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Grace and Eternity: Soul Under Siege
Grace and Eternity: Soul Under Siege
Grace and Eternity: Soul Under Siege
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Grace and Eternity: Soul Under Siege

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Grace and Eternity is the continued saga of Frank Thomas Junior, that everybody calls Snow. This is a fast paced story, filled with thrill laughter, and even some romance. It is the story of a young preachers son trying to find God amidst his own struggles.

It is of Snow's losing love and finding love, and how difficult it is sometimes to just walk away from his past, even when he has a thirst find something in his life that is greater than himself. Snow deals gracefully with lost love and constant foes

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateJan 7, 2016
ISBN9781491786543
Grace and Eternity: Soul Under Siege
Author

Akeam Simmons

Dr. Akeam A. Simmons is an accomplished writer. He has written 15 other books, including three of poetry-Black Tears, Riding On the Wind, and A Poet’s Heart. Dr. Simmons is currently the Senior pastor at Liberty Missionary Baptist Church, where he has been serving for 14 years. Dr. Simmons has also written a number of novels and self help books. He and his wife Kimberly lives in Maylene Alabama.

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    Grace and Eternity - Akeam Simmons

    © 2016 Akeam Simmons.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    iUniverse

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    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.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4917-8653-6 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4917-8654-3 (e)

    Print information available on the last page.

    iUniverse rev. date: 01/07/2016

    Contents

    Chapter One     The end of the road

    Chapter Two     Just a piece of clay

    Chapter Three     Thief in the night

    Chapter Four     New old Snow

    Chapter Five     The Security Guard

    Chapter Six     More than just Human

    Chapter Seven     The Funeral

    Chapter Eight     Life in church

    Chapter Nine     Preach on Preacher

    Chapter Ten     Woman to Woman

    Chapter Eleven     A change

    Chapter Twelve     As I see it

    Chapter Thirteen     Just a little talk with Jesus

    Chapter Fourteen     Long road to redemption

    Chapter Fifteen     When we all get to heaven

    Chapter Sixteen     No hiding place

    Chapter Seventeen     The great sending away

    Chapter Eighteen     A woman’s scorn

    Chapter Nineteen     Time to pray

    Chapter Twenty     Life’s other side

    Chapter Twenty-One     The mud of revenge

    Chapter Twenty-Two     Judge not

    Chapter Twenty-Three     Breaking away

    Chapter Twenty-Four     No rest for the weary

    Chapter Twenty-Five     A call to Pastor

    Chapter Twenty-Six     A time for reconciliation

    Chapter Twenty-Seven     Dealing with my demons

    Chapter Twenty-Eight     Holding my own

    Chapter Twenty-Nine     Hell won’t wait

    Chapter Thirty     Fallen plea

    Chapter Thirty-One     Stricken Mercy

    Chapter Thirty-Two     A deal with the devil

    Chapter Thirty-Three     Awakened

    Chapter Thirty-Four     Unholy quest

    Chapter Thirty-Five     Worship for me

    Chapter Thirty-Six     The unveiling

    Chapter Thirty-Seven     Mama pray for me

    Chapter Thirty-Eight     Another day to die

    To my Granddaughter

    Kayla

    Chapter One

    The end of the road

    The night was young and filled with excitement; a night bubbling with youth and vitality-from the glowing sunken moon, to the glimmering shouting stars; it was a night of nights, where the good, the bad, and the ugly crossed paths for a drunken piercing moment.

    Sweat raced down Walt’s face as he tried, with all of his might, to press the gas accelerator on the car even further. His heart pound and screamed as streaks of pain shot across his chest and rested in his left arm. He strained hard to see the darken road in front of him while the white dashed lines in the middle of the road swept passed him like flashes of brilliant light. Walt desperately fought to keep control of his old 65 Chevy Impala that he was pushing to its limits.

    Are they still back there? Walt screamed.

    Yea…..Yea man! Oh Lord Walt, what we gone do? Greg yelled back. What did you do to them?

    Nothing man…..Nothing!

    Walt…..Walt please! Ramona yelled out from the back seat-her legs strolled from one end of the back seat to the other with her head buried deeply between the sweaty leather seats. We’d better do something in a hurry!

    Ramona was pregnant and long over due. It was time. She labored with all of her might to stop that little baby from coming into the world at this raging dangerous premature moment, but her strength was fading, and fading fast with every passing minute. The pains were almost unbearable; she was ready to let this little one come into this waiting world; filled with so much uncertainty, hope and despair-even if she had to put a gun in his little hands and forced it to squeeze the trigger and send a hot bullet racing towards the thugs that were chasing them- the thugs trying to stop his little life even before it begun. She knew that if they caught them, they would kill all of them, even her newly born child if he came before they caught up to them.

    The old Chevy shook, raddled, and wobbled as though it would come apart at any moment, but Walt kept pushing it-he had to, he must, for it was their only hope to survive. He quickly peered over his shoulder into the back seat at Ramona and Greg. Her red body, glaring in the flashing night light every time the car passed a lighted street pole, was drenched in sweat as Greg stared down at her not knowing what to do except hold her hand and pray that this little child would hold off until they could lose the car that was chasing them.

    What did you do to them? Greg repeated. Why are they chasing us? Just stop and let me and Mona out at the next corner.

    Man, that’s not an option. They’ll shoot y’all without ever even thinking twice about it.

    Ahhhhhh…..Ohhhhhhh……shoooooot! Ramona screamed out again. It’s coming!

    Oh no it’s not……..No it’s not! Greg hollered and threw Ramona’s hand from him like it was something hot to the touch.

    Stop…..Stop…..Ohhhh Stop being such a punk. She staggered to shout at Greg between hard labored breaths. This baby is coming whether we’re ready or not. She rolled her grey cat like eyes at Greg while beads of sweat parked under her nose and rested upon her top lip.

    Hold onnnnn, Walt yelled out. Um a make a couple of sharp turns on Martin Luther….Hold on.

    Yea, hold on. Ramona moaned to herself as she reached and grabbed Greg’s hand again. Ohhhhh….shoot….another one is coming…..Ohhhhh.

    Another what? Greg hollered out at her in despair.

    Just then the heavy shaking Impala zoomed around a sharp curve onto Martin Luther King Drive; barely on two wheels. Walt fought hard to keep control of the car. It swerved and dotted from one side of the road to the other; running over garbage cans and mail boxes as it went.

    It slung Ramona hard into Greg as her right foot smashed into the back of Walt’s head; knocking him hard into the glass window. Her left knee crashed into Greg’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

    Damnnnn…….Ramona!! Walt complained, still fighting to keep control of the car while baring the pain to his head. Watch it; it’s hard enough trying to keep control of this thing without you kicking me.

    Sorry, but…….Ohhhhhh. She yelled out again.

    Ohhh no. Greg stuttered. Come onnn Walt. I ain’t no doctor you know. He yelled to the top of his voice.

    Just then, Walt made a hard left turn that threw Ramona and Greg back to the right side of the car. Greg was pressing hard upon her. She dug her manicured nails deep into Greg’s shoulder; holding onto him for dear life.

    Ahhhhh. Greg hollered out while snatching Ramona’s nails out of his shoulder.

    You tried to do that, didn’t you? Ramona snapped at Greg.

    Nawww, for what? So you can claw into my shoulder like a crazy lioness.

    Ahhhh. Another sharp pain pounced upon Ramona’s swollen belly. This baby is coming….It’s coming.

    No….No….No….You got to hold it; you got to hold it in there a little longer Mona. Greg hollered at her.

    That’s easy for you to say. Ramona hollered, amidst labored breaths and beads of sweat. Aaaahhhh.

    Walt, do something. Greg yelled.

    Ok; I think we’ve lost them, hollered Walt, staring behind them out of the rear view mirror. Get ready, um about to make another hard right down twelfth.

    Before Ramona and Greg could respond, Walt zoomed the Chevy around the curve, struggling to keep control, but it was no use. The heavy Impala flipped over twice and slid, on its side, to a stop.

    It had thrown Ramona and Greg from the back seat, and into the tall grassy bushes.

    Ramona lay there dazed and stunned amidst a flood of pain ravaging her stomach and racing up her spine.

    Greg crawled over to her. You alright? He asked, touching her gently on the stomach.

    Yea…Yea, what about you? Ramona whimpered a reply, still riddled with pain, and breathing hard.

    A gash on my leg, but um ok.

    Go check on Walt, and see if he’s ok. Oh god, I hope that he’s ok.

    Greg started to get up, but as he did, a black S 500 Mercedes tires squealed and hollered as it came to a sudden stop on the road in front of the overturned smoking Chevy Impala.

    Ramona grabbed Greg’s arm and quickly pulled him back down to the ground amidst the bushes.

    Shhhh, don’t move. She whispered with her index finger pressed hard against Greg’s lips.

    Ah Greg started to say something.

    Shhhh. She signaled to him.

    They heard scrambling footsteps, footsteps of doom, upon the pavement racing towards the smoking Impala.

    Greg lay back down upon the cool ground, as low as he could get, while they peeped through the high bushes at the darken shadows of three men. Two of them turned back around, after fully seeing the wreckage, and kind of lingered behind, propping against the Mercedes.

    Get off my car. A deep man’s voice commanded, with a heavy Jamaican accent, looking menacingly back at them, while walking up to the Impala.

    huh. One of them said.

    I said get off my benz; don’t want your finger prints on it. He sneered at them.

    The two men quickly got off the Mercedes, wiping it off with the sleeve of their shirt as they did.

    Walt’s body lay half way in the shattered window and half way out of the car. He lay there covered by broken glass with splattered blood all over him. He moaned in pain.

    The man bent over and peeped into the Impala to see if there were any other passengers. He saw no one. He stood back up, pulled his gun from his waist and rubbed his chin with the barrel as he spoke to walt.

    Hurts like hell don’t it? Jahbo said sarcastically as he stared down at Walt with a crooked evil smile on his face. You shouldn’t a mess with Jahbo’s money. Everybody tell you man, don’t bother with Jahbo’s money or his woman, but you no listen, and you bothered with both. He said, then slowly pointed the gun at Walt. Tell some of my Homies Jahbo said hello. This will send the right message to other fools like you-don’t mess with Jahbo’s money or his woman. Now go to hell fool.

    Is he dead? One of the men yelled out to the man standing over Walt.

    If he was dead, would I be talking to him fool, Jahbo yelled back at the man. Geesh, um surrounded by fools.

    BOOM!…..BOOM!…..BOOM!…..The nine millimeter gun echoed through the night air as three hollow point bullets tore through Walt’s chest.

    Yea, he dead now. The deep Jamaican accented voice sang out back at them while turning and looking off into the bushes and distant houses to see if anyone saw them. He turned and started walking back to the Mercedes.

    Was anybody with him? One of the men shouted out while jumping into the car.

    Nawww, he was by himself. The man said, reaching for the door while stuffing the gun into his waist. Get in before the cops come. Um sure somebody done called them.

    In the tall bushes, Greg held his hand over Ramona’s mouth, stopping her from screaming, knowing full well that the gunmen would have no problem killing them also.

    Ramona’s heart leaped up through her chest and into her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen. She couldn’t believe that her best friend, Walt, who she had grown up with from a little kid, was now dead. She didn’t even know for what. What was even worth killing him for? Tears swelled up in her eyes and ran down her face as she stared at Walt’s still body amidst the smoking wreckage. A thousand memories raced through her mind. He was gone. With them just a few moments ago, now, gone…..gone forever. She laid her head in the brush and wept sorely. She simply hated death and everything to do with it-the caskets, the funeral homes, the grave yards, the morgue, she hated it all. Death was always coming back to get someone; someone often close to her; and she knew full well that one of these days death would also come for her. …………………She hated it! She hated it all!

    Ramona sobbed sorely. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him goodbye. She said. Now he’s gone…..just gone…….For what?

    Come on; get up Mona, get up, said Greg, rising to his feet and pulling Ramona up by her arm. We got to get out of here before the Police come, or before those killers come back.

    We haven’t done anything, she said. besides, we can’t leave Walt here like that.

    Yea we can, and we will; we have to. Greg said. Walt would want us to……You know that.

    But, we hadn’t done nothing, she said swallowed up in tears.

    Yea, I know that, and you know that, but they don’t; and those killers will be after us when they find out that we were in the car and saw what happened. He pulled her up. Anyways, ain’t nothing we can do for Walt now. He would want us to survive and revenge him later.

    Ohhhh…… She yelled out and slumped back down to the ground.

    Come on Mona; you got to try harder. Greg said, pulling Ramona back to her feet.

    I ammm……My water just broke. Water ran down her legs.

    Water? What water? Greg said amidst anxiety.

    Greg picked her up in his arms and started trotting towards the nearest house with a light on the porch.

    He trotted with her in his arms, and her head buried in his chest. His arms ached; his every breath burned, and his legs screamed for him to stop, but he couldn’t; he just couldn’t; he refused to lose another friend this night; so he pushed himself in-spite of how his body cried out from pain.

    He had to go forward, had to keep trotting; just one foot before the other, over and over again until they reached the beaming porch light beckoning unto them off in the distant night. He had to make it; he mustn’t fail. Greg’s back screamed in pain, and jolts of pain raced down the back of his thighs, but he kept going, kept pushing himself…..Stopping was not an option this night……No, not this night. He argued with himself as Ramona lay still in his arms. ‘Why does he always get himself into situations like this. He never goes looking for trouble, trouble always finds him……….And this ain’t even my baby.’ He thought to himself. Where the hell is Lil Gator now (the baby’s father)? Greg screamed to himself; no, things like this always happen to Greg. He had been shot three times by someone thinking that he was someone else, and stabbed on the dance floor a few months ago by a total stranger; yes, crazy things always happened to Greg, and tonight was no different. Trouble had found him again, though he had been trying desperately to mind his own business.

    The golden beaming sun peeped up over the distant hills and eased down the streets of the slowly stirring city. A new day strode upon the crest of an awakening morning, bringing with it fresh opportunities, and leaving behind all of yesterday’s frail dreams and failed hopes.

    Ramona, lying on s stretcher surrounded by a few doctors and a host of nurses, raced down the sparkling hospital hall towards the delivery room. Greg still holding her hand, raced along beside her.

    It’s going to be alright Mona. Greg leaned over and whispered in her ear.

    How you know? She mustered to ask, and then allowed a big forced smile to rest upon her face. Ohhhh….Y’all better hurry! It’s coming.

    Greg just shot her a sheepish tired grin as the nurses pulled Ramona’s hand away from his.

    Sir, this is as far as you can go. The nurse shouted out at him.

    But….But. Greg started to say.

    We will keep you posted; she’ll be alright, said the nurse.

    Chapter Two

    Just a piece of clay

    A great beam of brilliant light shot down from the heavens with blinding speed-like a streak of lightening bolting to the earth. It smashed into the ground and burst into a showering rainbow of illuminating light-showering forth like a waterfall of glimmering fireflies-thousands of them.

    As quickly as it had come, it left; and standing where the illuminating brilliant light was, stood angelic Gable-captain of the stars of heaven.

    Morrow lay there gazing up at Gable, after being knocked on his back.

    Dear prince, must you always make such an entrance? Morrow said with as much humility as he could muster.

    Gable stared at him with a glimmering golden staff in his hand.

    So, what do I owe this visit from such a one as you? Morrow said.

    I was told to come check on you. How do you in your earthen body? Gable glared into Morrow’s eye. It was obvious that Gable had great disdain for Morrow.

    How do you think? Morrow whipped back at him with just as much disdain.

    I’d watch my tone if I were you, said Gable, gripping the golden staff tighter.

    Ok….Ok….don’t go getting all up tight on me, said Morrow. I have head aches sometimes for no reason; my nose runs sometimes for no reason; I can’t see anything beyond a mile; my back hurts most of the time, and I have to walk everywhere I need to go, or get into one of those tin cans with wheals on it and be lugged around…….And not to mention being Negro and having this dark skin amongst the white rulers of this earth; and you ask me how am I doing……Huh. It is humiliating. Even my former subordinates snicker at me when they see me-I can still recognize them, you know.

    Does you well, said Gable.

    Ok….Ok….I get it…..I get it, said Morrow, struggling to get to his feet. This dirt is very fragile and filled with pain. Is that what I am supposed to learn? I get it…..I get it. Now could y’all please just restore me back to my original self, with my wings and all.

    Not up to me to decide how long you are to remain a piece of clay, said Gable. Was up to me, you’d remain a dark angel encapsulated by clay forever……..but then, as I said, it be not my decision.

    Well, thank the creator for that. Morrow whipped.

    Gable snapped his head back and widened his gaze towards Morrow after his statement, for he had never heard Morrow be appreciative for anything in all of the centuries that they had spent warring against one another.

    But, make no mistake about it; if I were in my original form, I think that I’d give you a great challenge this day, said Morrow. But then, I guess I’d better hush-huh?

    You never did know when to shut up. Gable snarled at him.

    Is that not what um supposed to do…..Um supposed to be bad, and you’re supposed to be good, said Morrow, taking a few steps towards Gable.

    This be not one of my most tolerable days black prince. Gable sneered.

    Morrow smiled, for he hadn’t been called the black prince in a long time……A very long time.

    How is Frank faring? Gable said, stirring his feet and looking off into the heavens.

    like any piece of cursed forsaken clay; he is filled with pain and all that other humanly stuff that don’t make no sense at all, said Morrow. Quite frankly, I am sick and tired of baby sitting him.

    The Creator has plans for him, said Gable. Plans that you or I can understand, but he be a part of the grand scheme of Time’s Events.

    So I am told, said Morrow. I sure wonder what those are cause I don’t see nothing in him but filthy dirt……That’s all, just useless clay that’s doing the same things that he has always done. I don’t need to watch over him; shoot, he’s my partner in crime; if you ask me.

    No ones asking you.

    I know….I know, just shut up-huh.

    Well, whatever. Frank is the only one that knows who you really are; and we’ve made it where he won’t tell any one, said Gable.

    Like they would believe him anyway, said Morrow.

    Whatever.

    What work he has? Morrow said, folding his arms and looking up into the sky. Sure miss riding those clouds; would give anything to surf them today.

    Speaking of which, I must be off; got to handle some of your associates in the East, said Gable.

    Just let me fly around just for a minute. What’s that going to hurt? Morrow said, still gazing up into the sky.

    Gable pointed his right hand towards Morrow, and Morrow began to lift off the ground and float several feet into the air.

    Is that what you want? Gable whipped.

    Well, sort of, said Morrow floating in place in the air. Let me fly by myself.

    As you wish, said Gable, and then withdrew his hand to his side.

    Morrow hit the ground hard, and bellowed in pain. Ohhhhhhhh

    Gable kind of smile at him,

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