Genesis According to Yabit (Part One) Excerpt

Charming Attractive Special Agent
Encounters Deadly Conspirators Out to Destroy Her

The rebel coup has failed and the insurgents have been chased down and cornered, but they have fled to the one place the king is reluctant to destroy.  The rebel general, Lucian Ess, and his ever plotting little chief of staff have set out to take the king’s two favorite ambassadors hostage through espionage and propaganda.  They soon fall under the influence of the conniving enemy, encountering one problem after another instigated by the evil general.  Watch with her as her story unfolds through Adam, Eve, Noah and the enemy’s counter-yabit.  Journey with her as she faces a fire breathing dragon, antagonistic spectators, and rising flood waters to complete her assignment. 

What the readers are saying

This story is wonderful.  I’m reading it for the fourth time.  I was disappointed when they finished servicing my car and it was ready because I wanted to finish Genesis.  We need more books like this. I can hardly wait for the next one. from T.R., Washington

Tiny is too cute to be a demon, but there’s a message in that. from P. G., Texas

This book is a really fun read. All the characters of Genesis are there, through the eyes of a strange, but heart warming little spirit named Yabit. Yabit is actually sort of a secret messenger for God. Sarah Jones is most likely a Christian herself, but the gentle humor in this book should get a few laughs from anyone, whether Buddhist, Taoist, Muslim, Jewish, Vedic, Celtic Wiccan, American Native, Mazdan, or any other. And wait until you meet "Tiny."  Totally nasty, but totally adorable at the same time. To say more would be a spoiler. from Amazon.com

Chapter Two, Last One Out (Under the Throne)

As the momentary flare of the failing coup flickered out, the last little sparks of General Ess’s fleeing rebels winked out one by one.  Like falling stars they plummeted headlong through space toward the only refuge left; yet there remained in one obscure little cranny under the throne in the very room where the coup had begun, one tiny terrified little angel, the smallest of them all.

He was terrified because he had long looked up to and aspired to the greatness of General Ess, knowing full well the impossibility of such aspirations.  All he had to do was to look at himself in one of the astronomical mirrors to see that the two tiny pinpricks of light looking back at him were in utter contrast to the glory and light that surrounded the generals of the king’s armies.

Before the coup when all the armies gathered to praise the king, the sound was magnificent; a sound to shake the universe with the voices of each of the troops great resonant harmonies.  This smallest angel had always yearned to be a part of the great chorus, but all that ever came out of his almost invisible mouth was a pitiful little squeak or screech that made him sound like a baby cricket in the wings backstage.

It didn’t help that all the other angels looked more or less like their king, distinctly lesser of course, but none the less variations on a grand theme, each in his own special way glorious or magnificent.

But not this smallest with his two huge eyes, their big ever dilated pupils the only dark spots in an otherwise little blob of pure white fur.  Even the little trumpet like stalks of his ears protruding above and behind his eyes shared nothing with the other angels’ more conventional ears, and this little angel’s ears were in his own view decidedly ugly compared to the others.  Attached directly below his eyes were two floppy feet over which he had little, if any control and since they were attached directly to his head without benefit of legs or body, they were to him no more than a terrible joke.

From the beginning he had used the only thing he had, his eyes and his ears, to diligently watch and listen.  Whatever his ears heard, he passed on to General Ess.

And so this smallest had done everything that he could to ingratiate and enlist himself in General Ess’s favor.  He used his great eyes to record things the general might have missed.  He hid and eavesdropped at every opportunity taking, as appropriate, all that he heard to the general.

Gradually General Ess, at first dismissing him as an insolent insignificant, began to listen and finally to ask for more information.  Now overjoyed at being employed by the great general, this smallest redoubled his efforts.  As the relationship developed this smallest was astonished to discover the incomparable General Ess was also dissatisfied.  He too, wanted to be a little bit more, a little bit better; and so they began to talk, even to plot.

As the crafty general saw the use to which this miniscule set of eyes and ears could be put, he gently inquired, for he knew it was a sore point, if this smallest with such great eyes and ears would mind having the appellation of “Tiny” applied to him.

Of course not.  He would be delighted. Up until then it seemed the king had no particular purpose in mind for his smallest.

Having set the hook, the general knew their relationship could not flourish to the general’s benefit if he were to allow those wonderful eyes and ears to work in the service of any other.  The little angel’s loyalty must be exclusive.

Hiding now in trembling abject terror, Tiny knew General Ess would never have initiated the coup had it not been for Tiny’s less than perfectly faithful transcriptions which he had altered to be more pleasing to the general.  That the transcriptions were full of subtle changes in what he had actually heard the other two generals say had not bothered the little angel when he made them.  He had not expected that Ess would move so swiftly and march into the capital with only a third of the armed forces on the dangerous assumption that Generals Gruff and Meeker would join him and it would all be over in a moment.

Never, had Tiny thought, would the king look down at the grand figure of his number one general and murmur his authoritative command to the other two generals, “Seize him.”  From under the throne Tiny watched in unmitigated despair as the coup flared, fizzled and failed.

“Is it over then?” asked General Meeker as the last little falling star winked out in the galactic distance.

“I believe so,” said General Gruff.  His eyes were focused on the spot where the last little spark had disappeared, “That I believe is the last of them.”  He turned to the king.

The king too, was watching the same spot in space.  “Well, this part of it is almost over,” he said, “but that last little streak was not the last of them.  There remains one of them still at large.”

Tiny froze.  He could not even now dare tremble.

“I had,” the king said, “great plans for him.  I made him different and apart from all the others that he might serve me in a very special way, but he chose to serve Lucian instead.”

“Where is he?” asked the generals.

The king was standing in front of the throne.  Without turning and still surveying the vast canvas on which he was yet to paint the remnant of creation, he said, “He is hiding under the throne.  Bring him out.”

Immediately the generals’ hands went under the throne and came out holding the smallest, the most fearful, and the most terrified of angels.  Each general held him by one ear as they hauled him before the king.

Tiny stared, as always wide eyed, astonished to see glory tempered in sorrow.

“I gave you,” said the king sadly, “eyes and ears second only to mine.  In time I was going to name you Mighty, but you ran after another name and by it shall you now be called forever more.  You are now Tiny rather than Mighty in the sight of the king,” he paused, “and because you sided with the dark and the rebels instead of with light and the faithful, you shall now be clothed in black instead of white.”

In the reflecting gold of the floor, Tiny watched his white fur turn black.

“And,” said the king, “because you tried to pervert everything you heard for your own gain as you carried it back and forth as fast as you could, your ears and your feet will be forever purple.”

Tiny watched, shocked as the features which so ashamed him before, but which were at least an innocent white like all the others, turned a bright and arresting purple.

The king sighed and nodded at his faithful generals, “Cast him down with the rest.”

There was not even a flicker as the last angel crashed to earth.

More readers' comments

The word smithing is excellent as is the depth of the characters.  Humorous, delightful and does not contradict the Bible in any way. M.H., Washington

Beautifully bound and well written.  It’s nice to see this kind of quality coming from a small town. R.C., Washington

Chapter Forty-Three
OOOOOOOooooooo! (Scary Sounds in Sin City)

“OOOOOOOooooooo!” breathed a bright pink yabit from the middle of the yuddle, “This is a really scary place.”

Six other wands fixed on her with exuberant and fearless delight as the pink yabit carefully exhaled a ululating gasp of mock fright.  Her long “OOOOOOOooooooo!” was laced with tremulous little warbles of woe, cries and sighs, and surreptitious screeches; all knotted into a symphonic string of weird wood-wind whistles and percussive little thumps, the prototypes of things that go bump in the night.

“Do that again,” whispered a lime green yabit at the side of the yuddle.

So the pink yabit wrinkled her nose and did it again.  In her long whispering sigh were all the Halloween sounds of nocturnal gusts drifting through an abandoned and isolated old house long written off as haunted, now bathed in the ghostly grey light of a full moon, now hidden by the careless cast of shadows thrown from the ragged wraiths of wind torn clouds slicing slowly across the moon’s mournful face.

As the sounds faded the yuddle went equally silent as all the wide-eyed yabits shivered in the wake of the shimmering sound.  A moment later the silence broke at a tittering giggle from one side of the yuddle and then ran all the way through it until all were giggling and the yuddle exploded, as they so often do, in waves of joyous unbridled laughter.

Reassembling the yuddle they pushed the pink yabit out in front to lead and called to her in happy unison, “Too good!  Let’s do it again.”

And so the pink yabit began again her haunting mime.

In its exquisite frame were hung all the haunting cries of inanimate things waking in the night to answer the call of compelling gusts chasing each other through cold night air; the bang of an unclasped shutter, the snap and scrape of a loose shingle, the screech of a frozen hinge raised from its bed of rust; of demon drafts hasting through the broken windows of an upper room to tug at a long abandoned door.

After the following shiver, the triggering giggle and the explosion of laughter, they all looked at each other and the camel colored yabit said, “I think three times is enough.  It is mission time you know.”  She pointed her wand at the imposing edifice of the stronghold.  “I think we, or at least one of us, is supposed to go up and knock on that door.”

“OOOOOOOooooooo,” giggled one, “That’s got to be really scary.”  She pointed one wand at the black yabit, “Are you the one who personally heard the king say when her mission with Noah was successful, it would be the beginning of the end for that rotten thief General Ess?”

The black yabit took on a deeply puzzled expression and slowly massaged the side of her right foot with the edge of her wand, “I am not really sure,” she said with the utmost gravity, “I just can’t seem to remember if it was me or if it was one of you.”  She pointed her other wand at the camel colored yabit, “Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

“Could be,” said the camel colored yabit doubtfully, “but I don’t think so.  Actually I’m pretty sure it was her.” She looked innocently at the lime green yabit as all of the others giggled at their little game.

A little later one of them said, “Let’s sing again and then we can decide who gets to knock on the door or perhaps we should all go up and knock on it together.”

“OOOOOOOooooooo,” sighed the pink yabit with her Halloween noise, “what if a demon comes to the door?”

Immediately after the soft giggles, the camel colored yabit mimed the scary sound again and before any could shiver in mock terror she spoke in the dismal tone of a doctor announcing the dreaded diagnosis of a terminal disease, “What if the general himself comes to the door?”

After the carefully timed silence all seven of them echoed the scary, ghostly, haunting “OOOOOOOooooooo!” and then, struggling to hold on to the mock gravity of the moment, all covered their mouths with their bibs to hold back their giggles.

As the eerie noise penetrated the stronghold, Ess stopped in mid flight from the work area to his private den, sometimes referred to by the demons as the evil of evils.  Yabit, he thought.  After a brief silence the unsettling noise came again and despite his anger he gave an involuntary shiver.  Stop that, he thought, it’s just that abominable three footer and there is more than one out there.  They have made up a new noise to amuse themselves and they think their exaggerated parody of demon noise is going to unsettle us.  Well, it will not bother me but I had better check on my troops.  Some of them may be foolish enough to fall or trip on their own swords.

In an instant he was back in the expansive glare of the great stronghold.  Surveying the scene as the next “OOOOOOOooooooo!” once more pierced the walls he could see that his once placid sea of rigid discipline was marked with little ripples of anxiety, puzzled demons here and there wondering at the strange sounds.

Even Tiny when he found him seemed more agitated than usual.  “Not you too,” Ess snapped, “It’s just those yabits.  How many are out there?” he asked assuming that his little chief of staff had already checked.

“Seven,” Tiny said, “one full yuddle.”

“When this is over,” Ess grumbled, “and we are all back where we are supposed to be, I personally am going to be the one to escort that brute Gruff to the abyss.  How dare he bring them here?”

Again the unsettling “OOOOOOOooooooo” drifted into the uneasy stronghold.  Ess glanced up instantly to see that the ripples of anxiety were spreading and his carefully wrought sea of tranquil discipline was rapidly turning into a whitecap chop of growing agitation.  In the far corner a small red demon murmured, “Look, even the general is upset.”  As his whispered words passed from demon to demon the agitation turned into a froth of anxiety.  Panic hit when a demon somewhere in the middle of the room shuddered.  “It’s him.  He has come to torment us before our time.”

Over the murmuring came the thundering rumble of Ess’s fury utterly unleashed, his words trailing tremors of smoke and homing in on their targets like deadly missiles, “Stop that.”  His hands, twitching as if they were already one by one at the throats of his troops, gripped the sides of the dais and waited.  “That sound,” he grated, “is just a bunch of those silly three-footers playing games.”  He paused, “The king is still in his palace and that day is not yet come.”  He paused once more.  With exaggerated care he said slowly, “And down here…,” he thumped his dais with both hands like an angry Baptist preacher describing hell, “down here I am the one who is in charge.”  He shouted then an angry question, three words each separated from the other by a steely silence to emphasize his authority.  “Is…that…clear?”

None dared answer.  Then in the restored but fragile calm came a new sound, a high warbling wail of indescribable distress.

Ess’s hands twitched as he watched his demons, waiting to see if any dared murmur.  Satisfied with their silence he turned to Tiny, beckoned and stalked toward his office.  In his office he wheeled on his little chief of staff, “Get rid of those yabits before they get it in their fuzzy heads to come in here.”  He flung himself in his chair.  “I could face them in here and probably you, but they could not.”  He waved his hand at the door, “If the yabits come in here, I will have screaming demons flying everywhere.  Take whoever you need and get rid of them.”

He looked up to see that the minuscule mouth of his little chief of staff was hanging open with astonishment.  “Go!” Ess said, “You heard me.”

Hesitating before obeying, Tiny considered Ess’s order, then unable to refrain from speaking what was on his mind asked, “Sir, how do you get rid of a yabit that does not want to be gotten rid of?”

Genesis According to Yabit (Part One) is truly a book you will read over and over.