. “I am Mors. I bring a virgin from the South.” Dana squealed in total horror as he was passed the upside down cross.
“Over this death, I do prophecy that death shall be the outcome of the others. Neither man, woman, nor child or beast shall escape under the sway of the Horseman of Death.” Dana knew what came next. Her bound hands grabbed at her yellow African dress as if to distract the inevitable. She had given up all hope. She knew she was going to die. Closing her eyes, she began to recite an old prayer her mother once taught her, before she felt the sharp edge of the cross jab into her neck.
Her eyes dislodged and her mouth gaped open as pain trickled through her body. The corners of her eyesight began to fade as she felt her life slipping away. Mors lifted the cross and let her blood drop into his mouth. “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He slit his wrists and passed on the cross. Placing the hood over his head, he moved his palms into a praying position as the image of a muscular-faced demon appeared over him. The demon’s face faded and a new bubble lined with yellow revealed itself. Out of it stepped a sickly pale horse and on its back stood a thin smaller Roman sword.
“The positions you have just taken should not be engaged frivolously…” the Hallowed One spoke. “It is a vow that extends your physical existence and destruction. Your jobs must be completed…As they shall be ensured by my blessings and the celestial exalt of my touch.” Each of the Horsemen touched the right sides of their necks as they could feel a hot thumb being pressed upon them, leaving the mark of a black horseshoe-like symbol tattooed forever on their necks.
“May the Four Horsemen bring us through the light and into the darkness! The two thousand years of morality has ended! Now it’s our turn,” the Hallowed One recited joyfully as the men mounted their horses. A homely slave walked about the room passing out glasses of red liquid. The Hallowed One lifted his glass and continued to speak. “Now we will get drunk off the blood of saints! Let these four thrive!” In the order of which they presented, the Horsemen exited the room upon their horses in a clap of thunder.
“Come!” they yelled as they departed.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Or read here!
Divine Apocalypse:
The beginning of the end
- Angels born as men and bestowed with the powers of Gods.
To understand the convoluted meaning of life, the minds of men created erratic myths, most of which are lies. Details twisted from mystical events made into epics of tedious quibbling. Demons and ghosts thought to be Gods, fairies and muses being disassociated, trolls being mistaken for creatures such as werewolves—all deteriorated by the hands of time and the foolish perspective of man. To understand the meaning of life truly, however, one must begin by always remembering: All myths have a seed of truth.
Reincarnation is proven by Collective Memory. No matter what form we have, we understand the same notions. Despite the incarnation of species, our bodies know when and what to eat, know what to fear, when to protect our territories and automatically we know what we are attracted to and how to satisfy these attractions and desires. As we realize our instincts, our imaginations are reminded of pivotal celestial events. Basic imprinted concepts corner the edge of our psyches and manifest as various religions and creeds, different at first glance, but often share the same characters under different names, with similar underlining messages and exact themes.
In science, like faith, there is more of the unknown, than we are ever going to ultimately understand but fundamentally everything is connected. Collective Memory is something unexplainable, proven in history and still everyday by worldwide leaps in science, art and discovery! It is a telepathic link we all share when the world spontaneously changes. It’s like we as a people can only learn something when something omnipotent decides that we are worthy. Yet we are egotistical beings and rather than unify, accept, understand and grow, we categorize, separate and judge. This is our ultimate defeat.
The New Year was the end of an ancient calendar and the spark of a new celestial war. A pact formed 2000 years ago, now broken by the new cycle, between good and evil sides had now reached its stature of limitations. After the forces of good won a war over the ownership of this world, the arms of evil were obligated to sign a treaty; a treaty that stated the earth would belong to good for 2000 years. Under a loophole, evil was still allowed on the earth and was very able to express itself. With the birth of Jesus Christ, a new eon began and 2000 years later, the earth fell into an unbiased zone, awaiting the winner of the new war to take rule.
Prologue
Bright and lit streets were swarming with hundreds of people pending for the New Year. The night was a correspondent’s dream, as people flocked the streets hoping to get a glimpse of the traditional dropping of the ball in Time’s Square. Fanatics dressed in glasses, hats, and other headwear expressing their theories of the oncoming year. The entire audience shuddered, and reporters alerted their cameramen as electronic numbers appeared on the vast screen. Together the crowd chanted, “Ten!” The huge silver ball began to plummet down its pole. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” The screen flashed the number one as the sphere reached its end. “Happy New Year!” they shouted in unison, throwing their hats and liberating hugs and kisses to perfect strangers. Confetti poured from the sky and they welcomed it with cheers and signs of affection.
Dana’s brown eyes teared as she took hold of the scene that unfolded before her. On her knees, she was last in line. There were 3 other girls to the left of her and 3 other men that stood beside them. The first man drove a chill down Dana’s spine as he took a step forward, lugging his gagged woman behind him. Dressed in an ivory robe, his hair was shoulder length and white, his lips were thin and his nose was long and bony. The girl looked as young as Dana, just about 15, and her large blue eyes were red in strain of crying. “I am Odium, I bring a virgin from the North.”
Dana didn’t understand a word of English, but her brown ears still listened between whimpers.
Throwing her polished blonde hair backward, a spectator advanced. Eyes like blue enchanted diamonds atop rosy cheeks and perfectly painted lips. She wore a pink sweater above a white shirt and a blue cardigan tied around her shoulders. Giselle shined a flawless grin as she daintily crossed the floor. Opening Odium’s hand, she placed a golden cross in it, moving it upside down.
“Over this death I do prophecy that families with the strongest holds shall loathe and kill one another under the sway of the Horseman of Strife!” With that, he raised the cross high above his own head, and then brought it down into the neck of the virgin. The pain was so great she was voiceless. Dropping the girl he opened his mouth revealing short sharp teeth. He let a droplet of blood fall from the cross onto his tongue.
“With my wounds, I sacrifice my body to the root.” Odium ran the sharp edges of the already bloody cross on his left wrist. He passed the weapon to the fallen angel, Giselle, and she passed it to the Hallowed One, who licked the cross clean.
Odium lifted his hood and placed his palms together before him. An image of a thick-faced demon appeared, its skin was milk white and bald, two blackened strips were strung across the cheeks of it, under gray eyes and above small pointed teeth. As the face faded, a huge bubble lined with a white light appeared before him. Out of it stepped a white horse and on its back rested a long bow with long-stem arrows at its side.
The man in a red hood took a step forward out of the line, lugging a Spanish woman at his side. His wild red hair matched his dangerous red eyes, “ I am Bellum, I bring a virgin from the West!”
Giselle handed him the cross.
Bellum held the cross over the tan-skinned woman beside him. She struggled until the strip of cloth around her mouth ripped and she screamed. The sound pushed pins in Dana’s soul and she refused to watch. “Over this death I do prophecy that hot blood will run through the veins of all that live and neighbor will turn upon neighbor under the sway of the Horseman of War!” The woman continued to cry and scream in Spanish as Bellum shoved the golden cross into her neck. As her eyes bulged, Bellum lifted the cross above his head and drank the few drops of blood that fell. “With my wound I sacrifice my body to the root.” Like Odium, Bellum slit his left wrist with the cross then passed it on to the Hallowed One for his blood to be drunk. Bellum put on his red hood and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. A waving image appeared over Bellum’s face; the skin of this demon was red. A huge, rapidly wiggling opening appeared before him. Out from it stepped a red horse and on its back was a large Roman sword.
The third man dressed in black took a single step forward, tugging an Asian girl behind him, “A quart of wheat for a day's wages, and three quarts of barley for a day's wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!” Dana’s eyes widened. She didn’t understand English but she knew he said something different from the others. Smugly, the man continued. “I am Fames, I bring a virgin from the East.” He was handed the cross. “Over this death, I do prophesy that mothers shall smile at the deaths of their children. For there will be not a grain of wheat to bud, nor a tree that will bear a single fruit under the sway of the Horseman of Famine.” He drove the golden cross into the neck of the Asian female.
As she died, Fames slit his own wrists, declaiming, “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He handed the cross to the blonde woman and she passed it on to the Hallowed One. Fames placed his black hood over his head and placed his hands palm-to-palm before him. The shimmering image of a black-skinned demon with dark eyes and even darker strips painted over his cheeks appeared above Fames’ face. As it faded, a bubbled lined in black became visible and out of it stepped a black horse bearing an unbalanced weighing scale made of pearl and marble.
Dana’s heart dropped in her chest as she realized she was last in line. Her huge brown eyes looked up to the man dressed in a pale yellow that was only slightly darker than his unhealthy skin. This man was slender, and his sickly yellow eyes bulged out of his head. He took a step forward and dragged Dana behind him. She was unsure there were any tears left in her. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. “I am Mors. I bring a virgin from the South.” Dana squealed in total horror as he was passed the upside down cross.
“Over this death, I do prophecy that death shall be the outcome of the others. Neither man, woman, nor child or beast shall escape under the sway of the Horseman of Death.” Dana knew what came next. Her bound hands grabbed at her yellow African dress as if to distract the inevitable. She had given up all hope. She knew she was going to die. Closing her eyes, she began to recite an old prayer her mother once taught her, before she felt the sharp edge of the cross jab into her neck.
Her eyes dislodged and her mouth gaped open as pain trickled through her body. The corners of her eyesight began to fade as she felt her life slipping away. Mors lifted the cross and let her blood drop into his mouth. “With my wound, I sacrifice my body to the root.” He slit his wrists and passed on the cross. Placing the hood over his head, he moved his palms into a praying position as the image of a muscular-faced demon appeared over him. The demon’s face faded and a new bubble lined with yellow revealed itself. Out of it stepped a sickly pale horse and on its back stood a thin smaller Roman sword.
“The positions you have just taken should not be engaged frivolously…” the Hallowed One spoke. “It is a vow that extends your physical existence and destruction. Your jobs must be completed…As they shall be ensured by my blessings and the celestial exalt of my touch.” Each of the Horsemen touched the right sides of their necks as they could feel a hot thumb being pressed upon them, leaving the mark of a black horseshoe-like symbol tattooed forever on their necks.
“May the Four Horsemen bring us through the light and into the darkness! The two thousand years of morality has ended! Now it’s our turn,” the Hallowed One recited joyfully as the men mounted their horses. A homely slave walked about the room passing out glasses of red liquid. The Hallowed One lifted his glass and continued to speak. “Now we will get drunk off the blood of saints! Let these four thrive!” In the order of which they presented, the Horsemen exited the room upon their horses in a clap of thunder.
“Come!” they yelled as they departed.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 1: Enter Neil
“The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers.”
Matthew 13:41
Cold chaos fogged the air with apocalyptic rumors of the new century, but Neil’s windows trapped in the heartening heat. Luminous fingertips emitted from the fireplace and touched the small collection of football trophies and academic awards proudly placed above the fire. Though Christmas had just recently passed, there was neither tree nor stocking hung; there had been no ceramic snowmen or toy train sets. Only burnt out Christmas lights sat sadly in the trash. Neatly framed and hung newspaper clippings and diplomas jacketed the bricks that built every wall in this living room.
The sound of a small television echoed through this condominium. Its gentle voice crawled across the brick walls of the living room slicing through the silence and led straight into the kitchen. A small white television on top of a dark oak counter, beside an exhausted coffee machine, presented the news. The voice of the reporter cracked through the staleness of the airless apartment but did not rift into the mind of Neil Maillen. He sat alone above a plate of piping hot microwaved lasagna and glanced at the empty chair beside him. Taking a deep breath the smell filled him and pushed a wave of his chestnut brown hair from his dark eyes and dust-colored face. Neil hadn’t eaten much of his T.V. dinner. He poked at it several times with his fork, flirting with the long white tendrils of steam that danced before him like a snake. A heavy stone sat in Neil’s stomach for a while now. It was the lingering feeling that something pivotal was about to happen. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he had been feeling this way, but here he sat January 10th, feeling the same way he had for a while now—nervous, paranoid and anxious. Standing he pushed those feelings away and walked into the living room sinking into the centered brown leather couch. Neil had done fairly well for himself. Above the fireplace were awards that he had received in college as a football player and awards that he had obtained more recently as a writer. All around the room, hung his most prominent articles written for a local magazine called Vivacity. Neil was young very successful and proud of that success because he worked very hard to get it. The green eyes of those older and less lucrative resented him but besides the award-winning articles was an invisible frame that held the pride that came with outshining those who doubted him. Neil was a man with a set of strong and dynamic eyebrows that demanded respect for the story that they told. Black-brown and heavy, his eyebrows told of his accomplishment and struggle. He sat back and untied his expensive designer tie. Image and success was very important to Neil, so he always dressed professionally and the clothes fit nicely around his tall athletic build. He liked to wear solid colors, and expensive fabrics, he was young and needed to dress respectably.
Growing up Neil was raised by middle-class parents with strong religious morals and faiths that they pressed upon their loving child. When he was 14, Neil had been diagnosed with the chicken poxes and had to stay home from church. That was the Sunday that his church had burned down, trapping and killing both his parents inside. Neil hadn’t picked up a Bible since. From then, he lived alone, scraping by on earnings he had made as a cashier at a local grocery store, eventually working his way through college earning a degree in journalism and thereby securing himself a job as a journalist.
Neil picked up a glass of red wine that stood on a wooden table end and placed it to his lips then lifted a pen and pad of paper. Running his fingers across the brown peach fuzz above his lip and the neat, hardly-there beard on his chin, he gazed at his notebook.
Tomorrow, Neil was interviewing an actor but tonight, the fear of something coming was stronger than ever. Unable to think of a single question for the actor, he filled his barrel chest with dead air as he relaxed. He knew he could write a great article regardless, but he always preferred to be prepared.
“Neil! Get your ass down here!” following the voice Neil walked to the window and beheld the giant red moon that appeared strangely larger than usual. He recognized the voice and the long blonde hair of his ex-girlfriend as she stuck her head out of her car window and slammed her fist on the car horn. “It’s time!” It seemed like Rhea, Neil’s college girlfriend, had been pregnant forever. He often wondered why they had broken up. The love between a college football player and a cheerleader was written in the stars, but Rhea had often complained that Neil hadn’t spent enough time paying attention to her and, frankly, she was right. Once they graduated, he had been so deeply involved in his work that Rhea was left bitter, resentful, and pregnant. The two soon split, holding nothing but an unborn child between them. She slid over into the passenger’s seat as Neil jumped into the car. Lifting a thick black eyebrow, he asked, “How did you do this by yourself?” Rhea’s blue eyes were arrows as she spat, “None of your damn business! Now drive the damn car!”
As Neil pressed his foot on the gas, he realized how Rhea had changed since their breakup. Grunting slightly, he drove over the speed limit, confident that he would hit nothing as he headed to the hospital. A bead of sweat trickled down Neil’s face as his concentration began to wane. His skin felt warmer as a headache, accompanied by a distant staticy sound, entered his mind. Then he heard Rhea’s voice, “God the baby is coming now! I wish Neil would hurry up!”
Rhea was in labor, he knew, but his patience for her had run slim. He gave her another wicked glance, and then looked back at the road. “I'm going as fast as I can. It would help if you would be quiet!”
“I didn’t say shit to you!” Rhea panted as sweat melted on her cheeks. Her hands grabbed the sides of her stomach and her light eyes met his.
“Oh yeah, right, I heard you,” Neil spat, turning a sharp corner.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Rhea thought.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he grunted. “I just wanna concentrate on the road.”
“Then fucking concentrate! What are you talking about?” Rhea shouted.
“What do you mean?” His voice creaking slightly as they entered the hospital parking lot. Lungs full of hot air, he quickly jumped out of the car and opened the passenger side door, helping Rhea out. Holding the enlarged stomach of his past girlfriend, Neil ran into the hospital lobby.
As the doctors lifted Rhea onto a bed a young nurse pressing a hand on Neil’s chest stopping him from following her, “Sir, are you the father?”
Beads of sweat melted on Neil’s face, “Y-yes...”
The red headed nurse then curled a string of red hair around her finger. “Okay, a little greasy... but still kinda cute...”
“Do you have your insurance card? I’m going to need you to fill out some paper work. You can see your girlfriend soon...” she stressed the word.
Placing a hand on his wet forehead Neil closed his eyes. He tried to focus his thoughts, but his temples pounded too strongly around his raising fever. Through his dilheuium, he nodded and grabbed the clipboard from her.
Heavily Neil fell to his seat, exhaling a hot breath of exhaustion and dizziness.
“Why don’t you just hurry up and die you old bastard, I’m sorry Dad, but I just can’t afford these weekly visits to the hospital! I have too many bills! Bills that you crocking could help fix! Boy, I’d be on easy ... Wow, that guy doesn’t look so good.”
Struggling to hold the clipboard between his hands Neil looked over towards the young man as he pushed his wheel chaired father to the front desk.
“You okay buddy?” he asked. Neil nodded. “Please,” the man smiled painfully, “do everything you can.”
What was going on? Neil swallowed hard. What were these voices in his head? Why was he feeling so sick all of a sudden? Staticy bursts exploded in his mind as he struggled to read the pages before him.
“DUMB ASS BITCH PAY ATTENTION WHEN I TALK TO YOU BEFORE I KICK YOU IN THE NUTS!”
Neil looked up to the small blonde girl standing before him. Smiling she tilted her head and held a box of candy bars before her. “Hi sir, would you like to buy a candy bar?” Quickly, Neil fought through his queasiness, fished a dollar from his shorts and bought himself a candy bar.
Rhea gave a hoarse, dry scream, her eyes narrowing into a complete line and her mouth showing all of her teeth. Neil grasped her hand and let her squeeze as tightly as she needed. Dr. Sommers, smiled brightly and coached Rhea in her breathing. Neil’s fever had grown stronger. His headache pounded more intensely and he closed his eyes. Reopening them to a blurred image of the room and a weak body. Neil fell to the ground.
Brown eyes flicked in the fluorescent light above him as he awoke several moments later. He was still in the hospital.
“I hope Alex remembered to get milk.”
The sound entered Neil’s ear banging slightly on his temples.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing…” The nurse spoke, entering the room, and pulling some earphones from her ears. “You’re up…?” Neil shook his head slowly, aware of the remote battering inside of him. “No, I heard you,” he said. “Something about milk.”
The nurse backed up, but then smiled. “Did I say that out loud? I guess you would like to see your baby now?” she asked. “Don’t worry, lots of fathers faint at the sight of birth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Hmph,” Neil huffed, leaning over towards the glass of water, embarrassed of his own shortcoming. “Yeah, right.” He muttered as the nurse left the room.
“It’s a boy” the nurse smiled returning later, handing the child over into Neil’s arms. The baby had a head full of brown-black hair, like his father, and his face expressed in a pinkish glow.
…
Abruptly Neil woke up to a shrieking alarm clock. It was set to 7:00. “Great, three hours of sleep.” he muttered throwing over his white bed sheets and sitting onside of his bed for a few seconds. Recapping the night before Neil realized he prepared no questions for the actor but was forced the panic away with confidence. This interview was too important to miss and he would do a great job.
Neil was driving over the speed limit. Every time he tried to slow down, he’d lose track and begin speeding again. Like every other day, Neil stopped at a fast food restaurant. He threw an old coffee-stained paper cup to the bottom of his blue jeep, an area that was full of other discarded cups, wrappings and a yellow crowbar. Neil drove up to the window and a pimple-faced teenager was there to greet him. “May I take your order, sir?” He sighed, “Just a medium coffee.”
“A dollar ninety-eight,” the youth said, his voice nearly cracking.
Neil snagged a dollar and a handful of change from his pocket. The teenager brought over a paper cup filled to the top with coffee. Slowly, trying to keep his balance, he reached the window and leaned out holding the coffee far away from his body. Before Neil could grab the coffee, it spilled. Steaming liquid burnt Neil’s knees and stained the passenger seat.
“This is Versace!” Neil yelled. An intense feeling erupted within him; a feeling that pulled at each part of his body at the same time, pounded a loud thud in his head; and feeling that telekinetically sent the yellow crowbar in the passenger’s seat through the passenger window of his car without a touch.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
“The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers.”
Matthew 13:41
Cold chaos fogged the air with apocalyptic rumors of the new century, but Neil’s windows trapped in the heartening heat. Luminous fingertips emitted from the fireplace and touched the small collection of football trophies and academic awards proudly placed above the fire. Though Christmas had just recently passed, there was neither tree nor stocking hung; there had been no ceramic snowmen or toy train sets. Only burnt out Christmas lights sat sadly in the trash. Neatly framed and hung newspaper clippings and diplomas jacketed the bricks that built every wall in this living room.
The sound of a small television echoed through this condominium. Its gentle voice crawled across the brick walls of the living room slicing through the silence and led straight into the kitchen. A small white television on top of a dark oak counter, beside an exhausted coffee machine, presented the news. The voice of the reporter cracked through the staleness of the airless apartment but did not rift into the mind of Neil Maillen. He sat alone above a plate of piping hot microwaved lasagna and glanced at the empty chair beside him. Taking a deep breath the smell filled him and pushed a wave of his chestnut brown hair from his dark eyes and dust-colored face. Neil hadn’t eaten much of his T.V. dinner. He poked at it several times with his fork, flirting with the long white tendrils of steam that danced before him like a snake. A heavy stone sat in Neil’s stomach for a while now. It was the lingering feeling that something pivotal was about to happen. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he had been feeling this way, but here he sat January 10th, feeling the same way he had for a while now—nervous, paranoid and anxious. Standing he pushed those feelings away and walked into the living room sinking into the centered brown leather couch. Neil had done fairly well for himself. Above the fireplace were awards that he had received in college as a football player and awards that he had obtained more recently as a writer. All around the room, hung his most prominent articles written for a local magazine called Vivacity. Neil was young very successful and proud of that success because he worked very hard to get it. The green eyes of those older and less lucrative resented him but besides the award-winning articles was an invisible frame that held the pride that came with outshining those who doubted him. Neil was a man with a set of strong and dynamic eyebrows that demanded respect for the story that they told. Black-brown and heavy, his eyebrows told of his accomplishment and struggle. He sat back and untied his expensive designer tie. Image and success was very important to Neil, so he always dressed professionally and the clothes fit nicely around his tall athletic build. He liked to wear solid colors, and expensive fabrics, he was young and needed to dress respectably.
Growing up Neil was raised by middle-class parents with strong religious morals and faiths that they pressed upon their loving child. When he was 14, Neil had been diagnosed with the chicken poxes and had to stay home from church. That was the Sunday that his church had burned down, trapping and killing both his parents inside. Neil hadn’t picked up a Bible since. From then, he lived alone, scraping by on earnings he had made as a cashier at a local grocery store, eventually working his way through college earning a degree in journalism and thereby securing himself a job as a journalist.
Neil picked up a glass of red wine that stood on a wooden table end and placed it to his lips then lifted a pen and pad of paper. Running his fingers across the brown peach fuzz above his lip and the neat, hardly-there beard on his chin, he gazed at his notebook.
Tomorrow, Neil was interviewing an actor but tonight, the fear of something coming was stronger than ever. Unable to think of a single question for the actor, he filled his barrel chest with dead air as he relaxed. He knew he could write a great article regardless, but he always preferred to be prepared.
“Neil! Get your ass down here!” following the voice Neil walked to the window and beheld the giant red moon that appeared strangely larger than usual. He recognized the voice and the long blonde hair of his ex-girlfriend as she stuck her head out of her car window and slammed her fist on the car horn. “It’s time!” It seemed like Rhea, Neil’s college girlfriend, had been pregnant forever. He often wondered why they had broken up. The love between a college football player and a cheerleader was written in the stars, but Rhea had often complained that Neil hadn’t spent enough time paying attention to her and, frankly, she was right. Once they graduated, he had been so deeply involved in his work that Rhea was left bitter, resentful, and pregnant. The two soon split, holding nothing but an unborn child between them. She slid over into the passenger’s seat as Neil jumped into the car. Lifting a thick black eyebrow, he asked, “How did you do this by yourself?” Rhea’s blue eyes were arrows as she spat, “None of your damn business! Now drive the damn car!”
As Neil pressed his foot on the gas, he realized how Rhea had changed since their breakup. Grunting slightly, he drove over the speed limit, confident that he would hit nothing as he headed to the hospital. A bead of sweat trickled down Neil’s face as his concentration began to wane. His skin felt warmer as a headache, accompanied by a distant staticy sound, entered his mind. Then he heard Rhea’s voice, “God the baby is coming now! I wish Neil would hurry up!”
Rhea was in labor, he knew, but his patience for her had run slim. He gave her another wicked glance, and then looked back at the road. “I'm going as fast as I can. It would help if you would be quiet!”
“I didn’t say shit to you!” Rhea panted as sweat melted on her cheeks. Her hands grabbed the sides of her stomach and her light eyes met his.
“Oh yeah, right, I heard you,” Neil spat, turning a sharp corner.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Rhea thought.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” he grunted. “I just wanna concentrate on the road.”
“Then fucking concentrate! What are you talking about?” Rhea shouted.
“What do you mean?” His voice creaking slightly as they entered the hospital parking lot. Lungs full of hot air, he quickly jumped out of the car and opened the passenger side door, helping Rhea out. Holding the enlarged stomach of his past girlfriend, Neil ran into the hospital lobby.
As the doctors lifted Rhea onto a bed a young nurse pressing a hand on Neil’s chest stopping him from following her, “Sir, are you the father?”
Beads of sweat melted on Neil’s face, “Y-yes...”
The red headed nurse then curled a string of red hair around her finger. “Okay, a little greasy... but still kinda cute...”
“Do you have your insurance card? I’m going to need you to fill out some paper work. You can see your girlfriend soon...” she stressed the word.
Placing a hand on his wet forehead Neil closed his eyes. He tried to focus his thoughts, but his temples pounded too strongly around his raising fever. Through his dilheuium, he nodded and grabbed the clipboard from her.
Heavily Neil fell to his seat, exhaling a hot breath of exhaustion and dizziness.
“Why don’t you just hurry up and die you old bastard, I’m sorry Dad, but I just can’t afford these weekly visits to the hospital! I have too many bills! Bills that you crocking could help fix! Boy, I’d be on easy ... Wow, that guy doesn’t look so good.”
Struggling to hold the clipboard between his hands Neil looked over towards the young man as he pushed his wheel chaired father to the front desk.
“You okay buddy?” he asked. Neil nodded. “Please,” the man smiled painfully, “do everything you can.”
What was going on? Neil swallowed hard. What were these voices in his head? Why was he feeling so sick all of a sudden? Staticy bursts exploded in his mind as he struggled to read the pages before him.
“DUMB ASS BITCH PAY ATTENTION WHEN I TALK TO YOU BEFORE I KICK YOU IN THE NUTS!”
Neil looked up to the small blonde girl standing before him. Smiling she tilted her head and held a box of candy bars before her. “Hi sir, would you like to buy a candy bar?” Quickly, Neil fought through his queasiness, fished a dollar from his shorts and bought himself a candy bar.
Rhea gave a hoarse, dry scream, her eyes narrowing into a complete line and her mouth showing all of her teeth. Neil grasped her hand and let her squeeze as tightly as she needed. Dr. Sommers, smiled brightly and coached Rhea in her breathing. Neil’s fever had grown stronger. His headache pounded more intensely and he closed his eyes. Reopening them to a blurred image of the room and a weak body. Neil fell to the ground.
Brown eyes flicked in the fluorescent light above him as he awoke several moments later. He was still in the hospital.
“I hope Alex remembered to get milk.”
The sound entered Neil’s ear banging slightly on his temples.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing…” The nurse spoke, entering the room, and pulling some earphones from her ears. “You’re up…?” Neil shook his head slowly, aware of the remote battering inside of him. “No, I heard you,” he said. “Something about milk.”
The nurse backed up, but then smiled. “Did I say that out loud? I guess you would like to see your baby now?” she asked. “Don’t worry, lots of fathers faint at the sight of birth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Hmph,” Neil huffed, leaning over towards the glass of water, embarrassed of his own shortcoming. “Yeah, right.” He muttered as the nurse left the room.
“It’s a boy” the nurse smiled returning later, handing the child over into Neil’s arms. The baby had a head full of brown-black hair, like his father, and his face expressed in a pinkish glow.
…
Abruptly Neil woke up to a shrieking alarm clock. It was set to 7:00. “Great, three hours of sleep.” he muttered throwing over his white bed sheets and sitting onside of his bed for a few seconds. Recapping the night before Neil realized he prepared no questions for the actor but was forced the panic away with confidence. This interview was too important to miss and he would do a great job.
Neil was driving over the speed limit. Every time he tried to slow down, he’d lose track and begin speeding again. Like every other day, Neil stopped at a fast food restaurant. He threw an old coffee-stained paper cup to the bottom of his blue jeep, an area that was full of other discarded cups, wrappings and a yellow crowbar. Neil drove up to the window and a pimple-faced teenager was there to greet him. “May I take your order, sir?” He sighed, “Just a medium coffee.”
“A dollar ninety-eight,” the youth said, his voice nearly cracking.
Neil snagged a dollar and a handful of change from his pocket. The teenager brought over a paper cup filled to the top with coffee. Slowly, trying to keep his balance, he reached the window and leaned out holding the coffee far away from his body. Before Neil could grab the coffee, it spilled. Steaming liquid burnt Neil’s knees and stained the passenger seat.
“This is Versace!” Neil yelled. An intense feeling erupted within him; a feeling that pulled at each part of his body at the same time, pounded a loud thud in his head; and feeling that telekinetically sent the yellow crowbar in the passenger’s seat through the passenger window of his car without a touch.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 2: I’m Aurora
“And he will send out his angels with a trumpet blast, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other”
Matthew 24:31
Her slender body moved uncomfortably beneath the designer bedspread as the telephone blared once again. Exhaustedly, she directed the message to the answering machine. “Aurora! This is your mother calling again!” The voice boomed from the machine. “I know you left on bad terms but I am still your mother and you need to return my phone calls! After all that your father and I gave to you, how dare you still disrespect us? If you think you’re an adult and have control over your life you’re completely wrong! There are certain responsibilities that you will hold up to because you are part of this family! Aurora, you will call me back, you will move back home and you will get married! End of story! ” The message ended. Bringing the total to 19.
Behind her white floral eye mask Aurora’s eyes opened in burning wrath. “How did you get my number? Go to bed you old crabby bitch!” Aurora screamed. Turning uncomfortably, she reminded herself that tonight’s rest was essential for work the next day. To be photographed, she needed to be up and at the Five Star Arts and Entertainment building very early. Of all the photographs she had taken, this was most important for her modeling career and she needed to look flawless. Aurora sighed heavily, brushing her hand up and smearing her guacamole face mask across her fingers and her white bedsheets.
“Damn it to hell!” She screamed. Ripping off her nightshade, Aurora stomped into her bathroom. Her full lips thinned in anger as she swung open the cabinet door and reapplied her facemask. Even with her face caked in green sludge Aurora was stunning. Her skin was a deep and beautiful ebony, her dark hair was straight and just below shoulder length, and her eyes a piercing copper brown. Aurora’s beauty lived through her eyes, as her right was bejeweled with a small black beauty mark resting just beneath it.
Knowing that she was beautiful she decided to go with her strength as a college dropout. Aurora Haith modeled for a year and a half now. Though her parents had suggested she follow their example and pursue a more intellectual career, she declined and left Canada without a word to them or her fiancé. She preferred their ignorance about where she was going or what she was doing. Used to finer living, separated from her parents-- Aurora was forced to live frugally. The taste of elegance wet her tongue, though, and she was always willing to splurge.
Her dainty feet flittered across her fluffy white carpet, then the white tiles of her kitchen. Aurora’s apartment was small but her modern style expressed her flamboyance and elegance. With a clean white color theme, the living room was decorated with vases, paintings of African art, and glass tables. The center piece of the room had been a blown up semi nude photograph of Aurora covering her body—earlier work she favored. Most of what was in her apartment was what she stole from her affluent parents and loveless fiancé. She lived alone, distant from her family and too ambitious for friends. Searching through a refrigerator full of health food, Aurora grabbed a bottle of distilled water as a cold, tight, tremor ran down her spine. Then, more intensely it hit her again. Rendered lightheaded, Aurora placed the bottle on the marble counter. Then again.
Like she was struck by lightning-- she straightened out her back in pain. Her arms slapped to her sides and her fingers broadened. Her head jerked upward and her mouth yanked opened. The pain was so great it froze her in a stunned silence. Something was running through her. Eyes dilating, another striking pain entered her skull. Before her eyes, visions trampled through Aurora’s head.
Hundreds of people ran the streets of a scoured Manhattan. Descended from a black sky, puddles of blood housed broken glass and debris. “God is dead!”, “He lives again!”, “Save yourself and die!” were written on desolate walls by the hopeless. People were rioting, screaming and fighting each other in bloody primordial war. Tanks and police cars raided the streets as natives were shot down, beaten and killed. Chaotically, images flashed before Aurora’s eyes. Men were burned. Humans were caged like animals. Winged beasts came from the sky, the earth and the water attacking and eating the people that ran the streets. Strange beasts threw men and women in the streets and defiled them. Unnatural sex ripped open and violated bodies and the lucky had died quickly. The others however, were left with enough vigor to watch their mutilated remains crush under the rushing riot. All were one in the eyes of the beasts—regardless of race, gender, or age.
A sour taste entered Aurora’s mouth while vision after vision hit her brain. The corner of her eyes remained open in shock as a red tear rolled down her face while the movie played inside her. It was powerful, definite and immense; Aurora’s fingers arched until her hands hurt. There was more coming. She could feel it and this time she could scream as blood ran down her face in tears.
A hooded man riding a white horse in the empty streets of Manhattan fired an arrow between the eyes of a tall brown-haired man. He fell lifelessly to the ground. Aurora stood not too far from the dead man as a second hooded man in red rode upon his red horse decapitated her with a small sword. A third man, young with curly black hair, fell quickly to the sword of a third rider in yellow. Then a blonde woman was chased down and turned to ash, disintegrated by means of a pearl, unbalanced scale.
Aurora fainted, bashing her head into the countertop as the foggy edges of the omen faded. She fell to the floor, her face covered in guacamole and blood.
Several hours later, consciousness entered Aurora’s body like an earthquake. She glared around, still breathing heavily. Everything seemed normal and nothing was out of place. The white microwave’s clock read 5:39, she had to be out of the house in 3 hours, which she knew barely gave her enough time to get ready. Pressing play on her stereo and walking to the bathroom Aurora listened to her own voice booming through the apartment as she did every morning.
“Good morning Aurora!” Her voice played on the CD. “Today is going to be a great day because you’re here to live it! Now its time to dazzle everyone with your charisma, grace and charm! People will be attracted to your positive energy! Aurora can if she believes she can!” Glancing into her bathroom mirror she looked back at herself covered in green and red. Aurora wiped the blood and guacamole from her face—nothing was going to stop her from taking those pictures, especially not some sleepwalking, crazy dream. Pulling her hair from her face Aurora smiled and spoke in unison with the CD. “Aurora, you are beautiful!”
Although she thought it pedestrian Aurora rode the train. A black designer skirt hugged her hips and chest tightly as she sat. Brown heels with large hoop earrings, matched her large leather purse and jacket. A disheveled man entered the almost empty traincar as she pulled out a magazine. She flipped through the pages studying the women in them when a nauseating smell flew up her nostrils. “Can I have a dollar?”
Her heart pounded, looking back down into her magazine she spoke,“ ‘Can I have a dollar?’ Wow. I wish it were that easy, but I have to work for my living. Why don’t you learn to do the same?”
The man looked down at her, holding the standing pole. Anger erupted within his body. “Can I have a dollar!” he demanded. Aurora clenched her fist and closed her magazine, looking away from the man. “No, you can’t… Get out of here…”
The man growled as he grabbed the purse from Aurora’s tight hold. Using all her strength, she screeched before she kicked the man in the groin, pushing him to the dark blue bench across from her. She started towards the door connecting to the other train car. But before she had a chance to open it, he slammed her up against the wall. “Stop!” Aurora could feel all of her energy rush to her eyes—as if filling with boiling water. The man watched in awe as her pupils turned red. She felt like a heavy burden lifted from her as clear energy rippled from her body. It was as if the lights went out. Everything was still visible, just in a darker tint. The air was thick and electric. Aurora felt like she was breathing static.
The man stood there, not moving a single muscle. Aurora cocked an eyebrow, he was immobilized. White light rose off him like smoke. Biting her top lip, she squeezed pass the man and hurried to the other side of the train. Taking a deep breath as the sour taste of fear enter her mouth she glanced around the frozen train car for a moment. It was sudden but Aurora regained a burden on her body as the lights returned to normal. The train was moving and everything was its original color.
“Where did she…?” The man turned, no longer in his smoky white case. Falling into a fetal position, he began to whisper to himself things Aurora didn’t care to know. The train doors wheeled open and without hesitation, she ducked out. It must have been a tunnel, she told herself. Aurora took a cab to her shoot. Compared to her usual half-an-hour early arrivals, she was late. She entered the huge building made of glass and iron, completely ignoring the guards that protected it. On the elevator she pushed for the 5th floor and snarled as it continued upward.
“Why does everything always have to happen to me?” She stomped her feet as the elevator continued to the 13th floor. “Great,” Aurora muttered, walking off the elevator and pressing the down button. Pulling out her makeup, she began to reapply. Just then a deep voice sounded behind her. “Excuse me, Ms…”
Aurora turned to see a young man standing before her. It was the man from her vision last night. Her chestnut eyes looked Neil up and down. Her hand slipped over her mouth and she stepped back a few steps.
“Do you know where room thirteen-o-five is?” Neil’s voice waved in confusion to her reactions.
Strokes of fear ran through her body and her heart jolted. “Do I look like I know where Thirteen-o-five is?” Aurora paused for a moment. Turning her head, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I said I don’t know where it is so I don’t see why you’re still standing here.” Neil frowned. “Okay, if you don’t know where it is…”
“I said I don’t!” she snarled before turning away from him completely. “Damn it, I can’t deal with weird horses and dead people today, I still haven’t had my coffee! And I swear if people start dying, I am done. Done!”
“Whoa…what?” he gave a nervous smile, his adrenaline beginning to pump. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Dead people?”
Aurora’s eyes thinned as she stared him down. Neil’s adrenaline began pumping hard in his veins as a chair gently rolled over his side, all on its own. “Ew!” Aurora lifted her hand and started towards the staircase. It was the second object Neil had moved that day. Flabbergasted, he followed grabbing her shoulder.
“Wait!” Aurora turned and smacked him in the face before spinning on her heel and walking towards the staircase.
“Nice!” someone shouted.
“Stop!” Neil screamed as Aurora turned to him. Large brown irises coated themselves in crimson. It was happening again. Aurora exhaled as energy was pulled from her and the room became darker. Everyone that stood in the room had froze, bathed in a white smokey light. She pushed herself against the wall and slid to the ground. "Why does this keep happening to me?"
"Something tells me," Neil stood before her. "it's not all about you."
Aurora looked up to him sniffling and shaking, "You're not frozen? W-why does this keep happening?"
"Looks like we both had eventful morning..." Neil examined the frozen bodies covered in the glowing cloud. "I think you actually froze time. How long does this last?" He sat down beside her. "I-I don't know," Aurora wiped her eye with her coat. "Why does this keep happening? I can't stop it..."
"If you're really the one that did it you should be able to stop it..." He put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her from shaking. "Relax, breathe, and just do what you did before." Neil took hold of her hand. Aurora placed a shivering hand on her forehead. Taking a deep breath her eyes returned to normal and the room began moving again.
"See, every thing's okay." Neil reassured her.
"Is that why I saw you die last night?" Aurora sighed.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
“And he will send out his angels with a trumpet blast, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other”
Matthew 24:31
Her slender body moved uncomfortably beneath the designer bedspread as the telephone blared once again. Exhaustedly, she directed the message to the answering machine. “Aurora! This is your mother calling again!” The voice boomed from the machine. “I know you left on bad terms but I am still your mother and you need to return my phone calls! After all that your father and I gave to you, how dare you still disrespect us? If you think you’re an adult and have control over your life you’re completely wrong! There are certain responsibilities that you will hold up to because you are part of this family! Aurora, you will call me back, you will move back home and you will get married! End of story! ” The message ended. Bringing the total to 19.
Behind her white floral eye mask Aurora’s eyes opened in burning wrath. “How did you get my number? Go to bed you old crabby bitch!” Aurora screamed. Turning uncomfortably, she reminded herself that tonight’s rest was essential for work the next day. To be photographed, she needed to be up and at the Five Star Arts and Entertainment building very early. Of all the photographs she had taken, this was most important for her modeling career and she needed to look flawless. Aurora sighed heavily, brushing her hand up and smearing her guacamole face mask across her fingers and her white bedsheets.
“Damn it to hell!” She screamed. Ripping off her nightshade, Aurora stomped into her bathroom. Her full lips thinned in anger as she swung open the cabinet door and reapplied her facemask. Even with her face caked in green sludge Aurora was stunning. Her skin was a deep and beautiful ebony, her dark hair was straight and just below shoulder length, and her eyes a piercing copper brown. Aurora’s beauty lived through her eyes, as her right was bejeweled with a small black beauty mark resting just beneath it.
Knowing that she was beautiful she decided to go with her strength as a college dropout. Aurora Haith modeled for a year and a half now. Though her parents had suggested she follow their example and pursue a more intellectual career, she declined and left Canada without a word to them or her fiancé. She preferred their ignorance about where she was going or what she was doing. Used to finer living, separated from her parents-- Aurora was forced to live frugally. The taste of elegance wet her tongue, though, and she was always willing to splurge.
Her dainty feet flittered across her fluffy white carpet, then the white tiles of her kitchen. Aurora’s apartment was small but her modern style expressed her flamboyance and elegance. With a clean white color theme, the living room was decorated with vases, paintings of African art, and glass tables. The center piece of the room had been a blown up semi nude photograph of Aurora covering her body—earlier work she favored. Most of what was in her apartment was what she stole from her affluent parents and loveless fiancé. She lived alone, distant from her family and too ambitious for friends. Searching through a refrigerator full of health food, Aurora grabbed a bottle of distilled water as a cold, tight, tremor ran down her spine. Then, more intensely it hit her again. Rendered lightheaded, Aurora placed the bottle on the marble counter. Then again.
Like she was struck by lightning-- she straightened out her back in pain. Her arms slapped to her sides and her fingers broadened. Her head jerked upward and her mouth yanked opened. The pain was so great it froze her in a stunned silence. Something was running through her. Eyes dilating, another striking pain entered her skull. Before her eyes, visions trampled through Aurora’s head.
Hundreds of people ran the streets of a scoured Manhattan. Descended from a black sky, puddles of blood housed broken glass and debris. “God is dead!”, “He lives again!”, “Save yourself and die!” were written on desolate walls by the hopeless. People were rioting, screaming and fighting each other in bloody primordial war. Tanks and police cars raided the streets as natives were shot down, beaten and killed. Chaotically, images flashed before Aurora’s eyes. Men were burned. Humans were caged like animals. Winged beasts came from the sky, the earth and the water attacking and eating the people that ran the streets. Strange beasts threw men and women in the streets and defiled them. Unnatural sex ripped open and violated bodies and the lucky had died quickly. The others however, were left with enough vigor to watch their mutilated remains crush under the rushing riot. All were one in the eyes of the beasts—regardless of race, gender, or age.
A sour taste entered Aurora’s mouth while vision after vision hit her brain. The corner of her eyes remained open in shock as a red tear rolled down her face while the movie played inside her. It was powerful, definite and immense; Aurora’s fingers arched until her hands hurt. There was more coming. She could feel it and this time she could scream as blood ran down her face in tears.
A hooded man riding a white horse in the empty streets of Manhattan fired an arrow between the eyes of a tall brown-haired man. He fell lifelessly to the ground. Aurora stood not too far from the dead man as a second hooded man in red rode upon his red horse decapitated her with a small sword. A third man, young with curly black hair, fell quickly to the sword of a third rider in yellow. Then a blonde woman was chased down and turned to ash, disintegrated by means of a pearl, unbalanced scale.
Aurora fainted, bashing her head into the countertop as the foggy edges of the omen faded. She fell to the floor, her face covered in guacamole and blood.
Several hours later, consciousness entered Aurora’s body like an earthquake. She glared around, still breathing heavily. Everything seemed normal and nothing was out of place. The white microwave’s clock read 5:39, she had to be out of the house in 3 hours, which she knew barely gave her enough time to get ready. Pressing play on her stereo and walking to the bathroom Aurora listened to her own voice booming through the apartment as she did every morning.
“Good morning Aurora!” Her voice played on the CD. “Today is going to be a great day because you’re here to live it! Now its time to dazzle everyone with your charisma, grace and charm! People will be attracted to your positive energy! Aurora can if she believes she can!” Glancing into her bathroom mirror she looked back at herself covered in green and red. Aurora wiped the blood and guacamole from her face—nothing was going to stop her from taking those pictures, especially not some sleepwalking, crazy dream. Pulling her hair from her face Aurora smiled and spoke in unison with the CD. “Aurora, you are beautiful!”
Although she thought it pedestrian Aurora rode the train. A black designer skirt hugged her hips and chest tightly as she sat. Brown heels with large hoop earrings, matched her large leather purse and jacket. A disheveled man entered the almost empty traincar as she pulled out a magazine. She flipped through the pages studying the women in them when a nauseating smell flew up her nostrils. “Can I have a dollar?”
Her heart pounded, looking back down into her magazine she spoke,“ ‘Can I have a dollar?’ Wow. I wish it were that easy, but I have to work for my living. Why don’t you learn to do the same?”
The man looked down at her, holding the standing pole. Anger erupted within his body. “Can I have a dollar!” he demanded. Aurora clenched her fist and closed her magazine, looking away from the man. “No, you can’t… Get out of here…”
The man growled as he grabbed the purse from Aurora’s tight hold. Using all her strength, she screeched before she kicked the man in the groin, pushing him to the dark blue bench across from her. She started towards the door connecting to the other train car. But before she had a chance to open it, he slammed her up against the wall. “Stop!” Aurora could feel all of her energy rush to her eyes—as if filling with boiling water. The man watched in awe as her pupils turned red. She felt like a heavy burden lifted from her as clear energy rippled from her body. It was as if the lights went out. Everything was still visible, just in a darker tint. The air was thick and electric. Aurora felt like she was breathing static.
The man stood there, not moving a single muscle. Aurora cocked an eyebrow, he was immobilized. White light rose off him like smoke. Biting her top lip, she squeezed pass the man and hurried to the other side of the train. Taking a deep breath as the sour taste of fear enter her mouth she glanced around the frozen train car for a moment. It was sudden but Aurora regained a burden on her body as the lights returned to normal. The train was moving and everything was its original color.
“Where did she…?” The man turned, no longer in his smoky white case. Falling into a fetal position, he began to whisper to himself things Aurora didn’t care to know. The train doors wheeled open and without hesitation, she ducked out. It must have been a tunnel, she told herself. Aurora took a cab to her shoot. Compared to her usual half-an-hour early arrivals, she was late. She entered the huge building made of glass and iron, completely ignoring the guards that protected it. On the elevator she pushed for the 5th floor and snarled as it continued upward.
“Why does everything always have to happen to me?” She stomped her feet as the elevator continued to the 13th floor. “Great,” Aurora muttered, walking off the elevator and pressing the down button. Pulling out her makeup, she began to reapply. Just then a deep voice sounded behind her. “Excuse me, Ms…”
Aurora turned to see a young man standing before her. It was the man from her vision last night. Her chestnut eyes looked Neil up and down. Her hand slipped over her mouth and she stepped back a few steps.
“Do you know where room thirteen-o-five is?” Neil’s voice waved in confusion to her reactions.
Strokes of fear ran through her body and her heart jolted. “Do I look like I know where Thirteen-o-five is?” Aurora paused for a moment. Turning her head, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I said I don’t know where it is so I don’t see why you’re still standing here.” Neil frowned. “Okay, if you don’t know where it is…”
“I said I don’t!” she snarled before turning away from him completely. “Damn it, I can’t deal with weird horses and dead people today, I still haven’t had my coffee! And I swear if people start dying, I am done. Done!”
“Whoa…what?” he gave a nervous smile, his adrenaline beginning to pump. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Dead people?”
Aurora’s eyes thinned as she stared him down. Neil’s adrenaline began pumping hard in his veins as a chair gently rolled over his side, all on its own. “Ew!” Aurora lifted her hand and started towards the staircase. It was the second object Neil had moved that day. Flabbergasted, he followed grabbing her shoulder.
“Wait!” Aurora turned and smacked him in the face before spinning on her heel and walking towards the staircase.
“Nice!” someone shouted.
“Stop!” Neil screamed as Aurora turned to him. Large brown irises coated themselves in crimson. It was happening again. Aurora exhaled as energy was pulled from her and the room became darker. Everyone that stood in the room had froze, bathed in a white smokey light. She pushed herself against the wall and slid to the ground. "Why does this keep happening to me?"
"Something tells me," Neil stood before her. "it's not all about you."
Aurora looked up to him sniffling and shaking, "You're not frozen? W-why does this keep happening?"
"Looks like we both had eventful morning..." Neil examined the frozen bodies covered in the glowing cloud. "I think you actually froze time. How long does this last?" He sat down beside her. "I-I don't know," Aurora wiped her eye with her coat. "Why does this keep happening? I can't stop it..."
"If you're really the one that did it you should be able to stop it..." He put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her from shaking. "Relax, breathe, and just do what you did before." Neil took hold of her hand. Aurora placed a shivering hand on her forehead. Taking a deep breath her eyes returned to normal and the room began moving again.
"See, every thing's okay." Neil reassured her.
"Is that why I saw you die last night?" Aurora sighed.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 3: Cross the threshold Ezekiel Wallace
“And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, approached, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it,”
Matthew 28:2
Ezekiel David Wallace stood before his front door, as he often did, his eyes glancing over the crooked and tarnished 4E nailed there. It was 10:30 he had just finished working a late shift at a Pizza Palace. Sighing he placed the key in the door and walked into kitchen. A thick layer of grime corroded the discolored apartment. Entering the cramped kitchen, he walked across brown tiles that got browner every day and passed his father. Fred Wallace sat at a small plastic blue table in a wooden chair. He wore a tight stained wife beater. The balding man looked over at Ezekiel with a grimace and a beer in his hand.
“You’re two hours late!” the man screamed.
Ezekiel turned with a sigh. “I’m sorry; I thought I told you that I was going to work a late shift.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me!” Fred frowned. “Lies! Where’s this months rent?”
Ezekiel shook his head, “Dad, I’ll pay you as soon as my check comes in, okay?”
His voice was almost a whisper, “My boss said it should be in this week.”
“This week?! This week?!” Fred screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Are you talking back to your father?” Lauren questioned as she entered the room, her hair disheveled and her clothes loosely clung to her weak sick body.
“No…” Ezekiel turned to her. “Mom, could you please go lay down before you get dizzy?”
“Listen,” Fred screamed behind Ezekiel. “I don’t need help raising my own son!”
Ezekiel’s eyes enlarged as he turned back to his father, “You don’t have to speak to her like that...”
“I swear, if I have to get up out of this fucking chair!” Fred yelled slamming his beer can on the table. Ezekiel bit his lower lip and wanted to vomit, “Okay.”
Taut, Ezekiel walked into his room and gently closed his door. He sat in the same bed he’s had all his life, and held the back of his head with both hands. Looking at himself in the mirror he watched as tears rushed down his cheeks. His eyes were almost black, large and wet. His hair grew in large thick black curls and extended an inch above his cinnamon-colored face. He was small framed and had youthful sadness about him. Pulling the sleeves of his recycled sweater over his hands he closed his eyes in ritual.
Ezekiel always wore old long sleeved shirts, sometimes in layers but mostly in dark earth tone colors. Breathing and calming down, he couldn’t remember the last time he had bought something for himself, except for art supplies. Most of his money had gone to either rent or to help pay for the doctors to treat his mother’s unknown illness.
He was angry, of course, but he understood the dynamic of his home. He understood his father was bitter and angry because his wife was sickly-- his mother was bitter and angry because his father was bitter and angry. So he knew he couldn’t move out. If he didn’t take care of his mother, who would?
The walls of Ezekiel’s room were covered in his paintings, sketches, and drawings. Pictures of fields, birds, skies and oceans reminded him that a great world existed outside this apartment. Thumbing through his drawing pad, Ezekiel came across a picture of violets he had drawn earlier that week. His mother loved violets and he forgot to give her the picture. Sighing heavily, he ripped the picture from his pad and walked to his mother’s room. His mother was lying awake in bed pulling her thick hair back into bun as he knocked. She looked up to him as he entered the room and frowned. “Yes…” she said restlessly.
“Oh, um, I j-just remembered. I…” Ezekiel paused. “I drew you a picture the other day. I saw some violets and I-I know you like them. I couldn’t buy them, so I did the next best thing. I drew you a picture.”
Lauren looked up to her son, “Thank you, could you leave it on the dresser?”
Ezekiel nodded and did as he was told. “I’m…” he paused awkwardly. “I’m going to start on the dishes.” Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the sink full of dirty dishes and began washing them. He looked towards the refrigerator and noticed a flyer, the lead singer of his favorite band, R.I.P, was going to be in Manhattan tomorrow. He had to see him. Finishing off the dishes, he got into bed, closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
A cold clammy bitter impression polished Ezekiel’s cheek as he slept. Hovering above his face was a white cloud with two evident gray circles, like eyes on its tadpole-like body. Ezekiel leapt out of his bed. Several figures floated all around his room and within seconds, they all faded. Sour liquid entered his mouth as he ran out of his room, slamming the door behind.
A cloud faded into the living room, pushing the small television off its stand, then parting, disappearing into the darkness. Ezekiel screamed as his parents came rushing in.
“Is everything alright?” Lauren asked.
Ezekiel relaxed, looking at his mother. “I-I d-don’t know. Mom, I t-think I’m seeing ghosts or something.”
“Looks like he finally lost it,” his father decided to add.
“I don’t know, m-maybe…I guess?” Ezekiel narrowed his eyes at his father and sauntered to the fridge. “I’m getting a glass of water,” he sighed. “does anyone want anything to drink?”
“I’d rather go to bed.” His mother sighed as she walked back into her room.
“You owe us for a new television,” Fred said, following his wife.
Refusing to return to his room, Ezekiel laid on the couch, awake. His eyes remained open in constant surveillance but only after a few hours eventually closed. Sunshine trickled through the blinds and Ezekiel’s eyes flickered. The kitchen clock read 7:16. Running to the bathroom he threw on his clothes and dressed as usual, long-sleeved white sweater and black jeans. At the bus stop, Ezekiel fished into his pockets for change. He checked the street for an oncoming bus but saw a crowded street full of cars and people. Reminded of his hatred for the city Ezekiel noticed a figure rise across the horizon. It could have been a truck or his bus, he couldn’t tell from his distance. In his struggling gaze he suddenly felt a bubbling eruption in his chest.
Ezekiel was standing at the horizon and watching the number 38 bus pass him. How did he get down here? Turning as the bus passed him, he found himself standing right where he was before, the bus pulling up before him. “Fred was right… I am losing my mind…” He entered as the bus pulled away.
The Arts and Entertainment complex was a gigantic building made of blue glass and steel. It gave off a clean smell that soothed him. The front desk was guarded by a bulky man dressed in a black suit and dark shades. Relaxation melted away from Ezekiel as he took a deep breath and pulled his sleeves over his hands.
“I.D….” the man said in a deep intimidating voice.
An ID card. Ezekiel forgot that he needed one. “I.D.? I’m sorry. N-n-no one t-t-told me to bring it…I, ah…left it at home?”
“Outside…” the man said. “Come on, give me a break. I really need to get in there. S-see, my m-mother forgot her keys at home and I just need to bring them to her.” Ezekiel smirked tensely. He was a bad liar, but it seemed to be enough to fool the man.
Sighing, the guard nodded. “Hurry up…” With a burst of excitement, Ezekiel ran to the elevator. He pressed the top button and waited for one of the many doors to open jumping into the first one that did.
“Hold it!” A blonde haired woman holding several bags ran up to the elevator. “Thirteen please…” she beamed. Ezekiel pressed the button, “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’ll be shooting the Michael Barron movie?”
“Absolutely positively! The same place I’m going, the thirteenth floor,” she put down her bags. “You know, the number thirteen gets a bad rep, but I don’t think it’s that bad. I mean, it’s only one more than twelve and good things come in twelves. And have you ever heard of a Bakers dozen? That’s like thirteen cookies. And what sick individual would have a problem with thirteen cookies? I mean unless you’re on a diet... or have diabetes...I suppose... but there are always sugarless cookies! But I digress!” The woman lifted a finger and pointed towards the bags on the ground. “That’s food.”
Looking through the slits of his eyes he watched as she failed to discretely pull out a wedgie. When the elevator stopped, she picked up her bags and started out, “See you later, you cutie! Come by my stand while you’re here.” A huge, almost frightening smile crossed her face, showing all of her white teeth, “Free food. Everybody loves free food!”
The halls were crowded and it was hard for Ezekiel to make out each individual. Nonetheless, it was clear enough for him to see this thin woman slap a man across the face. “Nice!” he said, commenting on her blow, laughing to himself.
Ezekiel began to feel light headed. Something was bubbling up in his chest. The bathroom. There he saw Neil, crouched up against the door of a stall. A stream of water slowly floated from the sink in a long levitating stream and splashed against the wall. Neil looked up harshly at Ezekiel as the floating stream of water fell to the ground. “Oh m-my god…” Ezekiel muttered, shaken.
Neil stood up and walked over to Ezekiel. He lifted him up and slammed him into the wall. “How did you do that?” he spat before Ezekiel faded through his grasp and the bathroom wall. He rushed down the hallway and to the elevator. Frantically the tried to press the button as his fingers slid through the wall.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
“And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, approached, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it,”
Matthew 28:2
Ezekiel David Wallace stood before his front door, as he often did, his eyes glancing over the crooked and tarnished 4E nailed there. It was 10:30 he had just finished working a late shift at a Pizza Palace. Sighing he placed the key in the door and walked into kitchen. A thick layer of grime corroded the discolored apartment. Entering the cramped kitchen, he walked across brown tiles that got browner every day and passed his father. Fred Wallace sat at a small plastic blue table in a wooden chair. He wore a tight stained wife beater. The balding man looked over at Ezekiel with a grimace and a beer in his hand.
“You’re two hours late!” the man screamed.
Ezekiel turned with a sigh. “I’m sorry; I thought I told you that I was going to work a late shift.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me!” Fred frowned. “Lies! Where’s this months rent?”
Ezekiel shook his head, “Dad, I’ll pay you as soon as my check comes in, okay?”
His voice was almost a whisper, “My boss said it should be in this week.”
“This week?! This week?!” Fred screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Are you talking back to your father?” Lauren questioned as she entered the room, her hair disheveled and her clothes loosely clung to her weak sick body.
“No…” Ezekiel turned to her. “Mom, could you please go lay down before you get dizzy?”
“Listen,” Fred screamed behind Ezekiel. “I don’t need help raising my own son!”
Ezekiel’s eyes enlarged as he turned back to his father, “You don’t have to speak to her like that...”
“I swear, if I have to get up out of this fucking chair!” Fred yelled slamming his beer can on the table. Ezekiel bit his lower lip and wanted to vomit, “Okay.”
Taut, Ezekiel walked into his room and gently closed his door. He sat in the same bed he’s had all his life, and held the back of his head with both hands. Looking at himself in the mirror he watched as tears rushed down his cheeks. His eyes were almost black, large and wet. His hair grew in large thick black curls and extended an inch above his cinnamon-colored face. He was small framed and had youthful sadness about him. Pulling the sleeves of his recycled sweater over his hands he closed his eyes in ritual.
Ezekiel always wore old long sleeved shirts, sometimes in layers but mostly in dark earth tone colors. Breathing and calming down, he couldn’t remember the last time he had bought something for himself, except for art supplies. Most of his money had gone to either rent or to help pay for the doctors to treat his mother’s unknown illness.
He was angry, of course, but he understood the dynamic of his home. He understood his father was bitter and angry because his wife was sickly-- his mother was bitter and angry because his father was bitter and angry. So he knew he couldn’t move out. If he didn’t take care of his mother, who would?
The walls of Ezekiel’s room were covered in his paintings, sketches, and drawings. Pictures of fields, birds, skies and oceans reminded him that a great world existed outside this apartment. Thumbing through his drawing pad, Ezekiel came across a picture of violets he had drawn earlier that week. His mother loved violets and he forgot to give her the picture. Sighing heavily, he ripped the picture from his pad and walked to his mother’s room. His mother was lying awake in bed pulling her thick hair back into bun as he knocked. She looked up to him as he entered the room and frowned. “Yes…” she said restlessly.
“Oh, um, I j-just remembered. I…” Ezekiel paused. “I drew you a picture the other day. I saw some violets and I-I know you like them. I couldn’t buy them, so I did the next best thing. I drew you a picture.”
Lauren looked up to her son, “Thank you, could you leave it on the dresser?”
Ezekiel nodded and did as he was told. “I’m…” he paused awkwardly. “I’m going to start on the dishes.” Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the sink full of dirty dishes and began washing them. He looked towards the refrigerator and noticed a flyer, the lead singer of his favorite band, R.I.P, was going to be in Manhattan tomorrow. He had to see him. Finishing off the dishes, he got into bed, closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
A cold clammy bitter impression polished Ezekiel’s cheek as he slept. Hovering above his face was a white cloud with two evident gray circles, like eyes on its tadpole-like body. Ezekiel leapt out of his bed. Several figures floated all around his room and within seconds, they all faded. Sour liquid entered his mouth as he ran out of his room, slamming the door behind.
A cloud faded into the living room, pushing the small television off its stand, then parting, disappearing into the darkness. Ezekiel screamed as his parents came rushing in.
“Is everything alright?” Lauren asked.
Ezekiel relaxed, looking at his mother. “I-I d-don’t know. Mom, I t-think I’m seeing ghosts or something.”
“Looks like he finally lost it,” his father decided to add.
“I don’t know, m-maybe…I guess?” Ezekiel narrowed his eyes at his father and sauntered to the fridge. “I’m getting a glass of water,” he sighed. “does anyone want anything to drink?”
“I’d rather go to bed.” His mother sighed as she walked back into her room.
“You owe us for a new television,” Fred said, following his wife.
Refusing to return to his room, Ezekiel laid on the couch, awake. His eyes remained open in constant surveillance but only after a few hours eventually closed. Sunshine trickled through the blinds and Ezekiel’s eyes flickered. The kitchen clock read 7:16. Running to the bathroom he threw on his clothes and dressed as usual, long-sleeved white sweater and black jeans. At the bus stop, Ezekiel fished into his pockets for change. He checked the street for an oncoming bus but saw a crowded street full of cars and people. Reminded of his hatred for the city Ezekiel noticed a figure rise across the horizon. It could have been a truck or his bus, he couldn’t tell from his distance. In his struggling gaze he suddenly felt a bubbling eruption in his chest.
Ezekiel was standing at the horizon and watching the number 38 bus pass him. How did he get down here? Turning as the bus passed him, he found himself standing right where he was before, the bus pulling up before him. “Fred was right… I am losing my mind…” He entered as the bus pulled away.
The Arts and Entertainment complex was a gigantic building made of blue glass and steel. It gave off a clean smell that soothed him. The front desk was guarded by a bulky man dressed in a black suit and dark shades. Relaxation melted away from Ezekiel as he took a deep breath and pulled his sleeves over his hands.
“I.D….” the man said in a deep intimidating voice.
An ID card. Ezekiel forgot that he needed one. “I.D.? I’m sorry. N-n-no one t-t-told me to bring it…I, ah…left it at home?”
“Outside…” the man said. “Come on, give me a break. I really need to get in there. S-see, my m-mother forgot her keys at home and I just need to bring them to her.” Ezekiel smirked tensely. He was a bad liar, but it seemed to be enough to fool the man.
Sighing, the guard nodded. “Hurry up…” With a burst of excitement, Ezekiel ran to the elevator. He pressed the top button and waited for one of the many doors to open jumping into the first one that did.
“Hold it!” A blonde haired woman holding several bags ran up to the elevator. “Thirteen please…” she beamed. Ezekiel pressed the button, “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’ll be shooting the Michael Barron movie?”
“Absolutely positively! The same place I’m going, the thirteenth floor,” she put down her bags. “You know, the number thirteen gets a bad rep, but I don’t think it’s that bad. I mean, it’s only one more than twelve and good things come in twelves. And have you ever heard of a Bakers dozen? That’s like thirteen cookies. And what sick individual would have a problem with thirteen cookies? I mean unless you’re on a diet... or have diabetes...I suppose... but there are always sugarless cookies! But I digress!” The woman lifted a finger and pointed towards the bags on the ground. “That’s food.”
Looking through the slits of his eyes he watched as she failed to discretely pull out a wedgie. When the elevator stopped, she picked up her bags and started out, “See you later, you cutie! Come by my stand while you’re here.” A huge, almost frightening smile crossed her face, showing all of her white teeth, “Free food. Everybody loves free food!”
The halls were crowded and it was hard for Ezekiel to make out each individual. Nonetheless, it was clear enough for him to see this thin woman slap a man across the face. “Nice!” he said, commenting on her blow, laughing to himself.
Ezekiel began to feel light headed. Something was bubbling up in his chest. The bathroom. There he saw Neil, crouched up against the door of a stall. A stream of water slowly floated from the sink in a long levitating stream and splashed against the wall. Neil looked up harshly at Ezekiel as the floating stream of water fell to the ground. “Oh m-my god…” Ezekiel muttered, shaken.
Neil stood up and walked over to Ezekiel. He lifted him up and slammed him into the wall. “How did you do that?” he spat before Ezekiel faded through his grasp and the bathroom wall. He rushed down the hallway and to the elevator. Frantically the tried to press the button as his fingers slid through the wall.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 4: Welcome Amanda Steward
“But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Mark 13:32
Amanda smiled her trademark toothy, overly ecstatic smile. She shrugged her shoulders nervously in her baby blue gown and inched to the edge of her chair. Amanda looked over to Emmanuel with large blue eyes. He thought she looked stunning tonight. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun with a large white flower bonnet, her makeup flawlessly covered her face as her blue dress impeccably covered her body. He watched as she grabbed her drink, nails colored to match her dress.
Trying not to blush too hard she gazed at her boyfriend of 2 years. The dim lights shaded the room in an amorous blanket; lit candles were placed sporadically and ferns added to the elegance of the restaurant. Emmanuel looked back at her,“So I said to him, ‘I’m not doing that! That’s not my job!’ and he just walked away without a single word.” Clapping her hands joyfully she smiled, “Finally! He was a creep, anyway! You should have been ruder. You should have just done as I told you.”
“What?” Emmanuel asked. “Call his mother?”
Amanda laughed, “I mean it would have worked. He wouldn’t be pushing you around anymore. But I’m glad that you stood up to him. I’m so proud!”
Emmanuel looked at her for a moment and said nothing, only soaked in her beauty and amiability. Breaking the moment, he smiled. “And I’m very proud of you too.”
“What did I do?” she asked.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Emmanuel shook his head. “I got you something.”
Amanda’s heart dropped into her stomach as Emmanuel reached into his pocket. Had he finally noticed the more-than-obvious hints that she had been dropping? Was he finally going to ask her to marry him? Amanda’s body tensed; she couldn’t breathe. A sour taste boiled up in her mouth as her eyes grew large and wet. Her blue nails arched at the white tablecloth as Emmanuel pulled a large box from his pocket.
It was a slightly large box for a ring, Amanda thought, but didn’t care as she brought the box closer to her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she flipped open the box. Dropping her jaw, tears bundled up at the corner of her eyes. Inside the box was a large diamond ring, sitting on crinkled white paper. It had been the same exact ring Amanda had been dreaming about ever since she saw it in a catalog a few days earlier. She was breathless. It was so perfect her body was trembling. Her lips pinched themselves together as she tried to keep her composure.
“Yes…”
Emmanuel smiled.
“Yes. Yes! YES!” Amanda repeated as she cried. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” With those words, she leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Emmanuel, sitting on his lap. Amanda forced kisses onto his lips as he pulled away slightly.
Looking over to her with a raised eyebrow he frowned, “Amanda…. What are you talking about? I just gave you a necklace…”
Looking back she was breathless again. “No. No, you gave me a wedding ring.” Amanda turned and reached for the box holding it open, exposing the ring. “That’s a wedding ring, Emmanuel,” Amanda’s voice suddenly became stern.
“I bought you a necklace…” Emmanuel began. “No, you bought me a wedding ring!” Amanda slammed the box on the table as she stood from Emmanuel’s lap. “Do you think that’s funny?”
“Amanda…” He tried to get his words out.
“So what are you trying to say, you don’t want to marry me?” She shook her head. “So you buy me a wedding ring but you don’t want to marry me! That is sick. Just sick!”
“Amanda!” He repeated. “The jeweler must have made a mistake and put the ring in there!”
“No,” Shaking her head she threw her pocketbook over her shoulders. “I think you made the mistake... Or maybe I made the mistake... I mean. Somebody here made a mistake and it wasn’t the jeweler! This whole thing is a big mistake!”
She stomped home, ignoring Emmanuel’s repeated calls. Slamming the door behind her, Amanda’s fingers arched as she grabbed her forehead and screamed at the top of her lungs.
The apartment was average size and filled with completely random items, mostly things she had appropriated from her college dorm room. There were Barbie dolls, a large purple clock in the shape of a cat, a dying cactus at the windowsill, moldings of sculptures she had made in class, and a bookshelf. Her apartment looked like a garage sale.
A tall redhead walked out into the living room and stood before the plastic green couch, turning towards her roommate. “Mandy…baby, what happened?”
Christine crawled up beside Amanda, squeezing into the chair with her. Amanda lifted her wet face from her hands and threw them around Christine. “Oh my goodness, Christine. Emmanuel just did something really mean!” “Men, I should have known. The pseudo backbone to every society. What’d that egotistical, condescending, thinks-he’s-all-that-because-he-has-a-flap-of-skin-between-his-legs do? And baby, where is your coat?” Christine asked.
Amanda’s face became blank, as though she had just become suddenly aware. Plainly, she parted her pink lips to speak, her expression unchanging. “I must have left it in the restaurant. I thought it was a little cold outside…”
“Aw...” Christine rubbed her shoulders. “What happened?”
“Stupid Emmanuel!” Amanda clawed her hands. “He makes this whole big deal like he’s gonna give me something and he does. I open it and it’s a freaking wedding ring! So I start screaming like a psychopath ‘Yes! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry the fudge out of you!’ And he’s like ‘Um…what are you talking about? I didn’t give you a ring, I gave you a necklace. Are you crazy? Blah blah blah.’ Is that supposed to be funny, Christine? Because it’s not!” Amanda hyperventilated and struggled to control her breathing.
“No sweetie, it’s not.” Christine frowned.
“See! We’re not the crazy ones here!” Amanda threw up her arms. “You know it’s not funny. I know it’s not funny. The American people know it’s not funny!” Sighing heavily she ripped the clip from her hair and released the long blonde locks that curved around her shoulders.
“I just…” Amanda paused. “I just wish some times I knew what he was thinking, you know? I just wish I could get inside of his head and shake things up a bit and be like, ‘You want me. I know you do!’ Gosh, I just would like…like I could just… I mean if I was him I would want me, you know? I’m good! I mean I just wanna… I wish I could just….”
As the words left her mouth, Amanda could feel energy rise within her. Her skin was crawling, like tiny fingers pushing beneath her skin. Christine watched wide-eyed as Amanda began to change. Though an artist was repainting her, smoothly, Amanda’s skin, hair, and features gracefully shifted naturally.
Within a few moments, Amanda sat in the very same chair, a little taller, a little darker. She sat as Emmanuel, hair and muscles bulging out of her blue dress. Christine fell back, falling from the chair and inching herself backwards until she hit the plastic green couch. Amanda looked over to Christine and spoke in her boyfriend’s voice. “What?”
“Oh my God!” Christine spat before she stood and charged out of the front door, leaving it open behind her.
Amanda stood to follow Christine, but the seams of her dress ripped at its sides. She looked over her body, now hairy, taller, and manlier. She ran to the bathroom. The face in the mirror had not been her own. It only lasted a few seconds as her body tingled and she returned to normal.
She sat there, on the cold yellow tiles of the bathroom floor with her fingers in her wild blonde hair and her blue dress torn in several places. Surrounded by a white picket fence in Staten Island Amanda was raised by strict Christian parents. Her family’s beliefs followed her all her life. A small bathroom prayer craft hung just above the bathroom mirror. God must have temporarily changed her. It must have been God teaching her a lesson for acting up in the restaurant. What else could it have been?
After hours of sitting on the bathroom floor, Amanda repeatedly and unsuccessfully called Christine but quit after several tries. She needed to speak to someone.
“Hello?” his voice cool and calm.
Amanda knew he was upset; by the ring in his voice. “Sorry for being crazy…” she apologized immediately.
Emmanuel paused for a moment, “I’m sorry, too. The jeweler must have switched the jewelry by mistake. You can keep the ring if you want.”
“No,” Amanda answered quickly. “You should return it.”
“Are you sure?”” Emmanuel asked.
Amanda watched her cat, Catlin, jump from the couch and scurry across the room. “Yes, I’m sure, but there is something I have to ask you before we move on from this. It’s something that I’ve been wondering for the past few hours and it’s really been bothering me...”
“What?” Emmanuel sighed.
“Do you have my coat?” she asked.
Emmanuel laughed loudly as Amanda joined him. “Yes, I have your coat.”
“Good! It’s just that it’s my favorite one and I got it while I was in Boston and I don’t see myself going back there any time soon!” she laughed.
Amanda awoke the next morning, rushing over to Christine’s room. The door was wide open and it was empty. Christine had not come home that night. Getting dressed Amanda wore a baby-blue shirt with a huge smiling cartoon kitten on the front, form fitting blue jeans with flowers in the stitching and a butterfly necklace covered in rhinestones and fake gems. Within 10 minutes she was driving her green company jeep. Chefy’s was in a brick building and it only took up one floor. She walked in, eyeing twelve tables, covered in a white sheets and a small plants. Collecting her platters of meat and cheese Amanda rushed off to her appointment.
“Em!” she squealed as she rushed to the elevator. “Hold it!” Inside was a man with curly black hair. “Thirteen, please,” she said placing her bags on the floor.
He pressed the button. “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’re shooting the new Michael Barron movie?” the skinny boy asked, pulling his long white sleeves over his fingers.
“Yeah, same place I’m going thirteenth floor,” she told him. He turned his direction to the glowing numbers above them. Amanda took advantage of this time to pull out a wedgie, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
When she got to the thirteenth floor, she bid him departure and set up her stand. She picked an area in a hallway where a table was already prepared with a white tablecloth. Opening her bag she placed a black plastic tray of cheese onto the surface. Amanda opened a pack of napkins, folded them, and placed them about the table. Her job was done. “I’m exhausted.” she frowned. Just then, she saw the scrawny man from the elevator walk past her.
“Hey!” she yelled. He looked a bit preoccupied, but that didn’t stop her. She walked straight up to him and tapped him on the shoulder and he plummeted to the floor. He had fallen into her table of food, knocking over everything. The crowd gasped as Amanda kneeled next to him, trying to wake him up. Failed attempt after failed attempt, she settled on calling the hospital. She pushed past the huddling crowd to an empty and clear space where she could get a signal. Picking up the phone, she began to dial when she saw the boy standing before the elevator fading in and out of transparency like a ghost.
“T-This is i-impossible…” his voice was garbled as he attempted to touch the elevator but his fingers slid right through the button. Amanda’s jaw dropped open. She shook her head and opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before anything could escape her mouth, a burst of energy entered the room. Amanda couldn’t tell where it was coming from or what it was, she could only feel a strong wind blowing through the office building.
Ezekiel faded and Amanda ran to where she had seen him fall. Her bottom lip quivered as she saw Ezekiel glowing in a white light, and wearing a long, white robe. Growing from his back, Ezekiel had large gray wings. Amanda turned to the others around her and they were still and immobile, as though they had not seen what was happening before her. Ezekiel’s body lifted off the floor. Amanda could then feel her own body beginning to rise as she looked at her hands and realized she was glowing as well. She too was wearing a white robe and tan wings were sprouting from her back.
When the light faded, the 4 stood alone in the office building. Their clothes had been their own and they were all wingless. The building was empty and the lights were off. The 4 exchanged glances. A dark sheen blanketed the sun that once shined through the large hallway. Their hearts beat readily in their chests and their eyes were wide and wet. No words could be formed. Silence crept awkwardly around the room. Amanda looked up towards the others not knowing what to think or say. Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, her eyes large and wet. “That was cool, but isn’t anybody going to say anything?”
Ezekiel lowered his head as Aurora took a step forward. “What the hell is going on?” Aurora looked around her, her heart racing. “What was that? Well, somebody better say something!” Aurora’s voice had begun to get loud and irritated as she swung her arms out wildly.
Neil looked over towards the other three. “I don’t know what to tell you except that whatever happened it’s obvious we’re all a part of it.”
Aurora ran to the window beside her. Numerous hours had passed and it was night. The empty building was void of all light, save the luminosity of the stars, red moon, and city lights cast into the room. A thunderous neigh echoed through the halls as a man dressed in a pure white robe appeared standing, gazing outside of the window facing the city streets. After 3 neigh sounds, 3 other men appeared. The 4 men stood silent at first, their heads hooded and their backs facing the others. Aurora looked to Neil then back to the men by the window. These hooded men had an aura about them; a dark, malevolent aura that caused those surrounding to remain silent. The chalky sour taste in the mouths of Ezekiel, Aurora, Neil and Amanda forced their silence.
“This is the Descended Radiance?” Odium finally spoke. “The angels descended onto earth as the fists of God?” He chuckled a bit. “Hail the Champions of the Light! Acclaim the Advocates of the Sacred Blood! Give heed to our counterparts, the other half of the grand design! Four beings of superior strength! All possible heavens and hell will shake in their revelation!” Odium turned to the 4. “Funny, I sense no real power here. Perhaps the power of these angels is not their own? Or perhaps you have no power at all?”
Neil took a step forward. “Who are you? Do you know what just happened to us?”
“We are students of the Forsaken,” Odium spread his arms open, his white hood still covering his face, hands and feet. “We are the acolytes of the darkness, the first seeds to be planted in what must come to pass. We are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” Odium paused for a moment. “I want you to breathe in this world, every fiber, every molecule, every piece of dust. This world is the devil’s oyster. It always has been and always will be filled with the Forsaken and the Sinful; the darkness that is in all blood can never be cleansed! Open your arms and accept the Forsaken into your blood! Walk with us and you will not be killed.” Odium stood with his arms open, but he was still and unmoving. The 3 Horsemen behind him stood immobile as well. There was a long silence between the 8. Neil looked to Aurora who had been standing behind him, then to Ezekiel who had been standing a few feet behind him as well, then finally to Amanda who had been ducking behind her turned-over concession table. The other 3 Horsemen turned around and extended their open hands towards the 4.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
“But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Mark 13:32
Amanda smiled her trademark toothy, overly ecstatic smile. She shrugged her shoulders nervously in her baby blue gown and inched to the edge of her chair. Amanda looked over to Emmanuel with large blue eyes. He thought she looked stunning tonight. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun with a large white flower bonnet, her makeup flawlessly covered her face as her blue dress impeccably covered her body. He watched as she grabbed her drink, nails colored to match her dress.
Trying not to blush too hard she gazed at her boyfriend of 2 years. The dim lights shaded the room in an amorous blanket; lit candles were placed sporadically and ferns added to the elegance of the restaurant. Emmanuel looked back at her,“So I said to him, ‘I’m not doing that! That’s not my job!’ and he just walked away without a single word.” Clapping her hands joyfully she smiled, “Finally! He was a creep, anyway! You should have been ruder. You should have just done as I told you.”
“What?” Emmanuel asked. “Call his mother?”
Amanda laughed, “I mean it would have worked. He wouldn’t be pushing you around anymore. But I’m glad that you stood up to him. I’m so proud!”
Emmanuel looked at her for a moment and said nothing, only soaked in her beauty and amiability. Breaking the moment, he smiled. “And I’m very proud of you too.”
“What did I do?” she asked.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Emmanuel shook his head. “I got you something.”
Amanda’s heart dropped into her stomach as Emmanuel reached into his pocket. Had he finally noticed the more-than-obvious hints that she had been dropping? Was he finally going to ask her to marry him? Amanda’s body tensed; she couldn’t breathe. A sour taste boiled up in her mouth as her eyes grew large and wet. Her blue nails arched at the white tablecloth as Emmanuel pulled a large box from his pocket.
It was a slightly large box for a ring, Amanda thought, but didn’t care as she brought the box closer to her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she flipped open the box. Dropping her jaw, tears bundled up at the corner of her eyes. Inside the box was a large diamond ring, sitting on crinkled white paper. It had been the same exact ring Amanda had been dreaming about ever since she saw it in a catalog a few days earlier. She was breathless. It was so perfect her body was trembling. Her lips pinched themselves together as she tried to keep her composure.
“Yes…”
Emmanuel smiled.
“Yes. Yes! YES!” Amanda repeated as she cried. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” With those words, she leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Emmanuel, sitting on his lap. Amanda forced kisses onto his lips as he pulled away slightly.
Looking over to her with a raised eyebrow he frowned, “Amanda…. What are you talking about? I just gave you a necklace…”
Looking back she was breathless again. “No. No, you gave me a wedding ring.” Amanda turned and reached for the box holding it open, exposing the ring. “That’s a wedding ring, Emmanuel,” Amanda’s voice suddenly became stern.
“I bought you a necklace…” Emmanuel began. “No, you bought me a wedding ring!” Amanda slammed the box on the table as she stood from Emmanuel’s lap. “Do you think that’s funny?”
“Amanda…” He tried to get his words out.
“So what are you trying to say, you don’t want to marry me?” She shook her head. “So you buy me a wedding ring but you don’t want to marry me! That is sick. Just sick!”
“Amanda!” He repeated. “The jeweler must have made a mistake and put the ring in there!”
“No,” Shaking her head she threw her pocketbook over her shoulders. “I think you made the mistake... Or maybe I made the mistake... I mean. Somebody here made a mistake and it wasn’t the jeweler! This whole thing is a big mistake!”
She stomped home, ignoring Emmanuel’s repeated calls. Slamming the door behind her, Amanda’s fingers arched as she grabbed her forehead and screamed at the top of her lungs.
The apartment was average size and filled with completely random items, mostly things she had appropriated from her college dorm room. There were Barbie dolls, a large purple clock in the shape of a cat, a dying cactus at the windowsill, moldings of sculptures she had made in class, and a bookshelf. Her apartment looked like a garage sale.
A tall redhead walked out into the living room and stood before the plastic green couch, turning towards her roommate. “Mandy…baby, what happened?”
Christine crawled up beside Amanda, squeezing into the chair with her. Amanda lifted her wet face from her hands and threw them around Christine. “Oh my goodness, Christine. Emmanuel just did something really mean!” “Men, I should have known. The pseudo backbone to every society. What’d that egotistical, condescending, thinks-he’s-all-that-because-he-has-a-flap-of-skin-between-his-legs do? And baby, where is your coat?” Christine asked.
Amanda’s face became blank, as though she had just become suddenly aware. Plainly, she parted her pink lips to speak, her expression unchanging. “I must have left it in the restaurant. I thought it was a little cold outside…”
“Aw...” Christine rubbed her shoulders. “What happened?”
“Stupid Emmanuel!” Amanda clawed her hands. “He makes this whole big deal like he’s gonna give me something and he does. I open it and it’s a freaking wedding ring! So I start screaming like a psychopath ‘Yes! Yes! Yes, I’ll marry the fudge out of you!’ And he’s like ‘Um…what are you talking about? I didn’t give you a ring, I gave you a necklace. Are you crazy? Blah blah blah.’ Is that supposed to be funny, Christine? Because it’s not!” Amanda hyperventilated and struggled to control her breathing.
“No sweetie, it’s not.” Christine frowned.
“See! We’re not the crazy ones here!” Amanda threw up her arms. “You know it’s not funny. I know it’s not funny. The American people know it’s not funny!” Sighing heavily she ripped the clip from her hair and released the long blonde locks that curved around her shoulders.
“I just…” Amanda paused. “I just wish some times I knew what he was thinking, you know? I just wish I could get inside of his head and shake things up a bit and be like, ‘You want me. I know you do!’ Gosh, I just would like…like I could just… I mean if I was him I would want me, you know? I’m good! I mean I just wanna… I wish I could just….”
As the words left her mouth, Amanda could feel energy rise within her. Her skin was crawling, like tiny fingers pushing beneath her skin. Christine watched wide-eyed as Amanda began to change. Though an artist was repainting her, smoothly, Amanda’s skin, hair, and features gracefully shifted naturally.
Within a few moments, Amanda sat in the very same chair, a little taller, a little darker. She sat as Emmanuel, hair and muscles bulging out of her blue dress. Christine fell back, falling from the chair and inching herself backwards until she hit the plastic green couch. Amanda looked over to Christine and spoke in her boyfriend’s voice. “What?”
“Oh my God!” Christine spat before she stood and charged out of the front door, leaving it open behind her.
Amanda stood to follow Christine, but the seams of her dress ripped at its sides. She looked over her body, now hairy, taller, and manlier. She ran to the bathroom. The face in the mirror had not been her own. It only lasted a few seconds as her body tingled and she returned to normal.
She sat there, on the cold yellow tiles of the bathroom floor with her fingers in her wild blonde hair and her blue dress torn in several places. Surrounded by a white picket fence in Staten Island Amanda was raised by strict Christian parents. Her family’s beliefs followed her all her life. A small bathroom prayer craft hung just above the bathroom mirror. God must have temporarily changed her. It must have been God teaching her a lesson for acting up in the restaurant. What else could it have been?
After hours of sitting on the bathroom floor, Amanda repeatedly and unsuccessfully called Christine but quit after several tries. She needed to speak to someone.
“Hello?” his voice cool and calm.
Amanda knew he was upset; by the ring in his voice. “Sorry for being crazy…” she apologized immediately.
Emmanuel paused for a moment, “I’m sorry, too. The jeweler must have switched the jewelry by mistake. You can keep the ring if you want.”
“No,” Amanda answered quickly. “You should return it.”
“Are you sure?”” Emmanuel asked.
Amanda watched her cat, Catlin, jump from the couch and scurry across the room. “Yes, I’m sure, but there is something I have to ask you before we move on from this. It’s something that I’ve been wondering for the past few hours and it’s really been bothering me...”
“What?” Emmanuel sighed.
“Do you have my coat?” she asked.
Emmanuel laughed loudly as Amanda joined him. “Yes, I have your coat.”
“Good! It’s just that it’s my favorite one and I got it while I was in Boston and I don’t see myself going back there any time soon!” she laughed.
Amanda awoke the next morning, rushing over to Christine’s room. The door was wide open and it was empty. Christine had not come home that night. Getting dressed Amanda wore a baby-blue shirt with a huge smiling cartoon kitten on the front, form fitting blue jeans with flowers in the stitching and a butterfly necklace covered in rhinestones and fake gems. Within 10 minutes she was driving her green company jeep. Chefy’s was in a brick building and it only took up one floor. She walked in, eyeing twelve tables, covered in a white sheets and a small plants. Collecting her platters of meat and cheese Amanda rushed off to her appointment.
“Em!” she squealed as she rushed to the elevator. “Hold it!” Inside was a man with curly black hair. “Thirteen, please,” she said placing her bags on the floor.
He pressed the button. “Hi, yeah, do you know where they’re shooting the new Michael Barron movie?” the skinny boy asked, pulling his long white sleeves over his fingers.
“Yeah, same place I’m going thirteenth floor,” she told him. He turned his direction to the glowing numbers above them. Amanda took advantage of this time to pull out a wedgie, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
When she got to the thirteenth floor, she bid him departure and set up her stand. She picked an area in a hallway where a table was already prepared with a white tablecloth. Opening her bag she placed a black plastic tray of cheese onto the surface. Amanda opened a pack of napkins, folded them, and placed them about the table. Her job was done. “I’m exhausted.” she frowned. Just then, she saw the scrawny man from the elevator walk past her.
“Hey!” she yelled. He looked a bit preoccupied, but that didn’t stop her. She walked straight up to him and tapped him on the shoulder and he plummeted to the floor. He had fallen into her table of food, knocking over everything. The crowd gasped as Amanda kneeled next to him, trying to wake him up. Failed attempt after failed attempt, she settled on calling the hospital. She pushed past the huddling crowd to an empty and clear space where she could get a signal. Picking up the phone, she began to dial when she saw the boy standing before the elevator fading in and out of transparency like a ghost.
“T-This is i-impossible…” his voice was garbled as he attempted to touch the elevator but his fingers slid right through the button. Amanda’s jaw dropped open. She shook her head and opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before anything could escape her mouth, a burst of energy entered the room. Amanda couldn’t tell where it was coming from or what it was, she could only feel a strong wind blowing through the office building.
Ezekiel faded and Amanda ran to where she had seen him fall. Her bottom lip quivered as she saw Ezekiel glowing in a white light, and wearing a long, white robe. Growing from his back, Ezekiel had large gray wings. Amanda turned to the others around her and they were still and immobile, as though they had not seen what was happening before her. Ezekiel’s body lifted off the floor. Amanda could then feel her own body beginning to rise as she looked at her hands and realized she was glowing as well. She too was wearing a white robe and tan wings were sprouting from her back.
When the light faded, the 4 stood alone in the office building. Their clothes had been their own and they were all wingless. The building was empty and the lights were off. The 4 exchanged glances. A dark sheen blanketed the sun that once shined through the large hallway. Their hearts beat readily in their chests and their eyes were wide and wet. No words could be formed. Silence crept awkwardly around the room. Amanda looked up towards the others not knowing what to think or say. Her voice cracked a bit as she spoke, her eyes large and wet. “That was cool, but isn’t anybody going to say anything?”
Ezekiel lowered his head as Aurora took a step forward. “What the hell is going on?” Aurora looked around her, her heart racing. “What was that? Well, somebody better say something!” Aurora’s voice had begun to get loud and irritated as she swung her arms out wildly.
Neil looked over towards the other three. “I don’t know what to tell you except that whatever happened it’s obvious we’re all a part of it.”
Aurora ran to the window beside her. Numerous hours had passed and it was night. The empty building was void of all light, save the luminosity of the stars, red moon, and city lights cast into the room. A thunderous neigh echoed through the halls as a man dressed in a pure white robe appeared standing, gazing outside of the window facing the city streets. After 3 neigh sounds, 3 other men appeared. The 4 men stood silent at first, their heads hooded and their backs facing the others. Aurora looked to Neil then back to the men by the window. These hooded men had an aura about them; a dark, malevolent aura that caused those surrounding to remain silent. The chalky sour taste in the mouths of Ezekiel, Aurora, Neil and Amanda forced their silence.
“This is the Descended Radiance?” Odium finally spoke. “The angels descended onto earth as the fists of God?” He chuckled a bit. “Hail the Champions of the Light! Acclaim the Advocates of the Sacred Blood! Give heed to our counterparts, the other half of the grand design! Four beings of superior strength! All possible heavens and hell will shake in their revelation!” Odium turned to the 4. “Funny, I sense no real power here. Perhaps the power of these angels is not their own? Or perhaps you have no power at all?”
Neil took a step forward. “Who are you? Do you know what just happened to us?”
“We are students of the Forsaken,” Odium spread his arms open, his white hood still covering his face, hands and feet. “We are the acolytes of the darkness, the first seeds to be planted in what must come to pass. We are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.” Odium paused for a moment. “I want you to breathe in this world, every fiber, every molecule, every piece of dust. This world is the devil’s oyster. It always has been and always will be filled with the Forsaken and the Sinful; the darkness that is in all blood can never be cleansed! Open your arms and accept the Forsaken into your blood! Walk with us and you will not be killed.” Odium stood with his arms open, but he was still and unmoving. The 3 Horsemen behind him stood immobile as well. There was a long silence between the 8. Neil looked to Aurora who had been standing behind him, then to Ezekiel who had been standing a few feet behind him as well, then finally to Amanda who had been ducking behind her turned-over concession table. The other 3 Horsemen turned around and extended their open hands towards the 4.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Publishing Company Profile Up on Squidoo too! ^_^
NoV'al Publishing
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
NoV'al Publishing
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
I decided to release the first four chapters of my book on Squidoo because it is the introduction to the first four main characters to my series! They're a little intense, get ready to hit the floor running! I hope you have as much fun with my characters as I do!
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End Preview.
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End Preview.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Oh Sallie Mae.... Always a hassle. My loan should be coming in shortly, then we can start up everything! I am so nervous about releasing my work! By December I hope (if everything goes according to my super evil mater plan ^_- ) to have everything out. That includes the Visual Novel, "Divine Apocalypse: Twilight of the Nephilim and the Forgotten Days" (there will be more on that later) the graphic novel, "Divine Apocalypse: Armageddon" and the novel "Divine Apocalypse: The beginning of the End" the cornerstone of my series. ^_^ Whew.... I have alot of work ahead of me. Without my loan though there isn't much I can do, so I've been drawing out exactly how I want the website to look along with how I want the comic/visual novel. Sallie Mae said I should get it in two weeks. This week is almost over... I would hate to have to release the beast on them. lol.
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
La'Von Gittens
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Welcome Errrybody! ^_- My name is La'Von and I am sole proprietor of Nov'al Publishing. (Noval to some people) Get it? My name backwards kinda sounds like novel? I like to describe myself as someone with the heart of an artist and the brain of a business man. As hard as it is to believe... a few years ago....
-Le Sigh-
(I'm brave enough to admit it!!!!) I was a bit of....
A NERD.
Not in the greasy sense of course but it's true. My favorite pass time was to lose myself in mythology. And.... it got pretty bad. Like... I remember this one time I was up late at night at the living room computer. It must have been at least 2:30AM and my mother walks in and she's like "WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP SO LATE?!" And she rushes to the computer to see what I'm looking at... and I'm reading up on this King Arthur myth I wanted to finish. I think she thought I was looking at porn! And after the look she gave me... I think she was kinda hoping I was. BUT not to disappoint anyone I have turned my passion into talent! Looking at the works of my favorite authors, Christopher Paolini Joss Whedon, Brian Lynch, S.L Viehl, and J.k Rowling, just to name a few, I was inspired to create some work of my own. I am happy to say that after years of work I finally finished the first book in my series of novels "Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End." My book is basically the first in a series about the end of the world through various religious lenses, dynamic heroes, demonic villains, and dramatic story lines.
After some time trying to get published as a new author I ran into alot of trouble. As a matter of fact, the one company that offered to take a chance on me without any experience insisted that I change something in my story. To preserve my storyline, I won't say what I was but I will say it offended me on more than an artistic level. SoOoOo I decided to start my own company! I was not only going to publish my own work, but specialize in publishing new authors, that aren't given the chance to have their work recognized. ^_^
With my first book as my first project I am just waiting for my loan to come in to begin!
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
-Le Sigh-
(I'm brave enough to admit it!!!!) I was a bit of....
A NERD.
Not in the greasy sense of course but it's true. My favorite pass time was to lose myself in mythology. And.... it got pretty bad. Like... I remember this one time I was up late at night at the living room computer. It must have been at least 2:30AM and my mother walks in and she's like "WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP SO LATE?!" And she rushes to the computer to see what I'm looking at... and I'm reading up on this King Arthur myth I wanted to finish. I think she thought I was looking at porn! And after the look she gave me... I think she was kinda hoping I was. BUT not to disappoint anyone I have turned my passion into talent! Looking at the works of my favorite authors, Christopher Paolini Joss Whedon, Brian Lynch, S.L Viehl, and J.k Rowling, just to name a few, I was inspired to create some work of my own. I am happy to say that after years of work I finally finished the first book in my series of novels "Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End." My book is basically the first in a series about the end of the world through various religious lenses, dynamic heroes, demonic villains, and dramatic story lines.
After some time trying to get published as a new author I ran into alot of trouble. As a matter of fact, the one company that offered to take a chance on me without any experience insisted that I change something in my story. To preserve my storyline, I won't say what I was but I will say it offended me on more than an artistic level. SoOoOo I decided to start my own company! I was not only going to publish my own work, but specialize in publishing new authors, that aren't given the chance to have their work recognized. ^_^
With my first book as my first project I am just waiting for my loan to come in to begin!
NoV'al Publishing
Divine Apocalypse: The Beginning of the End
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