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    Jesus Was a Vampire
    Jesus Was a Vampire
    Jesus Was a Vampire
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    Jesus Was a Vampire

    By E. Val Lynn'Doll

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    This story is based upon one womans journey through insanity, after she stumbles on the belief that she is Christ. All accounts are true and based on actual events.
    They call her Jezabel and she is not your average entertainer. She is a punk-rock, anarchist who is set on taking over the world, (through the use of art and creativity,) in order to sustain the life of this planet. Known for her amazing acrobatic-skill on the pole, she uses her talent to entice her victims into understanding the greater good ...which sometimes comes across as the greater evil. With thoughts rooted around the idea that God and Satan are the same being, a genie that disguised itself, Jezabel offers him her soul for the purpose of 'true love'.
    Now shes riding shotgun, on a one-way mission that she has no control over. Her mind is thrown into a state of chaos, as she encounters her fears, and tries to grasp what is left of reality. Pushing the limits of understanding, she is bound by her honor to embrace every opportunity that presents itself before her, in an attempt to invoke what might be our only chance for survival.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateFeb 4, 2014
    ISBN9781491851593
    Jesus Was a Vampire
    Author

    E. Val Lynn'Doll

    The author now suffers from post traumatic stress disorder, due to the events described in this story. Nothing said in this story can be held against her, or anybody else, due to the nature of this disorder. She now lives in fear for her life, based on the way media takes things too far, and hopes for your consideration while she tries to remain anonymous, and pursue her art.

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      Book preview

      Jesus Was a Vampire - E. Val Lynn'Doll

      AuthorHouse™ LLC

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.authorhouse.com

      Phone: 1-800-839-8640

      © 2014 E. Val Lynn’Doll. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 01/16/2014

      ISBN: 978-1-4918-5160-9 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4918-5159-3 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2014900634

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

      and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      CONTENTS

      FORWARD—2013

      BACKWARD—2001

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      FORWARD—2013

      Until recently, my family history was something of the imaginary. Growing up in a small town, I found it strange how little we knew about our ancestors… especially since it was the same small-town my father grew up in, as well as his mother, and his mother’s mother. Any inquiry on the subject was only touched upon for answer, and what little spoken of, was only for not want of seeming shameful. My father and his brothers were honorable men, without reason to feel shame; could it be, that it was fear… but with no knowledge as to why, that sort of recognition was nothing more than an after-thought. At this time, the stories of my ancestry still remain somewhat of a mystery to me, and can only be described as legendary.

      As children, we were never taught the true nature of the history that surrounded our region, or the fact that many of us would not be here, had it not been for the honor and courage of our people… people that fought for their homes and paid with their lives. Due to the nature of them not wanting to be placed in concentration camps, they nearly became extinct. That history was formed less than 200 years ago, yet still many people do not know about the eradication that was taking place in our country, against its very own people. Our nation was wounded, our heritage destroyed. Those wounds are still fresh and can be felt by all who discover the true nature of our existence. I am proud to be a descendent of these WARRIORS, and WE WILL CONTINUE the fight for the freedom of all people, and the right to live.

      It is common belief amongst the Apache people to follow with your heart. My heart is the path that led me to this knowledge, and brought about the events described in this story. All accounts are true and based upon actual events. Some of the names have been changed to protect the lives of those that I was once involved…

      Please excuse any brevity on my part. I am racing against time, society, and a sort of demonic pressure that, last time, caused the loss of all previously stored data.

      ///ENTERFEARANCE… .

      BACKWARD—2001

      1.

      It was her…

      I don’t know why I picked her… or, shall I say, she picked me. It all started downtown. I was somewhere in my forth-week of dancing at the second club I’d ever stepped foot into, ‘K.O.’s’. Thinking then, that I was still the newest kid in town, I found it funny how I hadn’t noticed her before. According to her, she had already been there one-month; same as me. I further became skeptical by her claim on things-adored, which only seemed to be revealed after I initiated the idea in the first place. For instance take the ‘I.C.P.’ song I was dancing to; literally. Sure as I was, to know I had not yet heard it in the club, I easily released it from any future engagement in order to slightly relieve the suffering that a musical taste must endure while discovering that of another. She was a business woman. Her business pertained to getting you out of the way, so she could get on with her way toward the next victim, or; such as my case; lure the next victim in. She was my ‘partner-in-crime’, so to speak; only, I didn’t have to do too much speaking. I guess that’s all there is to it, beside Here’s to it… of course. That’s all in the past now, but I will say this, she looked like an advocate for the Devil; acting sly while trying to hide behind Betty Page bangs and cat-framed glasses. The innocence of her tattoos and pigtails were well betrayed next to her sexy, vampire fangs, and lip-piercing. Her plaid skirt was well equipped next to a just one ‘D’ sized, double-pierced, w/ matching-nipple-top. Her black combat boots only made her look more feminine and exceptionally cute next to her white socks and beat-up wife-shirt. I myself chose not to break the rules, all 20 eyelets on my 8 heels, black-shirts only. I had to triple up on the stripes and fishnet on order to hide my bruised and skinny legs. The only things I could be proud about were my pole-tricks and the plaid skirt I wore… the one that ‘R.K. Sloane’ had given me… a skirt made famous in a painting of Matilda, his majorette. He told me, It really went to Catholic School," and eventually, even that ended up stolen. I only bring her up because, somehow, she must have complimented me. We were opposites. She was the ‘Evil/Good’ and I was the ‘Good-Eval’. My music—Satanic/ hers—sucked… but I did rather the fact that she listened to ‘Lords of Acid’ over the rest of my satanic shh-t(uff) that everyone else was trying to R.I.P. off. Anyway, this honorable mention is just to say that she started it, and that’s that.

      Why do I blame her? She was the one who introduced me to you… but who you are has yet, to be revealed. At this point in the story, I was just beginning to feel inspired, as if I had fallen a bit down a rabbit hole… all of a sudden, my life was a story. The funniest things started to happen. First, I recall an average day at work turning into one of those days where you were ‘simply the best’ . . . only, the better my day got, the worse I felt. For some reason, I remember getting the impression that this was my last day alive. For ‘failure-not’, to sound conceited, the movement just began to flow out of my body, as if, I were, the very being that inspired the song. Ok, that sounded even worse the second time. But seriously, no matter how bad I pretended it to be, it just kept getting better, or worse. I decided it was time to go home, and when I got outside, I did feel better. In fact, I’d never felt so great in my life. The midnight sky was blue-black… yet, I could still distinguish the green of the leaves on the trees. It’s not to say that the earth was spinning beneath me, for the treadmill was I… ugh-um, at least I lived through it. I decided I liked/lie—life… yes life, I liked the feeling of life. Did I just taste death? Ah, yes… this is where I wanted to start…

      . . . You said Smell this. It was a Black rose. It smelled nice because it was made of leather. You said it was a ‘Gothic rose’ and that it would last forever. Then you talked about your industrial band, the tour, and the show you were playing down at the club, who’s name you didn’t even bother to remember; which is why, I can’t stand you freaking vampire’s… by the way, you gave away this story about a girl that was my life. It must have been from that point, forward, that I found myself applying new meaning toward my existence.

      I was never the kind of person who enjoyed daydreaming. I only mention this so you don’t get too confused as I try to explain. Not that I’m trying to get into some sort of debate over anything, I will only say this: It’s all good. It doesn’t really matter if you believeth in negative over positive, or positive over negative, everything is a balance. We just needed to have a place to do it… you know, co-exist… and since there is no such thing as a place, where we know of for certain, that we could even get to; not in one, single light-year/ not ever, at the rate we’re going; with the exception of here, I just wanted to make sure it would always exist.

      When ‘She’ left me, so did they all. I guess they were all disappointed when they found out how enlightening a table-dance could be. I wasn’t the kind of dancer you could just pay money

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