This is a vision I had the other night. It was scary and made me hope that mankind finds its way back to common sense and humility. It is about the War of Wars and how mankind may end. It is a reminder that war brings terror, death and decimates countries. It leaves the earth torn apart and people desperate for food, water and shelter.
The air in Jerusalem smelled of ancient stone and impending doom the night the election results were finalized. For years, the world had teetered on a razor-thin ledge of ideological fractures, economic collapse, and quiet desperation, looking everywhere for a savior. They found him in a man whose charisma was as absolute as his rhetoric was hypnotic. He promised peace, stability, and a sweeping renewal of the fractured Middle East. He spoke the languages of diplomacy and dominance with terrifying fluidity. The world wept tears of relief when he took office, blind to the abyss he was dragging them toward.
It took less than a month for the mask to slip.
I was standing on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean when the first flash blinded the horizon. It wasn’t a sunrise; it was a bloom of unnatural, searing white that ate the sky. He hadn’t consulted the UN. He hadn’t issued an ultimatum. In a calculated, merciless heartbeat, the newly elected leader unleashed a coordinated nuclear strike upon Tehran and Damascus. In an instant, capitals older than civilization itself were reduced to glowing craters of ash and vaporized millions.
The retaliation was immediate, instinctive, and utterly catastrophic.
What followed was not a war fought with strategy, but a frantic, paranoid spasm of global self-destruction. Once the nuclear threshold was crossed, the illusion of restraint vanished. Country after country joined the fray, driven not by ancient hatreds alone, but by the primal terror of being left defenseless.
I watched the skies burn across every major superpower. America and Russia—locked in a fatal dance of dead-man switches and automated silos—exchanged a holocaust of fire. France, Germany, England, and Italy became glowing embers within hours, their rich histories extinguished in the blink of a thermo-nuclear eye. Across the globe, the lights went out. In Asia, North and South Korea traded devastating blows, while Japan caught the second wave of a fractured, lawless onslaught. The Middle East bled from every border as secondary strikes obliterated ancient trade routes, oil fields, and populations. Iran, Iraq, Syria, Gaza Strip and Egypt were decimated by one another as the oil fields and natural gas fields exploded and burned 24 hours a day putting black smoke so deep in the atmosphere that it choked out the sun and made breathing terrible.
The sky turned a bruised, impenetrable violet, choked by millions of tons of ash that blotted out the sun. Nuclear winter descended with a merciless speed, freezing the remnants of humanity in a perpetual twilight of fallout and sulfur. The air smelled of death and rotting corpses and animals. The sun was hidden from the Earth due to the smoke, fog and smog from the fires and bombing. People had to wear mask and clothing that would protect their skin from the fallout debri and material.
In the span of a single week, hundreds of millions of people had died. The Earth, once a vibrant cradle of green and blue, was left in smoldering shambles. Cities were hollowed-out tombs of jagged concrete and weeping steel. The infrastructure of civilization—hospitals, governments, power grids, and supply chains—dissolved into nothingness. Food, water, clothing and shelter became a premium. Money was no longer what you needed to barter or trade for things. Bullets and weapons were scarce and hard to find across the globe.
And out of the nuclear winter, the architect of the apocalypse stepped forward to offer “salvation.” He offered mankind a new beginning but at a cost. Those remaining alive would have to offer themselves to him for what he could supply them to live. The plan unfolded and the process began to take over the World and the poor souls that were left from the Wars.
With the world starving, freezing, and utterly broken, the true nature of the Anti-Christ was fully revealed. He did not rule with armies anymore; he ruled with hunger and thirst. The remnants of mankind were scattered, huddled in the ruins of fallen metropolises, desperate for food, water, shelter, and even the illusion of protection. The world had become utterly lawless and terrifying, a landscape where morality was a luxury traded away for a crust of contaminated bread.
It was into this dystopian wasteland that the decree was broadcast across every surviving, crackling radio frequency and flickering screen: Submit, and live. Refuse, and perish. This was the only option given to those that had lived in the war. Most tried to survive on their own efforts growing what crops they could and scavenging water. The issue was the water was contaminated and the earth was poisoned from the fallout. Neighbors that once treated one another as friends and family became mortal enemies. Neighborhoods became war zones as the criminal element took advantage of the hunger and desperation of the survivors.
The terms of survival were absolute. Every remaining human being was required to take the sign of the Anti-Christ—a physical brand burned into the right hand or the forehead, a symbol of allegiance to the beast who promised to restore order to the chaos he had engineered. Without it, buying, selling, farming, or even drinking from public wells was punishable by immediate execution.
The psychological toll was more agonizing than the radiation sickness. Society fractured along a razor-sharp moral divide. Some choose to hide while others chose to take what they wanted. Those that were fragile, frail or weak of spirit perished as those that took what they wanted left carnage and bodies behind. Every dead person in your immediate area was another competitive person you did not have to deal with. There were no consequences for murder and other violent crimes.
Millions, broken by the horrors of the nuclear war and driven mad by the cries of starving children, chose the mark. They lined up in the freezing mud outside makeshift checkpoints, trading their souls for a standard-issue ration packet and a temporary reprieve from death. They convinced themselves that God had abandoned them, that pragmatism was the only virtue left in a dead world. I watched neighbors turn on neighbors, parents sell out their children, all for the sake of another miserable day breathing poisoned air.
Yet, there were others. Millions chose death. Millions chose God and refused to take the stamp or mark of the Anti-Christ. They chose the light over the darkness. Others just chose death as it seemed to be the end result anyways at some point. They were afraid to do it themselves so they volunteered for executions and public hangings.
They were the stubborn remnants of conscience—people of faith, of principle, of unyielding defiance. They fled into the irradiated forests, the dark tunnels of the subway systems, and the crumbling shells of mountain villages. They formed underground networks of resistance, sharing meager drops of rainwater and praying in whispers while the drones of the new world order hunted them through the ruins. To take the mark was to survive physically, but to die spiritually. To refuse it was to face the firing squad, the guillotine, or slow starvation in the dark.
I walked through the silent, skeletal ruins of what used to be a thriving metropolis, the ash crunching beneath my boots like autumn leaves. The wind howled through hollow skyscrapers, carrying the distant, hollow echoes of a species tearing itself apart. There was no law left, save for the law of the beast. Humanity had achieved its ultimate technological ambition only to use it as an instrument of collective suicide. All the internet, computers, phones, Ipads and other technology were useless unless you were in the ruling class. The ruling class lived inside giant cavern systems with clean air, food, water and clothing. They had police, places to eat and other services.
Countries had secretly built these underground facilities that were designed for avoiding war and the fallout that would scar the Earth. Before long, these survivor caverns were over ran by the desperate people that were starving and seeking shelter. Most were killed but the groups grew larger and larger and eventually the police force of the elite could not contain it anymore. Now even the ruling class was left to perish by starvation, fallout, sickness or violent death.
Standing beneath that suffocating, ash-laden sky, looking out at a world stripped of its color, its mercy, and its future, the bitter truth settled heavily upon my chest. I had chosen death over the stamp or mark. I was in line awaiting my penalty for refusal as millions had before me. I said a prayer as I reached the executioners red line. Once you got to that line, you had to go one of two ways. Right was to your death camp and to the left was the mark and continued desperation. I chose to go to Heaven and see my family and friends. I chose the light over darkness.
I woke up sweating and twisting around from the scary vision that I had just witnessed and lived. I looked to my left to make sure my wife was there. She was asleep and doing really good. It was nice to see that it was a scary vision and not real. But if it happens, the scary is just beginning. Prepare yourself for WW3 and the issues that will be faced. It is all over the news right now, talk about WW3 and Israel, China, Russia and others starting it. I pray it never happens, but if so I will be prepared with food, water, batteries, clothing, can foods, pasta, rice, fire starters, wood, matches, bullets, weapons, and other means to survive as long as we can.
This wasn’t just a war. It was the beginning of the end of mankind.
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