THE MAGIC WICKET

THE MAGIC WICKET

When renowned bestselling author Jerry Jenkins posted that photograph on his Twitter, theme for the request that a story be written in seven words or less, it opened for me that window of opportunity that only the gullible chases.

It was May 26, 2021 and hopes were renewed.

For me, any window can become a great opportunity to make my face known, even if it seems a little ridiculous, even comical; Imagine ?!

The view was of the rectangular frame encircling the entire perimeter of my face, covering the hair above my forehead, none of the ears, which barely showed because they were so glued to the skull, would be visible, just a little bit from the chin; The broad forehead, the black eyebrows with a centimeter of white hair in the center, made my eyes, dark brown, quite intriguing, the Hebrew nose, above the appreciable lips, parted in a light and captivating smile, completed the amusing vision.

He would laugh, I would start talking to him until I intrigued him, he hypnotized in this state would open the door invitingly, and I, opportunist, would introduce me to him, then, my whole body and the purposes of my heart and mind, flattering and detached from any anchor.

I was the first to post and, in six words, I told the story, strategically continuing the theme of previous attempts to draw his attention to the strength of the film project, series supplement and my inclusion in the victorious "Left Behind" team

It was six words

Among Inhumans  Found Myself Waiting JESUS

The treatment ‘LORD’ I should have provided along, completing the seventh word, but I failed; Without discovering the flaw so far.

Yet I told the stinging story in fewer words than the stated maximum.

Ten days later, Twitter activity showed 72 interactions and no likes; I gave mine like! As usual I like my posts, because after all, the first value judgment has to be mine; I don't usually throw words to the wind, I have always a  purpose.

I was trying to break through the algorithmic block on the messages I was trying to send him, to keep the small window open and blow the brazier of my hopes, to be part of a glorious social project, to save millions of people, maybe a billion, or two...

“The Books of Death" would not be reduced to a single one, as the “The Book of Life”, certainly not; the established prophecy is not changed by any actions of the household. My expectation, however, was plausible (reduce them to a half) because the Creator had ordered us to 'go and speak the truth of your bravery and empathy, for all human beings'

My imagination was always hand in hand with my soul, like the impubertal little sister in need of an exemplary icon, and so was constantly depressed; With this the manuscript was written eagerly, as if I were sobbing with enthusiasm and inspiration, the commitment was interrupted by all sorts of mishaps, suffocated by the weight of the oppressive reminiscences of the past.

I could never format the natural hard disk given to me by my creator; the defect interfered in the best moments; Not as a simple 'bug' but something deeper, which made the optical reader repeatedly reveal an abysmal reading, hidden under a thousand leagues under the sea.

There was a palliative, however, a mitigating, analgesic of the recurrent, intermittent, pain in my soul: success and money, to go helping the underprivileged, eating, drinking and shopping.

When I pursued and found success, I was one of the most lavish men with my money, however, when mental limp hindered my pursuit of success, the purpose being deeply rooted, I had extra strength to pursue money first, with a view to the purpose.

I endeavored to attract the attention of whoever could boost the rocket of those overwhelming revelations, so long smothered by the most pervasive and perversely dominant religion, as a pervert does operating against a helpless child.

My hope, steadfast hope, that the succumbence of those revelations would be on the brink of being brought to the fore, was grounded in faith, a heavenly gift given to me and supernaturally strengthened.

Jerry could!

And I always had a breath to follow their activities on the social network; I had already given up the emails, where the insurmountable algorithmic barrier worked, reading the keywords I wrote and responding to me with those emails offering help and attracting me to buy one or another educational program on the art of writing and being a ‘best seller author’

I even think he should pay attention, which I thought was due! And it was not the judgment of a young dreamer, but a veteran dreamer, sixty-five years old, judgement.

I couldn't just tell him he was obligated to help those who came to him for help, were him a true Christian, obeying the commandment, of the Almighty, while he was humanized here among us.

The possibility and the opportunity to produce a magnificent work were palpable, we would prove to all humanity the subliminarity of the spiritual offense, inspired by the antichrist and established by the Roman religious major, at the time: Constantine, which gave rise to the Operation of Error; We would save billions of souls from spiritual ignorance.

Besides, we would live a risky adventure, because the antichrist spirit would besiege the entire operation.

A bag of most precious stones was in my possession, and the greatest of all diamonds sparkled the Mystery of the God-Christ, quoted in Colossians 2:3, torn apart word by word, verse by verse; The other exhibited the diabolical and unimaginable architecture of the Operation of Error of II Thessalonians 2:11 and 12, and the lesser, but not the last, resplendent the scientificity of the work of genetic degeneration and regeneration performed by the Eternal Father.

It was not the fruit of the Spirit, but the only begotten of the FATHER.

It would require an unstoppable effort, impossible for the antichrist to staunch this universal breeze of a new spiritual breath, which once again and tenaciously revealed to us the True GOD, capable of synthesizing in a single being, the Fullness of the Divinity, the Being-God , CHRIST!

Rome would kneel ready for her final ruin

We would be among these last warriors, the first to look at the face of the LORD JESUS, CHRIST! On his great and glorious day.

Any window counts, so I decided to open the little gate offered by Reedsy, writing this story

The miracle would come and those fifty dollars would come for me, the first time for a lucky Brazilian boy.

Amen!