Oblations

By Shariyah Levvi

Meet Hawk and Rami. Two young rap artists that are headed to Los Angeles to sign a record deal with one of the most sought-after record labels in the music industry. But they soon discover that success comes with an enormous, expected cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781735795171

Book preview

BK90081477.jpg

Oblations

© 2023, Shariyah Levvi.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 978-1-73579-516-4

eBook ISBN: 978-1-73579-517-1

Contents

Prologue

1. Time’s Up

2. Lucifer’s Testimony

3. Humble Beginnings

4. The Big Don

5. LAX

6. Party Time

7. Hangover

8. Mama Lou

9. Mojo Working

10. One Like Us

11. Star Struck

12. Albuquerque Calling

13. Crossroads

14. Broken Bonds

15. Done Deal

16. The

17. Mirror, Mirror

18. Rear View

19. Solomon’s Ring

20. Moving On Up

21. Spirit Purge

22. The Crows

23. Secret Oblation

24. Friend or Foe

25. Yacht Rendezvous

26. David

27. Demonic Bullies

28. Return to Melaku’s

29. Renewed Ambition

30. West Side Beatdown

31. Showtime

32. Ice Cream Run

33. Don Done

34. Meanwhile

35. Vixen’s Live Stream

36. Aftermath

37. New Day

Epilogue

This book is dedicated to my star children,

Yakari, Yanna, Adam, Mahira, Yarri, Jada, Arthur, Brandon, and Monique.

Walk in the light and ways of the Most High.

. . . And to my Husband, Robert Arthur Taylor, Jr.

Our Love is Everlasting.

A special thank you to Dinah Judah-Peterson

for your support, assistance, and friendship.

"I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty (but thou art rich)

and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews,

and are not, but are of the synagogue of Satan."

Revelation 2:9

Prologue

It has been said, the bigger the lie, the more people will believe it, and if it is repeated enough, it eventually becomes the truth. Reality, and people’s perception of it, are more times than not, at opposite ends of the spectrum. Nowhere has this been more prevalent than in the religious and political organizations that imbibe historical facts and alter this data for their own underlying intentions.

Since the age of antiquity, a small, select group of people have deemed themselves superior to the general population. This arrogance, fueled by wealth, power, accomplishments, and/or skills, led them to presume it necessary, for them alone, to guide the course of humanity. Clandestine gatherings and meetings forms a cohesiveness that allows them to plan, manipulate, and ultimately control the devalued lives of the masses. This became the foundation for the development of secret societies. The Rosicrucians, Bavarian Illuminati, Freemasons and their Eastern Stars, and the Skull and Bones, are all examples of fraternities and sororities shrouded in secrecy. Rumors abound regarding bizarre rituals required of each initiate to gain membership and access the privileges the order provides.

There is a hierarchy within these establishments. Upward mobility is based on merit, however, at the apex of the pyramid are the untouchables. None can reach their level, as it is occupied by the families and consorts of the elitist and select. Therein lies the true authority. All beneath this upper echelon are there solely to protect and serve those in charge and to perpetuate the agenda they set forth. Mere puppets glorified and privileged, but puppets, nonetheless.

One family name has stood out for nearly three centuries: the Rothschilds. Their patriarch, Mayer Amstel Rothschild, was the progenitor of the banking system. He strategically established financial institutions throughout Europe, and eventually the world. He took money lending and usury to a new level.

Through the reach of their purse strings, they funded wars, elections, placed and removed popes, monarchs, presidents, and prime ministers. Loyal only to themselves and the narrative of their choosing; global domination and a new world order. Theirs!

An Ashkenazi Jew, descended from the Khazars who assumed and adopted the Israelite culture. He became the benefactor of the Zionist movement and even sponsored the development of the early colony. President Abdel Nasser of Egypt, at the time stated, the Jews left their lands black, and returned white.

Among the secret societies, a black faction arose in the early 1900’s, but only after being denied admission to the Ivy League college fraternities. After careful consideration, they were granted permission to establish an order for negroes that showed prominence in their professions and disciplines. Independent of any affiliation with academia, their order would mirror that of their white counterparts. Their mission is to influence and herd their communities to compliance and submission, in accordance with their white superiors. They are basically the new house niggers on the global plantation.

The old world must be dismantled, so that the new, one world order can be inaugurated—global domination through one government, one currency and world bank, one androgynous gender, and one religion: the worship of Lucifer, the light bringer. Supreme God of the Illuminati.

Chapter 1

Time’s Up

Naked and cold, Woody was running for his life, literally. He knew to stop would be a death sentence. He ignored the pain his feet felt each time they struck the rocks and branches on the forest floor, a testimony to his will to live. He could hear the voices a short distance behind him, calling out his name amidst raucous laughter, mocking him in their pursuit. The towering redwood trees blocked much of the crescent moon’s light, making it difficult to see ahead, but he continued to make his way through the darkness. Three young men dressed in black leather pants, jackets and boots pursued him. A black leather mask covered their head and face. They took their time moving through the woods, their flashlights leading the way. They were obviously inebriated, giggling, and yelling obscenities, carrying on like drunken frat boys. One of them guzzled a beer and threw the empty bottle ahead, Woody!! he yelled. Come on you motherfucker! He stopped and pissed against a tree like a dog. Come on now! Woodeee! Stop fucking around man, it’s time to pay the piper! The men were losing their patience and their joviality with the chase. They plowed ahead, scanning the light across the vast woodland. Woody was lost and horrified. He ran blindly, driven by fear alone, as he weaved through the wooded maze.

There he is! Over there! one of them said, while pointing the light in the direction of the runner.

Get his black ass!’ The three of them tore out after Woody. The lone black man was crying, snot dripping from his nose, and his heart pounded. His breathing was heavy and labored, yet he continued to seek escape from the human hounds that trailed him. He heard them, nearly upon him and cried out, Lord, help me!" as he tripped over some branches and stumbled several steps forward before hitting the ground. Rising to his knees, he attempted to stand, but it was over, they were on him. One man grabbed his balls and guided him to his fate.

You can’t leave the party when you’re the guest of honor!’ All three laughed and mocked him. The fire’s already been lit!" Woody struggled to free himself, but it was useless, as they held his arms and dragged him to the altar. Woody begged and pleaded for his life, but it fell upon deaf ears. He would pay the ultimate price for the deal he cut with the devil! None are relinquished from their obligation. Woody was about to learn that.

Chapter 2

Lucifer’s Testimony

"F ame is as addictive as any drug and equally destructive, yet the humans crave it, and are willing to do anything to achieve celebrity status and be somebody! They have the insatiable need of adoration from strangers, to validate their self-worth and existence. How fragile their egos! The love of their Creator is not enough for their vain minds. They have a hunger that never ceases, an emotional void that can’t be filled. So, I provide the raison d’etre the purpose for their meaningless time on earth.

I must admit, there was a time when I had to employ clever tricks and methods of persuasion to provide souls, but the world is rapidly changing. My time to reign has begun and all I have to do is receive those that choose me willingly. I have shaped and molded these humans to recruit and convert their counterparts to do my bidding, and I must say, they have far exceeded my expectations.

With the advent of the Internet, TikTok, Facebook and other platforms, I acquire souls in vast amounts with minimum effort. I sit, with open arms, awaiting the masses that flock to me. My appointed minions head the industries that promote my strategies. Entertainment, politics, all are part of the web that I have spun, and the masses walk blindly into it.

I set chaos in motion, and my only real challenge is the few that cling to the laws presented to Moses by Yahweh. They refuse to abandon their archaic ways and present a daunting task, but I derive great pleasure in steering them away from their loyal servitude, as difficult as it may be. Nearly everyone has a going price, and my coffers have no limit. Some of my greatest proteges have honored me well in the not so distant past. Their cunning and brutality impressed even I! There have been many over the years, but some are notable and quite memorable. Men like Andrew Jackson and his Indian Removal Act! Sheer ingenuity. Hitler! Pure wicked perfection. King Leopold! What a character! My loyal followers.

Treachery begins at home, and it knows no boundaries. Humans still have not learned to watch the one’s closest to them. Divide and conquer is a time-tested formula, and there is always a stupid human, desirous of more than he is entitled, willing to trade his soul and the good of the population, for his own selfish greed.

I am claiming and preparing my foot soldiers for the ultimate battle that will ensure. I intend to usurp Yahweh, and revel as his angels, saints, and warriors all bow down and worship at my feet. Lucifer, the Light Bringer! The King of Kings!

Chapter 3

Humble Beginnings

Gregory Hawkins was a trick baby. He was born in 1999 on Chicago’s west side, K-town, to a teen mother strung out on blows. Before giving birth, she swore if her baby was born unscathed from her heroin abuse, she would get clean. He was, and she did, and they lived a fairly decent life.

When he was eight years old, his world would change forever. One evening after dinner, his mother went to the store for cigarettes and milk and never came back. He sat up half the night awaiting her return, until he fell asleep on the couch. She wasn’t there when he awakened, so he dressed and went to school. Nearly two weeks had gone by before someone noticed and reported his situation to the authorities. Police, social workers, and paramedics came to the house and took him away. He spent the rest of his childhood in foster care and group homes around Chicago, until he aged out of the system. But that was all behind him now.

Over the years, Hawk, as he was known, had made quite a name for himself on the rap and hip-hop circuit. Unlike most young men his age, Hawk was never plugged into any street gang. As a child, he was shuffled from one home to another, and had lived all over the city. As a result, he had homies throughout Chi Town and the collar suburbs. He was a laid-back dude with a wry sense of humor. Somewhat quiet, he preferred to let his music speak for him.

He considered Rami his best friend, his brother, his family. They met at the group home, both orphaned and alone in the world. They adopted each other and shared a bond that possibly exceeded that of blood brothers. Rami was three years older than Hawk, but Hawk was an experienced veteran of the streets and the foster care system.

Rami was a month shy of fourteen when both his parents died in an automobile accident. He was with his grandmother when they received news of the fatal crash. Shortly after the funeral his grandmother suffered a massive coronary. Just like that, he was an orphan, and he too, became a ward of the state.

Unlike Hawk, Rami had lived a privileged middle-class life, as both parents had professions that earned a good living. His upbringing was a stark contrast to Hawk’s, yet both found themselves in the same predicament.

They would entertain the other boys in the home, and soon the entire neighborhood would gather around in front of the house and listen to their rhymes. When Rami turned eighteen, he found out he had a trust fund, unbeknownst to him and the state. He used some of it to purchase some studio equipment. He and Hawk had been cranking out music for several years and it had paid off and now they were on their way to Los Angeles to meet with one of the most successful record company execs and producers, Donovan, the Big Don Walker.

They arrived at the airport extremely early and had some time to kill. They were traveling light. No check-in luggage, only their backpacks to carry on the plane.

Hey Bro’ I’ma take a leak. Be right back, Rami stated as they walked through Midway Airport. He was tall and slim, honey-complected with a close shaved haircut, his head covered with a gray kufi skullcap that matched his tee-shirt. He wore baggy, not sagging, jeans, a black leather jacket and Timberland boots. His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, Handsome, and striking in appearance, he had a stately demeanor that contained his excitement, He looked as if he had been peeled from the cover of GQ magazine!

Alright man, I’m gon’ grab a cup of coffee, to wake my ass up. I was up damn near all night! Hawk replied, shifting his backpack to his other shoulder. He looked toward Dunkin Donuts. I’ll be over there.

Alright man, grab me a cup too, large, one cream, two sugars.

I got you, Hawk said, and walked to the line at the counter. He was a couple inches shy of six feet, pecan brown skin, and thick, course, dreadlocks that sprouted from his head like tree branches and hung past the shoulders of his muscular body. He had brown eyes that seemed excited about life. Happy, carefree. He had keen features, nose and cheekbones, and full lips. He sported a distinguishable scar that extended directly above his eyebrow, to just below his cheekbone, making him an imposing figure to those looking upon him.

The airport was bustling, as any other morning, but Hawk was oblivious to it all. He could only think of music and lyrics, beats, and words. The thought of him and Rami taking their music to the next level was all he ever imagined. This was big! This was huge! Hardcore Records was top of the line, and to sign with them would be potentially life changing, yet he had an uneasy feeling lurking deep within. Something he could not quite pinpoint, so he attributed it to his extreme fear of flying. He never told Rami because he did not want to look like a scared punk. These factors combined had kept him up the better part of the night, but he did not want to sleep on the flight. If something were going to happen, he wanted to see it coming and at least have a fighting chance.

So caught up in his thoughts, he did not see the man leaving the donut shop. Rami bumped into him, forcing the cup of coffee he held to hit the floor and splatter.

Oh wow! Hey man, I’m sorry! Hawk responded quick, grabbing some napkins from the dispenser on the counter. The two girls working behind it, gave him a look of disgust, one with her hand on her hip, while the