The angel did not seem like a person to toy with. So I kept quiet.
“First, you need to see this.”
A vivid light came on in front of us. The light came to life. I saw people. I saw homes. It was San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge. The Bay Bridge. Fisherman’s Wharf. Hunter’s Point. Pacific Bell Park. The Presidio. China-Town. Nob Hill. Pacific Heights.
Next, I saw my parents. They had aged a few years, but still, I could tell they really enjoyed life. I saw Kari and her parents. They, too, had aged and appeared to be happy. I saw relatives, friends, politicians, famous people, and others. All appeared to be older, but still, they enjoyed life.
A bright glow then hit San Francisco. For a fraction of a second, I could not figure out what it was, but then I knew it was a nuclear explosion.
The blast radiated out from a sidewalk café at the corner of Fillmore and Washington Streets in the Pacific Heights section of San Francisco. It traveled three hundred miles per hour, vaporizing people, and real estate. One moment people walked on sidewalks, and the next they were incinerated. Just black marks remained. Buildings and homes imploded. Fires broke out. Gas mains exploded.
The most sought after real estate in San Francisco, the one hundred and thirty city blocks of Pacific Heights, was erased from the board in less than ten seconds time. No longer were these scenic settings and spectacular views the envy of the people living below them. Japantown, Marina District, Presidio Heights, and other areas experienced damages, but nothing like the calamity Pacific Heights had suffered.
The living light zoomed in on my parents and their home. I watched as both were blown into pieces. An arm here. A leg there. Their heads were sliced from their torsos. Mom’s white dress bought at a boutique on Fillmore Street was soaked in blood and intestinal parts. Kari’s parents suffered similar fates, but Kari herself did not die instantly. Her beautiful blue eyes melted and ran down her face. Unsightly sores and oozing pus covered her body. I heard her shrieks. Her words slammed me like sledge hammers, pounding on my heart.
“Kill me. Someone kill me. Please kill me. I want to die,” she screamed over and over again.
I fell to my knees and wept. My stomach heaved and I vomited. Pieces of pepperoni pizza which Kari and I had eaten for supper floated on the sand along with greenish fluids and mucus. The vomiting continued until dry heaves hit me.
All through my writhing, I heard screams and cries of people coming from the living light which still showed scenes from the nuclear blast. No longer could I watch it, but I knew what was happening. Babies died. People were burned alive. Death. Death. Death. It continued and continued.
I threw myself down atop the vomit.
“Oh Lord, stop it. Stop it. I will do anything You want me to do. Just stop it,” I cried.
The living light went out. Silence swallowed up the noise.
Too weak to stand up, I sat on my haunches. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. My heart pounded in my chest. The blood pulsed through the veins of my head. Every part of me ached.
A second light came on. This time a voice spoke out of the living light.
“Yes, Lord,” I said, somehow knowing it was the Lord.
“San Francisco must be warned.”
“Yes, Lord. Oh yes, Lord.”
“Whom shall we send, who will go for Us?”
“Lord, if You can use a nobody, send me.”
(An excerpt from my novel, Jonah by Larry Nevenhoven, ©2012, Amazon eBook)
The Lord has a way of etching his message on the hearts of His prophetic voices:
But if I say I’ll never mention the LORD or speak in his name, his word burns in my heart like a fire. It’s like a fire in my bones! I am worn out trying to hold it in! I can’t do it! (Jeremiah 20:9)
(Continued in Part 7……if you’re interested, the full series to date may be seen here.)