Shadow of the Inimicus: A Personal Testimony of Supernatural Intervention

By R.E. Villanti

K..Stripped of its conjecture and melodrama, Inimicus, is simply one mans testimony of his tribulations with the unseen forces of evil. Super powers that once conspired to conquer his soul in a vengeful and deliberate attempt to rob him of his God-given inheritance. Exposed within its pages, is the potentially fatal venom of an ancient enemy, and of the subsequent consequences when it is injected into a spiritually deprived and unsuspecting lifeKFortunately, there is another sideK

It is also a journal filled with wondrous miracles. As a diary, it records, in chronological format, the extraordinary relationship between the human spirit and the Sovereign Power that gave it life. Eventually it culminates (or should I say begins again) with the miraculous intervention of an incredible and unequaled Love, mercifully reaching down from the heavens to rescue a tormented soul from the horrors of eternal damnationK.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469117775

R.E. Villanti

n/a

Book preview

Shadow of the Inimicus

A Personal Testimony of Supernatural Intervention

R.E. Villanti

For in the final audit every one of us will give an account of himself to God… I for one, have no intention of standing before Him, with head bowed and tongue silent . . .

Copyright © 2009 by R.E. Villanti.

Library of Congress Control Number:          2009910681

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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68179

Contents

Before we begin… if…

Part One

Chapter 1

The Fountain Pen

April 1956

Chapter 2

Night of the Eclipse

Chapter 3

The Prayer

Update

Chapter 4

Meltdown… Summer in the City

August 1961

Chapter 5

The Plymouth and the Fury

Chapter 6

Let’s Make a Deal

Chapter 7

The Other White Castle

Chapter 8

The Knight and the Rookie

The Law of the Jungle

Chapter 9

The Confrontation

Chapter 10

The Aftermath

Chapter 11

Miracle on 23rd Street

Epilogue

Update

Chapter 12

Season of Walls and

Masks

Martin without Lewis

A Rock by Any Other Name

Chapter 13

Once Upon a… Dime

Update

Chapter 14

Silent Night… Lonely

Night

Update

Chapter 15

Peace Pipes and Sulfur

Comming of Age

Part One

Peace Pipes and Sulfur

Chapter 16

Peace Pipes and Sulfur

Part Two

The Winding Road

Twenty years later

Chapter 17

’Twas the Week before

Thanksgiving

Chapter 18

The Long Distance Call… from Hades

The Interview

Update

Chapter 19

A Curse… from Whom…

Or from What?

Chapter 20

The Ballad of Rita

and Bobito

Chapter 21

Hell Hath No Fury…

Epilogue

One Last Word… from Bobito

Another Day in Sedah (Sed-ahh)

Part Two

Out of the Shadows…

Into the Light…

Chapter 22

Beginning to an End

October 1984

A Cry From My Soul

The Dream

Chapter 23

The Name Above All Names

Guided By… . An Angel?

An Old Friend, with a Startling Revelation

Chapter 24

The Visitor

Chapter 25

The Thing in My

Daughter’s Room

Enemy of My Enemy

A Divine Eviction

Chapter 26

The Stranger

Chapter 27

Thou Shall Not

Smoke!

Update

Chapter 28

No Tears for

Mephistopheles

Psalm 91

Chapter 29

What Manner of Man

Is This!

2004

The sword prevails,

unsheathed and vigilant…

It is finished…

One Question Remains… Why?

If It’s Proof You Seek…

About the Author

&&&&&&

No trumpets herald life’s momentous

decisions…

Destiny arrives unannounced…

—Agnes de Mille

&&&&&&

&&&&&&

To all those who stand in the gap, who persist tirelessly

in the good fight . . .

. . . I firmly believe that if it were not for your fearless determination, this planet would have been reduced long ago to a burned-out cinder… that… and nothing more.

&&&&&&

To my Supreme Collaborator, who needs no

introduction… Without His direct intervention and guidance,

this book, as well as I, would not exist…

&&&&&&

To my devoted wife, Phyllis…

. . . who patiently spent many a night without my company while I plied away endless hours transforming memory into ink. Her loving loyalty and understanding throughout have helped form the bond of this work…

Shadow of the Inimicus contains subject matter that, understandably, some may find objectionable. While it shows no regard whatsoever for political correctness, it makes no attempt to compromise anyone’s religious beliefs. It simply lays claim to the truth as it was revealed to me. Whether you believe all, part, or none of it is not relevant to my life; it concerns only yours . . . For in the final analysis, truth can only be found in the hearts of those who are diligently willing to search for it . . .

Before we begin… if…

If you’ve no desire to hear beyond what you think you may already know, if your mind is closed to the wonders of an Almighty God and regard it as impossible, fanatical, or near psychotic to have a personal one-on-one relationship with the Creator of the universe… and if you’re easily prone to condemning or denouncing that which is not easily understood and accepted within the boundaries of logic, then you need not read any farther. It is suggested you move on to something perhaps more suitable to your individual interests. Something far less likely to make you ponder, or hold in awe, the vast complexities, for instance, of the human body…

But if, on the other hand, your life is in ruins—as mine once was, even to the brink of despair, as I knew it to be—then by all means, read on! You may be the very reason for this book’s existence. Within its pages, there emanates light! Unimaginable joy, hope, and happiness in their purest form can be as near and attainable as your very next prayer… The choice has always been yours . . .

Stripped of its conjecture and melodrama, Inimicus is simply one man’s testimony of his tribulations with the unseen forces of evil—superpowers that once conspired to conquer his soul in a vengeful and deliberate attempt to rob him of his God-given inheritance. Exposed within its pages is the potentially fatal venom of an ancient enemy, and of the subsequent consequences when it is injected into a spiritually deprived and unsuspecting life… Fortunately, there is another side…

It’s also a journal filled with wondrous miracles. As a diary, it records, in chronological format, the extraordinary relationship between the human spirit and the Sovereign Power that gave it life. Eventually, it culminates (or should I say begins again) with the miraculous intervention of an incredible and unequaled love, mercifully reaching down from the heavens to rescue a tormented soul from the horrors of eternal damnation… My primary objective was to give a factual account of the events as I lived them; of the latter, I’ll have my share of skeptics, to be sure. If you are among them, let me state candidly, your individual beliefs to me are of no consequence; suffice to say that the subject matter contained herein can still be beneficial, even if there are no personal ogres waiting in the wings…

Inspiration for the book came from the seedlings of desire and necessity, for it is my firm belief that among the many reasons for my existence, recording these memoirs were paramount. Why then would I have had these trials, if not to share the experiences?

In this dangerous climate of present-day complacency, all too often God is relegated to the backseat while we foolishly think ourselves fully capable and qualified to commandeer. If our so-called competency be but a fragment of the overall truth, then why is this planet in such turmoil? Is there any nation, people, or creed that can peacefully coexist with one other, either in part or as a whole? The crisis is global, but nowhere, perhaps, is it more evident than in these United States. If we are as well versed in the Lord’s doctrine, as many claim, why haven’t we been able to solve even the minutest of our own problems, much less the earth’s? Are we not still a Christian nation founded on Judaic Christian principles? We proudly proclaim In God We Trust, yet I see little evidence of it… Why is it that so many who profess to know the truth compromise and weaken under the skillful threat of political correctness? . . . Be not deceived; by any other name, it would still be the devil’s banner… His trademarks, subtlety and efficiency, are deeply scorched within the fabric. As is that other ludicrous laxation… Separation of church and state . . . Utter nonsense! It’s nothing more than a calculated misrepresentation of fact, a perversion perpetrated by atheists to promote their own godless agenda… That phrase was never in the Constitution, as many are led to believe! Though it was written by Jefferson in a letter addressed to the Baptist church, it was meant to protect our religious freedom from government prejudices, not to keep the church out of the state’s business! Its original intent has been grossly and deliberately misinterpreted to manipulate our civil rights into denying, rather than safeguarding, our spiritual ones. This, my friend, is but part of the vast and insidiously brilliant network of Satan himself! It’s no wonder why America is losing much of her God-given blessings!

It is not my intention to overshadow this literature with data and statistics to prove beyond any shadow of all doubt that we are on a collision course with obliteration; I leave that burden to others. Nor is it my intent to push, shove, or drag anyone into divine awareness. I believe the only way to dispel darkness is to shine a light straight through it. I pray this body of work, if nothing more, can at least be a part of that light, illuminating the path as we walk together through its passages. If it is within my ability to reveal to you what was shown to me in my own life—if only to provoke your thoughts—then I suppose even that would be sufficient for its cause…

In closing, let me add that the situations contained in this chronicle should not be considered as unique, or even isolated. There have been many written before it, recording similar phenomena, by soldiers whose very air I am not worthy to breathe. And I am persuaded that as long as this battle rages, there will be countless others to follow.

Christians may embrace it; agnostics may attempt to disprove it; and atheists, I’m persuaded, will regard it as misguided lunacy. It may be despised, mocked, scrutinized, and totally ignored by other faiths, cultures, and mind-sets. Some may even deliberately misinterpret the events in further efforts to support their own inflated egos. Unfortunately, there will always be those who, irrespective of what their hearts may say, will spitefully cast their eyes in any other direction but east toward Calvary. Whatever their fate, it will stem of their own doings… to be sure… But to those who know Him, His truth will emanate from its leaves as a beacon in the night, to hopefully strengthen and encourage the weakened warrior…

In the final analysis, Inimicus, in the hands of all it touches, may either rise or fall on whatever merit it is given. Critiques will inevitably abound, and I welcome them, each and every one. For in the inalterable heart of heaven, I have found my acceptance… of this, I am certain…

The spread of evil is the symptom of a vacuum. Whenever evil wins, it is only by default: by the moral failure of those who evade the fact that there can be no compromise on basic principles.

—Ayn Rand

&&&&&&

Have you ever had someone whom you haven’t seen or spoken to in quite some time suddenly and inexplicably come into your thoughts? Then soon after, you either turn a corner or walk into a restaurant and, lo and behold, there they are! Let’s see, how do those words go? Oh my God, I can’t believe this… I’ve been thinking about you! . . . Oh, this is so weird! . . . Sound familiar? . . . Or how about this one…

You’re looking for a used vehicle, but you seriously doubt if you will ever find the exact coach of your dreams, especially when you really don’t need all the bells and whistles that are usually ordered with it… One day, quite unexpectedly, from out of nowhere, you spot a car parked on the street, and upon careful scrutiny, you’re stunned and amazed to find it fits the bill perfectly, right down to the paint and the chromed wheels… and what’s more… it’s for sale! . . . Coincidence? . . . Happenstance? . . . Or maybe something more. Let’s see what Webster has to say…

Coincidence: a sequence of events that, although accidental, seems to be planned or arranged . . . Doesn’t quite make sense. If an event appears to be planned, how then could it be accidental? How can anyone consider the validity of such a contradiction and embrace it as logic? In this world where we try to explain the inexplicable, oxymorons abound… For me, the definition has always been far too vague and thinly veiled to satisfy even the least curious, especially after you’ve been made aware of the delicate balance and complexities of those series of phenomena we imprudently call nature. Perhaps it was a deliberate evasion, so as not to deal with the obvious…

Taking religion out of the equation, it’s very easy for me, metaphorically, to envision our existence as a cosmic chess game in which we, as the pieces, are placed strategically in an ancient battle between the forces of good and evil, where many (depending on whose side you’re on) see the inevitable outcome as checkmate . . . Embracing this concept, one paramount question emerges. Who then are the opponents?

Our lives and what we make of them chiefly stem from our ability to make sound decisions. For most of my existence, whenever a crossroad lay before me, I have felt the presence of a divine power gently prompting my direction. When I heeded it, the outcome was always favorable and, many times, beyond expectation. It was only when I disregarded it that the results were calamitous…

Contained within these pages are excerpts from a life that has traveled somewhat precariously through the murky depths of what may be regarded as the arcane. At times throughout the book, I found the need to interject with various forms of spiritual insight. This was designed purely to give my own (biblically based) perspectives on the events. They are mentioned solely to benefit and support my pursuits. For some, these perceptions will either help to unravel or to drive deeper still the mysteries surrounding the opposing forces that govern this life…

&&&&&&

Part One

Chapter 1

&&&&&&

The Fountain Pen

&&&&&&

I suppose I can never be certain when the

evil crept into my life. In truth, it may have

always been there, buried deep within the

negligence of a child’s responsibility

Some say it’s impossible to relive your past. To capture the period and the feelings exactly as they happened, to resurrect accurately the moods that inspired dialogue, especially during traumatic experiences… For the most part, I disagree with that. I believe for some individuals, it’s precisely because of those emotional intensities (whether they be shock or euphoria) why certain moments can most assuredly be frozen in time. Of course, to be fair, absolute accuracy is dependent on the number of years between the particular event and the present, and one’s ability to remember…

In preparing this work, for instance, I had to challenge my own capacity for recall. There were no impromptu phone calls or get-together dinners prepared for principal characters solely to finely hone any recollections that may have dulled overtime… Most of the individuals involved are either dead or scattered in various parts of the nation, out of reach and long out of touch…

Though it has never been my intention to fill in the blanks with improvisation, I found, in the preservation of continuity and interest of story, I sometimes had to. But in my enthusiasm for accuracy, I’ve kept it to an absolute minimum, using it solely for the purpose of bringing additional color and stability to whatever messages and images emerge. The events themselves are genuine and will forever be a part of my personal yet ambiguous history…

&&&&&&

April 1956

I’m sorry, Bobby. I looked everywhere. We practically turned this place upside down… I even had Joey check the halls… It’s just not here! God, hon, what are ya gonna do?

Those words, foreboding and reeking with concern, managed completely to extinguish any trace of hope I had left in finding the pen… It simply vanished!

&&&&&&

Parker, since 1888, is a name synonymous with the highest of standards in quality writing instruments. Prior to the advent of its somewhat less distinguished—though more versatile—distant cousin, the ballpoint, Parker, along with its equally esteemed competitors (Schaeffer, Waterman, and Conway Stewart, to name but a few) were among the pens of choice for the learned and the affluent. Anyone of considerable worth who had made or was on the path of making their mark in the world was, more than likely, doing it with one of these…

In 1956, affluence for me was about as distant as the planet Jupiter was from my doorstep. At the ripe old age of ten, the only marks under my hat consisted of Bs, Cs, and an occasional D. As (especially for an aspiring pirate who dreamed of someday sailing the seven seas) were rare, but if need be, I could always conjure one up by simply rubbing shoulders with someone more academically inclined than I… Nevertheless, I did have the distinct pleasure (and the profound experience) of owning one of these prestigious fountain pens…

June was fast approaching, and end-term exams were just around the corner. Though my grades weren’t bad, they didn’t offer any guarantees that I would be sitting in a sixth-grade class come September. I needed an incentive, something that would renew my interest in the often-mundane world of academics…

It came in the form of a beautiful Parker model 61 fountain pen, accompanied by a black leather holster to ensure that it would never be lost. My Uncle Frank was the chosen gift bearer, though I believe it was my mother who might have engineered it. Of course, there were stipulations… It ain’t yours yet, I’m just lendin’ it to ya… Graduate, and I’ll give you the pencil that goes with it.

Needless to say, the end results did justify the bribe. My grades quickly improved, and promotion appeared to be inevitable. It seemed as though no obstacle, no matter the proportion, could get in the way of my steady accomplishments. Little did I know that in this world, nothing lasts forever, even when you’re viewing it through the rose-colored glasses of a comic book hero…

The kitchen clock read 7:50 p.m. as I walked through the door of my sixth-floor railroad-style apartment. I had spent the latter part of the afternoon at my friend Joey’s house, tediously stumbling through the evening assignments of math and current events. Of course, when Mrs. Esposito extended an invitation to stay for dinner, I immediately accepted. She was a fabulous cook, running second only to my grandmother in her expertise of the fine art of good, old-fashioned, down-home-style Southern Italian cuisine…

Alone in the apartment, I turned on the living room TV and began to undress. Sergeant Preston of the Yukon was making yet another arrest in the name of the Crown. It was at that point when I realized the pen was gone! I had distinctly remembered putting it back into my holster, but as I now held the empty leather sheath, fear began to grip me. Placing a call to Joey’s mom produced no results… Don’t worry, hon, if it’s here, we’ll find it. Whatever hope had been generated by those encouraging words quickly vanished when Joey took the phone… You lost it! . . . Are you kiddin’, how the hell didja do that? . . . Shit, Bobby, if your Uncle Cheech finds out, he’s gonna kill ya! . . . I could feel the panic growing within me like a giant cobra; it was slowly squeezing the air from my lungs…

The uncle he was referring to was Frank, affectionately known to family and friends as Cheech . . . He was also the main reason for the accumulating beads of perspiration cascading from my brow. The fourth in a line of five children, Cheech was the proverbial black sheep in the family… Homegrown first-generation Europeans rarely strayed far from the nest. All my family lived within a mile’s radius of my grandparents… except for Uncle Cheech. As soon as he traded marital vows, he moved across the Hudson to New Jersey. He drove the classiest cars and wore the sharpest clothes to match. Though it was widely known in the closely knit community that he made his living working for an electronics company, blue-collar wages in those days could have hardly supported his flamboyant lifestyle. But in an Italian neighborhood where the wise guys were more popular than even the clergy, nobody asked questions…

Italians are known for famiglie che hanno stretto (having tight families), and we certainly were no exception. Now I realize, as I gather all the memories needed to relate this story, that had it really turned out badly, nothing to the extreme would’ve ever happened, other than a powerful, well-deserved scolding and… perhaps a little fustigazione. (Yes, Italians do love one another, but we don’t believe in sparing the rod when it’s needed.) On the flipped sign of the coin, to an impressionable young boy who had