There was a sort of divine Peace in those days; the days before the Outsiders came.

I had quit my practice and left the chaos of the city for a quiet, serene existence on a small bit of land in the forest. It was idyllic beyond words, this Life of mine. The weather was always perfect with just the right amount of those puffy cumulus clouds dotted across the deep blue sunlit sky. The Clearing I lived on was bordered on all sides by a small forest of tall trees. It was not an especially densely wooded area but the thick canopy above darkened the forest floor and its sundry small animal inhabitants quite well. There was a small creek running through the middle of my land which supplied me with ample water and the occasional fish. My house was a small, simple cabin that I had built with wood from the area. The back door opened into the forest, but the front was exposed to the ten acres of the Clearing and the trees that hugged it all round. The climate there and the size of my property were such that I could raise small animals and care for a moderately-sized garden. It was a small tract of land but it kept me busy. And except for the fact that I was alone, I could ask for nothing else.

What broke the serenity of this paradise, however, were the Outsiders, as I called them. They were not so easily noticed at first when there were only a few of them. (The forest and its darkness provided a marvelous camouflage for anyone or anything who desired not to be seen.) Thus it was not until sunset one extraördinarily cool early evening that I caught my first glimpse of an Outsider.

I was in the Clearing finishing some work on some tomato plants as the sun was setting beyond the western forest. The woods were silhouetted black against its bright orange-yellow light. A movement amongst the trees caught my eye. This "movement" was what appeared to me at first to be the white, condensing breath of some animal from behind a tree about a hundred metres away. Squinting, however, I realized that it was no animal or tree there in the blinding distance, but the silhouette of a human being! This sudden realization gave me a start and I took a reflex step backwards, tripping over my hoe and landing flat on my back. From my prostrate position I lifted my now throbbing head in time to see the silhouetted one running away, breath trailing behind him like steam from a train. Apparently he was on his way back to wherever he had come from.

I was rather amused at my reaction as I sat up. I had, after all, no reason to fear him. He had made no threatening gestures or given any indication that he meant me any harm. Nor had he any reason to be afraid of me. Why he ran, I could not begin to speculate. Perhaps, I thought, I can meet the Stranger another day and make his acquaintance. But it was late now, so I picked myself up, went back to my cabin, and made myself some tea.

Several days passed and I decided to take a day off from my normal chores and fish at the little creek. There was almost no chance of catching anything but it was a beautiful day as usual and a nice time to relax and enjoy the serenity of the surroundings. With my line in the water, I was otherwise busily engaged in soaking up the warmth of the sun when I heard from the darkness of the forest what I recognized as human voices. I sat up and looked in the direction of the sounds. I saw nothing but what I heard was muted talking—then a pause—and then a half-hearted,

"Go!"

I was rather taken aback at this sort of greeting.

"Come, whoever you are," I answered back sincerely, looking for the source of the voice, "I’d like to meet you."
A moment passed. There was more muffled talk.

"No!" was the belated reply, "we... we want you to... we want you to leave!" said the source of the strange voice, finding more conviction in his words as he spoke. "You are not welcome! Go!"

I stood up and started to walk in the direction of the voices, determined to make the strangers’ acquaintance, but I took no more than three steps and the forest was quickly filled with glimpses of movement amongst the trees and the sounds of many scurrying feet trampling the decaying floor, beating a hasty retreat! (But a retreat from what I did not know. From me?) The noise died away after a short moment and a chill enveloped me as I realized they had all been there the whole time, watching me. I suddenly felt as though my little pristine world of privacy had been violated and made somehow unclean by their apparent fear and cowardice.

Who were these peculiar people? Why did they want me to leave? I was aware of nothing that I had done to provoke such apparent fear. I was now confused and becoming very wary of their strange visits. I did not sleep well that night.

In the next month queer things began happening; things unexplained. One early morning I went out to feed the pigs as was my custom. I walked out the front door and around to the side of the cabin to the sty in which the five of them were kept. But, alas, the pigs were gone. I inspected the area only to find that the rope that had kept their gate securely fastened had been cut through. There were footprints all around—human footprints—but no sight of humans; and certainly no pigs.

Late one night, soon after this, I heard strange thumping noises from out in the Clearing. I jumped out of bed, threw on a robe, and raced to the front of the cabin. Peering out through the front window, I was just able to make out under the halfmoon light the figures of probably ten to fifteen people; undoubtedly Outsiders. They appeared to be frantically beating the ground. I opened the window and cried out, "Who’s there?!" Like cockroaches sensing danger, they all scampered about wildly, bumping into each other, eventually disappearing into the forest. The next morning I went out to discover half of my vegetable garden in utter ruin.

The worst and most heinous discovery, though, came one day when I returned home from an afternoon walk. As I approached my house I spied what seemed like three small ruddy sacks hanging from my front porch. The closer I got, however, the less they looked like sacks. The closer I got the more they looked like the carcasses of animals. They were, in fact, three of my goats, mutilated, their remains hanging from ropes tied around some support beams. In the dirt in front of my house were crudely scrawled the words,

"What are you so afraid of?!" I screamed out into the forest, "What have I done?! Show yourselves!" But it was to no avail; no one appeared. There was not a sound. I shouted once more with the same result, then sat down where I had stood and stared off into the distance, shaking my head in disbelief. I was confused and alone and seemingly at the mercy of some unexplained, unprovoked behavior of a strange people I had never met. I had no idea what to do.

But then, unexpectedly, almost an entire month went by without a single incident involving the Outsiders. My fears and paranoia began to ease. I went back to a regular schedule of taking care of the remaining animals and tending the newly repaired garden. I slept better and occasionally ventured out a little into the forest. Life was for the most part back to normal.
Then It happened.

One early evening, at twilight, I was outside in the middle of the Clearing enjoying the contour of the black forest surrounding me set against the indigo sky above. Except for the sound of the tiny creek there was a haunting silence at this time of the evening; there usually was. But the silence this night was broken suddenly by the sounds of footsteps; hundreds of them shuffling in the darkness of the forest all around me. I knew at once they were back. The Outsiders had been waiting in the forest for this moment, and now they were surrounding me, coming, at last, out of their woody hiding. I still could not see them because of their distance and the darkness, but the air was thick with their presence. Then, as suddenly as they began, the footsteps stopped. There again was the silence, broken now by the sound of my pounding heart. Now I was afraid—no, I was terrified—and helpless. I knew these people meant me harm and I did not know why.

A human-like voice from their midst shouted, "We told you to leave. You did not. Now you must be punished." The loudness of the voice told me they must have been right on the edge of the Clearing, about fifty metres away.

"Punished?" I questioned the darkness, "Punished for what? What am I guilty of?" I was breathing heavily now, my arms were tingly, and I feared losing consciousness.

"You will find that out soon enough. Right now you are to be our prisoner and you must stand trial."

"Stand trial?!" I asked (only to whom I did not know), "I beg you, tell me, what have I done?"

There was no answer, but the footsteps started again. I felt them come closer and closer as they left the forest and surrounded me on the Clearing. The fear of imminent danger and the terror of an unknown, unseen Enemy caused me to panic and I started running blindly towards the lights of the cabin. To both sides of me and behind I could hear the sound of running and panting; the Outsiders were gaining. I ran and ran as fast as my legs would carry me but still they were getting closer and closer. My cabin was just a little bit further but it seemed a hundred miles away. An Outsider must have dove at me at this time because I suddenly felt arms grabbing around my legs and the sound of wind being knocked out of someone as he fell behind me. I slipped free easily and maintained my balance but it cost me speed. Immediately there were a tangle of arms around me and I fell facedown to the ground at the porch of my house. They quickly turned me over and hit me hard in the stomach several times and I doubled up, gasping for breath.

This traumatic moment of capture was the only time I managed to catch a glimpse of the Outsiders. The small light in my window lit them just enough so that I could see that there were many of them and that they were dressed completely in black. Some, I believe, were women but most appeared to be men. Several of them were now picking up stones and hurling them through the windows of my cabin, laughing and cursing as they did. There was one Outsider who held a now-lit torch and began touching off areas around the cabin to the cheers of the mob.

They rolled me back over onto my stomach and pushed my face into the dirt. I was able to turn my head to one side, my heavy breathing kicking up the dust, only to see the face of an Outsider, inches from mine, looking directly into my eyes. "You’re going to die soon," he croaked. But what I will never forget in those few seconds of revelation were the eyes; the evil, yellow eyes of a predator, full of the mad irrational fear that had overtaken these creatures. Those I can never forget because they were one of the last things I would ever see. For as I was frozen in dread at the evil Sight, one of the Outsiders picked up a rock and struck me bluntly over the head....

I awoke in complete darkness to a great throbbing in my head and the feel of what must have been crusted blood along the right side of my face. My hands apparently were tied behind me and I was seated, slouching, in a hard chair. The warmth and closeness of my breath made me realize that it was so dark because I had been fitted with a hood. I felt I must have been in a big hall or auditorium because of the resonance of the thousand voices round me. But then I heard a door creak open in the front of the hall and to my right. The room fell instantly into a dead silence. A lone set of footsteps marched with unhesitating determination across a wooden floor to the center of the auditorium, then stopped.

"Time is of the essence here. Please let’s be brief and get this over with," said the indifferent Voice of Authority at the front of the hall. "Of what is the prisoner accused?"

"My lord, the prisoner here is accused of wrongful habitation," answered a submissive voice to my immediate left.
"Wrongful habitation?!" I exclaimed, "What in?" but before I could finish I felt a sharp blow to the front left side of my head that wrenched my neck back and threw me hard into the chair.

"Shut up, you stupid fool! You have no say here!" said the Submissive one.

"My lord," he continued in his pompous, sneering fashion, "this one you see here before you is guilty of willingly being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was warned by several of our comrades over the last couple of months, in the most courteous of ways, that he must leave his place of abode or suffer the consequences. He has resisted the entire time, frightening our fellow citizens on several occasions with threats of an unhappy future for them. He is obviously a rule-breaker; one who threatens our very happiness and the peaceful existence of all of us law-abiding folk; one whose very existence is an invasion of the privacy that we have come to know and enjoy; one who defiantly..."

"Get to the point!" shouted the Voice of Authority.

Taken aback, the Submissive One gasped slightly in surprise. Embarrassed at this rude interruption to his clever oratory, he cleared his throat, then concluded, "It is our recommendation, my lord, that the prisoner suffer the usual punishment for such a flagrant disregard for our customs and lifestyle. My lord, we humbly request that he suffer Death by Dismemberment."

Now this whole time my mind was reeling from the utter madness of the charges. I was accused of living in the wrong place?! Not of murder or stealing or rape or mayhem? But of "wrongful habitation"?? And now I was to die for it?

"This is ludicrous!" I cried, attempting to stand. "What sort of joke is this?! This is madness! This is..."

This time I was hit on the side of my head with such a force that I flew headlong and landed facedown on the cold wooden floor. I had to struggle to remain conscious. My left ear was warm and the warmth ran down the side of my face over my left eye. I was bleeding. I was coherent enough, though, to hear the nonchalant answer to the Submissive one’s plea,
"So be it then—I've heard enough—Death by Dismemberment. And be quick about it."

There was a great cheer from the crowd as I was lifted by my arms with authority and dragged across the great hall, Outsiders jeering and spitting at me all along the way. I was taken out of the "Courtroom," down what was perhaps a long hallway, and thrown into a cell. A great door closed behind me. There was Silence at last.

"This is so completely absurd," I thought aloud and repeated probably a hundred times. Reason had just completely abandoned these people. I had had no discourse, no voice, no appeal. Why? What kind of "justice" was being displayed here? My mind was racing with all possible questions and explanations for my sudden turn of events. What had I done to deserve this?

And I was afraid beyond words. I could not see my accusers. I could only picture them sitting there in the dim light—with those eyes—delighted at their absolute Power and my complete defenselessness. And now I was to die at their hands in an inhuman fashion for an undefined crime. All of this was too much to handle and I crouched into a corner and wept in my darkness.

"It’s Time," a woman’s voice rang out through my cell.

"Oh my God, my God, this cannot be?" I mumbled on in a panic,"This cannot be!" They were really going to mutilate and murder me!

"Please show some dignity," she said. Those who had accompanied her walked towards me and I felt a pair of arms on both sides of me take my exhausted body and haul me out of the room. I was back in that cold hallway again, but was taken this time straight outside into some fresh air. Suddenly and again there were the cheers of countless Outsiders pressing on both sides of me. I was dragged for some distance, then up some steps. Several of them lifted me and threw me down hard onto what felt like a giant cold stone table, an altar of sorts. There I was tied down with ropes tight around my chest and waist, lying face-up.

"Look," the Woman said, "there really is no reason to sob like you are. They tell me it only lasts several minutes."

"What only lasts several minutes? What are they going to do?"

"I thought you knew," she replied, genuinely surprised, "They never tell me anything. You see, I, too, am a prisoner here. My only responsibility is to bring you to the Table. What happens after that I do not know; they keep the details of your sentence from me. They tell me that it’s for my ‘own good’ that I’m kept ignorant. Maybe they’re convinced that I wouldn’t bring you here if I did know, that instead..." She abruptly broke off, then said, "I can’t say anymore. They’re watching. I really must go now!" And with that, I heard her walk quickly away.

But what happened next took me by surprise. She stopped after only several steps, turned around, and came back. Putting her mouth next to my ear, she whispered with the utmost sincerity, "I am sorry; please forgive me." Then she ran off. I would never hear her voice again.

A moment later a loud voice boomed to the onlookers, "The prisoner you see before you has been found guilty of wrongful habitation and has been sentenced to Death by Dismemberment!" The mob roared again with anxious delight. The announcer continued with the details of "offenses" of which I was found guilty.

With what little inner strength I could muster, I asked aloud, "Is anyone there?"

A heavy voice replied, "I am here."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am your executioner," came the cold, pointed answer.

"Please, can you give me something which will ease the pain?" I implored him, in an attempt to minimize the effects of whatever torture they had planned for me.

"Well, now, that would take all the fun out of this, wouldn’t it? And besides, your type probably doesn’t feel a thing during these activities."

I sighed in hopelessness then asked, "Do you think this is right?"

He replied, "It is not up to me to decide what is right and what is wrong. The Court has found you guilty."

"That was no trial. I had no say. I had no choice. I could not defend myself. I’m asking you, do you think I deserve this?"

"You’re right; you have no say in this matter. The Court has deemed it so. But if you must know, no, I am not in agreement with them."

"Then why don’t you stop it? I’m innocent. Or don’t you care about this injustice?"

"Understand this, condemned one, I do not make the decisions around here! I am no theologian! Nor am I some moralist! What I say doesn’t matter. Even if it did, I don’t force my ideas of morality on anyone! I am merely providing a service here, a service for the people. They all want this! And if I don’t do it, someone else less qualified will. Now shut up! Just shut up!"

My right arm was tied up tight with a thick rope, so tight I could not move it. The crowd went silent. There was a moment’s pause... I heard the snorting of a distant horse and then a sudden slap. The next instant I was in wrenching, excruciating pain. There was a loud roar from the crowd. My right arm had been ripped off, torn from the socket.

"Stop!...Stop!...Please stop!" I screamed and pleaded.

My left arm was now being tied by the Man. I could just see daylight down near my chin; the force of the pull had moved the hood up slightly.

"Please...I am like you, I am no different than you! Please...why?!" The pain was overpowering me.

"You are not one of us," spat the Man as he made the knots tight, "The Court has made that abundantly clear. You do not have the rights and privileges we enjoy by virtue of where we live. You have been found guilty. You must die!"

The scenario was replayed as the rope was made taut around my arm. The silence was resumed and there was again the Slap. In an instant I felt a tug and my left arm was gone. The crowd went mad with delight. I was in intense pain and losing blood rapidly. With the last jolt my hood had slipped up near my mouth and I could make out, through the slits of light, figures walking around me. I felt him tie up my right leg as I closed my eyes and began fading in and out of consciousness...

I thought back to the Peace that was mine only a short time ago. I drifted through visions of my cabin...and my animals...and my garden. I saw in my mind’s eye the beautiful clouds floating overhead and the moving waters of the creek as it trickled through the Clearing. All that was gone forever now; I was resigned to the fate of never seeing it again. All the plans I had for my life had been laid low because of some irrational fears of a strange people; a people that were my own but had now, somehow, metamorphosed into some new hideous creature.

Death was close at hand and I attempted to catch a glimpse of the outside for one last time. I moved my head slightly, left and right, forward and back, in an attempt to move the hood up a little further. The executioner was finishing with the tying of my leg. With my last ounce of strength I peered through the opening and saw the Man, kneeling at the end of the Altar, putting the final touches on the wrapping of my leg. He gave one last yank on the knot and looked up, his eyes meeting mine. He smiled demonically and horror gripped my soul as I saw that I was looking at myself. I was the Executioner.

I awoke with a start. There I laid, on my back, my eyes now opened and fixed on the ceiling, and my bed wet with sweat. I looked around my bedroom and quickly to the foot of my bed. There was no one there and I began to realize where I was now—and where I had been. I had been spared! I was dead but now I was alive again! I had experienced Grace.
But now I was experiencing the overwhelming weight of Guilt. As I lay there I saw what I did not want to see; what I had endeavored never to encounter. But the floodgates of self-discovery were opened wide as I now confronted the Enemy within.

I had not been sparing; I had been taking Life. I had shown no Grace, no Mercy, no Justice—it was all so clear now. I, indeed, am the Executioner, I thought. I had been mutilating the Innocent, tearing them limb from limb. I had given them no say, no choice, no chance at a defense. I knew in my heart of the Evil but had done nothing to stop it. Ironically, Death had been my livelihood.

And now the Hound of Heaven had finally captured me and forced me to see myself in the Mirror; to see myself as I truly was. I sobbed uncontrollably at the Catharsis.

From that day, things would be different.
From that day, Life would conquer Death, the Light would outshine the Darkness.
From that day, I would "execute" only the Will of Him Who, by means of a dream, called me out of my darkness and into His marvelous Light.
And on that very day I quit my practice at the Clinic, and I never again took the Life of an Unborn Child.

Sword & Spirit Ministries
P.O. Box 712 • Murrieta, CA 92564

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