The Loathing

By Jana Zinser and Yvette Araujo

Seven, who live as humans unaware of their true identities, suffer shocking fates and are thrust into the battle between good and evil.

The fate of mankind rests in their hands but they have forgotten their centuries of knowledge and skills. They resent the re-training they must endure and the responsibility for the fate of the world that they did not ask for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483620282

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Yvette Araujo and Jana Zinser.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013906282

ISBN:

   Hardcover   978-1-4836-2026-8

   Softcover    978-1-4836-2027-5

   Ebook         978-1-4836-2028-2

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.

Rev. date: 04/11/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

132534

CONTENTS

1.   The Prophecy

2.   Mongrels

3.   Heros

4.   Grim

5.   Gateway

6.   Yellow

7.   The Cave

8.   The Return

9.   The Call

10.   Minions

11.   The Beginning

12.   Warrior

13.   Modos

14.   The Ball

15.   Darkness

16.   Rogue Souls

17.   Omens

18.   Something New

19.   Boot Camp

20.   Old Acquaintances

21.   Hidden

22.   Tricks

23.   The Stone

24.   The Overlook

25.   The Gathering

26.   Lost and Found

27.   The Chosen

28.   Restless

29.   Serena

30.   Promise

31.   Reunion

32.   Playmates

33.   Protection

DEVOTION

MOST WOULD CALL THIS A DEDICATION PAGE WHERE AUTHORS GIVE REFLECTION AND OR THANKS TO THOSE THEY FEEL HELPED, SUPPORTED AND DEFINITELY PUT UP WITH A PAIN IN THE ASS: ME.

I AM CALLING THIS MY DEVOTIONAL PAGE: DEVOTION RECEIVED AND GIVEN ME CAN NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.

THANK YOU PEACHY FOR LOVING ME THE WAY YOU DO AND ALWAYS KEEPING IT REAL. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LOVE; I CAN NEVER LOVE YOU ENOUGH FOR THAT. I LOVE YOU TO THE INFINITE STARS AND BACK.

THANK YOU BUBS FOR YOUR SPIRIT OF CALM DURING MY MANY STORMS; THE GIFT OF MUSIC AND LAUGHTER. WHEN I BELIEVED THERE WAS NOTHING TO LAUGH ABOUT YOU MADE ME LAUGH ALOUD. I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND A DAY AND A HALF.

THANK YOU NANA. I AM YOUR LAST. YOU MAKE ME FEEL SPECIAL WHEN I FEEL SO VERY ORDINARY. YOU ARE A LOVE I CARRY ALWAYS.

THANK YOU RED FOR ALWAYS BELIEVING IN ME. WHEN OTHERS THOUGHT INSANITY WAS MY FIRST NAME, YOU MADE ME FEEL GENIUS. THERE IS A FINE LINE MY DEAR FRIEND. YOU HELD MY HAND.

THANK YOU NANA BEA FOR FIGI PACKAGES THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THROUGH EVERY STATE, EVERY OCCASION. YOU ARE LOVED, AND CHERISHED.

THANK YOU CAPTAIN, FOR HERALDING THE SHIP, WHEN I THOUGHT ALL WAS SUNK. YOU ARE A TREASURE: I DID NOT HAVE TO GO 10,000 PHANTOMS DEEP TO FIND YOU. YOU FOUND ME. X

THANK YOU JOHN FOX. I WISH… UPON MANY STARS.

THANK YOU J. IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. WE HAVE NURSED THIS BABY THROUGH TWO AM FEEDINGS, CRAP DIAPERS AND COLIC. WE HAVE ARRIVED. IT’S ALL GROWN UP. NOW IT WILL WALK. WE WILL SHARE IN THE SUCCESS.

LOVE ALWAYS,

1

The Prophecy

A desolate area is shadowy and gray, with barren, scraggly trees and huge, strange rock formations next to the sea. The air breathes of doom. The moon and stars shine in the dark, eerie sky, the only indication this is earth.

The murky water gently ebbs on the sea shore, reflecting the wavy, distorted illusion of a fluffy white kitten. An unreal image of a snake quietly slithers behind the kitten, calculating its attack. It waits until it is almost to the kitten when it stops. Its tongue flickers out. The snake suddenly strikes, its fangs extending. But the kitten turns to face its attacker and it jumps high in the air in fright, but when it lands on all four paws it turns into a vicious, contorted cat of prey, its face hissing, bearing its jagged sharp teeth. It turns on the snake.

The snake too late realizes it has underestimated its victim, but there’s nothing to be done. The kitten rips the snake apart and chews on the torn pieces of the shredded asp, like it was cat nip. The snake is demolished. The kitten’s face transforms back and it meows, a soft contented sound.

The reflection of the moon in the water moves across the fluffy white kitten whose only evidence of the snake is the blood stains around its white mouth.

The kitten begins convulsing and it vomits. The mass that is expelled is not the snake it ate, but a deformed skinned rat with eyes oozing blood, and locked on tightly to the back of the rat is the snake’s mouth with its fangs dug in deeply.

A giant wave crashes over the images and they are wiped away into the surf that hits the shore, because they were only watery reflections of uncontrolled human emotions.

I appear suddenly on top of a large rock and face the sea. The water, although wavy, now reflects my imposing height, and smooth, hairless skin with only the light from the moon and stars illuminating me. I am Gotian.

I have waited through eternity for this day and time. I must guide those that fight for the human race. I can only intervene if it relates directly to my assignment or if I am called. But I can always see them and know their thoughts. We are connected, unfortunately.

I lift my hands to the sky. There is a Prophecy, I say, my voice calm, but controlling and with such authority that even the wind pauses with anticipation. For I am Gotian. And I will tell it as the Prophecy unfolds, for all must understand the battle for mankind. For the Loathing is at hand. And it will not be quieted.

Two black crows that look like they are part of a contorted twisted barren tree nearby, suddenly fly up and fight each other in flight, tearing at each other with beaks and claws, until one falls into the water, dead. The impact of the dead bird causes ripples in the sea and the light from the moon reflecting off the water is distorted. And so it is on earth. It is a fight to the death and much depends on the outcome.

***

Below the surface, at the bottom of the sea, the six ancient Warrior Women sleep, moving gently with the motion of the water.

Their expressionless, peaceful faces are beautiful but distorted by the moving water as if viewed from a long way away. They reflect the diversity of the continents. These six women of strength and power have waited for centuries for their time. Their names for all eternity are Erryn (Europe), Warrior of Fire; Amelia (Asia), Warrior of Song; Euni (Africa), Warrior of Earth; Adiemus (North America), Warrior of Water; Sooneese (South America), Warrior of Air, and Adrian (Australia and Antarctica which were once joined), Warrior of Language. Their flowing gowns have tight, low-cut bodices, filmy see-through pants and flowing outerwear similar to capes in different muted, lifeless colors which spread out beside them as they sleep.

Their shapely bodies, eternally young, rise gently and seductively with the flow of the sea. Their long hair is matted and errant seaweed is tangled in their headbands, almost covering them. Beside them also in sleep, float their horses, whose appearances are wavering, almost as if they were a mirage in the intense heat of the Gateway desert. Ah, the Gateway, the passage all humans must take without warning or understanding.

***

On the rock, I look out to sea. I know what is going on under the sea and on the land, now and in the past. Only the future is uncertain.

It all began when the earth was young and Angels lived in the presence of Him, there was one Angel, Morningstar, who fell from grace.

The stars in the dark sky suddenly shift out of alignment. A bright star explodes and streaks across the night sky, leaving a trail of bright light as it falls to earth. But I am prepared for this. I know it is coming and I know that nothing will be the same again.

I ball my fists and my whole body trembles. I suddenly raise my head and throw my arms into the air. I rise above the rock, my feet hovering in the air. The time has come, at last.

A splintered star, a blazing fire ball, sprays sparks across the sky as it falls, heading toward the sea. Its last burning light is reflected off the sullen water’s surface as it hits the water, cutting the quiet eeriness with an intense explosion.

The earth quakes. The water slowly churns into a whirlpool. A dark, evil Shadow rises from the dark waters. The moon’s blurry shape on the surface of the water is blocked out.

***

The bottom of the sea rumbles. The six Warrior Women are disturbed by the rough water. The Warrior Women’s eyes suddenly open. The ancient Warrior Women awaken and must begin their journey, as it was foretold in ancient times, to open the twelve Gates that will release heaven and hell in the final earth battle.

***

On the shore, still hovering in the air above the rock, my arms quiver with the tension and power that surges through me.

The Prophecy has warned that for many centuries, the battle between good and evil for the hearts of men will rage on the earth. The Dark Angel spreads his Shadow like a plague on humanity. When the will of mankind begins to falter, Angels will descend upon the earth to live as humans, and challenge his dominion.

But the power of the Dark Angel will be too great. Some Angels will be destroyed. Others will fall to the temptations of the malevolent underworld and become his minions. The Dark Angel (Morningstar) will grow stronger… and wait for the right moment to begin his final assault on mankind. This is the Prophecy… and it is now upon us.

***

The Warrior Women’s strong beautiful horses stomp impatiently beside them, with their heads jerking, anxious to be ridden. The Warrior Women sit up from their ancient prone positioning and then gradually stand as if struggling to regain their balance.

Their appearance is still distorted and waveringly unclear. They grab the reigns of their strong horses. But first they must wait for the Angels who still walk the earth as humans, unaware of their heavenly identities.

Not all of the Angels will remain true to their destiny. Some hide deception in their hearts and the temptation of the dark side will prove too strong.

***

I watch as the sea churns and the dark waters turn lighter as if lit from deep within. My eyes flash with the power that comes from the wisdom I have been given. And now, the moment is here: the moment when the Dark Angel will unleash his unholy powers to destroy all of humanity.

Only a few Angels remain on the earth to stop him. I don’t want to know their thoughts and actions, but it is my job as mankind approaches the moment of… Armageddon. The rest of the Prophecy will be revealed. For I am Gotian.

I bow my head, my hood falls down and I disappear. The rock eerily stands empty by the stormy sea. And the water reflects an image of the decaying body of the skinned rat covered with flies and the empty eye sockets fill with maggots.

2

Mongrels

A garbage truck passes a sign that says: Welcome to Harromog City. The truck drives a short way and turns off, pulling up beside a line of over-flowing garbage cans waiting patiently on the sidewalk for pickup.

Roberto Juarez, a tall and strong man with dark hair hanging over his eyes, jumps out of the passenger side of the truck. He wears a Harromog City Sanitation Department jumpsuit, unzipped to reveal a T-shirt that says I’m Trash. Take Me Out. He’s tall and lean, strong and sinewy.

Several women peer out of their windows, waiting for Roberto’s arrival each week. They love to watch his face as he catches a glimpse of them leering at him. He puts on a show as he effortlessly picks up a trash can and shakes the contents into the trash truck then carelessly flings the empty cans back into their yards.

He flashes a smile because their adoration confirms he deserves a different life and he is willing to do almost anything to get it. It’s his for the taking and so are they.

Chuy, the chubby driver, gets out of the driver’s side of the truck, eating a huge chili dog with an enormous amount of mustard spread on the top. He half-heartedly helps Roberto dump the rest of the bags of trash piled on the sidewalk, into the back of the truck, using only one hand while the other stuffs the chili dog in his mouth. The mustard-drenched chili falls off the hot dog and onto his sanitation jumpsuit already smeared with other people’s garbage.

Chuy sees the women’s faces pressed against the windows and he shakes his head. They can’t keep their eyes off of me, Chuy says as he licks his fingers. For once Roberto doesn’t play to the ladies, because he is sneering at Chuy’s chili-dog-smeared mouth. He finally looks away and picks up a bag of trash, leaking a brown liquid. He quickly flings it into the back of the truck. I hate touching other people’s trash.

I know, we were cheated, Amigo, Chuy says, nodding emphatically so a bit of