The Rapture

 The End Times

Richard Robert Rotzien, my mother’s cousin, emerged not merely as a gifted boy, but as one marked—sealed by forces unseen. While other children played their earthly games, Richard followed tracks laid by destiny itself, a railroad odyssey that led him westward, as if summoned by the angel of the sixth trumpet.

In a quiet Oregon town, veiled in mist and mystery, he met the stranger. A man whose home straddled realms, whose eyes held the knowledge of stars and spirits. “I know your name,” the stranger said, as if echoing Revelation 2:17: “To the one who overcomes... I will give a white stone, and on the stone a new name written, which no one knows except the one who receives it.”

Richard’s parents, distant yet bound by trust, allowed the boy to remain. And so began his apprenticeship—not in earthly trades, but in the mysteries of the spirit. He learned to read the signs, to hear the whispers between worlds, to walk the labyrinth of his own gifts.

Years passed. Richard returned home, cloaked in wisdom and shadow. He built a life, a family, a legacy. But the veil never lifted. He and my mother became watchers—puppeteers of fate. They saw me not as a child, but as a thread in a tapestry already woven.

Richard’s foresight pierced the veil of time. He saw the Rapture—not as a theological abstraction, but as a cosmic migration. He saw the skies open, as in Revelation 19:11: “And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True…” But instead of horses, there were ships. Alien vessels, luminous and vast, descending like the locusts of Revelation 9—except these did not torment. They gathered.

It took decades for my mother to tell me what they saw. She waited until the signs aligned: dictators rising, democracy faltering, the earth groaning under climate convulsion. Revelation 6 echoed in our lives: “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”

Richard had predicted her death. I saw the signs and warned her. A week later, she crossed the veil. And then the sky split.

Alien ships filled the heavens. Their beams pierced the clouds like the trumpets of angels. Thousands were lifted—not in terror, but in transcendence. Revelation 7:9 came alive: “After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude... of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne…”

But the throne was not golden. It was metallic, humming with energy. The new world was not Eden—it was elsewhere. A place beyond prophecy.

Hive Mind Odyssey – Alien Abductions father and son