The Last Dream Before Dawn

By Seven

Through several life times Tommy must fight a demon named maximus in order to be reunited with his eternal love Nyle. On an island in the forest in the city and in the desert, with the hero the lover the fake the child the wise old man Each life teahes him a lesson as he comes closer and closer only to realize in the end the true nature of what he is fighting. symbolically he learns what maximus means to him as well as nyle and the ture nature of love and hate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462068562

Seven

The seed of Solomon Seven A blessing in disguise Bam - A.K.A Allan Williams is a modern day Egypt Washington D.C native that have seen the divine light of God, and have walked pass the heartless windows of hell. He is a down to earth and goofy type of guy that can be easily misunderstood. He believes the key to life lies within children which is often stolen by tradition at an early age. For more Information please visit www.allanwilliamsbooks.com Here on his personal website you can quickly Order all his books Online and check out his latest and upcoming books. You also can contact him personally through several links such as his Myspace.com and Blackplanet.com page. Also feel free to purchase his books in any major bookstores in the Unites States such as Barnes &Nobles, Borders, and more. Feel free to email Allan Williams at [e-mail] which he actively checks and responds to multiple individuals comments, questions, and remarks about his books everyday.

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Copyright © 2011 by The Author known as Seven.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4620-6855-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-6856-2 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 11/29/2011

Contents

I

Protwa

II

Domesca

III

Telmesa

IV

Brotana

V

Concasia

Recommended Reading

I

Protwa

I once had a dream…

The constant noise of gunfire and explosions, the sounds of human error that shattered your bones and nerves, rumbled everywhere. The scene could only be described as that of a nightmare, a gruesome nightmare from which no one ever awoke.

In this world-gone-mad demons roamed free, with no concern for hiding from mankind. Instead of staying in the spirit world, they chose to take physical form. People accepted this, expected it almost. They lived in hell, so it made sense that demons lived alongside them.

From palatial mansions atop the hills, the rich appeared to control everything. However upon further inspection, they were simply slaves to greed and lust and every other thing the demons gave them. Dripping with nearly visible sin, their entrapment was worse than a man in a cell.

The average person wasn’t controlled by greed or pride or any of the other deadly sins, but solely by fear. No pleasure was allowed, only pain. Fear of all the terrors that awaited them every day, fear of the pain that lingered and worsened over time. There were no opportunities to experience anything remotely good, no way to find happiness or hope, just an ever present sense of doom.

Any sense of spiritual individuality was stripped from them by the demons. Creativity was crushed out of existence, artists didn’t dare express themselves. People didn’t dare share ideas or thoughts for fear of punishment.

The most anyone could hope for was to escape additional tortures. Pain was prevalent, but with cunning and opossum-like skill, one could survive the excruciating existence for moments at a time.

A blood-red moon hung low in the pitch black sky as if to remind everyone of their hopeless situation. True hell had taken over; every individual could feel shut up in their bones this atmosphere of total despair.

A tiny red fungus grew everywhere. It gave off a horrible smelling poison that attacked the nervous system, making all the people moan lethargically with a crippling pain they could not quite name.

The fungus created a plague that every person, every residence of this horrible world had to endure. There was no cure. If you have ever witnessed a plague, you would still have no inkling as to how much suffering was cast upon each helpless victim. Everyone had infectious sores and boils covering their bodies, craters of green and purple infection.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, each pustule was filled with insects. Larvae grew, incubating within the abscess until they burst forth into the world, not before laying new eggs. There was no way to rid oneself of these boils.

Normally the red-fungal disease would kill its victims within in a matter of hours, but the fungus’ truly evil poison odor still kept the spirit within the body, encased it within decaying flesh. The body was kept alive, as well, making it impossible to escape through death.

No one had any memory of any other existence. They couldn’t remember being happy, experiencing joy, living in any other way other than abject fear and pain. Although they could imagined that there could be a world where people lived with purpose, enjoyed life and found meaning in their daily existence, none could recall what that might actually feel like. Death was wished for, but never attained.

The demons just gave the pain and suffering a face. The fungus never affected them, except perhaps to make them more willing to inflict pain on others. It spurred them on and made their job of torture and mayhem easier to create.

Large stone structures dotted the land, as if an ancient Greek or Roman city had been destroyed resembling an ancient Roman or Greek dynasty. The destruction took place before any creations and inventions of the most up-to-date scientific vehicles and weapons, especially suited for the demons.

One might think this was a blessing, giving people some escape from the never-ending torture of the demons, but the opposite was true. The deprivation of the most efficient means of destruction only spurred the demons on, encouraging them to use more barbaric means of torture. The foundations of this world seemed to follow no discernible pattern, balance or idea as to what had happened in the past. Indeed, past knowledge was forbidden.

It was as if a law had passed in this land where total anarchy alone ruled. It didn’t matter to the people, nor to the nobles, nor to the demons how any of this ill-conceived world was created or came to be. There was no past and certainly no future, no hope for these people.

Conditions were just as horrid as one could possibly imagine. Everywhere one looked one saw death and pain, people begging for water, food and death. You could walk down a street and see people cutting off their own limbs that had become too infected. They hoped the excruciating pain would give them some relief on a permanent basis.

People would try to scoop maggots out of holes in their heads with whatever they could find, a spoon or stick. If they pushed hard enough, the insects would come out his eyes, nose and mouth. The very wills of the people had been completely destroyed to the last level of spiritual existence, but their awareness of pain and suffering was just as intact as ever.

The question on everyone’s mind was, why did they suffer so? Were they horrible people in another life and this was the rue realm of hell? As far as anyone with reasonable justice in their minds could see, no conceivable crime would deserve even a moment’s existence in this place.

But even worse than the constant pain was the incredible loneliness felt by all residence. No matter how much one knew a person or became close to them, one was always lonely. The environment, the red fungus and the incessant pain caused everyone to feel the opposite of love.

The demons set up a hierarchy of evil, allowing some of the residence to have control over the rest of the population. The demons had control over the very rich sadistic people, who had control over everyone else. The higher up one was the more evil one was, and the further down one was the more pain one felt. The demons on Heska derived pleasure from inflicting suffering. They did it for evil’s sake, not revenge or money or dominance.

The method of control was infliction of further suffering amazingly, as if more pain could even exist. A lot of words were illegal: words like love, hope, peace, happiness, especially God, but above all if anyone said the word Protwa he would stay at Maximus’ castle for a lovely vacation, which was the term that was used.

Only the people who went to the castle knew what happened in there, and only Maximus was evil enough to inflict this lovely vacation. When someone came back from the castle he was never the same, even though no one could be considered normal in this world. For months after, victims of this vacation would lie on the ground holding themselves in agony, trying to forget what had happened. They were forbidden from talking about it with others.

Maximus was very large and powerful. He ruled over the other demons. Some years back he had disappeared, obsessed with destroying Protwa. This left his second-in-command, Dexatrous, in complete control.

Barely covered by a flimsy sheet of metal under a major expressway, Tommy and his friend Corpious sat. They were dirty, filthy even, two nobodies on their way to nowhere. They had been living in this world for god knows how long. Their memories betrayed them to believe they had been there forever. They lived off the scraps that the street would supply them. The cold rotten flesh of a diseased limb made Tommy throw up a little in the back of his mouth, but somehow to get anything, even the smallest amount, in his withered stomach gave some satisfaction.

Tommy had a stab wound in his stomach that seemed very recent to him, but no matter how many times Corpious asked him, he insisted that he had no idea where it came from. The pain was unbearable. Somehow, when most intense, it triggered a flash of colors, especially white, and a thought of anger that had a tip-of-the-tongue type resemblance to a significant part of his past. The wound did not bleed but instead oozed green puss which made him vomit to smell. More than that, the filth of the wound seemed almost to come from his soul, which had a distinctly poisonous side.

He felt the pain of an empty stomach again. On the road was a decayed, diseased piece of meat, probably vomited up by someone else or perhaps severed from another’s body. Tommy looked down at it, paused for a moment and then began eating. It was too disgusting for him to swallow. He spit it out again and started to cry, giving up.

Tommy looked at the sky. As always it was raining and dark. With tears still streaming down his face, he said to Corpious, Remember that myth of an island you were telling me about? I think you said it was somewhere off the west coast.

Though this was a forbidden subject, Corpious brightened. It’s a myth, of course, but doesn’t it give you some sense of hope?

Yeah, Tommy said, fearfully. He knew full well that if the demons had heard him, there’d be punishment. Still the draw of some other place, even if it was just a topic of discussion, was irresistible. Do you think that the sky lights there are actually brighter than our street neon lights?

Yes. And with light you can see enemies, look for them and run away.

Except there’d be no enemies.

Hard to imagine.

Yeah.

I love hearing about light, Corpious said. But if we had light here, the demons would come out from the shadows and attack us from all angles.

That made Tommy quiet again. This horrible world was run by those mindless demons, Tommy thought, not trying to deceive himself of the truth. An average demon a person would encounter at night would be about three times the size of a human in mass. Their horns would rip a human apart, shredding their skin. The demons themselves had skin so tough and hardened that even a bullet couldn’t penetrate it, let alone a sword.

But we never die, thought Tommy. This was the most horrific and curious aspect to life on Heska. Even when someone was torn into pieces, the body parts would crawl together and begin to reattach themselves.

They were always left for dead and relied on the sea, the sea of blood from all the people dying from all the evils. We drink to replenish ourselves and grow more sensitive to pain, Tommy considered. Even those that had been too badly injured to survive the night before could be attacked again. Naturally there seemed no point to healing oneself so that only a few hours later one could experience the same atrocities. Unfortunately, rational thinking could not persist in the face of such agony. The pain of being ripped apart drove the being to any form of relief, however brief and detrimental.

I think I remember the lights, said Corpious. It was when I was about three. The dream was of a place they had once seen, a better place of less pain and more light. Apparently to Corpious and the rest of the people, Heska actually used to be a beautiful, wondrous land filled with harmony and love, but for some almost ordained reason a hell was realized into it. But why a god or creator would build such a world just didn’t make sense.

Sadly, Tommy didn’t remember the lights. He was the only one who didn’t. Perhaps this was why he could not remember anything prior to his non-healing injury, he reasoned. I’m so jealous, Tommy said. I wish I could remember the lights. I want to see them.

They exist now only on the forbidden island, whispered Corpious. There is no way to get there, if it even exists.

Tommy grew absolutely serious. It does. I know Protwa exists.

He suddenly screamed as a snake bit him. The viper had snuck up unnoticed and now slithered away. Tommy could feel the poison coursing through his veins. This meant another night of paralysis as the demons tortured him. He would be defenseless.

This was the third night in a row the snake had bit him and mysteriously escaped.

I can’t take this anymore, he said. That’s it! We have to escape. Tommy paused then stated deliberately, We are going to sail.

Corpious turned to look at him. Sail? How are we going to do that?

The coast is only a day or two away. We’ll steal a boat.

But we could die—

Of course we could, interrupted Tommy. So what?

Or worse! continued Corpious. Maximus could find out. We could end up in his palace for that horrible vacation.

I don’t care. We have to leave.

Suddenly, as Tommy lay there, everything drew quiet. The location darkened to almost night, signaling the arrival of a horrible force. Slowly stepping from behind