First Family: Crucifixion

By L.A. Carnell

What would you do if your child was murdered by the very people He was there to save?

While the Lord grieved the death of His only Son, demons spewed forth from hell, indiscriminatingly infecting all in their path. By the time Gods attention returned to Earth, evil coursed through the veins of many. Including a rabbi and his family.

Standing vigil over Jesuss broken body as it drooped forward in death, iron nails tearing through flesh and bone, they were at the forefront of the assault. Returning home, one of the rabbis twin daughters, Hannah, rips out the heart of her husband and young child.

After centuries of taking anything they desired, the family realised they despise everything theyve become. In the hope of atoning for their sins, they hunt the planets most evil human or demon; they have no preference. For Hannah, finding her way back comes with a price. The horror of murdering the two she loved most constantly haunts her.

Two young children found on the edge of a road in Mississippi lead them to evil beyond anything they have only encountered once before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504942522

L.A. Carnell

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© 2015 L.A. Carnell. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/10/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4251-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4250-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4252-2 (e)

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Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Contents

Preface

Introduction

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

Epilogue

Afterword

Reference Page

For my family and few close friends. You are the glue that repair me whenever I fall apart!

The World Will Not Be Destroyed By Those Who Do Evil, But By Those Who WATCH WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING. Albert Einstein.

Preface

Fifteen years ago I was diagnosed as having ‘depression with episodes of mania’. A constant series of mood swings punctuated by severe anxiety meant my life changed for ever. Not to be outdone by my mind my body wanted in on the act too. Soon after I developed Fybromyalgia. At thrity nine, I’d not long had my fourth baby so the timing could not have been better. Returning to work after maternity leave, for a short stint, the combination of illnesses meant I was able to stay home with my son. Even given my health problems this is not something I would ever change. Confirming the philosophy ‘Everything happens for a reason.’

A difficult decade climaxed when my father died February, 2014. Realising it would be very easy to start a downward spiral I began writing as a form of self therapy, creating the story of the ‘First Family.’

Introduction

What would you do if your child was murdered by the very people He was there to save?

While the Lord grieved the death of His only Son, demon’s spewed forth from Hell indiscriminatingly infecting all in their path. By the time God’s attention returned to Earth, evil coursed through the veins of many. Including a Rabbi and his family.

Standing vigil over Jesus broken body as it drooped forward in death, iron nails tearing through flesh and bone, they were at the forefront of the assault. Returning home one of the Rabbi’s twin daughter’s, Hannah, rips out the heart of her husband and young child.

After centuries of taking anything they desired the family realise they despise everything they’ve become. In the hope of atoning for their sin’s they hunt the planets most evil, human or demon, they have no preference. For Hannah, finding her way back comes with a price. The horror of murdering the two she loved most constantly haunts her.

Two young children found on the edge of a road in Mississippi leads them to evil beyond anything they have only encountered once before.

First Family

Crucifixion

Prologue

Glancing down at the bloodied stone floor my eyes skim over the freshly butchered bodies of my beautiful husband and tiny daughter. Gaze settling on my little girl, long dark wavy hair drenched with blood, cascades over her shoulder in an attempt to cover the gaping hole in her minuscule chest. Bending slightly, to curl a tendril of hair lovingly around my finger. Lifting it to my mouth to devour every last remnant of blood, remaining on fingers that tore apart their flesh.

Wrenching beating hearts through smashed ribs. Teeth mutilating necks until heads hung, almost severed from bodies. Cast off spattered every wall, their life essence dripped from my chin as, trance like I swayed, slowly from side to side. Unfocused eyes blank and empty I savour every delicious sticky red morsel.

Envisioning myself in the downstairs room of the home I shared with my husband and baby is a self inflicted punishment. Not just for murdering the two people I loved most but for the complete indifference. My absolutely detachment from the incident, terrifies me. The whole depraved scene left me empty but still I yearn to have experienced even the smallest emotion. Reaching deep into my soul in the vain hope of remembering I felt a fraction of remorse. But there is nothing. No pain. No pleasure. My heart aches with the knowledge.

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After two millennium I still live with an unbearable sorrow, created by a massive hole in my very being. Proof time does not heal all wounds. Every rhythmic beat of my heart expands the episode into a cavernous black hole. The memory of a once inconsequential, event grows stronger consuming me from the inside out. In those early days the hunger had complete control, coursing through every pore of my body. Every vein. Every last particle. Craving the fear and control I had a hunger satisfied, only in part by life’s sweet red elixir.

I remember how Sapphira had figs for breakfast that day. Draining the last drop of blood from her frightened body, I tasted the sweet nectar trickling through her veins. Running a tongue over cold, dry lips I taste the undertones created by the syrup from her fruit that fateful day. Sprinting to the bathroom I vomit into the toilet, retching and gagging until my stomach refuses to cramp anymore. Closing my eyes to rest my forehead against the cold porcelain, I envisage grains of hollyhock pollen staining her robe and dancing in her hair. I squeeze my eyes tight, unable to stem the flow of burning tears threatening to choke me.

Recalling the casual attitude I had to their murder how I was powerless to mourn. My human side splinters into a thousand emotional memories.

Contempt for myself grows, for the inability to control my most primitive urges. But mostly for the man who started the chain of events so long ago. The man responsible for the ground opening, to spill death and evil incarnate upon this earth, the Jewish High Priest!

No wrongful execution throughout history had such far reaching catastrophic consequences as the murder of God’s son. A humble Rabbi threatened Caiaphas relationship with the Jewish people and Rome. He was to be eliminated, for no other reason than the pursuit of power. The High Priest, one of Jerusalem’s most influential men, concocted false religious charges that carried the death penalty.

Because of Caiaphas I will never again gaze upon the rosy tint on my sweet baby’s cheeks. Never again hold her in my arms or comfort her when she falls. Never again wipe food from her face or see her grow into the beautiful young woman she could have become. To never live the life I denied her.

Never again to feel the soft pressure of my husband’s lips on mine. To feel his gentle hands caress my body. When I think of all the never again’s, the memories of something that will never be, make every passing day more unbearable.

1

Present Day

Evil courts us, inserting itself into our lives disguised as a lover, a friend, a priest, a teacher or even a child. It lies next to us in our beds, leads our congregation in prayer, walks amongst our children in their playgrounds, sleeps in our womb and suckles at our breast. We’ve witnessed more evil than any other living being, it’s permeated parts of our lives that deserved to remain pure.

Our parents want our journey recorded. We’ve given them a multitude of reasons why it’s a bad idea. Not least, telling will threaten our very existence. There would be no more hiding. It would expose the deepest darkest secrets we’d rather keep locked away forever. Writing them means facing them but our parents can be deterred no longer.

Glowing brightly to guide us through every dark cloud, mama and papa are our shining light. The most important thing in our lives, if they’re ready, we’re ready!

Deciding now is the time to tell all, doesn’t make it a less daunting task. Some of us are still coming to terms with the monsters we were for such a long time. Maybe you’ll find our story interesting. Maybe you won’t. What I can say, with absolute certainty is, it’s unique.

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Our story starts in happier times, over two thousand years ago in ancient Palestine. At the time we had no accurate way to know the exact year. I’ve included dates as an approximation of the timeline. Historians found notched bones depicting the passing of a full moon dating as far back as 20,500 BC but it doesn’t give us a definitive date for when the first calender was invented.

I sit here thinking back on how, a man we trusted, did everything in his power to eliminate the threat posed by Jesus Christ. How, after a few attempts he managed to convince Pontius Pilate to hand Jesus to him, so he may act as judge and jury. Not enough to murder The Son of God, he had Jesus tortured body tormented until His very last breath.

‘In God We Trust’, a courteousy mankind does not return.

The moment of Jesus death created a brief chink in the Earth’s armour. Not one to miss any opportunity to spread his vile seed, Satan unleashed untold forces of evil. His plan, infect as many humans as possible, with special attention given to Gods advocates. If God’s most trusted servants were turned, what hope would there be for others?

Satan’s minions would unfurl their corrosive talons of malevolence, piercing other’s on their journey to complete dominance. Satan’s plan worked and sins and sinners have germinated beyond anything, even he, could have imagined.

Personalities don’t change, good and evil may suffer internal turmoil until the dominant characteristic surfaces again, but it will surface eventually.

Before turning, our life was built around Judaism and the belief in only one God. The very one that vanquished Satan to an eternity in the fires of Hell.

In the beginning we considered our curses to be gifts. Exploiting, manipulating, controlling for our own personal gain, be it romantic, political or monetary. Never able to compensate for the atrocities committed we do try to rid the world of at least a little of the growing malignancy. Our place in Heaven is long gone. Our souls way beyond redemption but if we can erase some transgressions, perhaps we can make it safer for mankind to sleep at night.

When the façade of the decadent life began to tarnish realisation hit, we were nothing more than the beasts we once detested. Time to take stock of all the pain and anguish caused. With it came the acknowledgement, of the huge empty, gaping hole created for ourselves. Beyond each other, we had no life. Merely an empty existence, filled with pain and regret. No fulfilment, no joy, no love, no pleasure, no friends and no prospect of change!

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Given only first names I was known as Hannah daughter of Adam. Or Hannah of Samaria. For simplicity we adopted our birth place as our given name. Known as the Jordan’s we are a family of five. My name is Hannah, born in the year 11 AD, I lost my human life over two thousand years ago. I have a twin sister Miriam, an older brother Samuel, our parents are Adam and Eve. Papa never truly settled into immortality his regret was the first to materialise. Eventually hitting us all it was not easy to reconcile. Our history meant a complete moral one eighty. With it we would create a whole new set of enemies, to add to those already on the very long list.

We’ve been around a long time. Lived many different places, in many different worlds. Been part of revolutions and wars, some we helped create. Wrecked lives, families, even whole cities. So having an epiphany is one thing but implementing it quite another. The predators are now our prey. We hunt the hunters.

In order to do this, we have to stay under the radar, moving from place to place. Never settling anywhere long enough to make any real connections. Creating new identities every time we move. Times are changing but in the past all of this was fairly easy. People speak of humanity as if it’s a wonderful thing. The truth is mankind is corrupt and greed is commonplace. Most have a price and usually it’s not that high. Making buying and implementing new lives a relatively simple process.

The devil makes work for idle hands should be amended to ‘idle minds’. A statement more accurate than we care to acknowledge. In a joint effort to avoid detection and the devils work, we’ve picked up a few qualifications and some pretty useful skills. Fluent in a plethora of languages, between us, we have most professions well covered. Doctors, dentists, teachers, lawyers, chefs and builders to name but a few. The more we know the more possibilities open, making relocating far easier.

All before mobile phone cameras, CCTV and not to forget the World Wide Web. These were just the beginning of our problems. With them came You Tube, Twitter and the biggest nightmare of all, Facebook! That cinched it, all hope of keeping anything under wraps permanently gone. The digital age had arrived and with it anonymity became a thing of the past.

Individuals have an overwhelming need to share every boring aspect of their dull lives, in the pitiful hope that someone out there will give them a ‘like.’ There are no secrets. Information is viral within minutes of the first whisper. Privacy obsolete! The world and its father aware of what you think. Before you’ve even thought it. Impossible to walk a few blocks, buy lunch or use an ATM without being observed by Big Brother, or any one of his many super-store relatives. They know how much you drink, what you eat and even your menstral cycle. In a bid to retain some privacy we don’t use credit cards or store loyalty cards but for us, the digital age has created a life equivalent to living in a fish bowl.

Likely to draw more attention if we stay trapped in the prison we’ve created. It’s time for us to end our lonely existence. To connect with others, integrate ourselves into society. The hope is, we can keep our secret concealed and, God willing, no one will look deeply beyond the façade we present.

Not an existence we relish but there’s nothing we can do to control the obsession for, even the most trivial, information. Somehow I don’t think our secret will be a secret much longer. We will struggle to find anywhere to hide! For now, plain sight seems to be the best option. We’ve come out of the dark and are doing what we all do best. Mama and Lissa have their cooking, Miriam and I our singing and papa and Samuel are great at just about everything.

The cloak of invisibility will only work for the average, our family possess many characteristics that eliminate this option. Endowed with so many extraordinary attributes has never been more of a curse. There is nowhere left where we can be truly inconspicuous. Our hope is this wonderful little town accepts us on face value not looking too deeply beyond the illusion we present.

Our behaviour, good and bad has evoked unrest, ruffled more than a few feathers. Those still alive, will seek vengeance. They will come for us. When they find us, they will try to kill us! We’ll be waiting!

This is our story.

2

25 -26 A.D.

The year was about 25 A.D. Our existence, a modest one. We lived in the small town of Sachyr. Located in Samaria, the capitol of the Northern Kingdom. Situated at the foothills of Mount Ebal and Mount Gerezilim. Probably a little further north than half way and slightly closer to Nazareth than Bethlehem. But enough about it’s geographical location. Under Roman control Samaria was approximately 1400 square miles and edged by mountains in the south and Galilee in the north. The region now more commonly known as the West Bank was then the Land of Israel. Or more famously in Biblical term’s the Promised Land. ¹

At the time few Jews lived in Samaria. Samaritans were considered, by Jews, to be a lowlier species both unclean and blasphemous. But not by papa he was a missionary of sort. To be a Rabbi you must be a direct descendent of Levi, the third son of Jacob and Leah. Founding father to the Israelites. Today, papa would be considered a rebel Rabbi. Preaching to the converted was easy, what papa wanted was to share the wisdom of the Scriptures with young men who had no interest in our God. If he succeeded in convincing just a few to live by God’s word, perhaps they would become as passionate about the reading’s as he. In turn persuading other’s to live as good Jew’s.

Two thousand years ago education was only for males. Females were treated as property and had no reason to be educated. Passed around for sex or slavery, their lives worth less than one of the livestock. Second class citizens condemned to following behind in the men’s shadows. Permitted to speak only when spoken to. Undervalued and unworthy of nothing more than servitude. The female had only one role and that was to make a good marriage. Much like the modern day Middle East.

Mother supported father in his endeavour to educate but her subservience was for appearance only. Not just a radical thinker in education, in private papa treated us all as equals. A very progressive attitude and unheard of in that era. But papa believed God created us all as equals and we should be treated as such. Soon we would hear of another with the same beliefs.

It was not just Samuel who was taught the Scriptures and how to read and write. Secretly papa taught mama, Miriam and me. We never spoke of our lessons, outside our home, it would have meant being treated as outcasts, shunned and maybe even stoned to death.

In public mama was nothing more than a Rabbi’s wife and a simple baker. She taught the wives and mother’s how to bake bread and to prepare meals from the meagre offerings available. Beef, goat, barley, olives, pistachio, almonds and beautiful fresh herbs and spices were all available to those with money. For the poor it was a diet mainly consisting of grains. Our staple food of porridge and coarse bread made from oats, rye and barley. Never anything different to tempt our palate. Meal times held no surprises we knew exactly what was being served.

Mama’s extra curricula activity started when she managed to negotiate, what would be considered, good matches for all three of her children. Years before maturity prospective matches were negotiated by fathers of the children. Mama insisted we would be living at home for ever if we waited for papa to lift his head from his books long enough to notice we had grown old enough to wed. He just laughed and told her to let him know who she picked. She did manage to get papa’s attention long enough for him to agree, the only way to find us suitable matches was if she made a few very discrete enquiries. Papa would be brought in later to meet with any prospective father’s-in-law, presenting himself as head of the family and to finalise any agreement. He simply nodded and returned to his Scriptures.

More of a mutually beneficial financial arrangement, couples rarely married for love.

Girls were often betrothed by the time they were fourteen, sometimes much younger. Once the contract (ketubbah) was signed the groom had up to seven years to raise the funds to pay for his bride. The marriage was not consummated until the girl was of age and the father paid. During this period, both parties, were to remain celibate. For the groom this was not always the case, hence the birth of the world’s oldest profession.

The more wealthy father’s of the bride employed a matchmaker to find a suitable partner. Arranging a dowry to be paid to the bride’s father, by the groom’s father, was known as a mohar. Not always money changing hands, payment could be made in livestock, land and even crops. Sometimes, children were used to unite families, particularly those of the wealthy. Brides usually went to live with or near the husband’s family, where they took on the role of caring for the elders. Dominated by their husbands combined with a lack of hygiene often resulted in the women dying before the age of twenty five. If lucky enough to survive childbirth many died soon after.

Mama and papa were a few of the lucky ones. Sabba was a Rabbi he and savta had four still-born babies before mama. When mama lived they thanked God for their fortune and cherished every moment with her, sheltering her from the world. Keeping her safe from unwanted attention, at fifteen no ketubbah had been arranged for her. Mama was already considered mature, but none of them were in a rush to change the situation. Until papa’s father came to call. He too was a Rabbi. Sabba explained to mama’s parents how important it was to him for his son, Adam, to marry into a devout Jewish family.

Both father’s agreed mama and papa should meet. Papa was only two years older than mama. They possessed the same religious beliefs but most importantly they were all from the tribe of Levi. From the moment they set eyes on each other it was love at first sight.

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Palestine was well placed for trading, merchants dealt in everything from pearls to olive oil. For Samuel mama found the daughter of a rich Jewish merchant trading in expensive and exotic foods from other continent’s. Pretty in a repressed coy way, her name was Esther. From the beginning she adored Samuel. Conditioned to be the subservient girl, she lifted her gaze only briefly, taking month’s before being comfortable enough to meet his eyes.

At fifteen Esther was still childlike, petite with a thick black braid hanging below her waist. Almond shaped dark eyes that always appeared hesitant. Hands that rarely stilled their nervous gesticulation. Her mother dead, in childbirth, she’d been raised by an overbearing father. Arrogant and misogynistic, typical of wealthy men, he viewed her as his own personal slave.

Having entered the initial stage of marriage, the kiddushin (betrothal), Samuel and Esther were bound by a formal contract that could only be broken by an orthodox divorce. Although considered married, couples did not live together until after the