The Devils Harvest: The End Of All Flesh Part 4

Snap I was tired of feeling like I was losing my mind. But at the same time as saying that, so much needed to be accomplished before he returned tonight. I realized I was becoming obsessed with the story. Like a potent drug I needed more. It was consuming my every waking thought.

I had absorbed loads of information from my stolen bible. Last night before my eyelids became too heavy I had jotted down many questions that I wanted him to answer, and would ask when he returned tonight.

I found that the bible did talk about the angels who'd left their a.s.signed positions in heaven, and had come down to earth and slept with females. How the bible, in Genesis chapter six and verses one through to four stated, that these unearthly liaisons resulted in giant men being born to the women. Even saying they were mighty ones of old, the men of fame. These giant offspring of angelic rebels ruled and roamed about the earth for over a hundred and twenty years, before G.o.d brought the flood and washed them away.

The bible says that G.o.d found only one man and his family worthy upon the whole earth to be saved Noah. G.o.d had said: "The end of all flesh has come before me, because the earth is full of violence as a result of them, and here I am bringing them to ruin together with the earth." I presumed it meant the nephilim the giants Gibborim Nophelim.

I was to ask a few questions tonight when he returned. Asking more about these angelic offspring. And what had the world been like in those times; filled with such violence that G.o.d stepped in to put a stop to it. Also a hundred and twenty years the giants ruled, what condition was the world in? I even remembered him saying that even these giant nephilim had even more powerful children. That I couldn't find written in the bible, so I was curious as to what he meant.

I even found myself wondering what form he was going to be taking, man or woman or even another child; at least the child was easy to carry outside.

I got to my aching feet. The fire was still burning with a vengeance in the hearth. All the same wood pilled up that had been there for days. Strange.

Maybe he had done something to it. But it was alight and that's all that mattered to me. If only I had put more thought into it. Wondered why the shoes still rested untouched on the grate. But no, my mind was too full of other things. If I had given it more though I could have saved millions.

That's the beautiful thing about hindsight.

I needed a shower. But my stomach felt like my neck had been cut. That though reminded me of the small boy's body from the night before. So sad. So young.

I rummaged through my huge rounded Smeg fridge, looking for more things that might go out-of-date before the snow resided and I could get to a shop of some kind.

Nothing roused my interest. I lifted the lid on the large deep chest freezer that sat in one corner of the old kitchen. My second shock. I must be tired, there was more meat in there than I realized. Whole chunks of prime cuts. Bigger chucks than normal. All stacked on one side. I didn't think too hard about it, I must have put it there.

I selected a bright red cut of pork belly, which once cooked would last me a few days. I put it in the microwave on a plate. I should have left it out overnight to defrost properly, but food had been the last thing on my mind as of late. While the joint defrosted I arranged the ingredients. I finely chopped some fresh herbs that grew on the inside of my kitchen window all year-round: basil, chives and sage, then mixed them with some extra virgin olive oil with a hint of basil. Once the pork had defrosted I rubbed the mix over the fleshy part, and wrapped it up tight with butcher's string. I then placed it in a large cooking tray, on top a bed of leeks, soaked in Kopparberg pear cider and some dried herbs, then rubbed sea salt and ground pepper into the skin, in a mixture of b.u.t.ter, to make crackling.

I then made a large pot of strong aromatic coffee; in the same style that I picked up when I lived for two months in Andhra Pradesh, on the south-eastern coast of India.

I sat looking out my large ornate front room window while the cooker did its magic. I noticed the clouds had completely gone. And none sat on the horizon. Even the snow, which normally sat heavily upon the windowsill, had gone. Was the thaw coming?

I now stood inside the parlour looking out the small, now clear window. Only a few icicles dripped from above down the pane. The three bodies were still lined up. None were yet visible; it would probably take a few days for the snow to melt enough to see the corpses laying there. What about the smell, I thought? The snow for now was stopping the stink from wafting around.

But if the sun came out it would become unbearable. I would bury them I decided.

After I topped up the cider around the base of the joint, I left the roast sizzling away, filling the old farmhouse with its amazing aroma, while I went for a shower.

The bathroom was freezing after being in the hot kitchen, so I left the hot water running for a few minutes to take the chill out of the air. I undressed. Mud, all dark and dry covered my trousers. Where had it come from? The day before it was under my nails. Was I losing my mind?

My stomach rumbled. I also needed an alcoholic drink.

I showered, shaved, for the first time in three days, and put on a long thick fleece oxblood coloured dressing gown that had big baggy pockets, and some leather moccasin slippers that were covered with fur inside.

I went to the sideboard and was about to pour myself a tumbler full of Macallan single malt whisky, but I was surprised to notice it was empty. s.h.i.+t! Now what? Vodka I suppose. I used to love the clear spirit but then I became hooked on whisky instead. Oh well, a ride down memory lane.

The next thing I remembered I was sat at the kitchen table, empty plate in front of me. The residue of blood smeared around the dish. Confusion. Another needed nap? But I couldn't remember eating. I obviously had because I felt full and my plate was soiled, and my hands greasy and wet from the meats juice. An empty gla.s.s smelling of vodka was next to the plate, with a quarter full bottle of Stolichnaya vodka to one side.

"Too much drink," I whispered. Memory loss. Was I becoming a drunk?

"AA here I come," I whispered to the empty kitchen. "The Twelve Point Program. Hi, my names Jacob and I'm an alcoholic."

I pushed the thought aside; wanting to go through my notebook, review my questions. I was becoming interested in the bible research I was undertaking.

But as I stood I realized the oven was still on. And more importantly something was still in it. I opened the door to my large farmhouse kitchen Aga-Rayburn. Black smoke curled out. The heat almost taking my eyebrows clean off. There, on a tray was my roast, all shrivelled up and blackened, with the leeks looking like burnt black eels.

I staggered backwards gripping the chair back with my shaking hands. Blood! Blood also covered my hand. What the f.u.c.k was happening? What had I just eaten?

The door was banging like a roll of thunder.

Nighttime already? Hours had once again disappeared.

"I need to get a f.u.c.king grip," I said out loud to the empty kitchen.

I pulled the burnt joint from the oven and slammed the door shut, leaving the tray on a thick wooden chopping board. Then I washed my hands in the big white sink, then went to the front door in my dressing gown and pulled it open. Who would it be tonight, I asked myself?

"h.e.l.lo, sonny," said a happy old sounding voice. There on my doorstep was a doubled over very old lady. A little white hand-knitted shawl wrapped tightly around her plump shoulders. Long dirty yellow dressing gown, with long thick woollen red and white-striped socks that disappeared into a thick pair of fur slippers.

"Snap," she muttered as she walked past me, obviously referring to my dressing gown.

She was a normal looking little round-shaped old lady. That is, apart from the large shards of broken gla.s.s that was sticking out of her white wispy hair and old wrinkled face, splattering her once clean shawl with blood.

7.

All Wiped Away She took her normal seat after having waddled over, giving a loud sighing noise as she lowered herself down comfortably into its red studded grasp. Her wide hips just managing to squeeze in.

It was an unsettling sight. The old lady, who'd obviously been through so much in her long existence, was not allowed to rest after her apparently painful death, but rather succ.u.mbed to being his mouthpiece.

As she pa.s.sed a scent was wafting in the air, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it stung the back of my throat.

Her hair was pure white and held in a tight bun at the back, with only a few white wisps of hair hanging loose. Her face was all saggy from all her worries that I couldn't even begin to imagine. But the gla.s.s was unsettling, sticking out from every conceivable place on her head, shoulders and face. As if she had gone through a big plate gla.s.s window or possibly a car window.

Small trickles of blood accompanied every wound. Her once perfect white shawl now a tangled mess of gla.s.s and red smears and torn flesh. And where had the knitting needle come from that was lodged in her left temple? I would get that answer soon enough.

For the first time I didn't sit right down, rather, I went to refill my empty gla.s.s. I burped while in the process of filling it to the brim. My stomach ached and was causing me a little uneasiness.

"Been eating too much, that's your problem, my lad," she said in her old relaxed voice. She gave a small almost silent crackling laugh that sounded like old parchment paper being screwed up.

I looked across and was rewarded with her Ches.h.i.+re cat smile, reminding me of who exactly was sitting in front of me. Of course she already had a cigarette dangling from her wrinkled mouth. Just the end perched inside, as if it was going to drop out any second, the same way all old people seemed to smoke, wanting the feeling of the smoke circulating their old lungs but not willing to hold the cigarette too far inside their mouth.

For the first time I also noticed an old bag resting down besides her swollen fat legs, her ankles were of normal size. Water retention I believed it was called, a normal symptom for old ladies. The bag was a large woven thing with some sort of farmyard mosaic st.i.tched on it. I paid it scant attention; all old people carry bags, always s.h.i.+pping something around, always needing to have something of theirs with them.

She leant forward cigarette bobbing dangerously, spilling ash everywhere as she proceeded to pull out a big untidy bundle. One long knitting needle was attached to a yellow jumper she had been working on. A child's jumper, possibly for one of her many grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren. Like the bags, knitting equipment was just another thing they all seemed to have with them. Wherever they are; park benches, on the bus or chatting outside the post office, they all had that one thing in common knitting.

Old men were different; they always seemed to have an old well-worn bag with them, always the same type, flat bottom with an oval top and two long handles so they can carry it at arms length. It always contains tools. Why? Who knows? It's a universal mystery. But they always give you the same answer. "Just fixing the so-and-so for the old widow thingy down the road."

My mind came back to the moment at hand, when in a sickening sight she reached up and pulled the long knitting needle out from her head, sliding it from the place it was lodged in her temple. I looked away. I swear I could hear it sliding out like someone sucking on a lollypop. Or it could have simply been my imagination.

When I looked back she was rocking back and forth, cigarette bobbing around, knitting like it was the most natural thing she could be doing. The two needles now working away, knit-one, pearl-one. Knit-one, pearl-one. But now she had brick-red blood mingling along with the yellow wool, sliding down from her sticky needle.

I carried my drink sipping it as I walked, taking my seat opposite. I dropped down heavily.

She had the smile on her wrinkled face. One needle pointing at my crotch.

I realized my gown had flopped open. A quick flick of the material soon changed that.

She was simply chuckling away, sprinkling ash over herself. No wonder so many old people set themselves alight while smoking. Several times her eyes closed for longer than a simple blink, only to come popping open fast.

I soon realized that the only time she would remove the coffin nail from her mouth was when she lit one from the b.u.t.t of another, popping one straight back in, after the other was tossed into the fire.

Coffin nail. It has been a long time since I thought of that expression. My older brother used to use it all the time, when referring to his cigarettes. But in his case it was right they did indeed kill him. His coffin nails.

I pushed the b.u.t.ton on the small Sony minicorder and was rewarded by the little flas.h.i.+ng red light.

I now identified the strange smell. It was a smell you seemed to a.s.sociate with old people cat p.i.s.s. She either had many cats herself or she fed a stray. Either way it was a male that was for sure. The smell was pouring off her. It was tangible; I could taste it on the back of my tongue.

Or possibly it was her urine. The smell you remember from your childhood when you use the toilet after you grandfather. He always forgot to flush and when you lifted the lid the water would be bright orange, and then the smell hit you. It always smelt the same Sugerpuffs wheat cereal you expected the Honey-Monster to jump at you from down the toilet. Up close the smell made me want to gag, but I kept myself in check.

She seemed to close her eyes, still rocking back and forth in a hypnotic routine that you see all old people doing when you have the unfortunate opportunity of visiting one at an old people's home. To them all it seems like a sport, all-trying to out-rock each other. Possibly a dynamo is attached to their chairs then attached to a generator, and they were powering the lights throughout the retirement home.

Then she spoke, her eyes still closed tight. Knit-one, pearl-one. "You know, knitting has been around for thousands of years. The earliest example was from Egypt from the end of the first millennium AD. Originally it was a male-only occupation." She nodded her head to confirm the fact.

"Now, where was I?" Eyes squeezed closed tighter, as if digging up distressing memories. "Ah yes." She went straight into the story where the young boy had left off yesterday. Same spirit, different body.

"Females now abounded. Thin ones that were beautiful in the extreme." She turned towards me, eyes now open again. "You see, they were much closer to perfection back then. It wasn't too long after the Pair turned away from Him," she giggled. "With my help of course.

"Beautiful, stunningly graceful bodies. So perfect. So ready to be used." She licked her lips. "And abused.

"I showed the females many things. Things mankind was not meant to know. I revealed the secret of precious stones to them. They wore them around their sublime necks. You could say I invented jewellery." The little old lady gave a chuckle.

"The Book of Enoch chapter eight, verse ones states: 'The fabrication of mirrors, and the workmans.h.i.+p of bracelets and ornaments, the use of paint, the beautifying of the eyebrows, the use of stones of every valuable and select kind.' So much we pa.s.sed on to mortals. The rest of chapter seven goes on to state how we taught man sorcery, signs, astronomy and the motions of the moon. And of course, how to make weapons of war swords, knives, s.h.i.+elds and breastplates."

A line of dribble ran down her chin. It ran off, tinted red.

"Of course I had many names. Azazel was my favourite. It means Demon, or Hairy-Goat, a little joke. I also had many other names: Yegon, Asbel, Abaddon, Apollyon, Belial, Gaderel, Pineme, Kasadya, Mammon, Aristaqis, Samyaza and Semyaz, just to name a few, depending on what part of the world I was in.

"We knew we could transform into flesh and blood, like I already said, so we used that gift. Many now joined me; they knew what they were capable of. Thousands left their positions before Him. All now rutting and grunting along with the rest of humanity." A needle was lifted up, poking it at the air, as one would wobble a finger in front of someone. I was grateful of the fact that it wasn't the one covered in blood. I also noticed it had a little twisting tally counter the end, to count rows.

"How were we to know what the outcome would be? Nephilim they were called. Giants! We didn't believe we were compatible, but obviously we were. Our offspring were a hybrid mix, human and angel. They grew quickly. Their strength immeasurable. They soon realized they were different and they used that, subjecting mere man as their slaves." She was shaking her head now. An ash storm rained down. Dribble flying.

'"The nephilim shall be called evil spirits when they come to live on earth. Evil spirits will exude from their flesh. Because they were created from a mixture of mankind and the Watchers who fly above.' That's also taken from the Book of Enoch.

"That was the reason He caused the flood. Partly because of our hybrid children that now abounded on the earth. Giants among men." Eyes closed once again.

"I personally had seventeen children, all boys, they always were. No females were born to us." A tear actually rolled down her cheek, catching on a shard of gla.s.s, it ran along until falling off the end, tinted red.

"They all died in the flood, every one of them. See we could transform back into our angelic bodies, but they could not, they were mortal be it somewhat mutated beings like any other. They were swept away with the rest of sinful humanity." Her eyes gla.s.sed over, and she began to recite a song of old: "They lie with the warriors, the Nephilim of old, who descend to Sheol with their weapons of war." She regained her composure.

"Actually that's taken from the book of Ezekiel," she muttered absentmindedly. She continued: "I will tell you more about them, the way they were and how they come about, and what the world was like with them enslaving mankind. And of course the untold story of the giant's magi children," she gave a long sigh.

"Like I already said we didn't believe that our s.e.xual liaisons with mortal females would lead to anything. Us being compatible? Angels and the offspring of Adam and Eve!

"That was until they started showing the signs of pregnancy. Us, angelic beings of ages past were now going to become fathers. It was almost inconceivable we were completely unprepared "Females we had lain with that survived our uncontrollable l.u.s.t and those that survived the birthing period, also realized things were not right. See we knew they couldn't possibly be ordinary children because we weren't ordinary fathers. At first everything seemed normal, until their stomachs started to stretch beyond what was natural while trying to accommodate the ma.s.sive child that was growing within.

"Many females and their unborn child died in midterm. Their weak bodies not being able to support a child that was drawing so much strength from its host. But the women decided it was worth the risk to give birth to a son of a G.o.d. Because even though we knew our original positions, they didn't, they saw us as G.o.ds that had taken on human form. Funny... much of human mythology stems from those beliefs Mesopotamian, Persian, Egyptian and Greek and many more. Stories of giants abound in ancient legends, because they did once fill the earth.

"Even though they were willing to risk death to bring forth our children, they still couldn't give birth normally. The child was just too large to pa.s.s out into the world by normal means. They had to be cut open a caesarean birth." She lifted her eyes from the small jumper and then lowered them almost straight away.

"And some didn't even have the chance to have that done. Some of our powerful children couldn't wait to be cut free; they simply ripped their way out of the womb with their bare hands and kicking feet, standing up upon their own two large feet, while biting at the umbilical cord that still attached them to the bloodied and mangled body they had just crawled from.

"They grew abnormally fast; towering far above all mere mans children. At the age of ten they stood twelve feet tall and more intelligent than a grown human adult. And the strange thing was they just never stopped growing, for as long as they lived. Of course, things like infighting and wars attributed to this factor, but they just kept getting bigger, depending on how much they ate. The avenge size was anything between twenty and thirty feet tall. Some, the older nephilim even excelled forty feet tall.

"These powerful beings became a law unto themselves, even defying us their very fathers. Of course we couldn't destroy them, how could we, our beautiful children. It was amazing, just like our heavenly father, we had created something new.

"There was many of them, as stated in the book of Baruch, chapter 4 verse 10: G.o.d caused the Flood over the earth and destroyed all flesh and 409,000 giants.

"Realizing they were different they took control using their phenomenal strength and size to laud it over mankind. They soon gathered together making mere mankind their slaves and playthings.

"They also took whomever they chose for s.e.xual relations, male, female even animals. Many died at their strong hands and over sized bodies. Any that refused them died slowly and painfully. You had more chance of survival if you gave into them; at least you had a chance surviving their s.e.xual abuse than you did their murderous rage." She replaced the cigarette and continued. Her eyes turned back to dead eyes, gla.s.sy and unresponsive, and then within a heartbeat they came alive with his unnatural power.

"They made mankind build them vast structures, the size of which had never been seen before. Immense eating halls to fulfil their appet.i.tes; appet.i.tes that became insatiable. As The Book of Enoch chapter 7 verses 12 and 13 states: 'These devoured all which the labour of men produced: until it became impossible to feed them; when they turned themselves against men, in order to devour them.' Yes they became man-eaters.

"Also they had even larger gathering areas made where they fulfilled their s.e.xual fantasies and twisted games.

"But this was before the Great Flood, and most of those buildings are still in existence, just under what are now oceans. In fact, there are over two hundred sunken cities in the Mediterranean alone. All built when the water level was considerably lower. One example, a city under two thousand feet of water, covering almost twenty cubic miles is just off the coast of Cuba. Just like you, our fleshly children liked the warmer climates of the world. My firstborn wasn't really a temperate zone kinda guy.

"This was a city my firstborn had mankind build for him. Some say it has a taste of Teotihuacan culture of the Yucatan in its styling. He always did have a flare for style.

"My first son and most powerful, and even large for their kind, a mountain in size was called Lucifer, which actually means Light Bearer. I called him this because he would bring a new light into the world of man it was also my heavenly name. He was stronger than any other nephilim and he controlled everything that happened in the world of mankind." The little lady's eyes closed tight as if the memory was choking her and she was finding it hard to convey it.

"But alas something even more unsettling happened. Our giant violent offspring in turn became fathers. If you remember they slept with man, women and beast!

"Yes, animals! b.e.s.t.i.a.lity f.u.c.king creatures, depending on their preference. This was mainly because they grew so large that human females just weren't an option after a certain age. Of course that meant human females were the s.e.xual object of choice of their adolescent years, this was, after all, the reason we fell in the first place, because they were so s.e.xually stimulating and beautiful. No fake t.i.ts back then, oh no, all natural and sublime." A long sigh.

"But because they out grew the humans, animals became a replacement, and that caused more trouble. Unnatural trouble," she whispered making it difficult to hear her.

'"After the fallen angels went into the daughters of men, then the sons of men taught the mixture of animals of one species with the other, in order to provoke the Lord' That's from the Book of Jasher chapter four verse eighteen, talking about the b.e.s.t.i.a.lity that filled the earth. '"They began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish' Enoch states in chapter seven verse five and six. A truly unG.o.dly mess.

She started a slow chuckle that was almost silent. "Fish, ha. Reminds me of Klantos the Mountain, one of the largest giants ever to roam the earth and the oldest. He reached forty-three feet tall, when stood straight, which was hard considering his height and weight. Always bent double that Klantos. See, they were always s.e.xually active, nymphomaniacs you would call them in today's world. And as they outgrew humans they had to turn to other animals.

"Once, Klantos even dragged a sperm whale up onto the s.h.i.+ngle beach to have his way with it. He kept it until it became unusable. Then, after he had been tenderizing it for the best part of a week, he consumed it. Always did like his sus.h.i.+ that Klantos." She gave a gla.s.sy eyed look. "You could say the name sperm whale stuck after that. I don't recall its original description. The slight humor disappeared from her voice.

"See some of the animals became pregnant, vile things came from them, half human-form and half beast. Our angelic blood had once again produced a new kind of breed. The nephilim killed most of them, but some they let mature, their curiosity wanting to see what they would become. Blood drinkers.