New NOVEL "In the Truth" by Paul McCool

In The Truth

Paul McCool

Format	ISBN	Price
Electronic Book	1418466824	$4.95
Paperback (6x9)	1418438782	$14.50
Dust Jacket Hardcover (6x9)	1418438774	$23.25

About the Book

About the Author

The author was born in and attended university in . However, restless and bored, he soon dropped out, opting for a "real world" education. His work took him to the Northern, Midwestern, and Southern portions of the . He presently lives in .

He has experienced first hand the WatchTower Bible and Tract Society?s (Jehovah?s Witnesses) methodology of member indoctrination and control. This realization unfolded for him when circumstances dictated he attempt to understand their design for living.

His study revealed various methods used by the Jehovah?s Witness hierarchy to ?bring sheep into the fold?. However, the tactic of instilling emotional separatism (shunning, disassociation, etc.) in a convert to keep at distance family members critical of the Witnesses? doctrine is one of the most heinous. This maneuver successfully allows instruction of a convert segregated from family influence. Thus the seeds are planted . . . and fertilized.

The author?s hope is that this novel, in its own way, will act as an informative causeway over the far-reaching waters of the authoritatively minded WatchTower Bible and Tract Society.

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1 Door-to-Door

Startled awake, the girl sat up in bed?the dream fading now. She was in her bedroom, and she was alone. Sighing, she dropped back to her pillow, pulling the sheet and blanket with her. The pillow felt wet?she touched her cheeks. She must have been crying. Then she thought of him - the man that had been in her room last night.

At first, he stood next to her bed where she had to look up at him; at his sweat-stained, gray shirt and pants; his dark, matted hair; the perspiration that dripped down his face?a mannequin?s face, she had thought, glaring down with brown, unmoving eyes. And his scent?a breeze from an open window had curled around him, and carried his smell to her, a mixture of sulfur and iron smoke. Then he had said something?what was it? Something like?like, ?I put in a hard day?s work at the factory, get home tired and aching?but because I care, I?ll correct you when you need it.?

When it was over, she had huddled in her bed, her legs pulled up to her chest and wrapped in her arms, crying and rocking. And the stinging!?she was lost in it.

Now, in the early morning hours before sunrise, she tried to forget the night. She looked up from her pillow for the photograph of her brother, her father, and herself, but couldn?t see it. Sitting up, she found that it lay flat on the bedside table, as if haphazardly placed. She leaned over, picked it up, and set it upright. Lying on her side, she stared at the photo, looking long and deep into the faces of her brother and her father. She thought of when it was made, three years ago, when they were in the mall. It was Dad?s idea, just walk in the studio, have it taken. They were being silly, pushing up against one another, making faces for the camera. It was so much fun. Now, it seems so long ago?and Dad is far away.

Drifting in memories, she desperately fought the weariness that came over her now. Unable to hold on, she let herself go and fell into a deep sleep, her right arm dropping behind her? behind her to rest against long, red tracks that striped her in a helter-skelter patchwork from her buttocks to her knees.

_ _ _ _ _

?Hurry now,? her mother called from downstairs. ?Breakfast is almost ready.?

With one last look in the mirror, Susan made sure her hair was properly brushed and her barrettes, one on each side, firmly in place. Pulling at the blue ribbon beneath her collar, she tightened the bow. The collar was pressed flat and she hoped it would keep the ribbon in place, at least until afternoon. Unbuckling her belt, she pulled it tighter one more notch, pinching her stomach. That?ll keep my shirttail in, she thought, then checking her shoelaces, she was ready.

Susan was tall and thin for fifteen?and with legs and arms that seemed to be fighting her all the time she was always bumping into things. Desks at school, door jambs and corners everywhere bruised her thighs and elbows. Her dark red hair went to her shoulders in a natural wave, her cream-like skin was flawless, and her face one could never forget: large, full lips; fine, prominent cheekbones; and big, blue eyes under long, dark eyelashes.

Grabbing her Bible and study guide, a pencil with the eraser nearly chewed away, sweater and mittens, she walked to the top of the stairs. The rubbing of her jeans on the back of her legs made her flinch. Still, she hurried.

There it was again, the emptiness.

He?s going to be sitting at the table, waiting for me, she thought. Strengthening herself with the handrail, she went down the stairs.

He was there, drinking coffee and waiting for his breakfast. No one spoke. An open New World Translation Bible was next to his plate, and next to that, a WatchTower Society study guide. He?d read a passage from his Bible, then look to the study guide, nodding as if to confirm something of great importance. ?You better hurry with those eggs ?cause you?re going to be late,? Carl Meely said to his wife, Alice. ?You have a long way to go today.?

?Almost ready. Here, Jack, put these on the table,? said nervously, holding out a plate of hot biscuits.

Looking up from his own Bible, Susan?s sixteen-year-old brother, tall and rail-like, pushed away from the table and went to his mother. With brown hair and brown eyes, he and Susan did not particularly look like brother and sister.

?Careful, they?re hot,? cautioned.

Not speaking, Jack set the biscuits on the table in front of his stepfather as Susan stepped quietly into the kitchen. Setting her things on a kitchen chair, she walked over to her mother.

?What can I do to help?? Susan asked, wanting to hug her mom and feel her mother?s arms around her.

?Give your father some more coffee. I?ve got everything else ready.?

With everyone seated, they bowed their heads and repeated the breakfast prayer. ?Amen,? Carl said grandly, then turning to Susan, ?Did you learn anything last night??

?Yes,? she said, looking into her lap.

?Do you remember the verses we discussed?? Carl asked.

?Yes.?

?And???

?Proverbs 23:13. Do not fail to correct your children; discipline will not hurt them,? Susan said softly.

?And what else did we talk about??

?To obey.?

?To obey whom??

?The elders.?

?That?s correct,? Carl said. ?And I hope to never hear that you?ve failed again. Okay, now let?s enjoy this good food that Jehovah has provided. You?re going to be calling on several families today?it?s going to be a long day.?

On their way to ?witness? and visit the ?studys?, Jack and Susan sat side by side on the back seat of Mrs. Oscobik?s old Chevrolet. Next to Susan sat Sister Pamela Downs. In her keep was the lunch basket which she had placed on her lap. Every so often, when she thought it was safe, she would slip her hand into the basket and steal a deviled egg. Even though everyone was studying their weekly lesson, Susan could make out what Sister Pamela was up to. Nudging Jack gently, she signaled him to look. Glancing over, he caught the ?sister? bending forward to hide behind the front seat and pop another egg into her mouth. Susan knew that when lunchtime came her mother would notice the missing eggs, but would not mention it. This had happened before.

sat in the front, her companion, Mrs. Oscobik, behind the wheel. They made their way down country roads?bouncing, and rocking along as they, or so it seemed to Susan, hit more potholes than they missed. Sometimes, due to a broken rear axle spring and worn out shock absorbers, the entire car would rattle and shake when it dropped deep into a hole along the shoulder of the road. But Susan didn?t mind. She was just happy there weren?t traveling on a dirt road today, because then she would have to cover her nose and mouth with a handkerchief, like a bandit, to keep the dust out. Over the years wintertime road-salt had found a home in the bottom of the doors of the old Chevy and, with the passing of time, eaten its way through one of the panels, allowing the outside to come in.

Well, it won?t be long before snow will cover up all the roads ?then I won?t have to breathe that stinky dust anymore, she thought.

?Jack, do you know your lesson?? her mother suddenly asked, turning around, facing her brother.

?Why, uh?uh, yeah, sure do.? he said, looking up from his WatchTower magazine.

?Okay, let?s have a little review. What?s the topic for this week??

?Pollution,? he answered.

?Yes, go on.?

?Its how people are killing the earth?s plants and animals.?

?How are they doing it?? she asked.

?By using fertilizer that has chemicals in it, by cutting down forests where the animals live, and by industries building factories in foreign countries.?

?Yes, that?s right, Jack. Now, tell me, what?s going to happen? Will things stay like they are or will there be a change??

?No, things won?t stay the same,? Jack said. ?Jehovah will not let people keep on ruining the earth. We are in the ?last days.? Soon Jehovah will change things and get rid of all the people who are polluting the earth. And then it?ll be like the Garden of Eden was, a long time ago.?

smiled and nodded.

?Yes, your boy certainly knows his lesson,? Mrs. Oscobik said. ?And, I understand that Susan is exceptional at ?witnessing?. Jehovah God must be really happy with your family, Alice.?

?Susan loves to ?witness,?? said. ?She especially likes to help me with the ?studys?. I am so proud of her when she answers their questions without having to look them up.?

Susan was silent.

?How many ?studys? do you have, ?? Mrs. Oscobik asked.

?I?ve got two now, and another one starts Monday. But, I don?t mind. Jack and Susan are a big help at home and all, so I?m able to get away.?

?My, you certainly do your share,? Sister Pamela said. ?I?ve got only one ?study? and that?s enough for me.?

?But think of the time you spend taking care of the little ones while their mothers are out ?witnessing,?? Mrs. Oscobik reminded her, looking into the rear view mirror.

?It takes all of us doing our share, helping one another in any way we can, to get the ?Truth? out to people,? said.

?That?s absolutely right,? Mrs. Oscobik said, nodding her head. ?That?s absolutely right.?

They were quite now as they looked out the windows to see the clouds had fused into a low gray sheet and large snowflakes falling on the brown fields of harvested corn and plowed farmland. In the distance, bare trees silhouetted on the horizon. Then, every few miles, the road would lead them past huge stands of tall, dark evergreens fronting what appeared to be endless tracts of maple and oak. The land seemed to roll on forever.

As did the three women, on their way to rescue, mend, and make better all the torn, troubled families who live outside the loving nation of ?brothers? and ?sisters? of Jehovah?s Witnesses.

_ _ _ _ _

After dropping Sister Pamela off at her Saturday ?study,? Mrs. Oscobik, Alice, Jack, and Susan rode through the countryside to the next stop.

Mrs. Oscobik and Alice discussed the upcoming Christmas season. Jack and Susan, now with the back seat to themselves, relaxed a little. Pretending to study her lesson, Susan listened to the conversation in front.

?I?ll tell you what I did about it,? Mrs. Oscobik explained. ?I took my kids to the kitchen, set ?em down at the table, and told ?em the facts. Don?t get me wrong. I told ?em in a nice way. Besides, they get presents throughout the year. Why are you so worried about it??

?Well, this is only the second Christmas season for me, as a Witness, and the first for them with Carl,? spoke haltingly, almost in a whisper.

?Don?t worry about it,? Mrs. Oscobik replied. ?I?ll help you.? Glancing back at Jack and Susan studying their lesson, she whispered, ?Look, this is your chance. You pretend to dispute and ask questions about why we don?t celebrate Christmas, just like the ?studys? do, and I?ll explain. They?ll get the message.?

?Okay,? said, straightening herself in her seat.

?Jack?? Mrs. Oscobik called from the front. ?Tell me, did you get any presents from your parents throughout the year??

?Why, uh yeah. I got some pants and socks and a winter coat ?a fishing rod, some other stuff.?

?Isn?t gift giving wonderful?? Mrs. Oscobik said happily. ?It?s so nice getting and giving presents and sharing the love bond that characterizes and holds together the family unit: father, mother, and child.?

?Uh, yeah,? Jack agreed.

?Just look at those gaudy lights on that farm house over there,? Mrs. Oscobik pointed, as they passed a large home decorated for Christmas. ?They know nothing of family love and togetherness.? She glanced at , pressing her.

?But, but, what?s wrong with having lights on your house?? asked.

?Why, it?s pagan. That?s what!? Mrs. Oscobik exclaimed. ?Didn?t you know that??

?But why is it pagan??

?Because, it?s part of the celebration of Christmas, which started a long time ago as a heathen ritual, before it was called Christmas.?

?Heathen ritual?? asked, eyes wide.

?Yes, people who do not believe in God,? Mrs. Oscobik said. ?But then along came the Catholic church, and to pacify the heathens who celebrated worshiping their idols by exchanging presents and having parties, the church told them they could continue the tradition if they joined the Catholic religion. Which they did.?

?But we exchange gifts,? Susan spoke up, confused.

?That?s different. We exchange gifts to show our love to one another. We don?t do it as part of a religious celebration,? Mrs. Oscobik said, a thin smile on her face.

?When did all this begin?? Jack asked.

?Why, hundreds of years ago,? she told him. ?The Catholic church, otherwise known as the Whore of Babylon, saw that the exchanging of gifts in praise of God was something that could really catch on and help it grow. So it became church tradition. Then, after many years, when other so-called Christian religions sprang up, they too, kept the tradition alive.?

As she looked out the car window at the snow coming down hard now, Susan thought about past Christmases. It hadn?t seemed pagan to her. Christmas had always felt good. She had liked going through the neighborhood in town and singing carols with her friends and then going to church on Christmas Eve. She had loved the wreaths that hung from the stone walls, flickering in the candlelight. Then, at , everyone would bow their head in prayer.

?That scarlet Whore of Babylon!? Mrs. Oscobik cried out. ?Just look at the death and destruction brought on by all those popes and priests. Did you know that World War II was, in reality, a plot designed by Satan and the ? That?s right?to keep us from preaching the ?Truth!? Hitler was nothing more than a lackey for the Roman Catholic Church.

?But these are all wonderful signs, my children,? Mrs. Oscobik sang out. ?Rejoice! Jehovah is drawing near! Any day it?s going to happen. The masses will be destroyed, but Jehovah?s people will live forever. Think of it? We?re never going to die!?

Susan had heard these words many times before but was never quite sure what to think of all of it. No, she didn?t want to die, but she didn?t think it was fair to see everyone else killed just because they weren?t Jehovah?s Witnesses. However, on the other hand it had to be fair, it was Jehovah?s plan for the world.

_ _ _ _ _

The car turned into the driveway of a shiny, two-story, white, farm house; the windows sealed in plastic to help keep out the cold. It was trimmed in dark green and under the windows were green, flower boxes with plastic sheeting tied securely over them, ready to protect next springs tulips. A screened porch stretched across the front. The light green roof was very steep, like most others in this part of upper , specifically designed to allow ice and snow to slide off easily. Facing the road, just under the peak of the roof, a round, multicolored Dutch hex sign warded off evil, a tradition kept alive in the Stranahand family throughout the generations.

?Whose turn is it?? asked, facing the backseat.

?It?s mine,? Susan told her. Making sure she had everything; Bible, guide, and copies of the Awake magazine, she opened her door and stepped into the cold. The wind and snow bit into her cheeks as she walked around the back of the car, through the billowing exhaust and met her mother. Together, they approached the house.

rang the doorbell. They waited, she rang it again. Suddenly the inside door sprang open and a tall, solidly built woman came out of the house and unto the porch. She waved them inside.

?Come in, come in,? she greeted them loudly.

Wearing a flour-dusted blue apron over a loose fitting red sweater and snug white jeans, the farm woman opened the outside door with one flour-covered hand, rubbing the other on the apron. Her long, yellow hair was in a thick bun in back. More than a few loose ringlets fell over her ears; her round pink face smiled broadly, and again she said, ?Come in, come in. Yah surely must be freezin?.?

As they went inside, gave Susan a slight ?you lead? nod. But when the thick, wooden door had closed behind her, Susan couldn?t say a word. She gasped as she took in what was happening in this lady?s living room.

Everywhere there were boxes full of beautiful Christmas ornaments of every size, shape, and color. Red candles were in every window. Evergreen wreaths hung in the front windows and a large evergreen branch, with shiny red glass balls tucked here and there, stretched over the archway leading to the dining room.

In the corner was the tree, a most magnificent tree, the top just inches from the ceiling. Bare, it waited for the adorning to begin. Susan stared at it, wanting to touch it. Susan then looked at her mother who appeared totally unprepared for the holiday preparations that filled this farm woman?s home?and then she was surprised by the somewhat sorrowful look that came over her mother?s face.

?Why, uh, my name is Alice Meely. This is my daughter Susan,? said, squeezing Susan?s shoulders as if to steady herself. ?And, um, we wanted to stop by and say hello and bring you some good news.?

?Oh?? the farm woman looked at .

?Yes. Tell me, wouldn?t you like to have your children live in a world that is free of crime, disease, famine, and warfare??

Surprised, the woman said, ?Why?I suppose so. What are you talking about?? She took a step back, the smile gone now.

Now that her mother had given the introduction, Susan thought she appeared less intimidated by the holiday setting. Susan stood next to her, holding her books against her bosom, looking into the woman?s face as her mother, with heartfelt conviction, explained. ?I?m talking about the times we live in. You read the newspapers, watch the news on television. You must realize what?s going on, what?s happening all over the world. But it?s not going to go on forever, it cannot. Why? Because it?s part of the plan?the overall divine plan. Something is going to happen to put a stop to all the heartache, to all the anguish?something wonderful and everlasting! Can you just imagine the glorious exhilaration as you wake up each morning knowing you will spend the entire day in paradise? And what about your family, your children, don?t you want them to be there with you?? paused, then said, ?I know you do and I also want my daughter and son to live in such a world and to live forever and never die! Susan and I want you and your family to join us. Here, please take an Awake and you can find out how.?

On cue, Susan, smiling slightly, presented the farm woman the magazine. She studied the cover, then quickly paged through the contents. She looked at Susan. Puzzled, the woman didn?t know what to do or say. Then she gave another cursory glance at several of the drawings in the booklet before she turned to , silent now, waiting for an answer.

New NOVEL "In the Truth" by Paul McCool - good read!

Dogpatch

1

Door-to-Door

Badger

FairMind

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