TETELESTAI Notification List

The TETELESTAI (It is finished) email which will contain the first 800#'s will be posted first on a private page and will be sent out to everyone subscribed to the private page's feed.

If you wish to subscribe to the private page's feed, please visit the TETELESTAI page located HERE and access the private page.

If you're having trouble please give me an email at TetelestaiDC@gmail.com

(Note: The TETELESTAI post is the official "Go" for redemption/exchange.)

Guest Posting & Responding Now Available

Dinar Chronicles is now allowing viewers to guest post and respond to articles. If you wish to respond or speak your mind and write a post/article or about the current situation relating to Iraq, the RV, the GCR and so on. You may now send in an entry.

All you need to do is send your entry to UniversalOm432Hz@gmail.com with these following rules.

The subject line of your email should be: "Entry | (Title of your post) | Dinar Chronicles"

- Proper grammar
- Solely write intel, rumors, news, thoughts, messages regarding Dinarland, Iraq, the RV, the GCR, NESARA/GESARA, the Republic, Spirituality, Ascension and anything that is relating
- Your signature/name/username at the end (If you wish to remain anonymous then you don't need to provide one.)

If you have any questions or wish to communicate with us then please give us an email at UniversalOm432Hz@gmail.com

Send your entry and speak out today!

Follow Dinar Chronicles by Email

Featured Post

Restored Republic via a GCR: Update as of Oct. 19, 2017

Restored Republic via a GCR Update as of Oct. 19 2017 Compiled 12:01 am EDT 19 Oct. 2017 by Judy Byington, MSW, LCSW, ret, CEO, Child Abus...

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

"Short Story Break? THE PREY" by Dezerro - 6.7.17

Entry Submitted by Dezerro at 10:32 PM EDT on June 7, 2017

(Suggested moral of the story at the end)

THE PREY

Tiny spots of sweat decorate my diary with salty reminders.

On that cold, fog shrouded day, I had entered the hidden gash of a valley deep in an obscure portion of densely overgrown trees, vines and tough bushy plants. The bottom of the gorge was a rocky mire.

And in my soul I’d known this search, this long weary hunt, which so many times had tried to beat me down to defeat, was over. I could almost feel it breathing in rhythm to the pulse of a distant star.

I’d rejoiced, but quietly, in those final steps, and had enjoyed subdued images of accepting acclaim from an admiring public as my story was finally told. Radio and television would long buzz with it’s retelling until some other sensation arising would serve to titillate a fickle public.

Perhaps a book, a TV or movie deal would emerge to gratefully thank me for years of grueling research. Mary Corbin, my patient fiancée would give an occasional interview about the waiting, the hoping, the worry.

Yet those thoughts I had tucked away for later, as the task was not yet complete — not at all.

I had stepped carefully along the narrow ledge halfway up the craggy overgrown side of the valley and stopped to focus military grade binoculars upon a dense vine infested growth in a shadowed corner of massive rocks far below.

It would be there, in its version of hibernation, waiting upon a change in the position of the planet around the sun, that glowing furnace which it so likely avoided carefully in it’s approach to Earth.

My equipment had been ready in the large pack weighing upon my tired back, and I had begun the trek to a location necessary for final powerup and calibration.

I had designed and built each part to exact specifications of accuracy, durability and miniaturization with the assistance of a team of professional and heavily bonded technicians.

However carefully designed, plans can wander, and I was beset by an unforeseen delay. I suppressed a giddy laugh and forced a calm — all along this endeavor I had learned patience.

And now even more waiting. And hoping. My return to glory would be delayed, and only patience, my gift from the gods, would bring me through.

Today’s meal of bitter berries and broad salty leaves picked from a short soft-barked tree had filled my growling stomach and surprisingly had provided a boost in energy.

So I trotted off into the darker gloom of the forest, leaving my primary clearing and camp waiting, and found a short, dense growth covered in what appeared to be small versions of coconuts, although they were but about two inches in diameter.

I found they broke open easily revealing a slightly sweet, white, mildly fibrous pulp. Some were ever so rubbery — unripe I assumed. I tested the pulp by tasting tiny bits and waiting for a physical reaction. None appeared so I feasted.

In all my university training nothing had mentioned these small fruits as extant on any continent, so I wondered about their origin. I concluded they existed solely within the area I now considered my hunting region, this area beyond which I had found I could not venture.

I seem to have forgotten exactly why this limitation should not be right, but somehow something is amiss. I dream of a “silvery wall” at night and then awake in cold sheens of sweat.

Periodically during waking hours I have been hearing subdued noises, akin to distant groans, from the base of the valley, and always, concurrently, an hypnotic dizziness will sway me, and mental clarity will vanish for a time.

It has formed overnight and curiosity has seized me. My eyes are stinging with cold sweat though wide and peering out through a filmy translucent wall, its surface a dull silvery sheen.

Close inspection reveals tiny flat fibers, interwoven and twisted, comprising this monstrous barrier I now dwell behind. The forest beyond is vague as though viewed through lightly frosted glass.

I know that there it remains still deep in its waiting sleep. And now I wonder. I wonder why it is keeping me alive.

THE END

(Suggested moral of the story - "Know before ya go - RESEARCH")

- Dezerro

Reactions:

Disclamer:

We are in compliance with, "Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use."

All rights reserved go to their respective holders. We do not own the intellectual property shown on this website, the respective holders own that privilege unless stated otherwise.

We do not endorse any opinions expressed on the Dinar Chronicles website. We do not support, represent or guarantee the completeness, truthfulness, accuracy, or reliability of any content or communications posted on Dinar Chronicles.

Dinar Chronicles is not a registered investment adviser, broker dealer, banker or currency dealer and as such, no information on the website should be construed as investment advice. We do not intend to and are not providing financial, legal, tax, political or any other advice to any reader of the website. This website is...Read More