A Song of Independence, a novel by Charles Copeland

THE REVOLUTION MACHINE RELIES ON SUPPORT FROM ITS LISTENERS. CLICK HERE TO VISIT THE "ORDER BOOKS & DVDs" PAGE AT CHARLESCOPELAND.COM TO ORDER COPIES OF ANTI-NEW WORLD ORDER NOVELS WRITTEN BY CHARLES OR ANY OF THE MANY DVD VOLUMES OF ARCHIVED SHOWS. AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE SUPPORTED THE SHOW IN THE PAST, AS WELL AS THOSE WHO WILL IN THE FUTURE.

Now available in PDF format or printed form, A Song of Independence,

a novel by Charles Copeland

A Song of Independence, by Charles Copeland. Eleven short-stories written in chronological order, detailing a possible course of the future in which we DO NOT want to live. From September 11, 2001 through 2016 and the imposition of a worldwide police state, A Song of Independence tells it like it is, making sure the reader knows just how bad things are ... and how much worse they will be if we sit back and do nothing to secure our own destiny.

Read the first of 11 stories right here ... FOR FREE

Book One

Time Release Retribution

When you're a cold, calculating monster (let's be honest here and call it what it is, no political correctness here, and honesty means monsters, by nature, can never be anything other than that — even if a monster learns to write poetry, the poems that come out of it were still written by a monster, so let's not try to fuzzy that fact into something it's not. We're not talking about a furry little Easter bunny here, unless that same little bunny runs around eating people every night when no one's looking) you tend to remember key points in life, and they're rarely shiny bright ones that involve flowers and candy. They're almost always memories of revenge and calculations that led inevitably to conquest of some sort or another.

While the question is still very much fresh in my memory, I have to ask it: what if you were a shark that was allergic to sea food? What's that look for? I'm just asking . . .

Anyhow, nearly all of my most guarded memories — the ones for which I would sacrifice good, wholesome memories so that the "others" may survive — are those of violence and blind rage, like the rage I have for writing long hand, for example. That day on the phone with Othello Rothschild is one of those memories. My grandfather once taught me that the most efficient method of attacking your enemy is by gouging out a permanent place in the section of his brain where his fears live to haunt him in his sleep. Which is why the conversation went in the direction it did — the way I chose.

When any conversation — ever — involves my wife, it's my business. So when Othello Rothschild told her to tell me to stay out of it and she handed me the phone, well, it became more than just my business. It also became the means by which to uphold my oath as a United States Army Ranger. When I heard him scream "You don't know who you're fucking with!" I took it as a formal declaration of war. And as all my enemies well know, I always respond with brutal force.

And I have never failed to respond.

When I told him, repeatedly, that he knew where I lived and I challenged him to show himself in MY environment, I did so for two tactical reasons. First, I didn't know where he lived (no one knows the precise location of the Rothschild family), or else I might have felt obligated to take the fight to him. Second, the most potent military offense always dictates tricking the enemy into leaving his fortified high ground and walking right into the fire fight. The more often you challenge your enemy, the more likely it is that he'll forfeit and eventually offer a truce.

Which was just exactly what he did.

In truth, I've never hoped for anything more than that day when I hoped he would show his face in my domain. Over the years I've studied all the laws pertaining to justifiable homicide, and only if I stuck to the letter of the law could I ever expect to kill him inside my home and hope to get away with it. That was what I'd hoped for, because there would've been no way for anyone to stop me from destroying him. When he didn't show up by midnight, though I knew he had already forfeited already, I admitted to myself and to my wife that I was disappointed.

I'd already practiced the statement I was prepared to give to the homicide detectives.

It would've given me immense amounts of pleasure to knock him unconscious, lay him out on the floor, and then crush his face right into the back of his skull with the steel shank and heel of my combat boots. After all, he had threatened my wife following a simple car accident near our home. He even went so far as to call her at home to further inflame the situation. He told her he had every intention of making her disappear. I would never let that happen — not by anyone’s hands. I didn't care that he was part of the world ruling Rothschild elite banking family.

I might even have kept one of his canine teeth, they way Africans keep teeth from lions that they kill — they make necklaces out of them. I wouldn't have crafted any kind of jewelry out of his teeth, but I would have kept it as a memento.

After all, how many people on Planet Earth can claim that they've slain one of the members of the Illuminati and gotten away with it?

Brutal, I know, but that's what monsters are.

Too bad he heeded all of the warnings that must have flashed within the deepest recesses of his mind.

But he will NEVER forget that day . . .

Especially now that I know where he lives . . .

Order the entire novel either in PDF or printed format by clicking HERE.

You are visitor number

If you're a government employee, you will be banished from this site upon discovery. As well, all firewall hits from university administrators are being recorded and will be published at a time most fitting as to expose university administrators for the NWO apologists they've become and for what they've always been ... TRAITORS.

All content posted on this website, with the exception of music related material and documents otherwise Copyrighted by their original authors is covered by Copyright © 2006 - 2008 Charles Copeland - All Rights Reserved

When you want peace ... prepare for war.

As a personal favor to my wife, Amie Copeland, please visit the Witches' League of Public Awareness - CelticCrow.com. The Witch Trials are happening again, but in a different and much worse context. We the People control our governments ... not the other way around. Nonetheless, governments around the globe have begun a war against humanity. The 20 innocents from the Witch Trials did nothing to deserve their execution, but that's what they got anyhow. We could ALL be next.

CharlesCopeland.com is best viewed using Mozilla Firefox at an optimal screen resolution of 1280 X 750, with your bookmarks sidebar closed. This site is hosted by Hera Hosting.