Sealed Book of Daniel: John and the Keeper, #3

By Bobby David

A tale of figurines cast in the teeth of New Americas' horrendous birth.

A wagging of the head to a dire paradox of two peoples that failed to coexist. Due to their entirely diametric lifestyles.

For one was a reeling hunter gatherer and a ravening savage held by the ideals of his domineering past. Another a covetous people desirous of farming the land though not their own for the strength of enterprise.

In the first instance; the natives devour and ail and annihilate the first English colony upon the Americas. And in return; the investors make the next colony the first ever modern cold war's warheads.

Unknowingly supped with the plagues of the English isles, the second colony incumbents are rendered dehonestate. For the investors cast them at the savages to inflict self with the concocted ills of the English isles; decimating self to an almost none existent state.

This read is a discourse; an oration of their two tales in disagreement set as one.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bobby David
• Release date: Apr 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224074471

Book preview

1578

Some things were meant to be.

Like a wink and a smile.

Like a river  that has found the sea, pouring in to her all his strength.

Like the palatable noon sounds of a stream that descents down a mountain, as it dishabilles it of the vesture of morning dew. To replinish the brook, so that it may yet again satiate the shepherd and his flock.

Like the seemingly eternal ascension of the mist of a valley between the mountains. Thickening the sky with clouds ladened with ready bountiful waters.

Like the early and latter rain that torrentially downpour betimes. That congruently leave behind a bountiful and cheers of feasts after the harvest; as its incumbents cast distant the children of a rumbling belly.

There is yet a rain, that like the scourge of an army of swamming locust sweeps with much distruction leaving nothing behind. That comes mounted with terror of much electric whips of lightning and the angrily riotous answering back of vehement deadening voices of much rolling thunder. And this is the kind of rain that cast mockery at the labors of much enterprising for it announces that men were spent for nought.

As so terribly dark are the days after the last of the said rains; so, were the days of the beginnings of the New Americas, from the evergreen rolling hills of the English isles.

They were days like these.

Where the mastered man desired to move on, to start over in the yonder away in the distant much far loosed of the burdensome bonds of his birth. Where opportunity and chance might in all essence happen to all.

And on days like these.

A soul desire most to be upon the dump reeling cabins of a ferrying vessel. Hurriedly reeling them to a place far from the echoes and ruins of their distructive past.

On days like these.

The creditor refuses to see the potential of the debtor to recuperate. Multiplying the scourge of a levy too many for the purpose of enterprise.

But on days like these.

One sorts to vacate his abode to elude the messenger of bad news a hearing ear before being relieved of all things. Though still indebted much the more.

And on days like these.

The ecstacy of a cheer soon found in mirth die a ruthless death totally denied a place to cause a stir. And well placed notes are caused to die the death of silence upon the staff denied the emancipating ideal of a harmonious array.

For on days like these.

The temporal solace of much wine sink one deeper in to the ties of sorrow to no avail. As anxiety denies intoxication the debility needed to set at peace a wearied soul. Where is your strength, oh! Strong drink.

Yet on days like these.

The minstrial and the stringed instrument cause further damage to the harrowing of the wounded soul, as soberity denies cheer a solace to hold the eloquence of even the most beautiful of orations. Let alone the clacking of a step dancer Spanish or not. As a jester to the grieving, like sand to the teeth. It is like a man throwing stones at a mad man.

When a smile and a wink have so part, there begins a new thing. A thing that takes man in to the unknown. An uncharted journey in to an obvious oblivion. In all essence, for much and even for more. It takes heart to tread upon the vague.

But days like these.

They call for a dare. Though man fears the unknown. Of their own intent men drench self in to the unmapped to dig and reel the wheel of enterprise. One in to a mine another a field both to turn earth to bring to table the strength of her produce. After all, for the smith to blow the bellows or for the cook to make the best of stews; one has to break their own fallow ground to get the strength of earth’s produce. In order to break their own fallow ground, and for the earnestly coveted price of a field and a land to farm, so they said let be what shall be.

So, for it to be; they came from much varied English isles to gather at the supposed docks to allow inevitability her course. Composed to partake of a grand escape without leaving a deliberate rent or dent, until the said date that they have to make mention for their dues.

Duly relatable, supposedly most of them leaving their house lanterns untrimmed to make consumate the encapcitated fuel holds for a night or two. Composed to buy enough time to dwindle their odour beyond the sniff of a bounty hunter’s dog. A due tempus to let the smell of their tracks vanish in to the air, so all that desire to track their steps may chase the wind. Much aimed and purposed to abandon the wheel of enterprise supposedly believed to be reeling at usual speed and well oiled for the due cause. Though scantly burdened, they were all permanently set for the other side. But there stood the wooden vessel.

The vessel.

Yes, the vessel. There she stood deprived of all majesty mostly fantasized of, as the truth proved to be a rude shock. In all essence, she was an utter diametric of the preconcieved vista of the intricacy ordained sea travel. Of massive hurls and masts and generous sails, she so had but all in the taunt of disrepute. One would say  of her, all her equiping was well spent and a general overhaul was well over due.

Undoubtedly at the splash of the slightest of the ragged of billows she would dismentle. Ridding of herself of all burdens and in this maiden journey a burden of human souls. The aged screaming to the error and bad choices that fate cast their way, for God tempteth not; but the innocent young to an abiss of much ambience.  For there in, much inclusive of the escaping masses were their young; tied to the ideal of an ought. For being family they had to take this deadening travel congruently horrid or not. She, being the vessel; she was not just a horrid dare.

She was a dread.

Indeed so, she was a looming peril, a hazardous creak. An exceedingly dangerous old rig. The slight battering of the northerner was making her  creak much unashamedly there on the docks. Her much music wounding much the morale of her supposed cargo. Causing them to labour in paradox a calculus in denial of their impending obvious doom. Entirely owed to the much damage of their already decimated morale, yet here she caused them to cruelly suffer the taunt of their visible ending. That is if she was to be trusted with the much burden of souls less the weight of the much needed implements.

Though obviously not so, her much anguish was supposed to be blamed on her carelessly abandoned sails so left in a lucid array. Apart from the now and then appearance and disappearance of the ruddy young man just shy of a lad, only her constant complaints was the much one candidly heard of her dues and being. So the more  often cause of the much anguish she suffered there was in the less of the much escapade bellowing of the wind.

She resembled a betokening of a ghosted ruin much the more than an emptied vessel. Yet to be upon her awaited a stock of varied farmers, hoping upon their own weight to laden an implement or two, to ease the prick of their gruesome enterprise. Yet here, because she leaned towards the said wind;  already only of her own debility she was so loudly groaning. All of a sudden or of many untold stories, here her who is made of wood has suddenly developed feelings. Feelings of wear so ladened upon her by her many years of labouring. As if she was self away, now and then she let go of a thing or two; spooky!

The disruptive sounds of falling things added even much the more to the whispers about a Spanish ghost, let alone the erratic peeping of a lad or youngman overboard now and then. It caused with easy to hold water the raging rumors set alight by an obvious attempt to deny the set voyage the light of the day. Upon on all burdens, the apparition story was obviously moulded by cowardice, though even to the valiant she was a daunting terror; the vessel, to step upon. Let alone lose the hold of firm ground on her obviously porous floors, there has to be a hold; a hold in hope that a thing much better may be manifest.

Though it fueled desire with enticingly glorious vistas of a happy ending, the obvious set of cards was already dealt. And it took heart, for it was a thing that one would hold on at the end of the rope. Not for hope, but until further notice. They indeed had to improvise. Feeding hope their surmise there yet could rise a better contender to laden them for a less horrendous or even a hopeful journey.

Despite their myriad attempts and thoughts, the company or society per say was set and settled on this one. Their dire  attempt to stage  an anonymous stale, or delay was a far cry for the masses also had mostly reached the end of their financial ropes. Their scheme was not for the hope of a new vessel but rather until the lax could stomach their ordeal, that they are the due pawns for the obvious disaster that is about to happen. For just there in waiting they had managed to burn more than a few days light to quantize the desired body count. A second full moon was not just imminent but they had already tallied a few days beyond the latter.

The name was a cause crude enough to cause to settle well the plot for the thickening details of the tale. Indeed there was a Spanish young man aquired with the old girl for the price of an interpreter. Though it proved disembarking was a terrible ordeal to him, probably for the fear of the lot picking his obvious absentia of his supposed to be skills. For his bad English as though was not enough wounding to cast meaning deep in ambiguity, he was supposed also to be an avid interpretor of the indigenous languages of the Natives of the Americas.

There was an obvious disaster in the making about to be rendered the stock of human souls about to embark; from a terribly wearied creak, to the ruddy faced lad and a crew that was brought in as a chain gang. A captain that was not just missing in action, but was absent without leave. Eloquence was long lost and they were already vehemently grappling for a well equated direction. For they were headed to a place surely free of a light house or at least a floating sea beacon.

A thing that to the conniving it was the true sound of loosing the monarch for it can never again be known of the where abouts of their docking sham. That is if one could cling to denial long enough, until they mysteriously set foot on another bay. Compounded on the ideal that upon the embarking, she would abondon docks afloat.

Supposedly, only due to her much creaking, it was likely in all essence clearly implied too soon. That it was due to the amount of breaches that would amount to fatal  capsizing. Owed to her obvious porosity, that is if she could stay a few kindly rippling waves to clear the docks. A thing one would bet his own soul and two or so others by the look of things for a quick win. She was headed for the seabed, one needed not to cast their silver to a seer to peep in the future to foretell of her due destiny.

It was irritably obvious.

Truth be told, one would say she is a desolate old creak. Much ruffled by the much buffeting of the tumults of the unforgiving English canals, that is if one would be held in denial long enough to even deny she is of Portuguese origins bearing a Spanish name. If not purchased for this purpose. Then, of much of her stories though not be told, the damaging of her much adventures one could never deny, she surely was well travelled.

If only.

That is, if only the varrious English attempts were worthy to produce a stern option for the caravel, that is the perfect image of she who is almost battered beyond recognition. They would have undoubtly sincerely had a better option. But the company or more vividly the secret society would have had a better option to dock a more vicious rendetion of the voyage. But it was not until the 1600s that they were able to produce an audible model to carry passengers across the tumult of the raging seas.  

This again of all sincerity said.

Cooked and served cold by the Hispanics. It was to make the English the butt of their jokes that the Spanish entered in to an agreement to let this make in to their hands. For it being a Portuguese design with a Spanish name, meant it had dwindled too many a tunnel and it sat well at the bottom of the barrel. The obvious being it had long lost its vigor along the Portuguese passages. The Portuguese in all clarity would not let the patents of their famously vicious and hyper salient caravel escape their folded cuffs. Even to a ludacris offer too many they stayed their hold.

So, she who was aquired of the Spanish, was to give Spanish English jokes new punchlines. One would rather say she was simply ravaged. Of the many burdens she had to carry home. She could  wholy utterly silently attest all things without saying a thing. Just by her vesture, or one would say the bare strings that hold in to one her decimated rigor, her whole story was told by just laying eyes on her, one could hear the refute and creaking she packs at heart. Just her neglected wares site said much more than words can tell.

Yet for the hope of a field that is not tied to a lien or a promise of a tax due. One would cast self at her to let it all be until further notice. Of a bay or the bottom of a sea none could so vividly tell. But on days like these, the heart only unconditionally desires to be reeling yonder deep in to distant beyond.

If by her looks she would be composed to see another shore, then eyes are indeed depriving her her due privileges. It would take heart, and indeed a lot of heart to set foot in her cankered cabins. Let alone to wave goodbye upon her much fungal flooring. Yet what does any of the conglomerate here today have to loose. For already they had suffered the loss of all things. Even some had to nab their own children from practically forced labour that is if one has to mention their dues.

Though a scheme crafted and weaved by their indebtors. It had to seem not to be; yet was their indebtors connivingly sending test subjects for the desired economic expansion to the said new world. As a set of cards set for a magic trick, it had to look like it is all well. To elude the benifectors of their dues. It had to look like it indeed it is, as it was meant to be. Yet it was as they desired it to be.

Like a wink and a smile.

Just like the valley between the mountains.

Some things were meant to be.

As the river naturally finds the sea, pouring in to her all his strength.

All in all, all vessels desire a dock to unladen and laden all their wares and burdens. Like the taunted crew that has being following the lay of the stars home so cheer at the first sign of a lighthouse. There of impulse break a cheer and a song of victory. Having yet this day made it through the unforgiving cataracts and temporarily redeemed of the stink of the sea. So, for the joy of a piece of ground to set a foot so they sing their lungs out delivered of the right place to set notes on their staff. But here desire presents a thing contrary to this perfect design.

There: among those present around the much groaning creak, they waited a month or two mingled much with the busied workers of the vessels set to ply their trade upon the seas. Marring much the forest about the docks, for though burdened with this travel there was much plagues due to the unforgiving winters. They as the rest of the other crews had to endure the talk tales of her who has become their taunt in the place of a deliverer.

Though she nailed and crucified  them betimes and a thousands other times, yet they held on to the due promise in the chaos deemed horrendous by the audacity of the masses. Though she was the light of the party, none would dare speak for her, for she was of a surety a spectacle to behold in the imperative of the opposite of praise. Many a thing were said of her, but none to her advantage or the probable cargo she was about to shoulder through the seas.

And there in all blandness, she daily awaited the eventual.

Upon the much crude burdens, the scene that in the past two weeks after about a month and half of waiting cankered yet the much their morales. For he who was the hired captain of the vessel threw tantamounts at her site and meant to avert the adventure for he would not nab her for the one way ferrying. She was beyond hope he attested. For a man with one leg and a hook for a hand denying her; they knew she was beyond ‘the until further notice’ clause; to dare take a peck of the faintest of the billows. For the much damage proved to be have suffered by the look of things attested to his cross examination though made from a distance.

He that was set to captain her for  the  voyage rather abruptly took intoxication for a  sport. And rather spent his suddenly vacante days in the avoidance of his said office. Drowning self in the barrels of ram that those who sold temporal solace so eagerly paraded in the few scanty tarvens by the bay. So he sank among those who the ensigns of their ships lay upon the seabed though the love of the  sea is reluctant to let them go and find some other form of enterprising.

Though a thing passed on without much speculation. The crew were thus afforded a few extra pennies to bundle him in, for he having that soon rejected his service, he paraded self a stooper by his ordained love; the sea. There he sat and listened to her brawling, as she salted the in pouring strength of many rivers. Though not upon the wet floors of a ferrying vessel. He was still enslaved to behold  her that is bountiful, as she ever the more gulped in the rage of many riotous roving waters.

In all essence, in regard to the word stooper. One has to repress the meaning; that is, if you do not mind the ideal that he had only one leg to carry him around. His sobriety was supposed  to be earned by awaking in his predicament. That the old girl is a rampant or sitting duck upon the enraged waves. So imposed to save his dear life, if at all; apart from his rather huge luggage chest, he had a thing to live for.

They congruently purposed to cast it at his teeth, rather than beg him on, that is until mid-voyage, and they proved to care even the less for they were not presumedly gathered for their soundness. They were obviously for a dare cheaply hoisted from the base of the base most, base as they can be. They were in place