SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part I}

FIRST CONTACT *31*

EDIMA

In 1995; It was revealed to me, in a vision, the ten evil entities holding Canaan city hostage. Imagine it with me, now; ten, to represent the ten sons of Persia's Haman, who were murdered, hung, sacrificed on the altar of a harem queen Esther's blood lust; ten, to represent the ten kings of the earth in the book of revelations, who prepared the setting of the one world stage for the beast's coming. Here, I speak of biblical prophecies; their possible, but hidden interpretation, only in part, as I understand it, or maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong. Who can believe such account? That these entities, they fester in chosen cities across the bowl of the Earth, replicating the satanic mandates in their networks of ten? Who knows about the General of the Atlantic?

I know, that the General of the Atlantic is of the ten, and Canaan city, is a West African stronghold; but of his active replicating network I know, just as few locals also know, about the fallen ones, Schizo, Legion, about the old one, a prehistoric, oceanic, idolized Titanoboa, and all the lawful captives, that is to say, the sacrificed hybrids, devotees like Hogan. That night, after the ghostly apparition of my late dad, Mickey McFoy, fled, I met with Hogan.

The days of psalm 11:3, have declared, if the foundation is destroyed, what then can the righteous do? But as we get closer to everlasting Day, if the foundation be faulty, the righteous are in peril. And so I wondered in my ignorance, can a man escape his root? I have my childhood steeped into the hollowed grounds of faithful religious tenacity, of spiritual enigmas and other denominational dogma. But I ran away 'seeking answers,' getting lost in the excitement of sheer fast paced living; the most hypnotizing automobile glitter animating Lagos city's happening streets...

My mis-informed fantasies did push me to become part and parcel of that jaded and jagged edge metropolis. But then, grace found me, for by God's mercy I woke up, and I looked, and I saw. The sinful, murdering darkness is deep, much deeper than sleep, for it takes a great call to pull a soul out of it. The call I heard since I was but a little girl; a call to repent, for the mighty everlasting kingdom of God, it is, at hand. Can a man then escape his root? Will he now reach for That Root of Jesse? The second chance is not a myth; it is bought by Christ's blood; it is wrought in His Spirit that is The Word; it is not to be trivialized or taken lightly; a restart of, or return to, any humble beginning, in Christ, is the build up after the break down, it is to undo, untie, workout and witness. It is a firm planting within an uprooting, its a replacement that is also placement, both under heaven and within the earth. It is never enough to merely admire the garment of His immortality; the truth is that, immortality must be put on. The lucky jail break of judgement's fiery prison has to wear it to make it, in the literal long run.
This thing.
You can't wear it with sin.
Like I said, that night, I met Hogan. But growing up, at the age of seven, I'd already met this marine avatar. In a dream, I saw... a woman on Solomon's bridge. In most of my childhood dreams, I was always searching for mother. The woman on the bridge made me wonder. The bridge is freshly tarred, sticking to my shoes even. I can't move. Every time I look up at her, she is much closer.

Mystified, frightened, I hear her speak to me with a sweet gentle voice, "Edima, come to mommy," she calls. But there is something so wrong with her form. Staring harder, I realize that its fluid, shifting between her soft lines and a hairy, male, muscular being with eyes so hostile, so intent on me. But then again, in a split second, he becomes a she. She wears a flowery print dress that rustles with the wind. The wind comes from the sea, and suddenly the sea rises and overflows as though to swallow up land and atmosphere! It rises! It is everywhere except that very sticky patch of tar that I still stand rooted on. Because the dark waves keep rising, icy fear grips my heart. I scream myself awake.

How could I have known, at that young age, that the fluid shifting revenant is an avatar called, Hogan? But I tried to get answers to my urgent questions. The next morning I was very methodical in my childish interrogation of the nuns at St. Peters Orphanage. Very relentless... When Sister Uduak refused to describe what my mother looked like, and after Sister Magdalena denied knowing anything about my parents, I harassed Sister Martha till that dear woman admonished me solemnly, "You are on a need to know basis, as are many Christians. Your mother was a Christian. That is all you need to know."