Seeds of the Nephilim Evil Angels on Earth
The day Maurice was pushed out of a job he loved, he was devastated. As a black man in a white man’s world, he had always worked hard, kept himself to himself and tried to fit in with his police colleagues.
An unusual introduction led to a new job, again working for the government.
His neighbors, and friends, a single mother, and her teenage daughter made him take a long, hard, look his job and those in authority. He started to question why a government department was collecting so much information on people without their knowledge. And what were they doing with it? It would take a cleaner, a student, and an ex-copper to find out.
Between them they amateurishly poked and prodded around in the smoke and mirrors world of secret agencies, revealing who really did pull the strings. The unlikely investigators uncovered the kind of information conspiracy theorists already knew. That the earth and its inhabitants had been manipulated for thousands of years by beings from another dimension.
The Nephilim, evil angels, were sowing seeds in the fertile minds of gullible humans. Playing games with the desperate and needy, then stepping back and watching the chaos they created to play out across the world.
Humans were toys and pretty stupid ones, but there was the possibility of help, good angels who might just possibly intervene. They were using Maurice and his friends for their own purpose, to defeat the Nephilim leaving them to continue with their original purpose on earth. But would the fight carry on endlessly in the shadows or would it come to some sort of conclusion that would let Maurice and friends live their lives in relative safety in the months and years to
Chapter 2 Nothing is as it seems
Brompton Street had received an expensive facelift. Gone were the second hand car dealerships and storage units. In their place were smart glass fronted office suites, boutique shops and trendy cafes selling coffee from exotic places. Olives and tapas were on offer and customers were willing to pay the kind of prices demanded for the fancy nibbles.
These changes had been managed by Jimmy Stein and his business partners, one of whom happened to be a local counsellor. Things happened for Jimmy. With very little objection from the city council planners, or the few local traders left in the area who bothered to take an interest in their local community. Multi million pound grants from the European Regeneration Fund and the Chamber of Commerce dropped into Jimmy’s bank account as promised. The usual accounting and project management process required for this type of work had been taken care of by Miss Ishtar, the very able assistant of Mr Javed Ahriman.
Jimmy was particularly pleased to let an office suite to the suave gentleman within a week of marketing the redevelopment. It was a real quick win for him, showing his sales and promotional skills in a good light. On the original application to rent, Javed gave a local address and said he had attended Birmingham University as an overseas student. Jimmy didn’t thing to ask which one.
The budding property developer just assumed that Javed was from the middle east due to his complexion and neatly shaved beard. Or rather the narrow line from his sideburns to his chin, not the scruffy kind of facial hair that young men seemed to favour these days. On top of that, the way Javed always wore lightweight, slightly snug suits gave the final clue. So that obviously made him foreign, and probably wealthy at the very least. He was handsome enough too, if you liked that sort of thing. To anyone else though, Mr Ahriman could have been from anywhere in the world.
Jimmy was really pleased to have let the office suite so quickly, especially as money was so tight. Then there was the problem with the drains. The sickly smell had started to permeate the whole floor the very week the new clients moved in. Mr Ahriman had not complained or asked for a reduction in the rent, so far, but Jimmy knew that Ahriman’s assistant, Miss Ishtar, used those air freshener things that you plugged into an electric socket, presumably to disguise the smell. Maybe, just maybe Mr Ahriman had not picked up on the strength of the pong just yet. Jimmy supposed that the pair were too polite to mention it, and were more accepting of these little difficulties, them both being foreigners. He stopped short of thinking that they were probably used to it.
He had heard from locals that Brompton Street stood on the site of what was once a medieval market place. The shops in the next street retained their medieval frontages, and were fiercely protected by the city council. Jimmy sincerely hoped that the redevelopment had not disturbed anything peculiar in Brompton Street, such as middens or old burial grounds. Apart from the smell it could seriously affect his bottom line and ultimately, his job
This environment was where Miss Ishtar’s proved her worth. Nothing fazed her, she was the model of quiet efficiency in the office. Smartly dressed too – she always appeared to be wearing some sort of uniform at work. Smart and clever, she could anticipate what Mr Ahriman wanted before he asked for it. She could almost read his mind.
Ahriman had congratulated himself many times over the last couple of weeks. Not only had Miss Ishtar come to work for him willingly when he called, but it was obvious her talents and ambitions fitted extremely well with his own. Yes, he had chosen wisely. He smiled to himself as he looked down his initial portfolio a list of vacant senior roles with prestigious UK companies .The list was in single figures, but filling some of them would prove that Mr Ahriman was a force to be reckoned with. Yes indeed, together with Miss Ishtar’s talents he was sure he could service his clients with the kind of people they needed.
He would begin his work tomorrow; these matters must not be rushed. This could well be his last chance to prove his worth to those that really mattered. And maybe Miss Ishtar would merit a mention too. Providing she continued to work with him, to ensure a successful outcome for his plans, and not disappear in the same way as so many others of their kind were apt to do.
Their kind were ancient. They had been on this planet for millennia and had played with the Terran occupiers all of that time. They were the Nephilim. Once a united force now divided in their purpose. But the legacy of the games they played was endless. They had endless games at their disposal. They tickled the ears of the stupid Terrans or human beings as they called themselves with thought seeds. In fertile minds the seeds took root and grew in surprising ways, helped on their way by the Terrans.
By allowing the seeds to settle and grow, the stupid occupants of the planet they called Earth engaged in wars for all kinds of reasons, dividing into factions at every turn. Religion, land, natural resources and pure greed were just a few. The list of games was endless. All along the Terrans were so willing, so gullible, always needing to justify their existence, playing with them was almost too easy. The Nephilim had never needed to sully their own hands when they played. They simply set seeds in the minds of the inferior beings, and sat back as the Terrans gradually brought ruin down upon themselves.
Not that the Terrans didn’t know about their existence. As a race, the Nephilim were well documented in at least one of their religious books. Were they extra terrestrials, fallen angels, giants or guardians? Whatever the truth, it mattered not. They were all beings with superior mental and physical powers. They had existed on earth from the beginning, travelling through parallel dimensions that Terrans called time. All seeing and continually mocking, interfering with anyone and anything they came across. Observing everything. Occasionally showing themselves when it suited. Some Nephilim were evil and some were not, in the conventional sense, standing by as the games played out. Hence the divide that developed between them. But Terrans found it hard to discern which was which. Which were good and which were not. And that suited the Nephilim perfectly.
Many of their little pastimes seemed fairly harmless, entertaining almost. Especially the ability to foresee future events with promises of a healthy, happy life, good luck and finding love. Targeting leaders and advisers with their signs and portents always achieved particularly interesting results. The wise men and oracles that did the interpreting were always special favourites. With very little encouragement, they worked to develop the use of astrology, casting runes and reading horoscopes. Some gained fame and fortune, and some lost their lives as their interpretations failed to materialise. But they never seemed to learn. The results of this teasing caused ruin amongst the hundreds of tribes on the planet. And the Nephilim admired their handy work time and time again.
Then there were guardian angels, beautiful spirits with magnificent wings, who were always there for you. Demonstrating their presence with small white feathers meant for you alone. You simply had to have faith and believe. It was so easy to play this game with the Terrans, it had lasted for a surprising length of time too. The Nephilim particularly liked the thought that they could be perceived as guardian angels, a force for good. Taking care of anyone or any living thing was beyond their comprehension.
To be fair, some Terrans took full advantage of these kinds of games and joined in, twisting and contorting people’s minds and taking their money too. There certainly was a great deal of mischief to be had in every corner of the planet. But this was nothing compared to what was about to come.