To Fable Enable Guys Like Goliath and The Nephilim, I Become, the Digital Dude, "Christobol Mith"! - Chapter 2

As Christobol Mith, many Sources have opened up to me that I could not have otherwise contacted. Before I discuss my Wedding Night With Goliath's Daughter, I Talked to Queen Myra. First I want to see if the Erebus Group will find a use for me, or will they just liquidate me.

I would advise new readers to catch up with my story in Chapter 1 of this Series with the same title. Yes, I am a mystery. I grew up in Foster Homes, and unlike many found them to be rich sources for development.

I Develop a Name as a Nut

Along the way, I began writing. I was attracted to off-beat magazines. I got jobs in small restaurants as a dishwasher. Finding through Comics and Graphic Novels a group of people I could be friendly with, I worked as a waiter and survived in Manhattan's nether regions.

I wrote a speculative article about why "Clovis man" was found in Delaware and not just the Far West. Certain professionals speculated that as the great Ice kept melting that crossing the Atlantic could be done by seal hunters, camping on the ice and then moving west slowly. It hit people's funny bone. I developed a reputation as a "nut". I was right on the edge of taking a long dip in the East River.

Then It Happened

An old Archaeologist, who looked more like a 75 year old Gold Miner was found by Nevada Rangers clinging to life, dehydrated and starved on the side of a road, with a giant leg bone in his arms. The Miner/Archaeologist kept using the phrase "vast labyrinthine Caves where Creatures used to live, and some still do." The TV Reporter had just ridiculed me for writing about the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and said I would make up anything, just to get an article printed, or get unwarranted attention.

Then a personality named "Queen Myra", a local Fortune Teller on her radio show became a friend. She had a small following and a clientele. She did Tarot card readings, palm readings and astrology readings. She had a little shop in Staten Island. She owned the building where the shop was located; had the one story in back of the shop as her residence. She owned the property as a result of her Father's will. She reached out to me when she heard of the beating I had taken on the local talk show that specialized in debunking myths and exposing controversies.

It was one of those desert nights in the American West when the Moon seemed extra close, the stars electrified by stellar circuitry speak in all their up and down brilliance. And under this light show, an ancient '52 Chevy pick up truck burns its last few drops of gas, sputtering in idle. As the Nevada State Police pull up with its lights illuminating the tiny spectacle. The drunk Miner is asleep at the wheel. He is holding the head of the "Neph" in an affectionate manner. The remainder of the corpse lies in the bed of the truck.

As the Nevada Trooper shines a bright light on the Miner's face, awakening him, he seems to be awakened in mid-sentence: "Occifer, you can see by this here magazine that I got from my nephew, that this creature I found out here by that bubbling spring, 'bout 5 miles from here. With the help of the Almighty, Damn it; I drove over to where my nephew is and grabbed this here magazine to be evidence of this here monster's existence". The trooper scorned him.

"Sam, this one of them comic booky things. But you didn't need to bring this to document his existence. Unless he's a beast from a Hollywood movie, I think that handsome bloody head in your lap goes with that 9 foot Corpus Delecti in the bed of your truck."

"Trooper. please take me to jail and let me sleep. I will keep aholt of his head and this Comic Booky Thing, while you give the body to the proper authority. I got a lot of talkin' to do in the AM. Nary but two small nuggets in my lifetime. This here "Nephy" thing is my gold strike."

This became a mad Carousel, until exams, medical tests and blood work. It was all a conglomeration of confusion until a "Little Neph" walked out of a "trickling muddy stream". Queen Myra and I were flown in immediately. Because they could claim authority over me and I was utterly bewildered and helplessly curious, they put a high tech hygienic suit on me. Then they pushed me into the skinny vertical slit into which we narrowly entered from which the stream flowed. "Little Neph and me hauled large flashlights and communication devices into this cave. Little Neph, (who we judged to be be a "6 year old) held my hand (like I was the kid).

And that's where the story really began.

ard to believe, and it was for weeks, but the one thing that stuck was that the "Comic Booky Thing" really was a comic book, but the Editor decided to use my name and the "Nephilim" appelation to give the wierd tale "believability". Ultra wierd believability. Because it really was a dead giant guy in the desert, and the Miner would never shut up and the swarms of investigators and scientific queries continued, the headlines became things like:

"Christobol Mith's Nephilim Appear in Nevada Desert".

Months later, Queen Myra and I are placed in a super secretive marriage to a "Nephy" Princess, and her proud Father.