Hadassah's Watchman Trilogy, Evangheline Farcas [red scrolls of magic .txt] 📗

years to form and shape, but one thing Zipphorah knew, she loved her Savior and He loved her first.
He touched her eyes, the very Son of God touched her eyes. Images came through like a faced paced thriller, and though her heart broke at what she saw, she accepted it through tears.
“Your will be done.” Zipphorah said.

_______________________________________

Philip stopped his pacing and sat down in the cushiony chair, its comfort angered him at this particular moment. Why should he be comfortable when he knew Hadassah was not, in fact he knew she was afraid at this very moment. How he knew this, he couldn’t reasonably explain, he just knew.
He studied once more the ancient book in his hands, flipping through page after aged page. It contained countless names it seemed. With each name was the story that belonged with it, written in their own writing. It was a beautiful masterpiece actually, each time he began a new story the writing was as unique as the writer. But these were not just stories, these were histories leading all the way to the present. They were written by strong, faithful, beautiful women, and every single one was related. Every single one bore the name Hadassah, or Esther, or Estera. There was only one story in this lineage of the courageous descendants of the Queen that was missing. It was left to be written Philip supposed. It was the story of his Hadassah.
The rage he felt was as cold as the most brutal Swedish winter. Why! He wanted to scream, but he composed his royal self amazingly well.
In the book he had tucked Hadassah’s unopened letter, he had been to angry to read it until now. But now a desperation filled him a need to be with her. He didn’t know what to do, how to help her, he was at a complete loss.
“She’s my Hadassah!” He let out a scream that echoed in his rooms, his fists was raised towards the sealing.
“No, My son, she is Mine.” replied a voice.
Philip drew in a startled breath and looked around him, there was no one there. But he had heard a voice of that he was certain.
“She is My daughter, and your right My son, she needs your help.”
Again he looked around, his eyes saw nothing, but he could feel arms gently holding his shoulders.
“How my Lord?” said the Prince.
“Even though you are a prince, this battle you must do on your knees.”
With that no more questions came, the prince fell to his knees, and raised his hands in supplication. Tears were streaming down his face, the letter from Hadassah slipped from his hands undread. His vision filled with a battle, a raging war, and he prayed now, a prince with his face to the floor, yet heaven gathered around him, for he too was a son of God.


CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR


Matthew 26: 48-50 Now he who was betraying Him gave them a sign, saying, “Whomever I kiss, He is the one; seize Him.”
Immediately Judas went to Jesus and said, “Hail, Rabbi!” and kissed Him.
And Jesus said to him, “Friend, do what you have come for.” Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and seized Him.

___________

Revelation 2: 9-11 ‘I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich), and the blasphemy by those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.
Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to cast some of you into prison, so that you will be tested, and you will have tribulation for ten days. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life.
He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. He who overcomes will not be hurt by the second death.

__________

Princes, kings, and other rulers of the world have used all their strength and cunning against the Church, yet it continues to endure and hold its own.
-- John Foxe

__________


We were in, dressed and armed as good as any of the other securitate officers. I noticed how each officer including the Chief were armed to the T with a heavy beating sticks, guns and even a hand held grenades on the heavy belts. Fear slithered and tightened like a snake around me, they were prepared, on high alert. New of riots must have reached them, and from past experience they knew to take them seriously. Even so they were not expecting an infiltration, for that is one thing Christians in this country have not dared to do before, though they knew Christians to be courageous they rarely thought them to be innovative. There was no logical reason for them to believe we were not who we said we were, after all we had given them official documents stating our mission. We were to round up the prisoners for an intense round of interrogation, to which strict orders were given for no interference, no one was to accompany us. Information derived from these tortures would be secrets of the state, only top officials would decide what to do with it. Or so the story went.
Under this guise we proceeded through the old fort, through arched passageways that gave the impression of ghosts of times past watching down on them, down numerous stairs. Our faces seemed to freeze from the drafts seeping into this place, the dampness only made it worse. Odors of human waste mixed with sickness surrounded us, so much so that I felt I would gag. Holding our breaths did not help. I was eager to get these tortured souls out and to better conditions. Every once in a while we would superstitiously glance back, thinking we heard footsteps following us, yet it seemed as if it was only our fear taunting us.
As we reached the crowded cells we saw the prisoners’ empty eyes stuffed to the brim in fear as they saw us. Most began to huddle closer to each other, not only shielding themselves from the cold, but now also from us. Conditions have driven them to a reluctant fragile unity. Huddling wouldn’t keep them from torture they were sure was to come, but the comfort of being close to each other fed them some strength at least. I felt their fear as if I were among them in the cell looking out, but I also felt the doubt emanating from the believers in their midst. They wondered if they could withstand more pain without giving in, without turning on each other, without renouncing the One, the only One who gave them hope. In the end they feared themselves the most, above all else they were their own worst enemy, with so much to loose. But soon those fear-filled eyes transformed into what looked like light houses, filled with light, but mostly defiance. I wished I could tell them to not fear, but in the event there were infiltrators or others watching they must not suspect the reality of this predicament. This had to look and feel and even taste real.
I sighed bitterly. Yet prayers from distant lands strengthened us, and even them, for I saw angels constantly arriving, ministering to the weakest, enabling songs of praise to continue. The Holy Ones subdued and cast away the spirit of fear clinging to these captives, making room now for the Holy Spirit to fill them. And so instead of crying out in fear they cried, “Abba, Father!”
I felt my fellow watchmen’s eyes upon us and I thought it would have been wonderful to have them here, to have our own numbers increased, for the enemy was vast and would devour us if it could. But against all nature, I knew strength was not found only in numbers, strength, even supernatural strength cam from Him.
My eyes searched through the people that seemed to merge together as one. In an instant my eyes locked with Ionatan’s and I lifted a finger to my lips as if I had an itch, to which he gave an undetectable nod.
Bogdan, Manuela and Liviu trained their guns on the people, looking fierce and hateful, though I knew what they hated was not them.
“Atentie!” called Bogdan in a voice that demanded attention, “Attention!”
The sound of his voice startled some, their gasps reverberated and echoed against the stone walls.
“Each of you, in single file will follow Officer Liviu, one wrong move and you will die.”
Manuela stepped forward, “Today will be a day your so-called faith will be proven to us, you will show us this so-called God.” Her voice didn’t falter, indeed this was a test of faith not only for them, but each one of us. We were calling on, no, demanding all of heaven to prove they were with us.
“How you obey today, mark my words now, will determine your next breath.” said Liviu his voice only slightly faltering.
The keys rattled as I unlocked the cell doors. Out of sheer terror each captive formed a line behind Liviu who averted his eyes deliberately from them.
When each prisoner stood ready I called out, “A few names will be called out, when you hear your name you’ll move to the front of the line, understood?”
They nodded.
“Angelica and Adrian Negrescu!” A broken sob escaped from a woman in the back, “Move, do it now!” I bellowed.
Holding each other the couple moved forward, they were each other’s only strength, and I heard Adrian whisper to his sobbing wife, “Do not fear.”
“Quiet!” I ordered, then continued, “Ionatan Marku, move to the front now.” Only briefly did I look up from my papers to make sure he obeyed, then proceeded to call a few more names and felt their hearts thundering wildly. How I wished to tell them not to fear, but my silence was faithfully kept, too much was hanging in the balance and we could afford no mistakes this night, or any other night. Mistakes I knew would be paid for in priceless lives.
“Now move! No talking, whimpering, limit even your breathing, one wrong move will cost you what you cannot afford to loose.” Even though my words were masked by hate, the words rang true.
Obediently they moved, though slower then I liked, it seemed as though all were moving in slow motion, including myself. They were hindered by hunger and weakness, as the walked they almost stumbled upon each other several times. But it was good, the exodus from Romania’s darkest prison had begun. Oh Heavenly Father, help us safely escape this Egypt, I fervently prayed.

________________________________

Hadassah waited and soon was joined by several vans driven by other Watchmen. No longer alone she sighed in relief, they were here as Raphael had promised, why had she doubted? Each van was black as the night around them, on each of the three was boldly written TRANSPORTARE DE PRISONIERI, Prison Transportation.
The three watchmen looked identical, same bottomless blue eyes that were so bright you could clearly see them even in the night, each had the same silvery blond hair, and the same full kiss me lips. All were the same except