Tuesday, October 6, 2009

A True Story Yet to Happen

by Jimmy Root Jr
Author of the following is known only as Jenny

As I put to paper what I’ve seen and heard, I confess I cannot control the trembling of my hands. Every corpuscle in my body is overflowing with fear. I barely have the ability to slow my racing mind. I cannot for the life of me determine where I should turn for help. Everyone I’ve encountered has the same problem as I. I am scared to death. This is what I have so far.

I arrived at my cubicle just before 7:00 this morning, filled my mug from the office coffee pot, and went to my station to begin the preparing for my shift at the board. Time never stops at the 911 Emergency dispatch offices, at least not until this morning.

At exactly 7:01, I sat up and glanced across the divider toward the desk of Tom, a fellow operator. Tom had not arrived. That was unusual as the man was punctual to a fault. I’d asked him about it once, and his response was odd. “Just being the best I can for my master,” he smiled. I chose not to pursue his statement simply because it sounded like something out of my past, something boorishly religious I’d learned in Sunday School, something I had no use for. I smiled at the thought that Tom’s religious sentiment had suddenly lost its value.

And then, with a horror I haven’t been able to shake, all hell began to break loose around me, around the world.

I saw it happen. Looking out my fifth floor window, I saw it happen. A small plane, a Cessna I think, nosed into the building across the street. At the same instant, someone stepped off the elevator at the end of the hall and screamed.

It was hard to take my eyes off the burgeoning fireball, but the scream was shrill and terror-filled. It was Angela, an operator who worked four monitors over. She’d turned white. Her hands where pulling at her own hair and her shrieks were matching her exhalation of breath.

Instinct drove me down the aisle and to Angela’s side. Most everyone had gone to the window. Some were looking up, some down, but everyone’s attention was drawn to what was happening outside.

My attempt to calm Angela failed at first. She would not allow me to pull her hands away from her hair. Though I was right in her face, she wouldn’t lock onto me with her eyes. They were far off, seeing into some black hole I could not fathom. She just kept screaming.

I finally had enough. My heart was racing and my eardrums were being pierced, so I gripped the woman by the shoulders and shook her until she snapped out it.

“Angela! What is wrong?” I shouted. I got nothing, so I shouted again, louder this time.

She finally looked me in the eye. “He vanished,” was all she could muster.

Then I saw panic well up. She scanned the floor around the immediate area until she spotted a small trash receptacle. She let go of her hair as she scooted to the can. She dove onto the floor and wretched into it over and over again. When the fit was over I settled in beside her. I had to ask. “Who vanished, Angela? Who vanished?”

She wiped her mouth with the side her hand and whispered, “Tom. We were on our way up, talking and laughing. Jenny, he just disappeared.”

“What?” I said as I glanced toward the elevator. The door was still open, and no one was inside.

“Are you sure?” That’s when I saw a pile of clothes, a wallet, a cell phone.

Every line on every console began to buzz. Operators who’d been lined up at the windows began to rush to stop the cacophony of tones, but the chaos only converted from switchboards buzzing to voices raised in disbelief. Every face I scanned registered one level of shock or another.

Then the monitor Tom was supposed to be manning lit up. I ran and slammed a headphone to my ear.

“Jenny Johnson,” my voice cracked. I looked up at the clock instinctively. The habit of registering the minute of every call was ingrained. The time was 7:05 a.m. The call emanated City General Hospital.

“My God, oh God,” was all the man would say.

Training kicked in. “Sir, calm down. What is the state of your emergency.”

Nothing. I repeated.

“What is happening?” he asked.

“Sir, you are the one with the emergency,” I responded with growing fear.

“No, you’ve got to tell me what is happening!”

“Sir, who are you and what is your name?” I tried to jar his thinking back to reality.

“Uh, what?” he stammered. “Oh....this is Ben Fisher. I’m a surgeon here at the hospital.”

“Tell me what’s wrong Ben.”

The doctor paused and evidently collected himself a bit. His voice was stronger and his words more directed. “I don’t even know what help I need,” he started, “you’re not going to believe what just happened.”

“Ben, just tell me. Slow down and tell me,” I tried to encourage.

“We were right in the middle of an appendectomy. I had just refocused my lens to take out the organ and bam, there was suddenly no body. My God, she disappeared.”

I said nothing. I couldn’t. I looked over at Angela still lying on the floor hugging the bucket.

“Did you hear me? The woman vanished into thin air. So did three of my nurses and the anesthetist,” his voice was rising in crescendo. “One second they were all there. The next, woosh…gone…just like that. What happened?” he shouted.

I had no answer. Voices were chattering all around me. Sirens were sounding in the streets. I felt the concussion of an explosion from across the street. And then climbing tone of an air raid siren, something I hadn’t heard since I was a girl, began to wail.

Now, at the end of a day like no other, I write in this journal what I’ve found. In the wake of planes crashing, thousands of traffic accidents, and mass hysteria, one common denominator stands out. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world have disappeared. I have come to the conclusion that the world has ending and I want no part of it.

If you are reading these words, know that I did not die in peace. There is no peace. Peace is non-existent. I die by my own hands before something worse comes upon me, upon the planet.

Post Script
“Then two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left. Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” Jesus (Matthew 24:40-41)

The story you have just read is true. It has not yet taken place, but it will. The heart of this writer was not ready for what took place. But for those of you who are longing to see the appearance of your Master, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the news is only good.

“Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep in death, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall all be changed.” I Cor. 15:51-52

“For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words. For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep (in death) we might live with him.” 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18, 5:9)

A Few Things to Remember

1. God is really in control of the events of the world, the nations, and the world’s leaders. They may arrogantly mock Him, but he is orchestrating every current event.

2. Whether you believe it or not, Jesus is returning for those who belong to him. They are called his inheritance. You must be a part of that inheritance, or your story will be similar to the one you just read.

3. You can never be good enough to make it to heaven. That is why we all needed someone else to do the job for us. His name is Jesus. He wasn’t a good moral teacher. He wasn’t just a prophet. He is the living Son of God who died to redeem anyone who would ask.

4. Once the events portrayed actually take place, all Hell WILL break out on the earth. You do not want to be here. I repeat, you do NOT want to be here.

5. Trust in someone bigger than you. Put your trust in the one who loved you enough to pay for all your mistakes and failures…called sin! His gift is free to all who will receive it. Believe me, you WANT to receive this gift. Just ask him to forgive you, make you new, and then turn and follow him instead of yourself.

6. This may be your last chance!

Jimmy Root Jr
You MUST get a copy of my book: Distant Thunder Book One of the Lightning Chronicles get it at Amazon.com or at the

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