When I first started writing this story, I had no intention of using anyone I knew in the story. As it grew and morphed into what it became, it was clear to me, that if Nathan Thompson and I were to ever hang out, this is probably exactly what would have happened if Quentin Tarantino were the director. I’ve known Nathan Thompson loosely since 2014, meeting him through his “Official Flat Earth & Globe Discussion” Facebook Group, but only at a distance. We’ve only had a few interactions, but when God leads me, I usually email him or send a message to cheer him up. Maybe that’s been five times since 2014, but still more than most people I’ve ever met online. After I wrote the story, I jokingly asked Nathan if I could use his name, knowing full well that he would say: “No way.” But to my shock, he responded: “Sure you can use my name no worries” – So I did and what you have before you now is that story. I should qualify the story; no, none of this actually happened… This is fiction. But it does ask many questions that beg research. Jesus loves you. Enjoy.




“Isaiah 13:3 from the Greek Septuagint reads this way: ‘I give command, and I bring them: giants are coming to fulfill my wrath, rejoicing at the same time and insulting.’” Nathan Thompson said, and laid his phone down on the table, almost daring me to contradict him.

I sighed.

“Another one?” I asked. “What will it take to prove your wrong?” I dug through the internet for a minute, going to a Strong’s Concordance site and said: “A more literal interpretation of 13:3 (a) and (b) reads this way: “I have commanded the holy ones. also I have called the mighty ones to do execute my anger.” I looked up over my phone at him. He was putting more sugar in his coffee. “Ok, so ‘Holy Ones’ is ‘Quadash,’ which means: ‘to be set apart.’ That’s the first word. The second word is ‘Mighty Ones’ or ‘Gibbor,’ which means: “to be strong.’” He was stirring his coffee, after five more packets of sugar.

“Look, seeing as how Elohim destroyed the abominations called giants again and again, I don’t believe that what you have is quality exegesis.” I said, and put my phone on the table, next to his.

“So you don’t believe in giants?” Nathan asked, taking a sip of his toxic brew. It was probably super-saturated with sugar, but he still grabbed the spoon and tried to crush the granules at the bottom. “You don’t think that giants help build the pyramids or the Baalbek Structures?” He blew on the coffee again, taking another sip.

“I’m not saying that at all.” I rolled my eyes, leaned back in the café booth chair and went into it again. “I’ve seen Baalbek with my own eyes man. You know I have. You know I went to Lebanon for my thesis. I had to see it for myself. I spent a year going over Urquhart’s notes, and also came to no definitive conclusion. It wasn’t built by Romans, that much we know.”

“Yeah, I read your thesis. It was interesting.” The waitress came with our meal just then, breaking away his thought pattern to the meal at hand.

“Alright guys.” she said. “Veggie omelette?” I raised my hand and she set it down in front of me. “And here you go,.. Large salad.” She put the bowl in front of him. “You sure you don’t want any dressing?” She asked.

“Nah, I’m good.” Nathan said, already tossing it around with his fork.

“Well, my name’s Debbie if you need anything.” she said.

“What if we don’t?” I said. “Is your name still Debbie?”

She laughed. “Ah. I like that,” and left us.

“Can’t believe you’re having a salad for breakfast.” I said, a little disgusted at the idea.

“Can’t believe you’re eating eggs.” He said. “Chickens are people too.”

We left the diet issue to die mid-air, as we both attacked our breakfasts.

Almost two minutes in, Debbie came back to check on us. “Doing okay?”

We both had our mouths full, and both nodded.

“Alright. Glad you’re liking it.” Then she noticed my hot tea was a little low. “Need some more hot water and coffee?”

Again, we both nodded and she was off again to retrieve our drinks. Ever since I had been told of my Type 2 Diabetes, I had switched from coffee and gone to tea. I drank it with a little cream and no sugar. I couldn’t stand watching Nathan do what he did to his coffee, it was so unhealthy. Here he was, a strict vegan, just pounding away on that sugar-cane. It drove me crazy.

Debbie had come and gone again, refilling our drinks and we were coming to the point in the meal where you have the choice to soldier on and finish the plate or push away the remainder and be done. I was a firm believer in getting my money’s worth and cleaning my plate to not waste anything. Nathan was a firm believer in letting his body dictate when to stop eating. I suppose there was a good argument for both perspectives and since we had only known each other for a short while we didn’t nit-pick with each other about the small stuff.

“So,” Nathan began, wiping his face with a napkin, “You don’t think that there were any giants at all? Am I missing something?”

I was scraping the remnants of my egg together and chewing thoughtfully. “No…” I began, taking time to swallow. “What I mean to say is that they’re all gone and would have been gone a long time ago. The last fragments we have found of them have all been buried in history.”

“What do you mean: ‘buried’?” He squinted his eyes, not believing that.

I cleared my throat. “Alright. It’s like this. Suppose, let’s say… Just suppose… That there was a vast governmental conspiracy to cover up all the giant evidence.”

“Oh here we go.” He folded his arms in resignation of what he knew he was going to hear.

“Bear with me.” I continued. “Now, from all of recorded history, from the petroglyphs and hieroglyphs all over Egypt, even into the late 1800’s, we had evidence of them walking around building things.” I put my silverware and napkin on the plate and put it towards the edge of the table, for Debbie when she came back around. Grabbing a pen from my jacket, I pulled out a napkin and began drawing.

I drew a small grid. “Each of these boxes is 5 feet, alright?” I drew a little man in the first box and a larger man in the second box and on and on to the fifth man, at twenty five feet tall. “See? OK, here is our first man in 4000 BC walking around, intermingling with these big guys. Now obviously there’s more of the little guys because they eat less. But the big guys eat all the time, and they have to have a constant supply of food.”

“They ate all the dinosaurs into extinction?” he asked.

“Ooooh my God.” I replied, closing my eyes. “No. They were the dinosaurs.”

“Huh?” Uncrossing his arms, he was suddenly interested.

“I’m telling you man. Just hold on. I’ll get to it.” I returned to my sketch. “Ok, so the little guys here are all running around, doing the bidding of these larger guys, herding sheep, growing wheat, making food for the masters of mankind. All the while, these huge guys were making these structures all over earth, man. All over. In China, in Egypt, in Mexico, in Cambodia, all over the earth. There’s even some off the coasts of Cuba and The Bahamas, and even Japan. Huge pyramids all over the earth. And they all popped up about the same time.”

“And Lebanon.” He said, pointing to me. “Don’t forget Lebanon.”

“Obviously.” I said, going back to my drawing. “OK, archeological records say that this second dude right here…”

“The ten footer?”

“Yeah, or thereabouts… This guy was the most pervasive of the survivors. A lot of data on these guys. Red, hairy, polydactyl, and…”

“Poly what?”

“Polydactyl. It means they have more than the normal amount of digits per appendage. Six fingers on one hand, and all that. It’s why the custom in the Americas and many other places of raising the hand to show they only had five fingers.” I said.

“I thought it was to show they didn’t have weapons.”

“Or weapons.” I conceded. “But the custom was more pervasive here in the Americas than any other place. Also, in the Americas is where we have the most skulls and bones of these secondary humans. The level one giant.”

“Level one giant.” He thought about that for a minute. I needed to let that sink in. “So all those overly large humans with elongated heads found in South America were level one dudes.”

“Exactly. They were kinda like the kings and rulers after the really big ones died off. The regular men tried to worship them and shape their heads like that too, that’s why you see that a lot down there, and also in Meso-America.”

“Meso?” He asked.

“Meso-America was really where a lot of the action was. It’s Like Mexico down to Panama.”

“Right.” he said, “South America.”

“North America.” I looked at him sideways. “You do realize that North America is bigger than just The USA and Canada. There’s twenty three countries in North America.”

“Bullshit.” He said.

“Whatever.” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m gonna take a leak, you look it up.” I got up and went to the restroom.

When I came back Nathan had already paid and was standing by the table, Coffee Go-cup in hand.

“Ready?” he asked, and started walking toward the door. I took a long look at the toast I hadn’t eaten and decided that discretion was the better part of a Diabetic diet. I threw down a five dollar bill and grabbed my napkin diagram.


We walked to the van parked in the handicapped spot. On the side of the bright blue van was a huge diagram of the Gleeson Azimuthal Projection “Flat Earth” map. It was decorated with stickers and Bible verses to support its claims. He jingled the keys, hit the fob and unlocked it.

Getting in, I remembered how I had met this character, just days ago at the Flat Earth Convention here in Dallas. He had invited me to stay after, and I changed my plans and stayed with him for a couple of days. We got in and he started the van up.

“Okay. So we got these level zero humans and these level one giants ruling over them, telling them what to do… What about the bigger ones? Where do they fit in?” He began, pulling out into the parking lot, looking for an opening to exit the strip-mall.

“Alright, now from what I understand, around 2,345 BC the great deluge knocked them all out.” I started, ready to continue the enlightenment of my new friend.

“Great deluge? Noah’s flood?” he asked, pulling into traffic.

“Correct. And so we know from Egyptian glyphs that all the bigger ones died off. Every one of them. As a matter of fact, anything that wasn’t on the ark died. The only human survivors were of this smaller type. Noah wasn’t defiled by the first Archon incursion, nor were his sons. It couldn’t have been Noah’s wife, so it had to have been one of the son’s wives.”

“One of what?” he laughed, coming to a stop light.

“One of the giant’s DNA must have been latent in the wives of Noah’s sons. One of them, or all of them, must have had some latent DNA for the giant kind, because after the great deluge, there are no great buildings ever again. They all happened before the great deluge.”

“Like Cahokia?” he asked.

“Ah, you’re on it now.” I said, holding up a hand for a high-five. No high-five came, so I looked over at him.

He was looking at the side mirror. “You see that black Denali behind us?” He asked, distracted.

I turned around in my seat. Looking through the van’s back windows was a new black Denali, with black trim. “What about it?” I asked.

“It was in the parking lot earlier too.” I looked concerned.

I laughed. “You think it’s following us?”

“Stranger things have happened bro. Much stranger things.”

The light turned green, and he turned right, with no signal. Sure enough, the car followed us.

A couple of seconds went by and he seemed over the idea of being followed. He cleared his throat and said: “Alright. So before Noah builds the ark, or before it floods or whatever, these giants were walking around doing whatever they wanted? They were just builders and mad-men?”

“Well, yeah. Imagine all these bigger guys running around doing whatever they wanted. No one could tell them no. They would just step on you if you tried to fight against them. Nobody could stop them, I think that’s why Elohim wiped them all out. They were false elohim. They were the monsters of whom stories were told. That’s Genesis 6:4 right after He cursed their years.

“Cursed their years?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah, Genesis 6:3 says he limited their lifespan to 120 years. Cause before that, they were living up to a thousand years.”

“Nimrod ruled for 500 years though.” Nathan said.

“True. But he was Noah’s great-grandson. It must have taken some time for the curse to take effect. It wasn’t an overnight thing. He’s a merciful God. But, while we’re on the topic, look at Nimrod, he must have been one of the larger ones, because he banded a bunch of them together and tried to outdo a lot of the older buildings. And this was years after the flood. All those ancient monoliths and pyramids were either covered up or flooded… He wanted to bring back the good old days.”

“And reach heaven.” Nathan added.

“Correct. He defied Elohim, setting himself up to be his own elohim, and defied the Creator Elohim Yahway.”

“Damn.” Nathan added. “They’re still back there. Good thing I’m packing.”

I swallowed. “Packing? You’re carrying a gun?”

He looked at me with a strange smile. “Sure I am. I’ve got two in the van right now. You know how to shoot?”

I put my hands up. “I’m not shooting anyone.”

He frowned. “Fine,” and pulled into McDonald’s, veering for the drive thru lane.

“You going to see what they do?” I asked, a little nervous.

Without answering, he put the car into park in the drive thru line and got out, reaching under the seat as he did, pulling out a Glock 19. He tucked it into the small of his back, in his pants. The Denali had pulled in behind us in the drive thru, but when they saw Nathan coming, they reversed and spun out, then shot out of the parking lot onto the street and raced from view.

“Yeah, run away chicken!” He was screaming at them.

He got back in the van, put the gun under the seat, backed out of the drive thru and followed after them. They had a pretty good head start, and Nathan obeyed the traffic laws, so they got away pretty quickly. We drove a little way down the road until he spotted a cemetery entrance, slowed and took it.

“A cemetery?” I thought to myself. Well, it did make sense. Here we were in a bright blue van, with “Join the Flat Earth Revolution” painted on the outside of it. I guess this would be one of those places where no one would bother you.

He was still fuming. Turning off the van, he adjusted his seat and looked at me, dead on.

“Alright bro. Either they don’t like the fact that I’m with you, or they’ve finally decided to get rid of me.” He said it slowly, weighing his words. “Either way, it’s bad news for you too.”

“You know who they are?” I asked timidly.

“Someone in the D.O.D.”

“Department of Defense?” I asked slowly.

“Yeah, someone like that. I can’t be sure.” he said, then confided. “They do this a lot. They follow me and then run away. But this is the first time I’ve seen an official unmarked on me.”

I laughed. “Maybe it was the Smithsonian.”

He laughed too. “What? Why would they send the Smithsonian after me?”

I suddenly wasn’t laughing. What if it was?

“Um.” I began. “Because they’re behind the cover-up of the giants in the first place.”

He squinted his eyes. “Go on. I’m all ears.”

“They were the ones who stole all the giant bones and reorganized them into the dinosaurs.”

“Yeah, you were saying that earlier in the restaurant.” He moved around, almost facing me in the drivers’ seat.

“So right.” I began. “Somewhere around the mid 1800’s, when newspapers were really taking off and when industrialization really took hold of the U.S.A., people were finding and reporting huge bones from beings up to twenty five feet tall. Sometimes even larger, though these are harder to prove. But it was in May of 1846 that the Smithsonian started being built by President James Polk. He was a Democrat and Freemason and called for “Westward Expansion” the idea built around: “Manifest Destiny.” The white man, in the form of the United States government must finish subduing the natives, finish subduing the British, and kick out the French, the Spanish, the Dutch, and the Mexicans. It was a big deal.”

“Manifest Destiny.” He thought about it.

“Right. Polk brainwashed citizens into believing it was their spiritual duty to kill the other races. They even made paintings about it, showing huge angels and the hand of God guiding the way west. Like the Israelites in Canaan.” I said.

“And the Smithsonian was… What?” he asked.

“Curators of the unknown. ‘To spread and diffuse knowledge.’ They used the name of a deceased English chemist and his gift of land to the government to start their capture of all things mysterious. And was it any surprise that in 1842, Richard Owen came along and said: “These bones aren’t from the monsters of the Bible, but from a new race of animals called: ‘Terrible lizards’ – that’s ‘deinos and sauros’ in Latin… ‘Dinosaur.’”

“They turned all the giant bones into dino bones? How did they do it? I’ve seen a dinosaur exhibit, and there’s no way some of those could have been men.”

“Skeletal structures often disappoint, I’m afraid. Remember Egyptian hieroglyphs, how some of their largest gods had features of other animals? You think that’s coincidence that they would find a huge malformed head that could have been one of those dead Egyptian gods and just move a couple of things around and call them something else?”

He didn’t say anything, but had begun chewing his lip, deep in concentration.

“And do you think that they want anyone ruining their plans? With giant bones, they can only point to the Bible as truth, but with Dinosaur bones, they can point to Darwinian Evolution as truth.”

It was then, that four black Denalis pulled into the cemetery.

As they grew closer, I could make out the black on black stencil that ran the length of the front doors. ‘Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History.’




About Pauly

Pauly Hart is a public speaker, actor, painter, singer, poet, and story-teller. His main focus today is writing. His latest works have involved novellas in the vein of “Classical Horror” from the Christ-centered world-view. The Horror story is the story where the character has to survive until the end. What better chance for survival than in Christ? Pauly writes not for the churchy types, but for those who would pick up a Stephen King book, giving them an alternative to the spirits. Pauly writes so that the Holy Spirit will have room made for him in modern day literature. He runs several websites all bent on leaving the mind of the atheist awash with the glory of heaven. You can find him at PaulyHart.com

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