Not since Betty Eadie's "Embraced by the Light" has a personal
account of a Near-Death Experience (NDE) been so utterly different
from most others--or nearly as compelling.
In the thirty years since Raymond Moody's "Life After Life"
appeared, a familiar pattern of NDEs has emerged: suddenly floating
over one's own body, usually in a hospital setting, then a sudden
hurtling through a tunnel of light toward a presence of love. "Not
so" in Howard Storm's case.
Storm, an avowed atheist, was awaiting emergency surgery when he
realized that he was at death's door. Storm found himself out of
his own body, looking down on the hospital room scene below. Next,
rather than going "toward the light," he found himself being
torturously dragged to excruciating realms of darkness and death,
where he was physically assaulted by monstrous beings of evil. His
description of his pure terror and torture is unnerving in its
utter originality and convincing detail.
Finally, drawn away from death and transported to the realm of
heaven, Storm met angelic beings as well as the God of Creation. In
this fascinating account, Storm tells of his "life review," his
conversation with God, even answers to age-old questions such as
why the Holocaust was allowed to take place. Storm was sent back to
his body with a new knowledge of the purpose of life here on earth.
This book is his message of hope.
"This is a book you devour from cover to cover, and pass on to
others. This is a book you will quote in your daily conversation.
Storm was meant to write it and we were meant to read it."
-From the foreward by Anne Rice
As I lay on the ground, my tormentors swarming around me, a voice
emerged from my chest. It sounded like my voice, but it wasn't a
thought of mine. I didn't say it. The voice that sounded like my
voice, but wasn't, said, "Pray to God." I remember thinking, "Why?
What a stupid idea. That doesn't work. What a cop-out . . ."
That voice said it again, "Pray to God " It was more definite this
time. I wasn't sure what to do. Praying, for me as a child, had
been something I had watched adults doing. It was something fancy
and had to be done just so. I tried to remember prayers from my
childhood experiences in Sunday school. Prayer was something you
memorized. What could I remember from so long ago? Tentatively, I
murmured a line, which was a jumble from the Twenty-third Psalm,
"The Star-Spangled Banner," the Lord's Prayer, the Pledge of
Allegiance, and "God Bless America," and whatever other churchly
sounding phrases came to mind.
"Yea, though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil, for thou art with me. For purple mountain majesty,
mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. Deliver us
from evil. One nation under God. God Bless America."
To my amazement, the cruel, merciless beings tearing the life out
of me were incited to rage by my ragged prayer. It was as if I were
throwing boiling oil on them. They screamed at me, "There is no God
Who do you think you're talking to? Nobody can hear you Now we are
really going to hurt you." They spoke in the most obscene language,
worse than any blasphemy said on earth. But at the same time, they
were backing away.
--From "My Descent into Death"
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