Tag : demons

‘Fake News’ – Chapter 1 of FORTRESS: a Wayfarers Story

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The weather had been in a word – strange. But this was one of the rare, sunny mornings this cool and rainy season had seen, as the birds chirped merrily in celebration outside of forty-five-year-old Dave Jamison’s upper-level flat on North Peterboro Street in rustic Canastota, New York. Indeed, Dave was the antithesis of cheerful as he roared “aw, c’mon! This isn’t gonna get the rent paid this month” before slamming his right fist on the black particleboard desk that supported his PC. The desk also supported his cup of coffee, and the force of the paw making impact knocked the beverage over; whereby spilling onto the tan carpet of the white-walled, single-window spare bedroom that served as his pseudo office.

“Not advertiser-friendly?” he growled, while working his fingers through his brown hair touched with grey, that had the day before received its monthly buzz-cut. He feigned skepticism as he read the e-mail from YouTube, but he knew that his video titled Kim Jong-un Threatens U.S. with Fiery Apocalypse would meet with this fate, just as ninety-percent of the videos he’d posted over the last three months had. “How about if I do a video called ‘Transgender Makeup Tips for Millennials’ he carped, while massaging his temples in the hope that it would work the ache out of his head. “Would the Google-YouTube monolith allow me to monetize crap like that?” This independent news reporter’s YouTube channel was titled Dave Jamison News and Views, and in the three years since losing his “real job,” he’d amassed over 600,000 subscribers who sought the truth, and not the leftist, pre-fab, agenda-driven, Deep State-supported fake news provided by the mainstream alphabet networks.

“Coffee on a tan rug, so the stain won’t show when it dries” he mumbled, while rubbing his left pointer finger and thumb over the brown chin beard with grey and white speckles that was always meticulously trimmed, with nary a whisker askew. After confirming that all was well with his “chinny,” he stared down at the clear glass mug toppled on the floor, while working his right pointer and index fingers across the jagged three-inch scab on his forehead. His fingers were like the tiptoes of a burglar sneaking into a lightless living room, while the home’s residents slept upstairs with visions of big stock dividends, job promotions, and new Cadillac Escalades dancing in their heads. Ten days prior, while livestreaming from the “America’s Best Days Ahead” (Twitter hashtag #ABDA) rally held in Cleveland for President Derek Troop, Dave’s forehead was cut by a hunk of red brick thrown by a black bloc protester. While the cut was not as severe as it could have been, forehead lacerations are often bloody, and his vision had been blurred as the scarlet liquid flowed into his eyes that were as bright as blue lightening. As his 5’10”, 150-pound frame staggered while he’d struggled to pull a bandana from his backpack, his image was snapped by a photographer from USA Today. The photo of the dazed live streamer accompanied the following morning’s article on the rally that had morphed into a riot, and was given the caption Justice, as Alt-Right Reporter Suffers Wounds of War.

Ever resilient and focused, it was only a few minutes before he’d resumed streaming the moderate level of chaos on that block of downtown Cleveland that featured the city’s top bars and eateries. Dave had his own means of measuring chaos, by using a scale of 1 being “negligible” and 5 being “intense.” Immersed in the strident chants of “hey, hey, ho, ho, Derek Troop has got to go” and “no Troop, no KKK, no fascist U.S.A” as his olfactory glands were assaulted by the body odor and pepper spray lingering on the cool evening air, he relayed to the 7,011 viewers of his stream that the chaos was “level 3”. Fortunately for the residents, business owners, and guests of the city, the riot gear-clad police kept the chaos from exceeding that level. The result was two trash can fires, numerous minor abrasions and lacerations, three sets of pepper-sprayed eyes, and 4 protestors and 2 “Troopers” (rallying supporters of the president) being arrested and later released.

Dave had livestreamed from several events since the election – or perhaps “selection” – that gave Derek Troop the victory, but the Cleveland #ABDA rally took a heavy toll on him. It wasn’t the most uproarious or dangerous event he’d ever reported from, but he remained inexplicably fatigued and dispirited ten days later. Certainly, his financial situation was becoming dire, as YouTube had given into what it blamed on pressure from advertisers, and was refusing to monetize videos with what was deemed “controversial” subject matter. There was no clear delineation from what content was controversial and what wasn’t, but most any videos uploaded by independent journalists were now being de-monetized. Up until the previous October, he’d been earning as much money as he did as a high school American History teacher. Now, in May, he was depleting his savings, which was a stash of cash that remained from his closed 401K, and kept in a small safe under his bed. He knew that it was likely that the dollar would soon collapse under the weight of debt, pressure from China and Russia, the loss of Petrodollar status, and the machinations of the World Banksters. And, he knew that a major military conflict or civil war would be the straws that break the dollar’s back. While he loved America, part of him couldn’t wait for the collapse, as he believed it would be the “great equalizer.” But, most of all, Dave loved the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Despite that love, he’d been angry at God in recent years, and yet he knew the Lord had plans as per His written word, and they would change everything.

Still, something other than getting beaned by a piece of brick had happened to him on that night in Cleveland. Driving home at 3:11 a.m. on the New York State Thruway, just east of Buffalo, his truck’s radio was tuned to 88.1 FM out of Toronto; an infrequent, cloudless early morning sky allowing for clear reception, even at that distance. He was grooving to the chorus of “My Before and After” by Austin, Texas indie band Cotton Mather, when the melodic pop-rock track was replaced by interference in the form of a piercing buzz, not unlike that of an Emergency Broadcast System message. Seconds later, a blacked-out Chevy Tahoe 4×4 pulled up alongside in the passing lane, and then veered and tried to sideswipe his white Nissan Frontier pickup. Being forced to the shoulder, Dave had to slam the brake pedal to the floor to keep his vehicle out of a roadside swamp. The Nissan’s tires screamed in protest as the vehicle spun and faced oncoming traffic, and was eight inches from being clipped by an eighteen-wheeler carrying a load of gasoline to be delivered to a nearby Circle-K convenience store. The wind created by the streaking tanker caused the Nissan to rock like a boat on rough seas. Then, as the sustained blare of the tanker truck’s airhorn faded out in doppler, all became quiet; save for the pounding heartbeat in Dave’s ears and the hiss over the radio, as both the buzz and the reception of 88.1 FM were gone. There were no other vehicles on either the eastbound or westbound side, and despite his shaking arms and legs, he possessed the wits to get his pickup back on the highway and headed eastward toward home. “You spared me Lord, even though I wish you hadn’t” was his shuddering murmur, as the Nissan rolled at 75 M.P.H. while his thoughts flashed and crackled like sparks from an electrical outlet, as though a curious toddler had stuck a screwdriver in.

Despite being wired on adrenaline from his near-death experience, his eyelids were heavy as he pulled into the Pembroke Travel Plaza to grab a 20-ounce cup of coffee to-go from the Tim Horton’s. Being two hours from home, he needed the caffeine to keep him from falling asleep at the wheel. He was swallowing the first sip of the piping hot brew as he pulled open the driver’s side door, and it was then that he heard from behind a congenial male voice proclaim, “Dave Jamison from YouTube!”

“Yes sir, I am” Dave answered politely, after turning toward the 6’-3” tall man, who was bald on top with grey, medium-length hair on the sides and back, and bushy grey sideburns. The man pushed his black-rimmed glasses from the end to the top of his narrow bridge of a nose, and the lenses reflected the beam of a nearby street lamp positioned in the parking lot. The man then cocked his head to the right as if studying Dave, while taking two steps backward. A smile formed on the left side of his face, but not the right. Dave likewise sized-up the fellow, who was clad in an unzipped green parka, an untucked black t-shirt bearing the image of the Beatles Let It Be album cover, well-worn Khaki slacks, and scuffed black dress shoes. The man appeared disheveled, and yet conveyed an air of self-importance. The man also smelled as though he could use a shower.

“You look thinner in person, even with the Kevlar on” the man chuckled.

“Yeah, well, I’ve cut back on the Spam sandwiches, and I need to wear Kevlar for protection when I stream, in case a riot breaks out” Dave answered, being unsure of how to take this gentleman, while glancing at a white limousine as it pulled into a parking spot a short distance away.

“That’s a nasty cut on your forehead” the man commented, while pointing and squinting.

“Oh yeah, that. I got it while shaving this morning. Next time, I’ll light the lantern in the outhouse so I can see what I’m doing” Dave answered.

“I watch you, Dave” the man stated pointblank, with all congeniality and levity gone, and his voice rose in shaking fury as he finished with “I watch you, and you lie, lie, lie!” The man then turned and stomped toward the limousine, while mumbling something that Dave couldn’t decipher.

Now, ten days after Cleveland, that night’s events continued to seep like toxic molasses through the cracks in the cookie jar of his mind. “Patreon donations might help me to make it this month” he whispered to no one except God, as he lived alone these days. “I’ve got to find the mother of all scoops; something I can livestream and get big money from Super Chat. As it is, I’m gonna have to start eating the food I’ve put away for when the shit hits the fan, and Lord, you know I don’t want to have to do that.” It was then that Philippians chapter 4, verse 19 popped into his head: But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. He could have interpreted that as confirmation that the Lord had heard him, but he wasn’t sure if it emanated from his spirit or his head.

After five seconds of staring like a statuesque zombie at his computer monitor, he closed his eyes and lowered his head to pray for direction and clarity. As he opened his mouth to begin speaking his petition, he was startled by a hissy, whispering voice admonishing “ah, you’re the one who’s fake news, Davey boy! You’re living in a fantasy world of tabloid trash and outlandish conspiracy. I’m so disappointed that you believe the garbage you make videos about, and the garbage that you read. What a sad, sick life you’re leading! And, what about all those freaks that live in their parents’ basements and believe everything you say in those videos? Doesn’t your God ever convict you in the spirit for misleading those poor souls who have even less of a life than you do?”

Dave’s head snapped up, and he directed his gaze over his right shoulder and toward the corner of the room, adjacent to the walnut door that needed a coat of varnish. “It’s stress, that’s all it is. You’re not real” he stammered, as he looked upon the black-cloaked figure standing in the corner. The cloak had a black hood, and while it was obvious by the shape that there was a head inside of it, there was no face.

“Oh, I’m real, Davey-poo. I’m real, unlike the fiction that you peddle for the thousands of right-wing twits and conspiracy theorists that see you as THE purveyor of truth! No wonder Screw-Tube doesn’t monetize your work anymore. Do you think that they want you to make bank on your deception? Well, you’ll get yours, Dave. The Lord that you worship has a special place in Hell for liars like you! Thou shall not lie, Dave. You know Proverbs twelve twenty-two, right? It says, ‘lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are his delight.’ You Dave, have put the capital ‘A’ in abomination, and you are responsible for all those ‘sheeple’ that YOU man, YOU have misled” the hooded one taunted better than any schoolyard bully could.

“Who the hell are you?!” Dave bellowed, with a voice that quivered like lime Jell-O in an earthquake.

“Oh Dave, Dave, Dave, really now, how could you forget?” the figure hissed in faux disappointment. “I’m the hooded shadow, Mister Jones! Remember that insipid story you read?”
Before Dave could clear his head and attempt to rebut the figure, his LG smartphone buzzed to alert him that an e-mail from YouTube had come in, indicating new activity on his recent video Israeli-Arab Peace Deal? Could Troop’s Son in Law be the Anti-Christ? It was a new comment, which read “Jacob Cushman is not the A.C., you effing moron! Stop spreading lies just to draw eyeballs to your videos! Stop sucking up to the Zionist Jews! You lie, lie, lie and I hope you tear open your ‘shaving cut’ and bleed to death!”

His videos had received plenty of negative comments, and he’d learned to shrug them off. Some were so ludicrous and poorly-written that he’d laugh when he’d read them. But, when stirred into the pot of sewage soup that was the trying day he’d been having, reading this comment was tantamount to guzzling a bottle of Tabasco sauce. The commenter’s YouTube I.D. was Watching U Dave, and seeing that caused hot bile to splash into his esophagus, which produced a short but intense coughing fit. And when it came to “sewage soup,” he noticed upon catching his breath that Mr. Jones was gone, but the malodorous air of sewage hung in the room. “I don’t really smell that, and Jones isn’t real” he whispered, but his words did nothing to make him believe it. He drew another breath through his nose, and this time detected armpit stink, but he was sure that it wasn’t his own, as he was freshly showered and protected with antiperspirant.

His hands were trembling like autumn leaves on a November breeze, but he was able to mouse over the Watching U Dave user I.D., which revealed a generic “ghost” icon and the channel description of “Always watching, and always waiting, as a snake coiled to strike.” Undaunted, he clicked to the channel, and saw that the user had posted no videos, and had no followers. The faint aroma of body odor lingered, and he recalled the man in the travel plaza parking lot smelling the same way. He remembered the bubbling rage in the man’s voice as he stated, “I watch you, Dave.” And, he remembered quipping about his “shaving cut.” Watching U Dave most certainly had to be that man, the struggling indie journalist reasoned. As his throat and chest tightened with anxiety, Dave clicked back to the channel and attempted to block it from accessing his content. He was confused and yet relieved when the auto-response was “user does not exist.” And where confusion is concerned, he then muttered “whoa, what the…” as he noticed that a wrinkled black bandana lay on the floor in the corner where Mr. Jones appeared to have been. “Where’d that come from? I have two colors of bandanas – blue and green – and in one case blue and bloodstained,” he announced to no one visible, as he stepped through the wet coffee spot in his bare feet, which elicited a grumbled “ugh, I forgot.” After squatting and grasping the bandana between his pointer finger and thumb – as though it might bite him if not handled with caution – his sense of smell that could rival that of dog detected three aromas that were imbued in the fabric: whiskey, marijuana, and the body odor he’d whiffed a moment before.

“Steve drinks and smokes weed, but he hasn’t been in here” he thought to himself in reference to his landlord, as he proceeded to the kitchen trashcan with the bandana; the sticky soles of his feet smacking like kisses on the off-white linoleum floor tile.

Categories: Books

The Wayfarers end-times, christian fiction suspense book in Kindle and paperback

The Wolf

The wolf is out there and it’s tailing you; whether you’ve come to grips with that fact or merely live in blissful denial…

*A blog co-written by a pair of characters who appears in the novel The Wayfarers: Revised Edition. Read the book in Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, or paperback, and you’ll discover who they are.

The wolf is out there and it’s tailing you; whether you’ve come to grips with that fact or merely live in blissful denial…

Not all wolves are evil; just the one that lurks in the shadows of your life. He’s out of sight; hidden in the self-induced blindness of your deliberately-narrowed periphery. You can’t drink him away, drug him away, eat him away, or wish him away. Friend, the wolf will devour you if you fail to take substantive action against him.

You feel his presence, surely enough. In your spirit he arouses those feelings of anxiety, agitation, impatience, discomfort, and fear. But you fail to deal with the wolf – you merely take out your disquiet on everyone around you. Indeed, your aggression is displaced because you know that it won’t defeat the Wolf. To the contrary, your anger, pain, and boastfulness only fuel and feed the wolf and further strengthen his flexible haunches so as to explode onto you and defeat you!

So, go ahead…live in private denial and blame everyone else for your public pain. Take it out on those around you and let your therapist tell you that it’s “completely normal.” Have a few more drinks and boast about how many you can put away. Waste more money on lottery tickets – with the hope that this time you’ll “hit the big one.” But what would you do with the money? If I were a gambler, I’d bet a dollar to a donut that you’d blow your big winnings on Wolf Chow. Yeah, you’d have more money to allow that beast to eat better!

Friend, you must deal with and eliminate the wolf, or he will devour you.

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The tormentor is a temptor and destroyer, but there is salvation and hope. The Wayfarers: Revised Edition Christian end times fiction suspense in Kindle or paperback

The Liar – a Wayfarers Ode

I know that my faith is the substance of things hoped for; The evidence of things unseen..

Heavy, oh so heavy Lord,
Is this burden that I carry
It seems that at times I have been lost and alone
Driven by the unseen as a vagabond far from home

There is a tormentor seemingly everywhere
He is a tempter and a destroyer
You Lord, have called me out to something
And yet the tormentor is dismantling everything I know

I pace off the miles, cold and hungry
My soul cries for food and restoration
I am patient
I know that my faith is the substance of things hoped for
The evidence of things unseen; and yet my faith has seen testing

The evil thing paces and pants in the shadows
Bushes and briers snapping under his feet; he too is patient
As this wayfarer walks the path the evil thing who keeps pace in the brambles
Whispers lies to my cold ears as he tramples the former vastness of my earthly life
Yes, oh Lord, he destroys – as he tells me that you desire for me only failure and suffering
He tells me that it is you who is my tormentor and not him
He tells me that I will arrive at my destination damaged; as a cripple and an insane fool
He tells me that all that I do is wrong

Yes, oh Lord, the burden weighs heavy as I move forward into the unseen
I do not look now at what has been broken but instead on what is ahead;
It is night and I cannot see far; but I trust you
I see a light that most cannot see and I follow it
I follow it despite the murmurings of lying, filthy spirits upon my ears
I follow it into the frigid night because Lord, my God, it is your light!
It is a long road home fraught with peril and evil
But I see Your light, yes! Yes!
You are my light and my salvation oh Lord,
You are the truth and the light that leads me home
You, only You, will get me home
Only You will save me from the Liar

Read The Wayfarers in Kindle or paperback.

Categories: Books

The Wayfarers Journey Through Tumultuos Days

The Wayfarers Revised Edition in Kindle and paperback book

A revised edition of my novel The Wayfarers will be available in Kindle on Tuesday, September 20th, 2016. The paperback version will reach the marketplace shortly thereafter. Considering all that is taking place in the world during this American election year of 2016, this three-part fictional tale could be a most timely read. As I write this blog on Sunday, September 18th, the major news story is the explosion that injured 29 in the Chelsea section of New York City on Saturday evening. Officials are referring to this heinous event as an “intentional act” without attaching to it the more appropriate description of “terrorism.” Earlier that day, one of possibly three pipe-bomb styled devices exploded inside a trash can in Seaside Park, New Jersey, near the planned route of the Semper Fi 5k race, resulting in cancellation of the event.

These are indeed tumultuous days, and in The Wayfarers a terrible intentional act takes place in New York City. And while Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump, Barack Obama, Julian Assange, purported Russian hackers, classified e-mails, a basket of deplorables, and pneumonia are trending topics right now, The Wayfarers story includes a troubled American president who is loosely-based on one of the aforementioned first three names. These are days of terror, financial distress, cultural debasement, and imminent radical change in America, and all of these are part of The Wayfarers story. And while the previously-listed topics may weigh too heavily upon you, The Wayfarers is also a story of our one true hope, and that hope may be the book’s most prevalent theme.

I will post a purchase link here when the release is official. Thanks for reading, and God bless you.

Categories: Books

Cover for upcoming Jim Yackel book release "Dead-Ringer." Cover design by LL Pix Photography @ www.llpix.com © 2013

Elvis, Wizard of Oz, End of Days?

What do the King of Rock-n-Roll and flying monkeys have to do with the End Times?

As of Wednesday 04/10/2013, my new book Dead-Ringer is now available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle download here. Other formats such as Nook, iBook, and more will follow shortly thereafter. You now have the opportunity to rock your way out of the jailhouse, step sprightly down the yellow brick road and arrive at the answer to the aforementioned question. But dear friends, I can assure you that your point of arrival will not be the Land of Oz.

The story is replete with truly interesting and intriguing characters that were a joy for me to create. The backdrop of the tale is the rustic Madison County village of Chittenango, in upstate New York. The town is most known for being the birthplace of author L. Frank Baum, who penned the fiction series The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that spawned the beautifully timeless 1938 film that won two Oscars. Combine the Wizard of Oz connection with the Elvis Presley reference – no matter how great or small that may be – and hopefully your interest has become peaked.

Dead-Ringer is the fourth novel by author Jim Yackel -with references Wizard of Oz, Elvis Presley, Yellow Brick Road, Chittenango, L. Frank Baum, Flying Monkeys

Dead-Ringer by Jim Yackel

Dead Ringer is a twisting, turning, action and adventure tale that serves as a companion to the Wayfarers trilogy, and yet it stands on its own merits. This writing of this book was quite a workout for me in the literary sense, and prayerfully it will be a joy and inspiration for you to read.

What follows is the description of Dead-Ringer:

A man who impersonates Elvis Presley for his living resides in the same small town that was the birthplace of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum. We all know that flying monkeys were a part of the journey to the mythical Land of Oz, but could they also be demons straight from Hell? This Elvis impersonator thinks so, as he sees them in his dreams and visions and also in the tangible reality of the streets of the rustic village of Chittenango, New York.

This man, named Jesse Same, has grown weary of the Elvis gig and desires to do something new with his music career. Likewise, he desires to have more time with his young son and that means wrestling him away from his manipulative and controlling ex-wife and her hard-driving new husband. They don’t subscribe to Jesse’s strong faith in Jesus and are troubled that the young son has developed his father’s passionate love for the Lord. How far would the ex and her husband go to keep the young son from Jesse? Would the young boy put himself into great danger in order to be with his dad?

As this man who is a dead-ringer for the King of Rock n Roll dreams prophetic dreams, the supernatural creeps through the cracks in the walls that separate it from the natural realm as those who are bound to this world may soon witness the end of the world as they know it. Will the man’s dreams and visions come to pass? Is there any hope for the individuals who appear in his dreams?

“And it shall come to pass afterward
That I will pour out My Spirit on all flesh;
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
Your old men shall dream dreams,
Your young men shall see visions.
~ Joel 2:28 NKJV

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Categories: Books