I am Enim part 22

Door San Daniel gepubliceerd in Verhalen en Poëzie


"It's not about the massacres, although you'll see a few to make the image last," spoke the voice in our heads as the capsule continued to pick up speed. The display was filled with massacres of screeching people who were herded together and chopped to pieces. "Not very enlightening," said my brother in arms. I had to agree with him. The spectacle was more than disgusting. New images announced themselves. "Hernan Cortes, in South America," announced the voice. "Exponent of the 'only good' faith and its propagator." At large temple complexes, Indian-looking people with feather headdresses, were herded together and quartered, burned, and slaughtered. Children were crushed under the horses of the Spanish horsemen and women were taken away screaming, to be raped, after which they too were murdered. If I had been embodied, my stomach would have turned, now my mind filled with horror at what I understood to be a true representation of past facts.



It could only be described as madness at its best. Singing parents with children holding their hands now came into the picture. They stood in an arena and although they sang, fear radiated from their eyes. A parent now came full-screen, sweat dripping from her forehead. Loud cheers broke out when a gate was lifted and a lion headed towards the group. A father picked up his daughter but was already mowed down. His torso had turned into a bloody mass in the second it took the creature to run his claw through him. Pieces of skin and flesh hung from its claws. With one last effort, the man covered his daughter with his almost dismembered body, to loud laughter and booing from the stands. To no avail, and a moment later the lion stood, like a big cat, waving its tail softly, gnawing on the bones of the poor wretches who had been felled.



"Enough," I thought, "it is clear to me, these are all terrible horrors." "You haven't seen anything yet," came the voice of mission control, immediately followed by people being boiled in big kettles, until their skins came off and they died screaming. This was interspersed with wood pyres of terrified people tied to a stake, waiting to be burned alive. A warrior on horseback now came into the picture, defending the one 'true faith'. With an ax he chopped from his horse unfortunates dwon  that he managed to reach. The air was filled with wails and screams and blood splashed as the man worked his way through the crowd.



"I can't take this anymore," came the inner voice of my lieutenant. "So much pain and suffering and display of power." But we traveled at tremendous speeds through the universe and could not avert our eyes, because they were not available to us. "This is just a very brief summary," came the neutral voice of mission control, "of a power structure, the real horrors are still taking place and that must be stopped."


Negro children and mothers and fathers languishing in poverty, covered in flies, came into the picture. They lay weakened in piles of misery and clung to walls, their faces radiated despair. The flies settled on the sore-covered bodies of the unfortunates. This was interspersed with images of camps full of emaciated children with swollen bellies of hunger. Then just like that, a corridor came into view with beautiful wall paintings, that corridor ended in a room with works of art that were jostled by the amount of them on the walls, like a bombastic wallpaper. There were gold ornaments on tables under the art wall, and it was clear that there was a fortune amassed there in just a few square meters. And the square meters succeeded each other as far as the eye could see.



Men in long black robes came into view, luring children to back rooms where they were abused. "This is sick," my soul screeched. "Stop the images." "You have to stop and prevent these images," the mission control said dryly. "Who is responsible for this?" I wanted to know. "Indirectly a Hebrew figure called Yeshua," mission control replied, "but his ideas have taken on a life of their own and ended up in power structures." "That name doesn't mean anything to me," I reported. "He was known by a few names," the dry voice, now many light years away, explained. "He was also called the Mashiach," the voice continued, "or Logos, or the anointed one." "Where do we find this source of misery?" Asked my brother-in-arms. 'Before too soon when you will have arrived,' said the voice, 'and you will have calculated and sketched the gate, then you will have the cube in your hands again. It offers you all the help you need. Now you have to prepare yourselves to leave the capsule and find two bodies. ”

also read part 23

San Daniel 2020


for more info concerning San Daniel press the following link/ voor meer info betreffende San Daniel druk op de link a.u.b.:landingspage-san-daniel


Nederlandse auteurs page van San Daniel in Hebban

and the page of Dutch authors in Hebban

Author's pages:

Amazon author’s page San Daniel

03/12/2020 07:32

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