The 2035 EXECUTIONER'S TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS.

[boclhmtoc]

"BE SEATED" The Governor firmly says. I shakily try to sit down without falling over my chair.

"So Mr. Bock, you have applied to enter into my executioner's tournament. By bribing your way in through UN Chinese officials. Did it ever occurred to you that your application would have to go through my office, and that you would be subject to a background check?" I look up at the ceiling, my face is turning a bright red... "No sir," I say nervously, "it was my first time, I was not made aware that there would be any complications. I was only trying to enprov".........."ENOUGH," The Governor shouts at me. He opens a lap top computer and studies the information on the screen very carefully.


"So, you're a crux fetish addict I see." (I think to myself, Agent K said to let my word be few.. so I say nothing.) "We know everything about you Mr. Bock, every web site you've ever visited, all the way back to the Clinton's administration and Operation Echelon, remember that? We're talking before the great purge, before the Internet cleanse of 2021, when the UN took total control.. I'm talking when you first came online with AOL back in 1998." (And what's his point, I'm thinking, what am I about to be crucified over?) And your a tin foil hat conspiracy theorist, Mr. Bock.. you believe 9/11 was an inside job.. you believe international banking families are trying to take over the world with a NEW WORLD ORDER.. Mr. Bock .. YOU believe the earth is flat.. You think outer space is fake and that there is a literal dome over the earth and that the earth is stationary; while the sun, moon, and stars are the objects that are doing all the moving. MR. BOCK.. you think just because you weren't breast fed.. Suffer with ADHD .. have ADD.. and are dyslexic you are unworthy to write an essay. That's how the system chooses its workers. You are a 'blue collar' truck driver because WE made you that way. WE are the ones that removed phonetics from the schools and replaced it with 'whole language see and say.' WE are the ones that removed common sense math and replaced it with 'NEW Math.' WE left a whole generation of students behind because WE needed workers.. employees... NOT entrepreneurs .. NOT CEOs... NOT people with critical minds who can think for themselves. And YOU MR. BOCK have slipped past and through our net.. HOW in the hell did you do that?"

(Cold sweat is pouring down my face... college students can be crucified for believing in the flat earth.. HELL ... college students can be crucified for having a Bible. They are taught that God is a sadist, the Bible was written by men, and that Jesus never existed. They are made to read 'The God Delusion' and if they refuse.. CRUCIFIXION. I know he's going to sentence me to death any second now..WHAT'S HE WAITING FOR .. just say it ... CRUCIFY ME!!! GET ON WITH IT!!)

So, Mr. Bock." the Governor says with a much calmer and smoother tone of voice. "I see you've had an account with Vimeo.com. You like Ramon Martinez's short films; 'The Passion Of The Christa' ... You like this girl.. here, I have a photograph of her performance."




'You've rented this more than once. You like her acting ..She is one of Ramon's best actresses is she not?"

You've gone to Youtube.com, 'Aethereal' by Brother Will.. You must have watched this one more than twenty times..It's the 'cosmic rewrite' you kept queuing up.. Just the thought that Nicolaus Copernicus got his whole heliocentric model from the occult ... from Hermeticism...From Hermes Trismegistus...you find that fascinating do you? That NASA was created to keep the truth of Geocentricism hidden from the masses? Your own Dad worked for the company that built the space craft that only crashed into the ocean while the supposedly 'moon landings' were all faked on a stage in Arizona. NOTHING can get past the dome. WE'VE tried it! .. In 'Operation Fish Bowl' 'WE' tried to break the dome open by firing nuclear war heads into it back in 1958. That's when the Antarctic Treaty was signed in 1959. So that no one would ever find the edge. The masses could never know where the dome reaches the ground ... touches terra-firma. That God is the creator of it all. That's why the Internet had to be cleansed back in 2021... And now we have a new generation that doesn't remember shit. And I need to know Mr. Bock if I can count on you to keep it that way?"

"Let me give you some motivation Mr. Bock... You see the crucified bitch on the North wall?" I look over my right shoulder to see what he's talking about..then I see it on the wall.....




"That bitch tried to get the Russian Federation to break its ties with the 1959 Antarctic treaty, and build the first five star hotel next to the spot where the dome touches the ground past the great ice walls. A sort of Jurassic Park adventure. When the Russians refused, she started her own exposition to find the edge and took selfies of it. When the Freemason armed troops caught up with her.. they had her crucified next to the Freemason plaque that claims all of Antarctic under the jurisdiction of the Freemason Brotherhood."

"Your fate will be decided Mr. Bock, should you become a licensed executioner in my system, is whether you will work with the system, or against it. Those assholes in California thought they could change the law of God by putting transgender bathrooms in every public school in the state. That's why WE in the 'First Order' had to step in and take charge after the great purge. When I stood with the California Governor, twelve bitches guilty of infanticide were being put to death by crucifixion. When they all stripped, two of them were men. For this outrage I had the whole ruling class of California crucified for forgetting that God made only male and female. That's why their placards read "Crimes Against Reality" .. I'm not having California violate Daniel 7:25-- changing times and laws over transgenderism and allowing Yahweh to have legal right to open the dome and invade the earth with his 2Thessalonians 1:7 army of mighty angels. That's why the 'First Order' is ruling FEMA #9 ... to keep Yahweh on his side of the universe. I will not have Him destroying my gods and burying my armies at the bottom of the red sea.. destroying my rule like the Pharaohs of old, my ancestors."

"ARE YOU A CHRISTIAN MR. BOCK?" (Oh shit..I mean shoot.. here it comes.. My life is flashing before me.... My answer ... the next words that come out of my mouth... will determine whether I live or die...TODAY.........................................................................................................................................................................................

 

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(As a born-again Christian, the Governor has issued the ultimate challenge; I say to myself, to fail this test is to put my eternal salvation on the line. There are passages of scriptures that say if I deny Christ before men: “He will deny me before His Father, and His holy angles.” This is where the rubber meets the road; so to speak, I must now choose… do I want a life in the New Order, which could end tomorrow? Or do I take my chances that he will not kill me if I acknowledge Jesus Christ my Lord, the only hope of reaching heaven when I die? I remember a crux story on a web site I once read many years ago about a female Christ named ‘Barbara of Nazareth’; she was a type of Christ, minus the hard core [“I’m the way, the truth, and the life; no one come to the Father but by and through me.”] She had a disciple named ‘Yupar.’ (RW) I wrote a review on it that went like this: “On pages 89-99 we read about poor Yupar. The moral of the story being: If you stand for a cause that cuts across the wishes of the ‘powers that be;’ and especially the control of the masses by the power Elites, and you’re not prepared to pay the ultimate price...You better find something else to do. Like staying home and baking Girl Scout cookies.” That very night, my wife brought home three boxes of Girl Scout cookies with the sale of those cookies being out of season. I will never forget the timing of that review. (FW) Now I either request to be a sex slave as Yupar did to avoid the horrors of the cross; or risk crucifixion to stay true to my values and convictions. MY CHOICE… Will my body stay live, while my soul dies? Or do I give up my body to keep my soul eternally alive? The Governor is awaiting my answer)…………………………………………

I fill my lungs with air as a crucified person would standing on their nailed feet…open my mouth and say…………………………………….

“”I HAVE NO KING BUT JESUS…JESUS IS LORD AND HE IS COMING TO RULE AND REIGN ON THIS EARTH FOR A THOUSAND YEARS…YES, I AM A CHRISTIAN.””

(At that point, I am waiting for Agent J to take his three-barrel machine gun and empty its full chip into my mouth…my life is over…I await the Governor’s verdict.)

“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA”………………”Emperor Nero was an asshole… Feeding Christians to the lions just to release the fire in their bosoms, causing ten people to rise up and take their places. The poor idiot never understood how to put the Christian fire out… You have to CONTROL the Faith. That’s why our Agent Emperor Constantine was so successful in mixing paganism with the true faith as to control and water down the ‘fire’ so that the shadows of Christians stopped healing every person they passed over. ‘WE’ institutionalize the faith as we saw fit. Now, the people could practice their faith with no life changing power behind it.”

“And you Mr. Bock would want me to martyr you NOW?..Send you home to Yeshua with a full reward..a martyr’s crown, a job well done, in spite of your crux fetish?..All is forgiven..to enter under the altar of God.. with the souls of all the martyred saints…crying out ‘how long oh Lord will you not judge those that have shed our blood on the earth and avenge us…and they’re told they must wait a season till their fellow Christians are killed as they were is fulfilled; As says Revelation 6:10,11.’

You do not get out of my kingdom that easily Mr. Bock. The Khazarians would have martyred you in a second. The Jesuit Order would have burned you at the stake as they did Joan of Arc, or the souls of the French and Spanish Inquisitions. Killing all who believe in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, outside the control of the Roman Mother Church: Outside the dictates of The Council of Trent. I know why the true believes fled to America. So they could seek and find God outside of our control. The Bible belt in America only exists because of the revival fires of Southern California. Azusa Street 1906; Billy Graham; The Four Square movement under Aimee Semple McPherson. All the while, the Churches in Europe practiced a dead faith. No, Mr. Bock I don’t want you raising the dead, casting out devils, or healing cancer patients any time soon. I WANT YOU TO WORK FOR ME!”

“It was ‘I’.. Who told the Khazarian Mafia to go fuck themselves. ‘I’ dismantled the FEMA concentration camp system. ‘I’ bulldozed all 864 camps built under HR 645… Sent all the guillotines back to china…and had all the CEOs of those companies executed. ‘WE ARE THE FIRST ORDER…AND WE ARE NOT STUPID!’ I executed all the Jesuits who had anything to do with the Columbus Light House in the Dominican Republic. And it’s up to us…in the First Order…to stop the fulfillment of Matthew 24:22; lest the God of Heaven…Yahweh…has a legal right to take back what is His…His world…His earth that He created for His good pleasure. Destroying my gods and my kingdom…fulfilling Revelation 11:15. OVER MY DEAD BODY WILL THE KHAZARS FULFILL REVELATION 13:15-18; ON MY WATCH.”

“Do we have an understanding Mr. Bock?”(If that means, I say to myself, I’m not going to be crucified anytime soon)…”Yes sir, I believe we do,” I say.

(I lock eyes on the Governor..It is forbidden to look into the eyes of a Reptilian, a Bilderberger, a Club of Rome secret society type. But he is different somehow, from the Rothschild’s, the Rockefellers. I sense evil in him, but also great wisdom. He knows his place in the universe and it has boundaries. He is just a stewart, not the all in all ruler. And he knows this. English is not his first language. He speaks with an accent. I wonder where he is from. If he has nothing to do with the Jewish mafia…he might be Russian. After all, the Khazars funded the Bolshevik Revolution through the private international banking families in America and Europe. And now, for the “First Order”…it’s payback time. I have sometimes thought they would be the ones to fulfill Revelation 18:8-10.)

“Do we have a deal Mr. Bock? I want you to crucify before all of the Vegasians, one of the whores who were caught swimming in my private lake. I need you be make an example of her so that the people will obey the laws of the New Order. If you can do that…putting aside any emotions you may have for her gender or her crime…you will earn a place in ‘my order.’ Do it with style and I will grant you the coveted title of ‘master executioner.’”

“There will be order under my rule: Pagans will be pagan. The Burning Man ritual at the black rock desert in Nevada will not cease. Christians will attend their Churches and hold home meetings. Lesbians will do their thing.. LGB community will continue. However, the ‘Ts’ had better find their balls quickly if they were born boys. Mormons will be Mormons. Jehovah’s Witnesses will worship the way they always have. Muslims will worship at the mosque and bow to Mecca seven times a day if they wish…. But any Muslim man who mutilates his daughter’s genitals, or practices honor killing of any members of his family… will be publicly crucified upside down in front of his mosque with a placard over his feet that will simply read; ‘ASSHOLE.’”

“Agents J and K will finalize your paperwork and have you sign a few documents. You will be a credentialed executioner with a security pass into any secure area of the tournament. I’m looking forward to seeing your timed female crucifixion performance on Saturday. Good luck to you Mr. Bock… See you tomorrow… good day.”

“ALL RAISE!” commands one the guards. I stand to my feet as the Governor leaves the room. Very happy I’m not going to be executed or crucified. I follow J and K down the stairs back to the grand foyer. Just before I walk out the door, I look to my left to see the entire family sitting on chairs in the dining hall. Agent K introduces me to Tarketen’s family: wife—Alexanda; daughters—Olga; Tatiana; Maria; Anastasia; and a son… a very handsome son I might add named Alexie…or was it Alex…I think he said Tsarevich Alexei… I don’t know… I’m horrible remembering names. But where have I seen them before?



I get unto the limousine and we head back to my bungalow…………………................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

Agent J brought the hammer down unto the spike’s head as hard as he could. The blow sent shock waves through my left wrist as the nail’s shaft missed the carpal tunnel completely and broke all the small bones instead. I screamed in agony as the process was repeated on the other side. Then came my feet… could he at least do it without breaking all of those small bones too? When the cross-reached vertical; the drop into the socket should have been enough to kill me. But, NO… I was still alive and strong enough to hang and suffer for many hours. The crowd of over a thousand people cheer wildly, as I scream at the top of my lungs. They yell at me... “DEATH TO ALL FOLLOWERS OF YESHUA… DEATH TO THOSE THAT BELIEVE IN HIS SECOND COMING.” They chanted repeatedly… “Long live the Khazars!” “The only anointed rightful rulers of the world!” “The beloved leaders of the Ashkenazis !” “The true chosen people of God!”

What the hell just happened to me? Agents K and J were supposed to be returning me to my bungalow. They betrayed me… drove me to a small hill just outside of Henderson Nevada. There… they crucified me when I thought Governor Tarketen had accepted me for who I was, and my desire to become a licensed executioner. “ALL FOR WHAT!” I scream to the angry crowd below my nailed feet. “WHAT WAS THE POINT!!… WHAT WAS THE POINT JUST TO KILL ME ANYWAY!!!!…….

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“Hey Bock wake up man… WAKE UP!” Cold sweat is pouring down my face. I look up at Steve who was staying with me that night so we could get to the tournament on opening day… first thing in the morning. “Thanks for waking me” I tell him. “That was the worst nightmare I’d had in a very long time. When K and J told me that my Smartphone heard everything... When I spoke of there being no such thing as a transgender cross, all of that conversation was recorded in my AI file. I had thought I’ve put the phone down around my ankles somewhere. But the AI picked it up anyway and it’s permanent in my file. What a dream… with ‘Christian’ recorded in my file… I will be rounded up immediately, if ever ‘The First Order’ is overthrown.” Steve looks at me rather funny.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………
A quick breakfast and we’re off to the front gate of the Vegas speedway. My Chinese agent was happy to give Steve and me a lift to the credentialed executioner’s secure entrance. Once inside, we made our way to the ‘condemned women’s assembling area’ and took a seat to watch the women being brought in. There are over 200 prisoners that will be put to death in this year’s tournament. The women’s side always draws the biggest crowds. Since Steve and I are executing by crucifixion a female… we decided to just stay on the women’s side.

Today is death by firing squad. There will be three female crucifixions to entertain the folks with one of those being a timed crucifixion as it was with Sally in the first tournament. The shooters execute their assigned prisoners in a single-elimination format. Almost all the shooters are overseas soldiers working with the UN peacekeepers. No American is allowed to possess a firearm, so it’s the French, German, Spanish, South Americans, Malaysia, and Indonesia troops that were in this competition in years past, that will be up first. But now, the executioners must choose their victims from the ladies who are now assembling in the main staging area. Steve and I, watch the proceedings with great interest.

“ALL CONDEMNED PRISONERS STEP UNTO A BLUE MAT!” The barefooted prisoners comply, each finding a single mat to step on.“ALL CONDEMNED PRISONERS STRIP!”



The victims of today’s executions waste no time and are very submissive as they quickly undress themselves. My heart begins to beat faster, as I put myself in their position. WHAT if I was one of them?... Preparing myself to be put to death before 200,000 screaming fans in this years’ 2035 Executioner’s Tournament Of Champions.
“ALL PRISONERS STEP TO THE RIGHT AND EXTEND YOUR ARMS!”



I watch as the executioners step forward and write down which prisoners they would like to put on their list for execution. The women show off their beauty, strength, and fitness as the lists are finalized. But the commandant in charge is not through yet:

“ALL CONDEMNED PRISONERS FRONT FACE AND STRETCH ARMS TO THE CEILING!’



In one last demonstration of health, the women stretch their arms in a V shape overhead and the crucifiers jump out and grab three victims... They quickly led them away to crucify them. One being for the timed event. I’d had my eye on the tan skin beauty on the left side. “Oh look, I think they’ve taken her.” I say to Steve. Taken whom? He says. “Taken that beautiful brown, tan skinned girl to the timed gate.“ I think she’s going to be crucified in the timed race”.

It’s almost 9:00, the gathered fans are getting restless, and it’s time to start the games. Steve and I head to the front of the stadium to see what unfolds next. The Governor’s helicopter has landed. He’s now in his VIP booth with his family. My heart is pounding... It’s time for the first crucifixion……..................................................................................
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[boclhmtoc]

“So I’m a bitch, I stole diesel fuel out of UN tanker trucks because it was easy to do. Besides, with the citywide fuel ration there will always be a black market for petro. If I don’t do it … someone else will.”
That was my thinking until a drone circling the city at 12,000 feet captured my name, biochip ID, and my face. Shit… It took no time to sentence me to death. Death before all of Vegas in the Executioner’s Tournament. Okay, I said to myself. No one lives forever. I’ll just ‘woman up to it;’ and take it like a woman. I’m lined up on the first day of the Tournament, which is execution by firing squad. I’ll just take one bullet to the chest and I’m outta here… Stupid New Order anyway. I don’t want to live here… saves me the trouble of committing suicide.

I did everything that was asked of me. The commandant said to strip… so I stripped without complaining. The commandant said to stretch our arms to the ceiling and all we submissive women obeyed believing that the executioners will do their thing on us quickly by shooting us to death by firing squad.



But what the hell is this? Three of us are separated from the main group. We are led to the infield of the speedway in front of 200,000 inpatient fans. Awaiting us there are two center-post beams with ancient style patibulums designed for crucifixion. CRUCIFIXION? “What a minute” I yell to what seems to be my executioners. “Sorry miss” they say with a smirky smile. “A slight change of plans.” I look down, and lying on the ground next to a wooden cross are huge, ugly looking spikes.



I look up at the men… “You’re not going to spike my tender young body to this hunk of wood with those things?”That HUGE single spike for my feet?”



“ARE YOU”? They all are laughing at me. As I’m forced to lie down on my back and stretch out my arms… they tell us that a skinny bitch tried to stow-way on another bus in the hopes of hiding and escaping her fate. Because of her, as with rebellious slaves of old… we must be made an example of. What example? A pre-tournament crucifixion. And I’m one of the chosen, thanks to the way my body looked when I posed with my arms stretched over my head. With the nails fastening my hands and a huge single spike through my feet… I scream until I’m out of breath. I’m raised up and dropped into the hole…. OUCH,…SHIT!
From here, I watch in horror as ropes tie the second girl, and her cross is lifted and dropped.



Then her bare heels are swung away from the center-post forcing her to hang from her arms with no support for her feet. The last girl’s cross is removed from her shoulders.



As her cross is positioned and prepared for her crucifixion. She tries to cover her left breast with her right hand. Then… she sees it… the spikes that will be used on her…



That will nail her wrists and feet to the cross… her cross. She gives her executioners a look of discuss.



They grab her arms… force her down upon the wood on her ass.




Her arms are quickly stretched out across the beam.




Then the backside of her left knee is crossed over the top of her right knee, as the left foot is placed on top of the right foot.



The nailing begins… the cross is lifted … She hangs on the third cross, as all three of us are great entertainment for the crowd as they cheer wildly. The third girl was flogged I noticed. That’s what she gets for trying to escape.
Now the time had come for the timed crucifixion, and the official start of the games. With my back arced out from my cross and my breasts pushed out in front of me... I curse my fate in defiance of the crowd and my executioners. I try to view through my tears of agony, what will happen next. This is not what I had planned, when I was waiting for my execution day. All this for a few miserable gallons of diesel fuel………………………………………

 

[boclhmtoc]

It was just a fantasy. Only a fantasy! A plaything in my mind. But now it’s real, as the screaming blond girl on the third cross has her feet nailed, her cross is raised and dropped into its' socket. Wedges are hammered in place and it is done. Three young women are crucified together on the Las Vegas speedway infield. The look on the last girl’s face says it all:



She cannot stop it…she has no control, the state owns her body now, and this is the fate that has been decided… Death by crucifixion. She has no choice but to deal with it… accept it.

The woman tied to the middle cross is in trouble. With no support for her poor feet… her arms are stretched excessively tight… she cannot breathe. Sweat runs freely down her arms, through her armpits, down her breast, drips from the nipples, down her sides, hips, legs, feet, and pools on the ground at the foot of her cross. She is dying… fast!



The crowd can’t take their eyes off her… and neither can Steve and me. The spectacle is beyond belief… the crowd stands to their feet in a standing ovation. In their minds eye, this is more than could be expected in only the 3rd year of the tournament. They are pleased so far. The Vegasians have never been treated to a pre-tournament crucifixion before. Thanks to the attempted escapee, this may become the norm in future tournaments.

The electronic screen flashes the name and crime of the woman to be crucified in the timed race. Her name is Amy. Her crime: Giving away food at the grocery store where she worked, to people outside the “useless eater” class… to people with no biochip implants. A death sentence for sure. But like the others, I bet she thought she was going to the firing squad when she spent the last night waiting for her execution day. And now… CRUCIFIXION!

The Malaysia team chose her. Unlike me, they hadn’t bribed their way into a first pick as I had. But unlike us… Capital punishment, death by Crucifixion for both men and women has been legal in Malaysia for many years. They have “hands on experience”, where Steve and I did not. When the UN troops invaded America, they brought all that blood nailing knowledge with them and all I could do is learn by watching their performance. They mock, laughed, and taunted Steve and me. Like in the movie; ‘Cool Running’s’ … About the Jamaica bobsled team who wanted to compete in the winter Olympics. Jamaica had no snow and so their team had no experience on the snow. It was assumed by all the timed crucifixion teams that we had no chance of winning the 200,000 credit prize in the timed race. But they underestimated the power of a Yamaha 3000W generator. Since the EMP attacked on the west coast…That generator was worth four times my Ford truck. Between my ‘wet crotch girl;’ and their pick of a girl from the herd,… it was my only advantage, my only hope of winning.

The food stealing Amy arrives at the starting gate with a loincloth and her crossbar laid upon her shoulders.



It is assembled with the upright post and placed back unto her shoulders. The starting gun sounds, and off they go, towards the forth socket in the dirt next to the third cross, as the electronic screen started to count. She’s not very enthusiastic about going to her crucifixion I notice. Good… let’s see how fast they can nail her up.



They arrive at the awaiting socket. She is thrown to the ground and stretched out.



The nails are pounded through her limbs as the screams echo across the walls of the Vegas stadium. The loincloth is torn away as the cross is lifted.. dropped.. wedged into place. Time… 5:52. Not bad for a two man team, and an un-cooperating victim.



The crowds now behold a beautiful tan young woman, nailed to a beautiful cross, with the beauty of the Nevada desert behind her… The spectacle is more than any Vegasian could have hoped for.

 

[boclhmtoc]

“HERE THEY COME!” “HERE THEY COME!” The Vegas crowds turns their attention to the single file line of naked condemned women as they make their way to the concrete walls which contain five wooden posts. There, the condemned will be tied with their hands behind their back.



They will be executed five at a time by firing squad until a winner emerges. In a single-elimination format, the International teams compete against each other. They receive points for accuracy and how quickly each victim is expired. Small heart monitors displays the heart beats of each victim on the electronic screens. The quicker the heart stops, the more points the teams can rack up as they move towards the final round where the champion of the firing squad competition will be crowned.



The goal is to finish the day around 3:00PM. For the crucified, the hope is that they will have expired by that time. If the sun sets on a still alive crucified person… a spear to the chest cavity dispatches them. As a crucifixion executioner. I must be present to help ‘clean up the mess’ of the crucified at the end of the day.
The noise of high power rifles going off from mid morning to the afternoon was exciting for many, as the accurate bullets plowed into the chest of its victims putting them to death in a timely fashion. For some… the noise was annoying. But for the controlling UN troops and Governor Tarketen, death by firing squad was very popular in their home countries. If disarmed Americans didn’t like it... they had better get used to it.
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By the end of the day, two teams emerged in the final championship round: The team from France and the team from Germany. It was little known in America but by a few savvy internet researchers, that German troops had been living in New Mexico under a code name called: “Operation Cable Splicer”. When the collapse of America came… gun confiscation was their specialty. In the Tournament, they were the best at executing all the bitches who were either gunrunners, or illegal gun owners themselves. And so in the last round… It was the German UN soldiers that won the championship by doing what they do best… shooting their victims straight in the heart and killing them instantly.


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The first day to the tournament was coming to a close. The crucified bitches entertained the crowds between the rounds by giving them something to behold:



The tan skin girl in the timed race hung on the last cross. The fans loved watching her hang . But the sun was setting, and it was now time to ‘clean up the mess.’



Shining a flashlight into her face... I couldn’t believe the bitch nailed upon the first cross was still alive; the abnormally huge spike that held her tender young bare feet to the foot of her cross was enough to break many bones. But she still hangs there… barely alive. The others had expired before 3:00 with the tied woman who was dead before noon. The Malaysian team had crucified her… they have the job of finishing her off. “Here, hold this”, the team captain hands me a seven-foot long spear. As he guides my hands holding the spear, he places the spear's tip next to her left nipple. “Now just move the tip from the tit straight to bottom of the armpit, now come up five inches, and angle it towards the chest cavity.” He puts both his hands tightly over the top of my hands and says; “Now push up all the way into her chest and turn the shaft a half of turn like this.” To my horror, I’m executing an almost dead crucified woman with a spear into her side with blood spilling out all over my hands and arms and pooling in the ground at the foot of her cross. I feel sick to my stomach. This is no fantasy… this is the real world, and it shakes me to my core. Her breathing slows to a stop in less than a minute. She hangs still. Now, all the nails can be removed... and the bodies taken down.

Back at my bungalow that night, I rehearsed the day’s events to Steve and share my thoughts. Tomorrow will be day two of the three-day tournament. There will be a timed crucifixion first thing before the executions by hangman’s noose. Is won’t be noisy as the guns were... but the hangings have been very popular in years past and the fans have their favorite executioners in the hangman’s division. Molly is the best. We’ll see if she wins again. In the meantime, I cannot get that ‘spear into her side’ out of my mind. Sleeping tonight is not going to be restful for me… I share my feelings with Steve… “PROFESSIONAL EXECUTIONERS..... ARE WE SURE WE’RE CUT OUT FOR THIS?”……………………………….........................................................................................................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

“Boy, those German guys had so much fun.” Steve was saying to me the next morning as I pulled my oatmeal out of the microwave oven. “Yeah, then they drove their heavy tanks around the paved race track doing donuts on the asphalt, cutting deep grooves unto the speedway pavement. The track will never look the same again.” (But that’s the spoils of war, I thought to myself. While all that was going on, the winning German team’s names were being carved into the trophy that was presented to them as winners of the firing squad competition.)

It was now the second day of the tournament. I was only interested in how the timed crucifixion team from Indonesia was going to crucify their female victim. Rumor had it that the team had selected their victim from the five bitches who were caught swimming in the Governor’s private lake. Sure, I was given first choice. But it was said that the Indonesia team was offered the second choice and they picked a red head whose name was Kelly. They kept her tied up to a wooden post just outside their barracks.



On the day of her timed crucifixion, they stretched her legs out and tied them to a pole…



The strategy was that once untied; she would move faster to the socket and the place of her crucifixion… once there, willingly laid her body upon the cross for a timely nailing and lifting of her cross. Was her crotch wet like my first choice? I didn’t notice… I went by the feet. My girl’s feet were perfect for nailing on a single spike for a shot at the best time. Kelly’s soles are thicker. That’s why I didn’t pick her. But beholding her tied up on the ground, I got the impression that she was ready to ‘get on with it.’ Unlike Amy who was picked from the herd, Kelly was taken earlier and ‘enjoyed’ the customary practice of spending the night with her executioners before her crucifixion. And they took good care of her… so I heard!



After our Chinese agent drove us to the front gate, Steve and I made our way to the condemned women’s assembly area to watch the stripping.



These women were being prepared for execution by hanging. As they were lined up… the executioners quickly chose their victims by writing down names on their lists. Then… they were led away to be hanged.

They sat Kelly down upon her knees. Pulling her arms over her head… they placed the crossbeam on her shoulders.



The Vegas crowd stood to their feet as the starting gun sounded and the timed crucifixion began. Kelly’s bare feet made a slapping skin on pavement sound as she was raced across the speedway tack to the awaiting socket with her cross. There... Kelly was thrown to the ground.



The Indonesia team quickly placed her body on the cross and pounded the nails into her wrists and feet.



Kelly screamed at the top of her lungs as the cross was lifted and SLAMMED into the socket.



A good time… but… as I pondered the sight, I began the think very deeply. Crucified in the sandy part of the Vegas speedway… Photographers were at the ready to take snap shots of the spectacle for local magazines and newspapers.



It was now time for the first hangings. Different styles of gallows were set up along the speedway infield. The duel trap door was first to go in the competition. The crowd roared its approval to watch two bitches drop through the trap doors simultaneously to their deaths.


.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

Then three dissents of the biochip system were hanged together from the simpler style gallows where one female executioner could pull a lever and drop them to their deaths. A broken neck followed by a quick death… scored the highest points in the competition.



The single-elimination brought the two finalist teams between the UN British female executioners, who were the wives of the UN British peacekeeping troops. They were very good at hanging the prideful American bitches who still thought they had the right to live in a sovereign nation free of the dictates of the NWO. Reality and the Vegas crowd proved otherwise. This was a lesson for all rebels who disobeyed the new order. They afterword took pictures of their best hangings and sent copies home to family and friends.



But it was the homegrown FEMA #9 Molly, who once again proved to be the best when it came to hanging hometown bitches. She was so good that rumors had it that the condemned women would request her by name to get on her list. Many times she would have to inform them that she had more bitches that she could hang in one day and someone else would have to execute them… she was fully booked.



Molly was indeed the expert. She could rub her fingers between her victims shoulders… bottoms of the navel to the top of the pussy and know just by feel… how long the rope should be so that the neck was guaranteed to break the first time, every time.



Her victims had so much confidence in her that she never had to push any condemned bitch off the platform. Just a light touch of her hand on their shoulders….. and all the bitches gladly stepped off knowing it would be as painless as possible…



Their execution was in the hands of the top professional….. they were at peace with this………………………………………….........................................................................................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

And so, the day went by quickly. As the executions by hanging was wrapping up… the crowds continued to enjoy watching the bodies of the condemned hang by the noose.


But then, I saw her there…. A young woman just sitting there on the ground, looking up, and beholding the spectacle of Kelly hanging there…... Did she have thoughts of joining her up there...................................

fully crucified upon her cross? I beheld Kelly’s full breasts as she hung and I could not stop thinking if this is the proper fate for a young woman… or any woman for that matter.


Isn’t death by crucifixion supposed to be a ‘guy thing?’ To suffer so terribly… this is a death only men should be allowed to endure…( Oh, get over it I said to myself… female crucifixions are here to stay because they are so lovely to watch. The crowds LOVE IT! Yes, I thought to myself, they do… but was it right?)

I looked up at Kelly….....................................

(I thought to myself… staring at her full breasts. Here I was… a retired truck driver. I remembered what Governor Tarketin had said when I was brought to his mansion… “I know you are dyslectic, have ADD and ADHD.” Yeah, because I wasn’t breast feed… and silver fillings were put in my mouth when my teeth got cavities. But what the Governor didn’t know was that my childhood aspiration was to become and fighter pilot and fly jets for a living. If my mother would have given me suck from breasts like Kelly’s… I know I could have been anything I wanted to be.
The crucifixion of Kelly…. What a waist! To get a best time possible, the Indonesia team broke all the bones in and around where they pounded the spikes into her flesh. I can do better than that…. I know I must do better than this or I will miss the opportunity to become a “master executioner”. The Indonesians were no “masters:” they were more like butchers. Kelly may have been crucified, but she was more or less slaughtered upon her cross.) I looked down at the young woman watching… What if she were sentenced to death? On the cross! Could I be the one to carry it out?



HOW could I become the executioner of such a beautiful creature? It’s the body of the woman that brings life to man. Without the woman, the human race goes extinct. How did the parts of her body become such a dirty thing to talk about? The vagina is now called “pussy.” Yet, only her body can bring a boy or girl into the world. The breasts that nurse those young children are now called “boobs.” Nipples are called “tits.” How did it become so vulgar? But who is there to protect Kelly from dying a death only men should allowed to die? Where is this woman’s protector? Does this woman have a man in her life to stand up for her? Is she alone? No lover or husband to say it’s wrong to put a woman to death on the cross just because she went swimming in the wrong lake? Would ‘I’ stand up for her? Would ‘I’ die in her place? Or would I be the one to put the cross upon her shoulders, or the girl watching… and lead them away to the place of execution… and there… crucify them to death?


(Steve knew nothing of what I was thinking while all this was taking place. All he knew was the sun was setting and the second day of the tournament was coming to a close. Soon, it would be time to ‘clean up the mess’ and get ready for the last day of the tournament… tomorrow… our day. The day that will decide if we make the cut as executioners, and earn the right to leave the ‘useless eater class,’ become employed with the biochip upgrade… leave Las Vegas... and go home to California. That’s all I should be thinking about, I kept telling myself.)

Kelly was dead upon her cross by sundown….........................................................................................................


“Good,” I said to Steve, “There will be no spear-into-her-side-bloody mess to deal with tonight.” Hey Bock, Steve started to say. “Our bitch Sarah will be delivered to us within the hour… as is customary for executioners.” Steve was right, just as Kelly was given over to the Indonesia team the night before… so our girl will be given to us to do whatever we want until we crucify her the next morning. Steve couldn’t wait to get back to the bungalow. Our Chinese agents will be ‘dropping her off’ at our place. What kind of night will I have with a condemned woman spending the night with Steve and me? Well… I was about to find out…………………………………..........................................
...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

SARAH’S STORY

My name is Sarah. I don’t think I’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography that I will ever write…and God…I’m writing it on toilet paper………………………………….........................

I was born in St. George, Utah to a very strong Mormon family. At the time, America was a free sovereign nation. The Internet was free, as was so-called “free-speech.” People were free to say, think, and believe whatever they wished… long as they didn’t hurt anyone. (Well, physically anyway.)

I grew up in the Church of Latter Day Saints. I made many friends there and did a lot of sports. The Church was very family orientated and there were many sports teams to play on. My favorites were softball and basketball.
Courtney was my best friend…



We did everything together. I use to call her “dirty feet,” because she hated to wear shoes…was bare footed everywhere she went. I kept a bucket of water at the entry of our house, so I could wash her dirty feet when she
came over to play games.


She very much loved everything about the Mormon Church.

As time went by, I began to question the teachings of my Church. My family, especially my mom and dad did not approve of me asking so many questions. Not far from our house was a place called: “The mountain meadow massacre.” It’s a place that Mormons don’t talk about, because it puts the Mormon Church in a bad light. Then, one day Courtney told me that Joseph Smith was a Freemason and was married to many wive, some of those wives were married to other men. My parents were “sealed in the temple”; meaning that in eternity, they would have the right to populate their own planet somewhere out in space.

Then came the “flat earth movement.” The “free Internet” had allowed truth seekers to sift through all kinds of information and decide for themselves if NASA was telling the truth about the moon landings and if outer space (the Jesuit Order through the Vatican owns most telescopes in the world) was what so-called science; had said all this time; was it true?

Then it dawned on me…. If the sun is moving around the earth, and the earth is still…. Then everything that “sealed” Mormon couples believed was based on a centuries old Freemason lie.

I began my search for truth, and Courtney felt the same way. One day she invited me to a Christian Church.… the one that usually has a cross on the front lawn. It was there that I heard how Jesus died for my sins and by faith in his person, through a personal relationship with him… I could be “saved.”

My whole world turned right-side-up. I heard how Jesus died on the cross for me. CROSS!… WOW!… The Mormon Church doesn’t have a cross on their churches. They do have paintings of His crucifixion… they just don’t believe in its’ salvation power as Christians do. It was at this time I began wondering what it would be like to be crucified on a cross.



Courtney and I fell in love with the youth pastor at the same local non- denominational Church here in St. George. We loved the Bible studies on how Christ fulfilled many ancient Bible prophecies by his death on the cross. I remembered one in particular… I was wearing flip-flops on my feet on a warm summer's day, as he was teaching. It was there in Psalm 22:16…”They pierced my hands and my feet.” When he said that, I looked down at my own feet…slipped off my flip-flops, I crossed my feet one over the top of the other, and imagined what it would look like, if my feet were nailed as his feet were, in fulfillment of this passage.

Then the dreams started….. I began to dream that I was found guilty of some crime. In my dreams, I would break out in a cold sweat as I was stripped naked… and led away, to be put to death by crucifixion. And they “pierced my hands and my feet” just like it says in the Bible.

It didn’t take long before I not only got use to the idea, but I was becoming ‘aroused’ by it to the point that I was now imagining myself being a type of “female Christ.” That is all I could think about every time I saw a crucifix. Female Christ-“aroused!”

Then…. my youth pastor brought me back to reality… “Turn in your Bibles to Isaiah 9:6,” he said. He began to read…”On to us a child is born, unto us a ‘son’ is given”… I realized that the Christ who fulfilled Psalm 22:16 could only be a son, and not a daughter. What a disappointment! I wanted to be the one “on whom they have pierced,” as said Zechariah 12:10. Oh well, I said to myself… I wasn’t going to be sold for thirty pieces of silver as says 11:12 or ride into Jerusalem on a donkey as says 9:9 any time soon. But I couldn’t stop dreaming that one day… I will be crucified.


My parents divorced the year I graduated from high school. I went to live with my mom who was disillusioned with the Church as was I. With a broken marriage, the “sealing in the temple” was nullified. It was here that the Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on our door. My mom started going to their Bible studies. As for me, I was happy at the Christian church… until the senior pastor had an affair with the church secretary. Then I starting going to the studies with my mom.

The Witnesses were taught that Jesus was just a messenger of God and it was Jehovah whom we worshiped in order to gain his approval. There were so many rules and regulations to keep, that it all, became too legalistic for my tastes. It was really just one of many “Unitarian religions” that denies the deity of Christ. I didn’t know what to believe after that…I just became a nothing, after I learned that the founder of the Jehovah’s Witnesses movement, Charles Taze Russell, was a Freemason too. Just as their Freemason counterparts, the Mormons… their hope of the new earth to come was based on the “heliocentric model.” An idea that goes back before the Freemasons, to the Knights Templar's, to the pagan philosophers of ancient Greece.

Courtney saw it too. Our search for truth led us to the Virgin River. There on the shore, Courtney lay on her stomach, with her bare feet crossed over the top of each other. Her usual dirty bare feet.



I knelt down and began to tickle the sole of her left foot. As she giggled, I imagined her feet being nailed to the foot of a cross. Something swept over me and I became one with nature. It hit Courtney too and she felt one with nature. There were other young women there at the Virgin River bank and we locked eyes on one another. Come to find out, they were “Sisters Of The Wiccians”; and we soon became best of friends. They believed that our purpose was to become one with nature and one with each other. I fell in love with all of them. At the monthly sleep overs…always in our swimsuits….



We enjoyed fellowship together that I’ve never known in any church.

(This was after high school, and I had applied to the University Of Las Vegas, (UNLV.) Those were the days… 2020. Before the Internet cleanse. Before the end of America and the rise of The First Order.)

It was common for us “Sisters” to go swimming together. Most of the time… with no clothing on our bodies. We would touch with ourselves and with nature. Both the rivers and Lake Mead were our sanctuaries. After college, I became an accountant with a construction company. But I never left “The Sisters.” Even after the great purge of 2030. However, the FEMA #9 Governor claimed all of our “sanctuaries” for HIS private land. BULLSHIT! We were here first! Then came the robots, the drones. The fences with warning signs that said all trespassers will be crucified in public if caught in violation.



But this was OUR RELIGION! Damn it! The Sisters threw the warnings aside and we went swimming one night during a full moon. The drones didn’t see us. It was then we knew that “nature” was on our side.
Courtney was still my best friend. Even among the other sisters. She would come over at times and we would share many times of tenderness and oneness.



She would undress and touch me as I’ve never been touched before.



However, I still had dreams of going to the cross. And of suffering: Being surrounded by rivers, lakes, and nature itself.



Courtney being right there… going through it with me.



Long as nature was on our side… We had nothing to fear from the First Order… or its’ stupid, bastard, asshole, FEMA #9 Governor from where ever he’s from. Well…… until that one night. The night the “Sisters” felt the call to become one with nature again…………………………………………………….........................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

The moon was full again, on that dreadful night, just before the start of the Tournament games & executions. You would think the sisters and me should have been more cautious. I had a bad feeling crossing over the fence this time. The thought came to me: what if our luck runs out? The sisters assured me that the goddess was with us. Nature was on our side. Yeah, but--- so close to the Games. The tournament officials were looking for fresh meat to execute before the sport starved fans of Las Vegas. “Oh, come on Sarah!” As we undressed, I felt a cold shiver go down my spine. After we got into the waters of Lake Mead, I was once again “one” with my sisters, and with nature.

Then came the robots…”YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST, DON’T MOVE OR YOU’LL BE SHOOT!” Oh shit…I said to myself. Where’s our goddess now? We scrambled out of the water and tried putting our swimsuits back on. The master robot ship arrived, put us all on board, and we were flown straight to the Governor’s mansion.

His sentence was swift--- “You bitches should have known better than to be caught swimming in my private lake.”
Courtney began squishing my hand as we stood swimsuit clad and in our bare feet before the Governor of all FEMA #9. Just then, all my dreams became real as he opened his mouth and said the words I’ve been waiting for since the youth pastor back In St. George told us of Psalm 22:16…”You bitches will be taken to the Las Vegas speedway…and there, you are to be crucified! Guards, take them away!”

His private helicopter put us down at the speedway in a matter of minutes. We were led to the infield, next to the pond. I was so excited through the whole process. We were sentenced, to be CRUCIFIED together. As we were forced to lie down on our stomach,



I heard a china man in broken English, who invited an elderly gentleman to “choose, which one-- That one,” he said. I didn’t know he was referring to me. As we were led to the small prison that sits in the middle of the Vegas infield, a tournament official laid hold on one of the girls. “Here, entertain the construction crews by crucifying this one.” (What, I said to myself, I thought we were to be executed together.) But no, to my horror, we’re going to be executed by crucifixion, one at a time—separately. Two pairs of strong hands grabbed Irene by her arms and began dragging her towards the construction area of the speedway. Being strong as she resisted the march to her impending death by digging in her bare heels into the dirt. Nothing could stop her fate. Still wearing the swimsuit that she put on after the robots grabbed us from the lake; she was forced down on an awaiting cross where nails quickly found her slender hands, and the soles of her tender bare feet. After the nailing, came the hoisting up of the cross. Once there, her screams could be heard all over the speedway infield. The remaining four of us girls were put in ward in the small prison. Wondering who of us would be next. I was devastated. The emanate death of one of our sisters. There was nothing we could do. On the signpost, they put over her cross-- they even got that wrong. Her name was “Irene.” Not “INRI.”



The games haven’t even started yet. And already the ‘fun’ of beholding a female crucifixion for entertainment purposes-- starting with my sister, had now commenced.

A frightful night lie in front of us as the screams of Irene died down, the hardest thing about being condemned to death is—not knowing exactly when the sentence will be carried out………………………………………………........................

 

[boclhmtoc]

Sarah’s story continues----------

Irene’s crucifixion was on a Tuesday night. At was now Wednesday morning. It didn’t take long to find out which one of us was next. Not Cassie—Oh please don’t crucify my Cassie.

Cassie was a fun loving girl who was the life of the party at the monthly sister’s sleepovers. Unlike ‘dirty feet’ Courtney, Cassie loved keeping her bare soles washed and clean. When she would kick up her bare heels at me—I couldn’t resist the temptation to tickle those beautiful soft soles.



Then they came and stripped her out of her bikini top. Forcing her to kneel, they placed a heavy crossbeam across her shoulders,



and led her away to be crucified somewhere outside the Vegas speedway towards the Interstate. Unlike Irene, her execution site was too far away to hear any screams. It was just as well the remaining sisters including myself weren’t there to see it. I did overhear the construction workers talking about though---they said it was quite the spectacle.



It is now the afternoon before the start of the Tournament. There are three of us sisters left—Courtney, Kelly, and me. Whose next to go? To the cross? Oh Lord, please let it be me—I cannot stand the stress and pressure of not knowing………………………………………………………………….......................................................................................................................................

 

[boclhmtoc]

We huddled together on the floor, sobbing in each other’s arms. The word came, echoing from the walls of our cell. “Hey, stupid bitches, Courtney is next to be crucified.” I recognized that voice; it was one of the UN peacekeeping soldiers from Mexico. She was a captain in the Mexican army and had been reassigned to the tournament games at the speedway. “Insensitive witch, couldn’t she have snatched away one of us quickly, without adding to the stress that it was time again to execute one of us?” I said to Kelly.

Courtney got up from our small circle and headed towards the middle sides of the cell. There, she flopped down on the cell floor and began undressing herself.

“Courtney, don’t, please.” I spoke in a lamentable voice. I couldn’t stand it that she was so willing and compliant. I wanted her with me---we were to do this together. Those bastard UN troops. That asshole Governor over FEMA region number nine. I hate you! I hate all of you!

Don’t separate me from my beloved Courtney.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Courtney was my best friend from the beginning. From the Mormon Church, to the Christian Church. Then on to the Sisterhood. Courtney was there for me…And I for her. My beautiful, dirty, barefooted Courtney, who always had her shoes off no matter where she was---even in her own house.

We spent time in tenderness and intimacy---Together.

When the dreams of one day being crucified, I thought of Courtney and me being condemned---Together.

We would be led out to the place of execution, thrown unto our backs, stripped out of our clothes, and put into our bare feet---Together.

Then, trembling, sobbing, scared, nervous, and Courtney's hands guiding my sweaty body…we would be led to the place of crucifixion. There, the awaiting crosses would receive our naked bodies.

The nails would fasten our wrists, and the soles of our tender bare feet, and there, we would suffer and die, crucified side by side on wooden crosses---Together.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

But that bitch from Mexico, that female commandant from hell, took my Courtney, and crucified her on a cross

between the small prison and the construction area of the Las Vegas speedway.

Without me---alone---with just Kelly to comfort me. I hate those people, this is not how it was in my dreams.
How I wish I could be crucified now---TODAY! Just get it over with. “Your time will come honey…But first…I will go before you, so let us hold each other while we still can.” Said Kelly………………………………………............................................

 

[Wragg]

How I wish I could be crucified now---TODAY

Patience! The best things in life are worth waiting for! Poor Courtney, though, out there on her cross all by herself.

 

[boclhmtoc]

I cried myself to sleep that night with my face buried unto the soft smooth skin that was attached to Kelly’s body between her large beautiful breasts.

Then, I began to dream. I saw her…there she was, still here, and alive. With me… We were crucified together. We were struggling, screaming, writhing, and pushing our bodies up and down to breath. We were drifting in and out of conciseness.

I was calling her name…”Courtney…I love you!” She was calling my name…”Sarah…my lover…we will always be together.” We were dying, crucified side by side on separate crosses…and I was one with her, and with nature.

And then we were gone, leaving our lifeless bodies behind…We are now one---with our goddess, and with our departed sisters.

THEN I WOKE UP!

Still on Kelly’s breasts. “Oh Kelly.” I said to her. “You’ll never believe the dream I just had of Courtney.” It’s from the goddess, she began to say. “See, Sarah, we are never alone in these things. Courtney didn’t die alone, and neither will you or me.” Kelly was so strong in her faith. I was so focused on my Courtney, that I forgot the needs of this, my one sister who was left. “Oh Kelly, please forgive me! How are you taking all of this?” “Sarah, hon, every one that is born into this world, will eventually die. It’s just a matter of time. I’m going too be crucified in what’s called a ‘timed race.’ See, the bitch from Mexico has told me what’s going to happen to us. On the second day of the tournament, a crucifixion team from overseas is going to ‘race’ me to a spot on the speedway infield, and there, crucify me as quickly as they can-- For the fastest time possible. I will hang naked before the crowd, and die before the day is out…just like in ancient Rome. They will never forget me, Sarah! The pictures that will be taken of me will last long after my naked, crucified body is taken off that cross. And I’m fine with all of it. Sarah, honey, everyone watching the timed crucifixion on Thursday is going to remember me. From those in the stands, to the ones watching on television. On the Internet. And what will be in books and magazines for years to come. ‘EVERYONE DIES SARAH!’ Either by old age, some disease like cancer, or by accident in an automobile. BUT, who is remembered? Sarah, we will be remembered. And so will Courtney! When the First Order is overthrown, we will be remembered as the martyrs who were crucified for something stupid as swimming in a lake. Be strong Sarah…Yes, be strong. Obey your executioner, do exactly whatever he or they asked of you. Do not fear! Everything is going to be okay. They are coming to take me soon. Your turn will come on Friday. Face it Sarah, face it well---go to your death by crucifixion and remember this…’NO ONE WILL EVER REMEMBER ANYONE IN THE CROWD THAT WATCHES!’ NO ONE!”
………………………………………………………………………………………………………….......................................................................................

 

[Wragg]

Be strong, indeed... I'm quite happy to be a forgotten watcher!

 

[boclhmtoc]

Patience! The best things in life are worth waiting for! Poor Courtney, though, out there on her cross all by herself.

In a fierce timed crux contest…An eager victim could be the difference between winning and losing to a “master executioner.” We’ll see as the story plays out.

 

[boclhmtoc]

Be strong, indeed... I'm quite happy to be a forgotten watcher!

I got the idea from you…In that Alice story. She dies in the place of Jesus. Jesus goes home to Nazareth to die in obscurity. And in generations to come—only Alice is remembered. That’s the way of the martyr.

 

[bobinder]

only Alice is remembered.

With apologies to Wragg. ​

 

[Wragg]

With apologies to Wragg.

None required!