Day Five Hundred Twenty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We are sitting in port at the end of a long day. This city has proven a surprise to all, not the least of which is the fact that it is under local control. Not a hint of the world government anywhere.

I wonder how long that will last.

We have filled the holds and will top off tomorrow by securing a few containers on deck. The Captain is pleased.

Elijah and I bid goodbye and God speed to the Raj family, who will depart from here upon their journey and mission.

They in turn committed to hold us up in prayer before the One. And had a tender parting with the twins, whom they have surrendered to our care.

Day Five Hundred Thirteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Upon rising this morning a melody filled my heart and soon a song of praise to the One was on my lips. It was a brand new song, one I had never heard before.

Elijah was greatly cheered by it. He said it portended awesome things for the day ahead. We both took eagerly to the road again.

Our mood changed when we passed a temple built beside the way just outside the third village. Slaughtered bodies lay all around its premises. Like the others we’d seen, it had been plundered, emptied out of valuables. Unlike the others, the attendees had resisted. And paid for resisting.

And likely as a consequence when we entered the third village it was deserted.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

At long last we found a way up off of the beach.

It was during one of our down times. Elijah sat facing the ocean while communing with the One. I found a rivulet that sank into the sand before reaching the sea and followed it back in hopes that it would lead to an opening in the cliff wall. Or perhaps even a valley that could carry us into the interior.

Instead its source was a pool at the foot of the rock wall, fed by a waterfall down its face.

And running parallel to it was a rickety stairway structure. I clambered to the top and there, sitting abandoned was a lovely villa.

I ran to fetch Elijah.

Day Four Hundred Thirty Four #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

The fog lifted with the early morning breeze. You would think that would make a substantial difference in our headway. But it did not. In a couple of instances our forward movement was halted altogether by the incoming tide.

It was not time lost in our estimation. It was time to get our minds off of our problems and onto the One who holds the solutions. And I think we more than made up for our delay during those times when the tide was out. Way out.

By day’s end our progress was such that the port city came into our view. And like the one behind us on the mainland it appears to be untouched by the Great Destruction.

Day Three Hundred Eighty Three evening #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Enoch writes:

We have traversed into bushy terrain. Looks like even the locusts have passed it by. There are other things prowling about though, rustling in the bushes at night.

I have borrowed Mawuli’s sling and keep it close. Yet I must not trust mine own arm but to the One who strengthens it.