The Prisoners of Naga:The Predator must escape his victim!


( photo/painting/blog copyright notice: use with credit to author.)

” Do you know the difference between the Letter A and the letter R? How does the letter A differ in phoneme from its counterpart in allomorph?”
– The Runic Rhymes.

I sit these days in mesmeric, metamorphic thought.
Somewhere between Mars and our exosphere, the renal organs of skeletal stones hurled by the mesolithic humor of motion suspended in flight, begin to shutter.
It is time!

The Naga, Nagrah Iamssa, looked at his passenger and intended victim, Michael Bradshine, ” Maccabee”, who was quietly and calmly returning his gaze, waiting for Nagrah’s response to his remarque touché,
“If you were that psychic, you would not have picked me up!”
Michael had said that when Nagrah had told him that he, Nagrah, was psychic and knew not only Michael’s name and destination, but also knew quite a bit about him.
Nagrah, like all cross bred lizards,was incapable of any emotion, except hatred.
He continued driving at a higher rate of speed and kept his right eye rotated to a fixed position in a dead lock with Michael’s steely eyes..

This Earthling was not frightened! Not enough to produce the pheromones necessary to mingle his blood.
He reasoned that he would probably have to strike a stunning blow soon, then he would show this impudent Earthling real pain and real fear. The pheromones would pour then!
Just need to catch him off guard and strike!

Nagrah snuffed a feigned snicker,
” Hurumph! why do you say that…you dangerous or something?”
Michael: Extremely!
Nagrah: I detect nothing dangerous about you.
Michael: That is what makes me extremely dangerous. ( smiles)
Nagrah: ho! ho! You are kidding!
Michael: Yes! Dangerously.

Nagrah reached into the backseat of his Barbarella to grab his lead pipe.
Feeling around, he realized it was not there!

Michael: looking for this? ( shows a lead pipe in his right hand)

Nagrah: How did you get that…how did you know?…
It doesn’t matter, you do not have the strength to match me, you puny, inexcusable earth weakling! Go ahead! Strike me! See for yourself!
You cannot strike me with the force necessary to stop me!
As I told you a few minutes ago; you chose the wrong road today!

Nagrah sneered and prepared to watch the weakling collapse with hopelessness. What a great victory today!
He would soon reduce this Earthling’s calm into a chorus of screams and shrieks that would be heard for miles-that is, if anyone was in this desert to hear them-not likely!
Nagrah would torture him and taunt him: where is your impunity now?
Where? Where? Michael Maccabeeeee! Where?
Got a remarque touchè now? Tell me as I bite the next pound of flesh from you, Earthling!

What Nagrah experienced next was unexpected
The instant he realized that gasoline was being splashed on him, his psychic ability warned him simultaneously which was, of course too late! His psychic ability was now on a mere par with the uncompensatory reality that he had misjudged Michael Bradshine completely! Totally, entirely and completely.
Just like a juvenile tuatara lizard!

Michael was kidding but had also told him the truth: he is dangerous!

How could he, Nagrah, son of Naquash, son of devils, demons…dragons! Son of the garden ( The Garden) have failed to regard the gasoline container this earthling was carrying, did not have a cap on it?
How did he, heir to harems, heir to vast billions of Prisoners,heir to the planet, fail to psyche this turn of events?
Michael produced a cigarette lighter in his hand: a SeeVu lighter with a depiction of a fisherman reeling in a Bass caught with a lizard bait!
How Ironic!

Michael did not hear the Naga’s closing remark , “This does not end here, Michael Bradshine!”

Michael opened his door to leap and struck the lighter.
The explosion blew him out of the Corvette just as he had calculated.
The force of the blast was insufficient for the obstruction that met Michael in mid-air..
He hit something soft yet sturdy enough to stop his trajectory flight.
He lay now on the side of the road on his back looking up into the gaze of a blue-eyed, sandy haired man with a backpack strapped to him and a large canteen of what must be water.

” Hello! I am John Ray !”

Michael knew that he was in shock; he knew that the blast had burned him; he knew that the leap from the Corvette had injured him; he knew that his injuries were extensive if not fatal.
He did not know what to make of this smiling face hovering over him; the face of a hermit, the face of a transient, no! the face of familiarity,with eyes the colour of sea algae; he had seen this face somewhere before.
He could not remember. Where was it? It was almost coming to him; a scintilla of thought..The China sea..helicopters in the air, someone on a radio; a hand cranking the radio,
” Sergeant!, stay with me…C’mon man! ! Stay with me here…Battalion! We are under fire!
We are taking casualties !.. we need a dust off!… Medic! Medic!

The memory was fading, the sky was fading-Michael was fading!

The form of a man with a gentle smile and powerful arms lifted Michael’s head and poured a cool liquid onto his blistered lips.

Michael looked up at the man as a wave of a surf gently bathed over his face. An ocean opened up to him and he dove in and swam out to sea. He swam to the edge of the Earth and leaped over.

To be continued…


About danielsion

I am not an Historian and I am not a Reporter. I am not from Mars-two-moons. I Never saw Naga. I never saw his prisoners.( All are its prisoners) I know a little something about nothing. The Annunaki never spoke to me.The Nephilim never grew more than 30 feet tall .And more importantly: NASA is not looking for me...yet. I dream of whirled peas.
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6 Responses to The Prisoners of Naga:The Predator must escape his victim!

  1. starsword says:

    Reblogged this on starsword and commented:


  2. starsword says:

    bravo bravo!! listened to StarCraft OST whist reading, totally transported into the scene. . . enjoyed every word. Going back to previous installments to refresh myself on these events which seem so familiar, as though I was a part of them somehow. Again, you know too much my brother, my friend. . .


  3. starsword says:

    By the way many accounts of the Replitian Nacashe (or however you spell that!) does refer to their taste for fear in the pheromones before they eat their victims.


    • danielsion says:

      Naquash has different spellings. Yours is just as useful. The ritual of drumbeats, dancing around a fire in a circle and then torturing the prisoner with pricks, stabs and cuts was the way cannibals elicited the pheromone activation.
      African countries still practice cannibalism ( South Africa has joined and the high courts have adjudged that Witch doctors have the right to practice their “ancient ways” which the Courts admit include human sacrifice.)


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