The Curse of Judea
© Copyright 2014-2017 · John F. Rychlicki III · Leilah Publications · All Rights Reserved ·
1948 A.D. Jerusalem, Palestine
“To Eretz-Israel!” Thirty-three year old Yitzhak Shamir led the others in a champagne toast in the underground chambers of Beit El Synagogue. The Zionist directors toasted to a new homeland at the midnight hour of May the 14th. The Jewish political executives present at the secret gathering reveled in a one hundred yearlong effort that would culminate within a mere twelve hours. The young Zionist Shamir had entered into the soon to be established state of Israel via a forged passport. Nothing on Earth was going to stop him and his fellow Zionist colleagues from seeing their dream to fruition. The exclusive congregation of two dozen Zionist executives celebrated and spoke amongst themselves, awaiting the ceremonies to be presided over in secret by highly distinguished Twelve. The Twelve, as Yitzhak Shamir was privy, were an international conclave of distinguished Rabbi scholars.
“How do far do you think Truman will go when the Arabs attack?” Shamir asked Chaim Weizmann, a prominent Zionist executive. “Lovett, and Clifford are easy to persuade, they will support anything the Brotherhood tells them, if they want their offshore coffers to continue to fatten. Marshall may be harder to convince, he is just making waves for the next election.” Weizmann replied. “Jabotinsky was right. No American could ever oppose the Brotherhood without being publicly ostracized and politically imperiled. Truman is just a puppet without his string.” Yitzhak Ben-Zvi said. Ben-Zvi was another prominent statesman whose international investments and partnership with American construction companies numbered in millions of dollars. Weizmann’s nephew Ezer and son Benjamin approached the three diplomats. “They are ready.” Ezer said.
Yitzhak Shamir, the Rabbinical liaison between the founding fathers of Eretz-Israel and the Twelve, solemnly spoke to the two dozen gathered Zionists. “Brothers, tonight we undertake destiny’s course. Our brothers have shed blood and died for this day. Adonai has ordained us this Covenant and reclaiming of our rightful Lordship. As you all know the Twelve have come from places afar, and risked their lives to be with us and consecrate this undertaking. Without further delay, let us welcome the Twelve and proceed to Synagogue.” Led by Yitzhak Shamir, Ezer Weizmann (Chaim’s nephew), Benjamin Weizmann, Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, Dov Yosef, Yitzhak_Gruenbaum, Chaim Weizmann, Yitzhak Rabin and Moshe Dayan, and a dozen other Zionist leaders descended into the underground Synagogue at Beit El Synagogue.
The subterranean Synagogue was constructed beneath the public Beit El Synagogue, the leading center of Kabbalistic study. The secret chambers were three times the size of Beit El. The secret Synagogue was cavernous, filled with artificial lighting, and elaborate altars no Rabbi could ever imagine. Towards the end of the reverberating chamber stood the Twelve before the towering twelve-foot central altar, flanked on each side by two lesser altars six feet in height. The Twelve, known to only a secretive few Zionists as the Isiyim, or the Brotherhood. In modern times, the Zedok priesthood would have called them Essenes.
Chief Rabbi Ovadia Hedaya of Beit El Synagogue turned to face the nearly two dozen assembled Israeli founding fathers. Rabbi Shlomo Goren stood silent at his left, holding a large clothed shattered tome. The Tome look as it was falling to pieces. On Rabbi Hedaya’s right side stood another Rabbi, huddled over due to age. The Rabbi’s face was partially obscured beneath his ceremonial cowl, his long white beard reached past another archaic tome. This tome, like its counterpart to the left of Rabbi Hedaya, was also falling to pieces. Rabbi Ovadia Hedaya began the Kabbalistic invocations of two tomes only the Twelve Isiyim have ever seen. The Chief Rabbi began the Kabbalistic invocations of the Sefer Azazel Ha’Malakh and the Sefer Raziel Ha’Malakh.
The two tomes were said to have been received by Abraham by the angels Raziel and Azazel, the patron protectors of Kabbalists and the land of Eretz ha’Yisrael. Rabbi Hedaya’s hissing invocations lasted nearly three hours in the candlelit cavernous chamber. Once the invocation completed with the final incantations to Azazel, the Isiyim departed through a large double oak door without a word. The doors remained open as three others assisted Yitzhak Shamir in lighting another seventy-two additional candles. The chamber soon cast an otherworldly glow. As the last candle was lit, seventy-two nude bodies appeared before them in procession led by Rabbi Hedaya.
The nude women were voluptuous, and curvy with bodies that seemed to be sculpted for nothing but desire. The seventy-two women appeared to be no older than twenty-one. Yitzhak Shamir knew the true ages of some of these women, having indulged with them on other occasion. He could make out over a dozen ethnicities among the young concubines – Russians with long black hair, Persian, nearly a dozen Egyptians, Spanish, a few young Germans with curly blonde flowing hair, Moroccan women who he fancied, and even a few Americans. For the next twelve hours, bodies twisted and entwined, undulating in the most depraved sexual acts their human minds imagined.
There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, Why did you make a threating getsture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.
After the orgy and the Israeli founding fathers departed to announce the Israeli Declartion of Independence, Rabbi Ovadia Hedaya emerged into the chamber with another female. The woman was swathed in dark crimson and black shawls wrapping around a long gown. Although the attire covered the female’s skin entirely, her feminine form was unmistakable. Her face was partially covered by a transparent veil, nothing but white pupils where human eyes should be. The female had an inhuman stride as if walking through fire or some unseen obstacle. Rabbi Hedaya and the living shadow walked among the dead bodies lying in pools of blood. “It is done. The declaration has been made, and the war has begun.” The Rabbi said, careful not to look at the inhuman shadow. “ I hunger…” Rabbi Hedaya cringed when he heard its voice, inhuman and sibilant. “Come now dear Rabbi. I do not hunger for the flesh. It is against the laws of my race to consume the blood or flesh of a Beni ha’Adaam. I hunger for the iniquity of your mind and its unnatural desires.” The djinn cast her pale gaze upon the Rabbi.