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I am in Israel today, witnessing the chaos unfolding before my eyes. Eastern Europe and Russia have invaded, desperate and starving. Tens of millions pour into Northern Israel, their faces etched with fear and desperation. The ground shakes violently, sending them sprawling. As they rise, panic sets in, and they turn on each other in a frenzy of violence.
Amidst the chaos, a eerie silence descends for thirty long minutes, broken only by the agonizing cries of the dying. A wall of fire approaches, a harbinger of destruction for Europe and Africa. The debris from the planet hurtles towards Earth, igniting everything in its path. Trees and grass catch fire, casting an apocalyptic glow over the land.
The hordes from Europe and Russia rush into the open field, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a force beyond comprehension. Their belongings lay abandoned, now tools for Israel’s survival during the impending reign of the antichrist. This grim spectacle unfolds seven months before his rule begins.
The once-majestic Dome of the Rock lies in ruins, a symbol of the upheaval that grips the land. The antichrist meets with Israel, laying plans for a new temple to rise from the ashes. Smoke billows into the sky, trees ablaze like towering infernos. The earth itself seems to rebel against the impending doom.
The air is thick with uncertainty and dread. The question lingers in my mind like a specter: when will this nightmare end? How can we possibly escape the wrath of the “Great Day of the Lord”? Extinction looms large over us all as continents shift and tremble in their final throes.
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