On this Election Day, I thought I would share a curious encounter I had recently, which turned into an unexpected lesson in the hidden workings of our world.
While enjoying a romantic getaway up north with my lady friend, Livia, I went out to the shed to fetch some firewood for our hearth. As I rummaged through the woodpile, a large log came tumbling down and struck me squarely on the head.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, I vaguely remember being lifted off the ground and carried back to the cabin.
I cannot say how long I was unconscious, but when I awoke on the sofa, Livia was leaning over me, gently wiping my forehead with a cold, damp towel. Behind her stood a hulking brute, covered from head to toe in surprisingly well-groomed, long brown fur.
Noticing the astonishment on my face, Livia calmly explained, “This is Cecil. He’s a friend.”
I must be dreaming, I thought.
“He brought you inside,” she added.
In perfect English, the creature politely inquired whether I was feeling better. Still bewildered, I managed to thank him.
The fire was roaring in the hearth, suggesting I had been unconscious for some time. Apparently, Cecil had also been kind enough to bring in the firewood. Livia poured me a steaming cup of tisane, a restorative infusion of roots and herbs Cecil had gathered in the forest.
I sat upright, still a little woozy, though the pain had begun to subside. Naturally, I had a million questions.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“I’m an interdimensional being,” he replied casually. “My people have been visiting your world for thousands of years, but we’ve been hunted to near extinction here since the Last Glacial Maximum. Our pelts were highly prized, and our organs were harvested for medicinal remedies and virility potions. These days, we mostly remain in our own dimension, though occasionally we venture into your plane of existence on a lark, seeking amusement or adventure.”
He paused, sniffing the fragrant stew simmering over the fire.
“Besides, we rather enjoy Italian food.” Pressing his index finger to his cheek and twisting it back and forth, he added, "The aroma of Livia's coniglio alla cacciatora is what drew me to you."
“Why did you help me?” I asked.
“We’re not Reptilians,” he replied, as though that explained everything. “I saw someone in trouble and simply came to his aid.”
I nodded, immediately regretting the movement as the room began to spin.
“Reptilians?” I repeated.
“Yes, the humanoid shapeshifters who secretly govern human society,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Not to be confused with the Morlocks or the savage mole men, of course. The latter are descendants of the ancient Lemurians, survivors of the great cataclysm, only to be enslaved by the Sumerians. The Reptilians are your run-of-the-mill democratic elites, international financiers, and European Union bureaucrats.”
His pleasant expression suddenly darkened.
“They control your governments, banks, and militaries. Nearly every institution of consequence is under their influence, from finance and warfare to information.”
“But why?” I asked. “What could they possibly want?”
“They are descendants of the Nephilim, the monstrous offspring of the Egrḗgoroi, the Fallen Angels known as the Watchers. Driven by an ancient hatred of mankind, they have waged war against the Children of God ever since.”
I stared at him, uncertain whether the throbbing in my skull had anything to do with the surreal nature of what I was hearing. “Aren’t you concerned I’ll expose your existence?”
Cecil smiled, revealing an impressive set of teeth.
“Not particularly. Who would believe you?”
Before I could respond, the room began to dissolve into a haze. Cecil’s enormous silhouette blurred, the firelight flickered, and everything went black.
When I awoke, he was gone.
Livia was sitting beside me, holding a cold compress against my forehead.
I looked toward the hearth. The fire was still burning, and beside it sat a neatly stacked pile of fresh firewood.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, November 2nd, Il Giorno dei Morti
