OUT “A” ORDER
EVIE RHODES
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
As always, my book is dedicated to the Lord Jesus Christ!
Thank you, Jesus, for giving your all!
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And
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To my husband, James Rhodes!
Thanks once again for helping
the vision come true!
Acknowledgments
A most warm and gracious thanks to The Lord Jesus Christ. There's no me without you.
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Sincerest and heartfelt, thanks to my husband, James Rhodes. Thank you for being my rock! I love you, love you, love you Jimmy Rhodes, and I want the world to know!
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And to all those special people who help me carry the visionâmuch love to you: Karen Thomas, my very wonderful editor. Thanks for believing in my works. The entire Kensington Publishing family, thank you for what continues to be a great opportunity!
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Robert G. (Bob) Diforio, thanks for sharing and nurturing!
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To the distributors, wholesalers, jobbers, booksellers, librarians, Book Clubs, radio stations and television affiliates, thanks so much for your support of my works. It means the world to me.
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Peggy Hicks, TriCom Publicity you're wonderful. Thank you for believing in me!
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Pamela Walker-Williams, you are the master of webmasters! Thank you.
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A warm and special thanks to The Oxygen Television Network and Kim Fucillo, for their wonderful advertising planning with my novel
Criss Cross.
Doug Ingber, Director and Film Editor, Ingber Television, you are simply the best. Jimmy and I love you but you know that! Thanks for visualizing my vision on the highest level.
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Patrick Adams, you never fail to amaze me with your gifts and your contribution to my gifts. You are my “Star” Producer! Thanks for the original score on the commercial and film trailer for
Criss Cross.
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And to my readers, you are everything! Thank you for sharing your time when reading my works, writing to me, and sharing the works with others. You're a precious find in my life!
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May The Lord Bless You All!
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To all who know me, I remain Standing In Da Spirit!
Author's Note
I was born in Newark, New Jersey, and decided to use this city as a base for a story that I felt was very important in its telling. However, I have fictionalized the city, specifically “the Central Ward,” to a great degree, in order to create a world all it's own.
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I'd like to personally thank the city of Newark, New Jersey, “the Central Ward,” and its residents for being the model for the springboard of my imagination.
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I wish the city of Newark and its residents every blessing.
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MISSING IN ACTION (M.I.A.)
I don't shout my lyrics like all the rest,
my name is Prophecy 1, and I'm doing my best,
no hype, no pipe, no gimmicks, see,
no perpetration to sell a million, G.
I ain't down with the blunts, either, you know,
I think a mind is a terrible thing to blow.
I also ain't riding with a gat in my skirt.
To blow a brother away would cause
me deep hurt.
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Don't want to see another missing
in action G, too many brothers missing
in action see a wars a war it says, yeah
that's me, M.I.A., M.I.A. , M.I.A. on the
Home front see. It's as Out “A” Order
as can be. Another one is claimed by the
streets.
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I don't own a jeep, or cruise the streets,
it don't mean I ain't down with the
knowledge though see, I'm a rebel with
a cause that's what they say about me, cuz
on the QT, been there you see. I know about
the pain, yeah it knawed at me, I know all
about hypocrites see, I know about rage
turned inside out and I know about not caring,
without a doubt, but still you've got to be careful
you see.
Don't want to see another missing
in action G, too many brothers missing
in action see, a wars a war it says, yeah
that's me, M.I.A., M.I.A., M.I.A. on the
Home front see. It's as Out “A” Order
as can be. Another one is claimed by
the streets.
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Now I'm not going to snow you or
sell you short, I been well learned and
I'm self-taught. It cost a lot to bring the
truth see, to tear down walls of hypocrisy,
to get into the ghetto and save a soul, to
break a strong and demonic hold, to face
down the spirits that have a grip, to stare
a lie in the face and let it rip.
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Terror in our neighborhoods, sleepless
nights it just ain't no good. Tomorrow's
leaders caught in war in the hood, reigning
terror just cuz you know you could. Mind
games somebody's being played. We're
slaying our own soldiers and the plans not
laid. Pump it up, glorify. If we can't deal
with our problems we reach for the high.
Don't look now but the price is to die, to
kill yourself or another, M.I.A. there goes
another brother.
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Now the streets are not our only problem,
tell. We're following images, that can take
us to hell. We follow that image, that's a
lie, and feel good, I'm here to tell ya
Satan told us a lie. The biggest misconception
is we think we've arrived, we turned our backs
on the hood and tried to hide. But you could
never build a strong foundation, unless the
truth of the Gospel, spreads like a street sensation.
So come on open your eyes, let the truth be.
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Cuz we're also missing in action, you see.
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If we want justice we're gonna have to
make our own. Put our sins aside and atone.
Get serious this ain't no comedy see, step
aside don't play out the image, don't be
hating, be careful see you don't want to
be rated. This ain't the Nielsens this is
real life see, life in the two seven G.
Any change coming down is up to you
and me. Cuz raw and on the line that's the
way I bring it see.
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Remember what I said about missing G.
And although I may be a black female,
I've been in the trenches and I've lived
my own hell.
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Don't want to see another missing
in action G, too many brothers missing
in action see, a wars a war it says, yeah
that's me, M.I.A., M.I.A., M.I.A. on the
Home front see. It's as Out “A” Order
as can be. Another one is claimed by the
streets.
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Another generation comes after you and me.
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Let's live.
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Here's some knowledge:
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Street wars and spiritual wars are linked.
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Evie Rhodes, aka Prophecy 1
Prologue
I
t was cold. Shivering icy needles jabbed at her body. The needles poked along starting with a slow crawl from the tips of her toes.
The liquid feel of ice water rushed through her veins. It reminded her of the time she was ice-skating and had fallen through the ice, becoming submerged up to her neck. Boy, was she scared! Just as she was now.
There was a dull ringing in her ears. It had squashed out all the other sounds. Maybe that was good because she could no longer hear for the shrieking, screaming confusion that was going on around her.
God, it was so dark. She didn't want to be in this place by herself. Her fingers were going numb. She floated as parts of her system shut down, distancing her from the searing pain that had rammed into her, knocking her to the ground.
A scorching black jabbing pain had shot through her chest cavity, leaving a trail like a blazing forest fire. She grew warmer. She couldn't feel the cold any longer. Up ahead of her was a bright light. She drifted toward the light so she could stay warm. She didn't want to be in the dark alone.
“Daddy!” she called, the sound coming out as though her voice were a whistling teakettle. It was the last time she ever spoke. A whoosh of air exhaled from her damaged lungs, exiting out onto the streets of Newark.
She had a last lucid thought, one that skirted the edges of adulthood although she was a child.
I'm only eight years old. I don't want to die.
She gave a last hushed breath, barely audible, and all sound and feeling ceased to exist for her.
A moment ago the air had been still, but now the trees rustled with the spirit of the unknown, leaving the dead child as though she were no more than a carcass lying on the street.