Dangers Unseen

Dangers Unseen

Dangers Unseen is a story I wrote in my early twenties. Don’t know how good it is, you will have to judge for yourself.


“But there is a God in heaven that revealeth secrets. and maketh known to the king Nebuchadnessar what shall be in the latter days… But as for me, this secret is not revealed to me for any wisdom that I have more than any living, but for their sakes that shall make known the interpretation to the kind, and that thou mightest know the thoughts of they heart.”

Daniel 2:28 King James Version XVI Century

It is always best to keep what is a secret hidden even within your own mind. Living with The knowledge of good and evil can be a burden not worth bearing. But living with the knowledge of the things to come in the future is a weight that has driven many insane. It has taken its toll on me, that’s for sure. Not more than three years ago was I sitting underneath the porch canopy of our Victorian age home, sipping on a glass of lemonade. Just wishfully contemplating what to do for this summer not even concerned with the affairs of my mother or father, or worried about the salvation of the universe. It was just me, not the Twelve.

It normally does not take three years to tum a college freshman into a philosophical “genius.” It takes years of study and hard brow thinking to saute thoughts into flavor filled ideas. I’m not that philosophical “genius” anyway. That’s just what the others call me when I get on their nerves. I’m not that special at all. They know that
It was my fortune to be entrusted with a secret. You could also call it a mystery, because that’s sure what it was to me. The creative potential in us all sometimes frightens me. That is why what I share with you today is not something that I have examined lightly. I have pondered and strained my thoughts almost day and night trying to decipher what it all could mean. Of course, I see it clearly yet I do not still understand it to the fullest.

Just another dry. summer day. It was that kind of day that most southerners could endure “off of the back of their hand.” Hot for me because I was a stranger in this neck of the woods, Sheik Louisiana. My mother and father had such a good time telling me how this town got its name.

“This town was purchased by the Sheik,” father said through a smile. Momma smiled just as wide and told me further. “This sheik thought that there was oil in Louisiana and purchased this small town and named it after himself.” True, they were ignorant to most things. In their defense, I loved them both and I was glad to be their only son. I wonder if it mattered that they meant well.

Father and mother were both starting new jobs in Kentucky and my aunt Zelda lived in Sheik. They both painfully agreed to let me stay at aunt Zelda’s for the summer. I normally went to Los Angeles to stay at Timmy’s house — my cousin but this year Timmy’s mom and dad were going through a divorce and Zelda’s would have to do. No sweat.

The Woman who bore the horrid name of Zelda was entirely the opposite. She was my father’s younger sister, the last of twelve. I think that my grandmother had a ball naming her children, my own father’s name is Keruthers.

At least he could be called Keri, but for years no one could nick-name Zelda. A shame too, she was far more beautiful than Zelda. She was twenty eight years old, unmarried and a biochemist. Forgive me if I don’t tell you what she did at her lab, something about genetic mutations-I can‘t stand science.

She was very kind and even though she was stuck babysitting me, she treated me nice. I was only seventeen years old and still wet behind the ears so to speak. Anyway. she was a treat to be with and if it wasn’t for that dream that I had two weeks into the summer, I probably would always remember this time because of her.

If I close my eyes I can still see it very clearly. Those kinds of unconscious thoughts normally occurred during the day and almost always during Algebra. They call it a daydream. But this was a nightmare. I sometimes wonder if what I remember today is actually the same.

The dream began when I had waited up for Aunt Zelda to come in from work. Her work schedule was awkward for most people, but cool for me. She started at eight in the evening and was home by four in the morning. This meant plenty of hanging out together the day when I was wide awake.

Anyway, I was watching TV and waited until four in the morning. I actually slept till four and I am sure that the whole length of this dream took place within the second before the sound of house keys woke me from it. Though I could not see my physical self, I could feel the red dirt underneath my bare feet.

It was hard and crusty and I didn’t leave behind a print as I walked. I looked up from the ground and saw laid out before me a wasteful place. The clouds above were twirling in small patches. It reminded me of my grandfather’s grandfather clock. The cogs and the screws and the coils all spinning and turning in opposite directions yet driving the whole.

Thunder rocked the ground and catching my step I pushed through the dirt. Dust floated freely from the ground up to my eyes. I began to move. I was moving forward and fast, thunder rumbled once again but my sense of feeling was no longer there. The landscape was improving. whereas there had been a level plain, now rocks and small hills were flying past me. My vision blurred because of the speed I was traveling.

In dreams you never have much thought going on inside your head. You are usually dazed for the first three hours into the dream (dreamland time). Then if the dream is good, you enjoy. If it is a ‘mare, then you sweat it out or wake up. I sweated it out. At this point all I could do is hear and see, much like a movie, in shots and cuts.

The cloud coverage doubled and now all the clouds were spiraling around a mountain. This mountain was the same color as the ground. red and dirty. After I awoke from the dream the thought of dried blood came to my mind. That is what it resembled in color.
My motion slowed and I was instantly at the top of the mountain called. Turos.

This was the very last of the attempts to send the Book to it final destination. Turos was the tallest mountain on Zeno, standing 15.000 feet above the terrain, “Good, they come,” he said. His name was Ex’cutor and he was a prophet.

His cloaked body lowered to the floor and he arose with a handful of soft soil. The soft small fur made from Banthie skin covered his entire body, only his mouth was visible. His long, feminine fingernails were caked with filth. Then there was a ground tremor.

“Must happen now,” he said with a worried quake in his voice. He crushed the dust with his other hand. The clouds overhead danced around and rioted against one another.

There movements controlled the winds below and Ex’cutor was pushed back a step. There was another tremor, then another. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The air was fresh and filling. It reminded him of his home planet. Cantun. But his memories of home was now 300 years old. They were stale and dry.

The rumbling sent small rocks spilling down the side of the mountain. Ex’cutor opened his eyes and looked out to eastern horizon. There was an the atmosphere, two moons, both looked more beautiful than their mother planet. The clouds were all moving to the mountain as if they were going to referee this monstrous battle. Ex’cutor didn’t look like a warrior. Just an old man worn away by more years than he should have had. He looked down out across the level plain and saw them.

They, whoever they were, were drawing closer and well hidden in the (dust cloud that their vehicles produced). Ex’cutor was right, it was time. Soon they would be upon him and if they succeed, the Unseen would bow in submission to the one who held the reigns of that army.

“Soon enough. Morrow comes.” Ex’cutor said. I wondered if he was talking to me or the clouds. His eyes were so deep inside the cloak, all I could see was whether they were open or closed. He tossed the dust into the air. it hovered for a few moments then was carried away by the wind. He bent low without bending his knees and scraped the ground once again for soil.

As he rose from his bend, he shed the Banthie skin and revealed a man. His body was like an eighty year old man, wrinkled and dying. His skin sagged along a small rib cage. His naked body trembled, it was the coldness of fear.

“You are Him, The Ultimate!” Ex’cutor screamed out to the encircling clouds.

“How long will you allow Morrow to tear through Your creation,” he finished with a whimper. The dryness of his mouth choked him with every scream.

“How long, Oh Master before the end of this madness will come?”

He stretched his hand to the sky, his eyes never once moved from it focus — the tumultuous sky. I was enthralled with the scene and so was Ex‘cutor. So much so, that we both hadn’t noticed the trembling had stopped.

Those whose desires would instill in me a fear, so great that I would spend the next three years in psychotherapy, readied for battle.

If Ex’cutor had looked down the mountain and saw the several hundred thousand Mondean soldiers which were enclosing to destroy his body and soul, he may not have had the sanity to do what he did.

Reaching into the fallen cloak Ex ‘cuter removed a book. It was bound tightly with in leather strap and was definitely older than himself. Throughout his movements, his eyes did not move from off of the center of the spiraling clouds. It was The Book. The Book that Morrow, leader of the Mondeans was looking to destroy.

“The wind was now blowing stronger in all directions. I could see small dust spirals forming from the passing currents. Ex’cutor opened his mouth once again.

“The wind has now gathered and the time for the Prophecy spoken so long ago to come true: ‘For behold, I. the Creator of All things, am the Ultimate. I shall bring judgement upon him who did not keep his place before me but was cast out like a Tine, to wreck havoc on all who saw him. The Day shall come (and now is that time} that the clouds shall receive the message for help, a cry that I Myself shall respond to. The sky shall open about the mount called Turos, the Holy Mountain of old and it shall receive the message of salvation. And I, even I, shall come to exact judgment on The Son of the Dusk, Morrow.’”

Now Morrow was making his way up at the bottom of the base.

“My lord, let me take him from off of the mountain?” the faceless creature said.

Their faces, at least, all except Morrow’s, I can’t seem to remember. But I knew that the one who spoke was called Credibal. Morrow ignored his second in command and hurried up the side of The mountain.

To be continued…

About The Author

Jesse Velez

Although Jesse Velez will forever carry the essence of a Native New Yorker, he currently calls the sun-soaked city of Miami, Florida, his home. Celebrating a marriage of 31+ years to Eusebia, he proudly embraces his role as the father of five grown children. Jesse has cultivated a profound grasp of the Bible over the span of 40+ years, dedicated to following and serving Jesus while engaging in extensive reading and in-depth study of the scriptures.