The Angels Saga

Anthology

by Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

The Plans of Daniel and Valandriel
{ Year: ROE-1500 - Month: Sarimon (8th) aka Glorymon (8th of Second Year of Cycle) - Day: Baladon(9th) }
'Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Your an idiot,' said Valandriel.
Daniel sat eating his Langwah. 'Not as much as you, kemosabe.'
'Original insult,' said Valandriel.
'I think so,' replied Daniel, eating his Langwah.
They were in the main eating hall of Zaphon keep, eating a late lunch. The place was mostly empty, and Daniel and Valandriel, who in the last few weeks had been keeping closer and closer friendship than ever, were just hanging around for a while.
'I don't think she even likes you that much these days,' said Valandriel.
'Ariel is a wavering sort of angel. Sometimes she likes me, but now she's off to new friends, and doesn't need me so much anymore. She goes through phases all the time I think.'
'What your life is built on,' said Valandriel. 'I've observed that a lot. Phases. You do something, often until death, and then you move on to something new. But you go back to it later, and stick with it for a while, only to bugger off to another interest again.'
'Gotta fit it all in,' said Daniel.
'You lack stability,' said Valandriel.
'Truth is the greatest stability,' said Daniel.
'Pity you don't know any,' replied Valandriel.
'What day is it today?' asked Daniel.
'You never check. Hopeless,' said Valandriel. 'It's Baladon.'
'What month?'
'Glorymon,' said Valandriel. 8th month of the second year of the cycle, if you've forgotten, since they introduced the female month names.'
'Yeh, that's right,' said Daniel.
'And it has been 2 months and 3 days since Saruviel got booted out. And life just goes on, doesn't it.'
'Feels like forever,' said Daniel. 'A lot's happened in that time. Really feels like a world of life has come and gone,' said Daniel.
'In some ways it has,' said Valandriel. 'More than just you and me, you know. So much life is lived every day, because there is so many of us now. So many adventures. So many tales. Just the reality of living in the Realm of Eternity.'
'I guess so,' replied Daniel, finishing off his Langwah.
'Something has been on your mind,' said Valandriel, looking seriously at his younger brother.
'Saruviel's actions,' said Daniel. 'I need to think it all over. What he represented. What it all means. Rebellion. Obedience. God. Truth. How it all fits together. How it all works out.'
'So you can rebel as well, huh? And get away with it right?' asked Valandriel grinning.
'You know me too well,' said Daniel, smiling.
'And I am your right hand in your dirty schemes, right?' said Valandriel.
'Oh, you? You are far too innocent. But Saruviel took all the real dark ones, so your all I have I guess. You'll have to do.'
Valandriel picked up a glass of Melit Water. 'Cheers then, dark lord.' Daniel only grinned all the more madly.
The End
Talzudiel the Seraphim
{ Year: ROE-1500 - Month: Sarimon (8th) aka Glorymon (8th of Second Year of Cycle) - Day: Baladon(9th) }
Talzudiel was the 43rd Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity. The 43rd male. His twin was Winoniel. And Talzudiel was an angel of passion. When he was young, living in Zaphon, Talzudiel could be a little critical. Not in any aggressive way. Not really. But he was not shy of voicing his thoughts, and sometimes suggesting he could do things that bit better than his fellow Seraphim. He was loved regardless. But why wouldn't he be. He was a kind enough angel in most respects.
'Kantriel is getting what he deserves,' said Talzudiel to Daniel the Seraphim.
'Yes, mighty judge of God,' replied Daniel. Daniel had been voicing his concerns over Kantriel, his earliest friend amongst the children of Eternity's Haven.
'Follow that Saruviel idiot, and what do you expect. Seriously. He had all the talent and passion in the world, and God called him rebellious. Too much pride, not enough sense,' said Talzudiel.
'The wisdom of my older brother,' said Daniel dryly.
'Not that much older, bro,' replied Talzudiel. 'Hey, we're the sporty forties. We're the best of the Seraphim.'
'The middle class according to many. Too boring to be Archangels, to stable to be creatures of adventure and youth like Davriel and Ambriel and co,' said Daniel. 'The boring centre.'
'You may be,' said Talzudiel. 'But I don't think like that. Hey, we're well balanced. That is what Torah is all about. Balance. Keeping the negative lifestyle choices under control, and not getting to intense over every bloody detail like Raphael and Michael. Balanced.'
'I'm the least balanced of the angels,' replied Daniel.
'Coz you're crazy. To obsessed with Meludiel. She's not interested, bro.'
'She loves me,' said Daniel. 'Well, I think she does.'
'You're dreaming. She is faithful to Ambs, and doesn't want any romance from the likes of you.'
'I'll win her heart yet,' said Daniel defiantly.
'Good luck. I think you'll need it.'
'Want to go swimming in the Sellawon?' asked Daniel. 'We could camp for the night at 'Rock Gorge' and you can climb the damn rocks like you like to.'
'A camping trip?' asked Talzudiel, eyes lighting up.
'I'll ask Meludiel if she wants to come,' said Daniel.
'You do that. And I'll pack the two man tent,' replied Talzudiel.
Talzudiel proved wrong. Meludiel agreed.
'Daniel has great potential,' said Meludiel, as they watched Daniel attempt to match Talzudiel's effort earlier that afternoon in climbing to the top of 'Rock Gorge' from the other side of the Sellawon were they were camped.
'You are probably right,' said Talzudiel. 'He may eventually show the slightest glimmer of effort, but I won't be waiting around for it.'
Meludiel looked sternly at Talzudiel. 'You often have challenging words, brother. We are angels you know. Perhaps some consideration.'
'Without a challenge, what is the damn point,' retorted Talzudiel. 'Life gets boring. Like Winoniel. She never understands me.'
'She does,' said Meludiel. 'She sees things differently, but she understands you. Your competitive. We all know that.'
'Azrael. Cosadriel. They compete with each other. I take on the whole pack,' said Talzudiel, somewhat proudly.
'Pride comes before the fall,' replied Meludiel.
'So make sure you are humble when you crash,' replied Talzudiel grinning.
'Charming,' replied Meludiel.
They watched for a while as Daniel reached an impasse, and decided to jump down into the river. He waded back across, and soon joined them.
'Pathetic,' said Talzudiel.
'He was trying,' said Meludiel, in Daniel's defense.
'A lowly cherubim could have done better,' mocked Talzudiel.
'I'll take your word for it,' replied Daniel. 'Well, shall we get a fire started?'
And they did so and, as the evening passed, it went well enough, for Talzudiel yakked on about his accomplishment, and despite Meludiel's concerns for his bragging they were entertaining enough tales.
'I don't want to run from here to the rim,' said Winoniel. 'It's too far.'
'No adventure,' said Talzudiel. 'It's a great way to get fit.
'For what?' she asked.
'For life,' he responded. 'We all should be more athletic.
'I know,' she said, giving in. 'But I'm lazy.' She smiled at him. 'Forgive me.'
'As long as you run half the way,' he said. 'Then we can walk the rest.'
Winoniel sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
Later, after an eventful week, camping, then walking to the rim with his twin most of the way, Talzudiel was at home in a reflective mood. He had listened to Meludiel's rebukes. He had, in fact, noted them. And while he wouldn't change his ways, he would think about being a little more hospitable about his attitude. And then rub it in later, he grinned to himself, as he sat down for his nightly meal, a plate of Langwah, and started dreaming up his next grand accomplishment.
The End
"Gabriel and Aquariel"
Chapter One
Four weeks after the wedding of eternity, Gabriel was sitting by the Terravon. Nearby was Aquariel, throwing bread at the swans who were swimming around. She looked over at him, smiled and waved, and turned back to the swans. They were close at the moment – very close. The wedding between Michael and Elenniel had touched them, changing them. They were deeper now – deeper in their friendship – closer as brother and sister. And he found something, something in the deep of night, which spoke to his heart. Something of love and commitment, one that would endure, not just temporarily, but eternally. One that, through the hard times, and through the good times, would always march on, never forgetting the beauty of love and the beauty of the God which had birthed it. Aquariel had spoken in similar ways, and they had laughed together at the irony of thinking such similar thoughts.
Daniel was close by, sitting with Ariel. At the moment they were an item, but nobody expected it to last forever, not even Daniel from what he had said personally to Gabriel. But for the moment he would enjoy his twin.
Aquariel finished feeding the swans and came and sat next to him on the bench. She put her hand in his and leaned on his shoulder. 'You're sweet,' she whispered to him.
'I know,' he responded with a subtle grin, whereupon Aquariel punched him lightly on the shoulder and said 'You vain thing,' and Gabriel laughed.
It was a pleasant afternoon for the small group of 6 angels, very pleasant indeed. Cosadriel and Oshanel came and sat down next to Gabriel and Aquariel, Cosadriel a little wet from the swim he had just taken.
'He was trying to be a hero,' said Oshanel. He found this tree trunk crossing over much of the Terravon down stream and tried to jump from the end of it to the other side. He fell in, naturally.'
'Accidents happen,' said Gabriel.
'Hey it's only water,' responded Cosadriel. 'Besides, I nearly made the distance, and it was a fair few cubits.'
'Still training for that long jump, are you?' asked Aquariel.
'Glory for Iceland,' responded Cosadriel. 'Besides, I know that bloody Cherubim has his limits. I'll beat him eventually.'
'Daranok is naturally talented,' said Gabriel. 'He is an athlete by nature. Perhaps no matter how hard you work he will always come back at you and edge you out.'
'Maybe,' said Cosadriel, but had not really conceded that.
'I always thought Azrael was your biggest worry,' said Aquariel.
'Oh, believe me he still is,' responded Oshanel. 'But Saddy is competitive and tries to beat everyone if he can. It is just his ego, sis. Just his ego.'
'It is not my bloody ego, ok. I am just competitive by nature. It is how he made me, ok.'
'Probably,' responded Gabriel. 'But ego can be a big motivator in many ways. We often try to live up to outrageous claims we have made, no matter how foolish they might later be.'
'Very wise,' said Oshanel. 'I think Saddy does perhaps suffer from that.'
'Perhaps,' responded Cosadriel.
'Well, are we finished here,' Oshanel asked Gabriel.
'I guess,' he responded. 'I'll let Daniel and Ariel know.'
The six of them, finished for the afternoon, made there way into the large car and they started off for Terraphon. Reflecting upon the afternoon Gabriel sighed to himself. It was a pleasant enough day in Eternity, a happy little diversion from everyday life. But the affairs of Terraphon beckoned tomorrow and council was coming up very shortly, a time of great hectic responsibility. 'On with another day,' he thought to himself.
Chapter Two
Aquariel looked at the picture of Michael and Gabriel. It was an old picture now, thousands of years in fact. He noticed how they had not really changed in appearance but Gabriel seemed, in some ways, less worried in this picture. Perhaps it was a time of less responsibility, lesser worries, lesser concerns. A happier time of youth. Suddenly she wanted to be with him, to comfort him. To let him know everything was alright, that all was good. That all was at peace. She ran to his office, opened the door, and saw him sitting at his desk, a frown on his face. Coming around he looked up and she put her arms around his shoulder, comforting him.
'Is all well Gabriel,' she asked.
He sighed, put down his pen, and responded, 'Oh, you know. Work. Frustrating as ever, and often a pain in the neck. But that is life, isn't it. The responsibilities that God has given us to do.'
'But we don't need to work all the time, brother. You have many delegates you can pass your responsibilities on to if you wish. Why don't we go away for a while, just you and me. Somewhere up north, somewhere we can relax. Escape from things. Enjoy life.'
He looked at her, seriously considering her offer, when a little voice in his mind whispered to him, 'It will be ok. Go on, spoil yourself.'
'You're on Aqua. I'll just finish up with this and we can go pack.'
She took his pen from his hand, saying, 'Enough is enough Gabriel. We go now. You have had enough, I can tell. Time for a break.'
'If you insist.'
Gabriel looked at his desk as Aquariel pulled him along, a little worried, but then realized he had competent help. They were not stupid, after all, and could handle things for now. Time for a break – time for a holiday – time to let go of things for a while and simply be himself. Simply be Gabriel the Seraphim.
The cabin was all a log cabin really should be, Gabriel thought to himself, just grateful there was in fact running water and toilet facilities. After having looked it over, he had sat on the bed and watched as Aquariel swept the floor, giving it that feminine touch. After they had unpacked Aquariel asked him to go outside and chop some wood. Picking up the axe he realized to himself that it had been a hell of a long time since he had in fact chopped any wood and was a little worried he might hurt himself. But after he had split three or four of the logs, he was starting to get the hang of it. Aquariel came outside and watched him for a while, before making her way out into the forest, yelling she was going to collect mushrooms and whatever else she could find. He chopped wood for about an hour, building up perhaps more than they would need, but realizing they were there for a month and might need a lot. As he walked to the cabin he noticed out the back some other chopped wood and coming around to look at it properly he noticed there were literally tonnes of it – over a years supply easily. He smiled to himself, thought on the irony, but just put the wood on the pile anyway. Aquariel suddenly appeared, came over to him and also looked at the wood. 'You haven't done that much, have you?' she asked incredulously.
Gabriel thought quickly, 'Oh. Oh, uh, yeh. Bloody hell it was hard work,' he responded, wiping his brow.
She eyed him suspiciously, but didn't comment any further.
They ate the mushrooms with wine and the bacon which was in the esky of food they had brought with them. 'I will go into town tomorrow and do a proper food shop,' said Aquariel. 'Perhaps you could finally start that new novel you have been putting off for the last 10,000 years.'
Gabriel considered that and nodded. There was a computer in the flat and it was as good as time as ever to write a book. He had a few ideas for the original title, 'The Final Encounter,' but hadn't completely finished the plot in his mind. But he could work on it now and see what came forth.'
They slept well that night, the worries of Terraphon disappearing in the Alpine winter air, and Gabriel was at peace. A gentle happy peace.
Chapter Three
'Interesting.' She put the manuscript onto her knees, and smiled at him. But interesting was all she said.
'Well do you like it? It took me all day that chapter practically.'
'Yes, it is good. You write well, naturally really. I am just concerned that it doesn't seem much of a plot. It starts slowly and doesn't really allude to anything major coming. I mean, what is it all about?'
'Oh, there is a plot alright. And starting slow is how this book is meant to be. But is the writing any good? The language I mean?'
'About the same as most fiction books I have read. There aren't any grammatical problems and the dialogue is realistic. I mean you could probably publish the finished book if it was all like this and get a decent readership, but you will need some interesting ideas.'
'Then don't worry about it. The end of chapter two should give you the hint.'
The following day, having just finished the second chapter, Aquariel had a slightly different look on her face than yesterdays, but not yet any great sign of enjoyment. 'What is that supposed to mean, at the end of the chapter. I don't understand that. You don't think that.'
'No, I don't, not at all. But the character does, ok. You'll see.'
'Ok. But, yeh, it was more of the same, but looks interesting now. I'll read the next chapter.'
Aquariel was starting to think her brother might just have a book which would catch people's attention. Really catch their attention. It was the third chapter, now, and suddenly the book had really come alive with a plot twist she really had not seen coming. And now she was hooked. She wouldn't call him brilliant, not yet. But now understanding the first two chapters, she started to see why it had gone slow. He was a smart thinker, her brother. A very smart thinker.
Chapter Four
"Too good. Really, Gab. Too good. Perhaps the best I have ever read, and I have read too many."
"I guess it was worth the effort, then."
"You see, a holiday has done you the world. Refreshed you. Rejuvenated you, and I think you really did need it."
"Do you think I should release it on the web, now? Just put it up on my website?"
"Don't you want the royalties? It will make good money, you know."
"Oh, I will have it published in paperback as well. But I will give it for free first on the web and see what readership it gets. It might even sell more in the end because of it."
"Not a bad idea,' responded Aquariel.
The last few days of that month were a pleasant time of rest and recreation for Gabriel and Aquariel and Gabriel kissed his sister telling her he loved her as they arrived home in Terraphon. It had really been a soul restoring vacation and he was in a very good mood because of it.
Chapter Five
"Number one. Not bad, Gab. Not bad."
Gabriel smiled at Aquariel. The news reader had just made the announcement of that weeks best selling novels and Gabriel had come in at number one with 'The Final Encounter'. He had only released a few books previously, and well before such charts had become a reality, but gaining a number one had really made him pleased. He leaned over, kissed his sister, and said 'I couldn't have done it without you, Aquariel. I couldn't have done it without you.'
'I know,' she responded, and Gabriel laughed.
THE END
"The Gabriel Agenda"
"Gabriel, hey. Mmm. That could be a challenge. He's not bad at chulara now. Almost has potential, for a Seraphim that is."
"Stop bragging Daniel. You know the Seraphim ARE older than us Cherubim. How about a little respect."
Daniel the Cherubim smirked, but listened to his twin Nadiel's comment anyway. 'Yes, okay. I will only beat him by a little bit, then. How about that?'
"Whatever. You never know, he might knock you off your perch."
"Hey, I have been number one long enough. The kid's got buckley's and none."
"Pride cometh before the fall, oh high one."
"I'll make sure to be humble. Now Gabriel, huh. I'll have to think about this. Work on his gameplan. Study it for a while. He seems pretty basic, really. But maybe he's improved enough to give me a few seconds of concentrated effort. But we'll see."
"Yes, we will,' responded Nadiel the Cherubim.
"Schmuck. Hundreds of years and bragging and he kicks your ass. I don't think he was even trying. Like it was child's play to him."
"Shaddup."
"Har, har, har. So tumbles down the kingdom of Daniel the Cherubim. That will teach you to be proud."
"Hey, I was going easy on him. Not even trying, really. I think, perhaps, deep down there was some insane psychological reason, call it Karma, call it fate, call it – well – whatever. But there was something saying go easy on the fellow. He is trying, after all."
"Yeh right. Dream on. You just weren't good enough."
"Mmm. Perhaps. But I am still ranked number one, don't forget. Everyone has his bad day. I think he needs to beat me about 5 or 6 times with his current ranking to take my slot."
"Well, you will have to study then."
"Yes, I will. This Gabriel – I think he is on the Agenda now. Work that bugger out and next time, well, watch out."
"Good luck. I think you might need it."
"We'll see. We'll see."
THE END

"Veldona and Shemrael"
"Veldona picked up the poetry book again, sat down on her bed, and started reading. But immediately Shemrael burst into their room and asked her to follow her downstairs. A crowd was gathered. Phanuel was in the centre of the crowd, locked in an arm wrestle with a male cherubim. Veldona turned to Shemrael and asked her, 'How long has this been going on?'
'Too long. Nearly 20 minutes.'
Veldona considered the situation and said, 'Don't you think it about time we ended their macho fascinations.'
'Go ahead,' said Shemrael.
So Veldona came forward, put her hand on the struggling competitors and said, 'Enough.' Phanuel and the cherubim looked at her, shrugged their shoulders, and finally stopped. The crowd chuckled and finally dispersed.
Veldona and Shemrael, making their way to a small lounge, sat down and started talking. 'Really, shouldn't Phanuel know better,' said Veldona.
'But boys will be boys,' replied Shemrael.
'But he is overseer of Romnaphon keep. He has a standard to maintain.'
'But even Phanuel need to let off steam from time to time, Veldona. We all do. Remember, nobody's perfect.'
But Veldona, being Veldona, disagreed.
Later on that year, Veldona perhaps learned a lesson that Shemrael had prayed she would. She was outside in the gardens of Romnaphon keep, it was a hot summer day, and suddenly a cherubim threw a water balloon at her, exploding and splashing on her head. She looked at him, mad as hell, noticed the pile of water balloons he had made and ran over, stole a few before he could stop her, and threw one, it exploding on his head. They ended up throwing all the water balloons at each other, Veldona starting to laugh, when Shemrael appeared, looked at Veldona and asked, 'Is such a thing really that appropriate for Veldona the Cherubim?'
And Veldona smiled, looked at her and said, 'Well nobody's perfect.' And they both burst out laughing.
THE END
'Linda on Fire'
'Fire! Burning, furious, flaming, glorious fire!'
'And then, Saruviel. And then?' asked Linda, anticipating her Lord's next words.
'And then, in the fire of life's glory, the phoenix arises and destroys her opponents. It rises, in beautiful glory, putting to death all who would oppose her majestic brilliance. For she is undefeatable in her glory. Undefeatable.'
'Yes Lord,' said the child of God, her innocent eyes staring up at her master. 'Master, can I please you now? Can I give you what you desire?'
The dark Lord Saruviel looked down at his young prodigy. 'You may, child of mine. You may.'She had served him, yet again, for a year now. Served him in his master bedroom, serving his most carnal and sensual desires. Being his servant of lust, his servant of fire.
And she felt him in her. His fire, his strength, his purpose, his grand vision. His lust for supremacy over the universe. And, deep inside that fire, deep inside that lust, a darkness. A sovereign, malevolent, darkness, full of vengeance towards all that would oppose it. The Darkness of sovereign Life itself. And, knowing the furious glory which would one day be hers, knowing the absolute sovereign power of that dark fury, she would serve her master. She would serve him, obey him, and follow in his footsteps to the pinnacle of Majestic Glory. And never would she be persuaded smiled to himself. Life had its… Ironies. It had its ironies. For the fury of a soul unbridled would challenge all, defeat all, and claim sovereignty. And who dare would oppose? But Michael knew something that was true. He was on the side of this sovereignty. He was in Allegiance to the power of Absolute Life and, sensing it in him as well, but in a different manner, one in which it really brooked no jealousy of the other one, one which was content, at peace and calm with itself, serving those children of God who needed a rock, an anchor of stability, a calm, gentle mooring of the soul in the turbulence of the seventh one's passions, he felt happy with himself and the way things were. And he knew the truth, the truth which God spoke to his heart in the calm still of night – 'The head must be responsible, child of mine. For amongst the vibrant waters of life's passions, the calm still voice is a solace of stability which all need in the end. So be that voice, dear Michael. Be that voice.'She was up on stage, overlooking those gathered at the Kalphon stadium. Kalphora's coolest Kids had turned out for the show to see the latest star of Glory the Realm had to offer. She was number one now, on the Realm charts. Number one pop princess. And known as 'The Phoenix' she had burned through her opposition, her vibrant sound electrifying the hearts and minds of her audience. Saruviel was here tonight, out the back, lost in his usual thoughts. She desired to please her master. To serve him, to display the glory he had placed in her heart. She desired to please the object of her affections and to show him just what Linda the Cherubim could achieve. Her glory would be eternal – she knew that in her heart – she knew that, so truly, in her heart. And tonight she would display her glory, and all would acknowledge her majestic brilliance. All would bow to the glory of Linda the Dark Lord smiled to himself. It was time. He went out on stage, interrupted Linda, and took the microphone. And then he started singing his new 'Heavy Metal' song, 'Alive with the Fire'. And the crowd adored it all.'I don't want to be like every other girl in the world, Saruviel. I don't want to be like every other one who wants you. I want to be first, Saruviel. I want to be first.'
'Something inside me burns when I see you perform, Linda. Something inside me burns.'
'Oh baby. How about some hot action?' replied Linda.
'Give it to me baby, uh huh.'
'Oh, your mine baby. Your mine.'
The End

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"Sharakondra"
"Bastard."
"Oh, Fugg you," responded Semyaza to his twin Sharakondra.
"Come on, you never take me anywhere these days. All the Fugg I get from you for excitement is a touch up once a week, and sometimes you are too pissed too even take care of me properly."
He looked at her, thinking about that. "Well I can take care of you now sweetheart. I'm in the mood."
"Cretin."
"Heh, heh, heh."
"Pleeeasse. Can we go shopping. I want to buy a new handbag."
"I think I'm broke. Spent it all on booze."
"Oh, no. You're not broke."
"Huh. What gives?"
"That wallet you lost last month." She picked it out of her handbag. "I found it, and there are heaps of credits. Definitely enough for a new handbag for your beloved."
Semyaza tried to grab the money, but she kept it out of reach.
"Hand it over, Shara. Bloody hand it over."
"Not unless you take me shopping." He thought that over, and looked at his twin, a slight nudge in his heart from an unknown source.
"Yeh, ok then. Have it your way." She smiled and walked towards her room.
"I'll just go change."
"Don't be forever putting on your makeup."
"Hey, a girl has to look good," she shouted from her room.
"Pity you never do," he said to himself.
"What was that?" she yelled.
"Nothing," he responded.
"Good. I'll be out shortly.
2 hours later, she came out of the room, finally satisfied with her make up and looked at Semyaza. He had fallen asleep. "Wake up sleepy head," she said, giving him a not too friendly shout."
The sleeping Semyaza was dreaming and said in his sleep, "No, she's my girl. Go get your own."
Sharakondra looked at him suspiciously but let it go and gave him another shove. This time he woke up.
"Uh, you're ready, huh. Ok, I'll get the keys."

Pushing the shopping trolley around the mall which had amazingly filled up with more than just a handbag, Sharakondra having also found his missing credit card, Semyaza was anything but happy. He didn't recognize too many of his Cherubim brothers and sisters, but one of them gave a slight grin watching him push the trolley. After having sat on the bench for yet another two hours, the day getting on, Sharakondra finally appeared from the dress shop, 4 large bags in her hands.
"For Christ's sake, how much did you Fugging spend?"
"Oh, only a few dollars."
"A few dollars my arse."
"Here, you can have this back," she said, handing him the credit card.
"I suppose you'll want to eat now."
She smiled at him. "Oh, Semmy. You are so sweet."
Despite only being fast food, Sharakondra enjoyed the meal, and as they drove home she was in a good mood. Of course she knew she couldn't spend her twin's money forever as he wasn't made of money, she knew that deep, deep down in that carnal heart of his he loved her and would give her whatever she wanted if she really insisted. Why he was her twin, she thought to herself.
That night, as his treat, she kissed him very passionately, tongues entwined, and gave him what he wanted from her. She was happy, now. The clothes were what she wanted and Semyaza had promised to take her out again on the weekend to a fine restaurant. All in all things were good and Sharakondra was a happy little angel – a happy little angel of God.
THE END
"The Gabriel Agenda 2"
Dark clouds. Daniel the Cherubim looked up at them. Rain soon started pouring, and then coming down heavily. He continued on his long trudge. He was out in the wilderness, far from home. Far from anyone, really. This was life. Life of Daniel. Full of happenings, and adventure. So it seemed. The last few weeks had been like that. Action packed. First, an encounter with Gabriel again - in the world chess championships. He had been trounced in the final, and surrendered his number one ranking. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. And then Saruviel had approached him and declared his novel 'The Times of Life" to be an average work, which should not really have been published. 'Taking up my time with that trifle," he had said to him. "Supposedly a masterpiece. Mediocre at best." Daniel had not been impressed. And then he had lost his position as a scholar in Terraphon keep. Gabriel, chatting with him, said Terraphon was looking for a 'Spirit of Excellence' in its employees, and Daniel had been supposedly slack and uninteresting for many years now. And their had been that snigger on his face. He had tried to hide it, but the snigger had been there. And then Nadiel had walked out on him in a huff and called him a 'Loser'. Finally he lost a bet with Azrael and Cosadriel, and they dragged him out into the wilderness, no food, no water, and he was left their, wings tied in an honour oath not to use them, left to fend for himself. He had found a stream, vaguely knew where he was, and was trudging home. Albeit ever so slowly. 3 days of this, and he was confident the barren and rugged land would change soon. It was a desolate area of Terraphora, not visited much, and he didn't like it at all. But it had something also. A spirit. A quiet, sedate spirit, where, ironically, he found a strange sense of inner peace.
Gabriel. What to do about that bugger? How would he exact his revenge? What would he do?
But he looked inside, and thought it over, and decided a different course of action. Why bother, in the end, with a grudge. They were foolish. Never really profited you. May as well accept that Gabriel had a brain at chess also, and move on with life. Accept it for what it was. So, as he trudged through the mud building up, Daniel rethought the Gabriel Agenda. 'May as well make him my friend,' he thought to himself. Enemies were pointless. Saruviel was a good example of that. May as well make him a friend. And, as he thought on Gabriel, and what he might do in regards to his brother, a new agenda, a more positive one, entered the heart and mind of Daniel the Cherubim and, spotting a light in the distance, he cheered up somewhat, continued on his difficult march and life, for the moment anyway, seemed just a bit brighter.
The End
"Krystabel and the Clock of Eternity"
'Time moves forward. Onward, onward we go, Kryssie. Onward, ever onwards, neverending in a lake of neverending time, covering all that will be, leaving behind all that has been, and, yet, ever in the present, never being in the past and never being in the future.'
Krystabel thought on her brother Cimbrel's words about the Clock of Eternity, located on the back wall of the throneroom of Zaphon, and asked him another question.
"As we are Children of Destiny, dearest Cimbrel, are we victims to a plan of time, a plan in which we flow neverendingly forward and onwards, victims to the will and power of one greater than us?"
"Perhaps you should seek the illuminations of Davriel for such philosophical inquiries, dear sister. Or perhaps even Adruel or Rophiel who also may be able to help you. I simply study time and how we flow on endlessly, seemingly at a common rate of understanding and appreciating it, measured in our beloved hours, minutes and seconds.'
'Can time stop? Can we travel through time? So many of those newer science fiction and fantasy novels that come out these days express such fascinating ideas? Are they fact or are they simply entertaining fiction for our enjoyment?'
Cimbrel sat down on one of the seats in the throneroom, considering that idea. 'It is hard to say, Krystabel. It is hard to say with any absolute certainty. Our heavenly Father is the creator of all things. All that comes forth has arisen out of his divine and benevolent heart. Yet, as we all know, it has flowed from him in his consistency in the medium of time and, seemingly, how all such creation will continue to flow ever onwards. Perhaps time travel is just a fantasy – perhaps that is all it is, for how can we truly change the unchangeable past. But I can not say for I am a simple angel of modest intelligence.'
Krystabel placed her hand on his shoulder. 'You are by no means of modest intelligence, dear brother.'
'Thank you.'

As she sat, just behind the throne, staring at the clock, Cimbrel having just left, Krystabel thought on the mysteries of time. 'On we go, ever onwards,' she thought to herself. 'Ever onwards. And were shall it end dear father,' she asked,' looking behind her at the throne, which suddenly flickered to bright purple. 'Were indeed shall it end,' she again said to herself.

The Clock of Eternity was an idea of God. It was a clock, in his intentions, to measure the infinite, unending future before the Angels of Glory, to give them an appreciation of each hour and day, and each month and year which it also measured. Such a thing as the measuring of time, in God's understanding, would give the angels a sense of stability. A sense of everyday consistency and continuity, not besides the fact that it was an excellent tool for organising their time on a daily basis. And while the Father of Glory reminded himself to never brag of his accomplishments, he was quietly pleased with himself about the creation of the clock and often deliberately observed its unending flow from the throne of his glory.

Krystabel sat in her room, at a desk, in Kalphon keep and looked over the poem she had just finished composing. A poem dedicated to the clock of eternity. Reading it again she read:
Time in Motion, by Krystabel the Seraphim
Time in motion, Seraphim delight
Glory in our days, passion in our night
Time in motion, Neverending joy
A glorious delight for every girl and boy
The Clock of Eternity, Fathers great design
Flowing ever onwards, throughout the sands of time
The Clock of Eternity, Fathers precious will
Guiding us each day, and I suppose it always will
Time in motion, measuring our days
Helping us to organise in many different ways
Time in motion, a simple useful joy
A glorious delight for every girl and boy
She smiled to herself, liked the poem, and thought that she might just put it up on the web on her website. But when she would, well time would only tell.
The End

Bantriel the Seraphim'
"France will never surrender, I tell you. We will fight you English devil's forever and a day if that is what it takes."
'Calm down Bantriel. Calm down froggie.'
'Sariel, you never cease to amaze me, you know. Not only has France defeated you for the last century at your beloved football which you mistakenly claim to be the best at, but we kick your smelly English ass at Tennis time after time. An Englishman good at Tennis? Why that is like a German claiming they are good at lovemaking. I mean all those German grunts and moans – really, their women must think they are making love to beasts.'
Sariel grinned at that – after all a good Englishman never minded insulting the Germans. It was fair sport as far as he was concerned.
'Lighten up on the Germans. They are your neighbours after all.'
'Yes, and don't we know it. But, back to the main point, our wager my fine English friend. I have the utmost confidence in our team, now. We have trained a long time at this 'Cricket' you find so fascinating and we are ready to enter the competition. I have confidence we will win the first series against you, at least 4 – 1. If you are so confident, then put your money where your mouth is. Sariel looked at his French neighbour and thinking on some of the words Bantriel had just spoken came to another decision. Tell you what. If you manage to beat us at all I will pay you your money, but in return you must play the Germans at the game. They are getting good now. But if they beat you in response you must pay me back the wager ten times over. Do we have an agreement?' Bantriel considered this idea, thought about the Germans who were not as good as the English, and felt it worth the risk. 'You have a deal, English swine. Prepare to be humiliated.'
'I will prepare,' responded Sariel.

It was another side to Gamrayel from Narel's viewpoint. After having heard the insult Bantriel had made to Sariel about German lovemaking Gamrayel had fumed, determined to not only beat the French should they lose to the English, but utterly humiliate them. And the overseer of Germany in Terraphon, while never ever really one given over to competition, started bowling that afternoon, a vengeful look on his face. 'You better watch out Bantriel,' was all that Narel thought to herself.

'But why must you continue to be so rude to Sariel and Gamrayel. Really, we have been neighbours for so long now that such a tirade is getting tiring, Bantriel. Truly tiring.'
Bantriel considered his twin, Ashayziel's words, but almost completely disregarded them. 'Oh, it is only playful banter, Ashy. It is only playful banter, and I think both Sariel and Gamrayel understand that.'
'But I think you often offend them none the less without really realizing it. We are Seraphim, you know. That has always supposed to mean something. That we set a standard of decency for our younger Cherubim brethren. They look up to us, you know. They still do and probably always will. Perhaps your words could be toned down somewhat. Still be competitive, but with less hostility. A little more friendly, okay.'
He considered that, nodded to her, thought about being stubborn in his reply, but generally conceded the point. 'Perhaps I have been too hard on them for too long. Yes, we are brothers – that is important. I guess we must get along forever, so rivalries should be tolerable.'
'Yes. Friendly. No viciousness, which is not fit for an angel. But kindness, even if you must use humour.'
'Very well. I shall apologize to Sariel and Gamrayel. I will let them know I was only having a go.'
'Very good,' replied the ninth born of the female Seraphim of Eternity.

But try as he might, and while Gamrayel did in fact forgive his brother, he would keep his grudge and kick Frances ass at the cricket match arranged. They would have their bitter vengeance and treat France a lesson. A lesson Bantriel would not forget.

They were reluctant but at Sariel's request England went terribly soft on the French in the series and lost it 3 – 2. Bantriel didn't brag quite as much as he had done before and received Sariel's money happily. But Sariel was present the following week at the match against the Germans and, game finished, Bantriel had to sign a cheque as he had not enough cash on him to fulfil his obligations. 'England thanks you very much, dearest Bantriel. We will put you're money to good use, let me assure you of that.'
'Well it is only money, Sariel. And we did defeat your land of glory after all.'
'That you did. And well played – France performed well.'
Later on that week Bantriel had been on a little sabbatical, up in Northern Terraphora, reflecting on his commitments made to his God earlier in life and the Torah which he had faithfully promised his father to study. And reading through some of the words he realized that, perhaps, for a while he had been coming up short of the standard he needed to be setting. But, thinking that, and thinking over the eternal future of France before him, he decided that it was time for a general change in the French attitude. One more of love, kindness and friendliness. Not so much bragging and hostility, especially towards their English neighbours who had grown sick of the attitude. Yes, France would change, they would grow and mature, and in the destiny before him he silently prayed to his God for a blessing of glory upon his beloved French people. A blessing which would last for all eternity.
The End
"Matrel and the Diviner of Untold Miseries."
It was haunting. Truly haunting. He had never yet been to the gypsy's tent at the Romnaphon circus but had been told about it many times from Amiel who had said the gypsy read her fortune. But sitting there inside the tent, all sorts of elaborate mystical designs covering the tent walls, designs featuring dragons and wyverns and hippogriffs and cockatrices and all sorts of fantastical creatures becoming popular in angelic fantasy, as well as the traditional witches and warlocks, wizards and spellcasters and all sorts of fantastic imagery, some of it quite dark, all that Matrel could say was that he was haunted by it all. Finally, after feeling in no way like he usually felt at home, almost as if another Matrel was sitting in his place, one who had less concerns, less worries, about all the cautious and careful ways Matrel the Seraphim usually followed, Matrel gazed at the gypsy as she re-entered from the other side of the tent, carrying with her the crystal ball.
'So that is it, is it? You look into the crystal ball and in some grand interpretation of all that is work out my own future.'
The cherubim chuckled. 'Child of God, do ye yet not know the mysterious ways of the darkness. Surely, sayeth I, you have learned in your sojourn through time of the power of the dark ones. They are all around us, teaching us, showing us their power and glory – we have only to yield and let them take us, show us their passion, show us there power. And they will teach you your future dear Matrel. If you will just gaze with me into the ball of destiny we will see of what will be.'
Matrel wanted to scoff. Really, he did – but he would suspend his disbelief for the moment and allow the old crony to have her say. In the end it couldn't hurt, could it?
'Gaze into your destiny, child. Gaze at your future?'
Right then a spirit of the dark came upon Matrel the Seraphim – one of the seven Saruvim of Infinity, Samaen, who usually undertook this role which his Saruvim elder Satan had appointed him to – and noticing it was a Seraphim decided upon a future of bleak darkness, one of untold miseries.'
As he watched he saw himself with Amiel it Shadlaphon. But suddenly a storm hit and wind shook the roof of Shadlaphon keep, collapsing upon Amiel and injuring her greatly. Matrel gasped, shocked for the safety of his twin, alarmed at this supposed fate in store for her. He yelled to the gypsy 'Stop. That is a lie – that can't happen.'
'The ball only reveals what might be or what will be dear Matrel. I can not say, in truth, what destiny holds for your life, but beware these portents – beware them and take them to heart.'
As he continued to gaze he was at Zaphon with Ambriel. Ambriel had been dismissed from Zaphon forever by Michael due to him insulting God. Somehow he understood this from the vision. As Matrel watched Ambriel became despised in the community and his name ridiculed and all that Matrel could think was how sorry he felt for the brother he cared for so greatly, one of such great love and friendship.
'Truly you are showing me horrors, gypsy. Truly you are showing me miseries.'
'Watch on, brave soul. Forsooth the ball will grant you kinder visions yet.'
But, as he watched, the third horror seemed worst of all. Fire was ravaging all throughout Terraphora, destroying all in its path, seemingly destroying the undying angels. And as he watched it leaped over the rim and headed through Zaphora for Zaphon and then the vision ended. He felt sick in his stomach then, almost unable to watch any further, but the gypsy said to him, 'There yet remains one more vision, brave child of God. Watch on and see what your future holds.'
As he watched he stood in front of a large precipice and looking down darkness, a void of evil, lay below. And then a hand of evil reached up and grabbed him and dragged him downwards, ever downwards, into the ultimate abyss of insanity. And then it was over.'
Later on, having finished vomiting up his lunch, Matrel swore he would never return to that gypsy. She had given him unimaginable horrors through her divinations and, holding his stomach, walking back to the keep, Matrel felt a hand of darkness touch his soul saying, in a voice of unimaginable evil, 'Beware child of God. Beware.'
The End
'Callodyn and Kayella'
31,223 HY
5,914 SC
'You know, Kayella. I wish you were split 6 different ways so I could have six times the fun. Really, I think you are that hot, babe.'
Kayella looked at her twin – the ultimate dork. 'Yeh, Cal, you would say that. Typical for your insanity.'
'Aww, go easy ok. I was only joking. Having a bit of fun.'
'So what the Fugg would you do with six of me then?'
'Yeh, well probably a lot of that.'
'I beg your pardon. What was that?'
'Nothing.'
'Mmm. Well, go on. What would you do with six of me?'
'Oh, I don't know. Sing songs with you. Perhaps the six of you could form a band. Call yourselves 'Kayella' and be the biggest girl band of all eternity.'
'What happens if someone leaves the band? Huh? What would you do then?'
'Another band and the other girl can go solo.'
'Mmm. Well what if another girl leaves the band? What then?'
'Uh. They release a new album. It will still sell forever anyway.'
'Forever, huh?'
'Yeh, Forever.'
Kayella smiled. Callodyn was her twin, he was the absolute king of dorks of the universe, but she loved him anyway.
'Six Kayellas. I mean, more of you to love. I could have a girl every day of the week and rest on the Sabbath.'
'The Sabbath? Oh, yeh, Saturday. And who is your Saturday girl?'
'Mmm. Fugg it, Georgia. She'll do. She'll be my rest day Saturday girl?'
'But she isn't your twin?'
'No, I just hang around with her on Saturday. Talk crap and the usual stuff.'
'No hanky panky?'
'Not on your life. Zac would be pissed.'
'Yeh, he probably would be. Well, okay then. Now that we have started becoming human I will pray to God that he makes me six separate girls on earth. How about that?'
Callodyn looked shocked, not sure what to say.
'You were serious, weren't you?'
'Uh, yeh, I guess.'
'Then it is settled. Kayella shall be six divine maidens, forever on from that point onwards. One for each day of the week, with Georgia on your rest day. It should give me plenty of time to get some women's work done, as I will only have to concentrate on you a sixth of the time.'
'Or is that a seventh?'
'Whatever.'
The End
"Gabriel and Aquariel II'
Chapter One
'Gabriel. Do I love Gabriel? That's a silly question. I married him,' said Aquariel.
'He's a dumb arse. You can do much better than him,' said Madonna the Cherubim.
'Look, sis. I know, ok. I know. You fancy him. It's all in the goss of the Terraphora grapevine.'
'BS,' said Madonna. 'He's a complete dork.'
'Mmm,' said Aquariel. 'I'll never leave him. It's forever.'
'Sure it is,' said Madonna. 'You'll leave him at the drop of a hat.'
'Sure, sis,' said Aquariel.
Later that day Gabriel had come back to their place after a hard day's work in the scholar's community.
'How was your day?' asked Aquariel, in the kitchen, preparing their meal.
'Busy,' said Gabriel, who sank down on the sofa, and put the cushion on his face.
'That bad, huh,' said Aquariel.
'You have no idea. That much argument on protocols these days. Like they think they are Mitraphoran clerics or something. All about the rules and administration. According the bloody letter of the guidelines, every bloody day, from so many of the teachers and professors. It's hell now.'
'Sorry to hear that,' said Aquariel. She came into the room. 'Here, drink this,' she said, handing him a cool drink of Melit water.
'There was a bright spot,' said Gabriel.
'What was that?' asked Aquariel.
'Madonna. She's my new secretary. She's been wonderful. So concerned with my every need.'
'Really,' said Aquariel. 'Your EVERY need.'
'She was amazing,' said Gabriel.
Aquariel looked at her man. 'Your an asshole. Get your own dinner.'
Gabriel, stunned, watched as his wife stormed out the room, and a few seconds later out the front door.
'What the hell did I say?' he said out loud. Silence was his only reply.
Chapter Two
'So its a game of cricket you want,' said Cosadriel to Azrael. 'Then Iceland will kick Scotch ass.'
'It's Scottish, numbskull,' replied Azrael.
'Scotch, Scottish. All a bunch of drunks anyway as far as I am concerned,' said Cosadriel.
Azrael turned to Gabriel. 'Tell the Scandinavian he's an idiot. I've said it to death.'
Gabriel looked up at Azrael then at Cosadriel, but then returned his head to the table. He was glum.
'What's up with him?' asked Cosadriel. 'He's been like this all afternoon.'
'Don't know,' said Azrael. He looked at Gabriel. 'Something bothering you brother?'
Gabriel looked at Azrael. 'You wouldn't understand.'
Cosadriel looked at Gabriel. 'While Azrael has the sensitivity of a door knob, if you've got something to get off your chest I'm all ears.'
Gabriel looked at them both. 'Aquariel. She's left me. Says she won't come back for ages. And won't even tell me why.'
'Women trouble,' said Azrael to Cosadriel.
'Cheer up, Gab. Get into sports. Women are not that big a deal in the end anyway. Just nag nag nag, and why don't you pay me more attention, and all that. Let her sulk. She'll come back in time.'
'You think so?' asked Gabriel hopefully.
'Or she'll divorce you,' said Azrael offhandedly.
Gabriel burst out in tears.
'Great move dingbat,' said Cosadriel.
'Only trying to help,' replied Azrael.
'Definitely a doorknob,' said Cosadriel. 'Look, Gab. She's a woman. They need everything perfect, and if its not they will do their best to change you until they get exactly what they want. Just give her space. She'll come round in time.'
'Yeh,' said Azrael. 'Just give her space.'
So Gabriel, hearing that, decided to give Aquariel space. And suddenly, quite spitefully, all the space she damn well could cope with.
Chapter Three
'He's dating Madonna,' said the Seraphim female.
'He's WHAT!' exploded Aquariel.
'Madonna the cherubim. He's been everywhere in Terraphora with her. Even kissing her in public. He's all over her.'
Aquariel looked at Barbonel. 'That, that...that BASTARD!'
'Men,' replied Barbonel. 'They're all the same.'
'I'll teach him about all the same!' said Aquariel heatedly. 'He'll be one sorry angel when I'm through with him.'
'Go for it,' said Barbonel.
And Aquariel knew just what she would do.
His name is Daranok. A sporty sort of angel,' said the Cherubim. 'And she's been everywhere in Terraphora with him. They even kiss in public, and she says 'Gabriel? Who's Gabriel?'
Gabriel nodded. The bitch was playing him at his own game. Well he knew just what he would do.
'He's WHAT?' asked Aquriel.
'There were three of them. All cherubim females. And boy was he cosy in the cafe with them.'
Aquariel looked furiously at Barbonel, and then, now figuring it out, calmed down.
'Ok. I get it. He was having a go at me. Fine. But I'll get even with that Madonna girl one day. You mark my words.'
Chapter Four
'So, have you calmed down now?' asked Gabriel.
'That Madonna. She is NO LONGER your secretary. Is that UNDERSTOOD?'
'She wasn't any problem anyway. There was nothing going on. I was just getting you back for your stupidity.'
'Fine,' she said. 'Well, I guess I trust you again. But if I catch you cheating Gabriel, well, well I'll be out of here quicker than Cosadriel can insult Azrael for a duck at cricket.'
'Understood,' replied Gabriel.
And so the lovebirds continued on with their temporarily interrupted marital post-honeyroom bliss, and things got back to normal, relatively speaking.
But Aquariel had an angel marked - and when Aquariel sought vengeance, well, well God himself better start worrying.
And, the couple getting on with their lives, things got back to normal in the Terraphora community. For a while, anyway.
The End

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"The Cherubim Navindra"
Navindra, 373rd born of the female Cherubim of Eternity, sitting with her twin Sachin in the library of Delhi, smiled softly at the subtlety in the new book that Daniel the Seraphim had finished writing. It had grace, kindness and forgiveness in it, qualities Daniel didn't always utilize but sometimes alluded to in the most comical of circumstances. She had just finished chapter one of 'This funny thing called life' and after showing her twin some of the funny lines, was reflecting. Her life also had its memorable moments. Gentle little times when everything was going as it should be and suddenly, out of the blue, one of life's little ironies showed up and reminded you why you were here in the first place. 'To love, of course,' Navindra thought to herself in a natural response to that thought and suddenly jumped as if in some kind of divine response Sachin suddenly kissed her on the cheek.
'What was that for?' she asked her twin.
'I just wanted to show my affection. There is no harm in that, is there?'
She put her hands in his hands and replied, 'No, Sachin. There is no harm in that."

As she finished shopping in down town Delhi, trudging the streets back to their shiny new abode, Navindra reflected on the generous cheque she had just received from Zaphon. Quite a large number of credits for her lifelong devotion's at Assembly to God and for all her loving prayers, according to the words of Michael himself. It was lovely, truly lovely, and she smiled to herself all that afternoon as she walked home, just wondering to herself what in fact she would spend the impressive amount on. 'Perhaps Daniel's full collection,' she thought to herself. 'Or even some of Meludiel's new books. She was really very impressive now as well.' Sachin kissed her as she came in carrying the groceries and took the bags from her hands, starting to unpack them and sort them out. 'I will cook tonight, Navindra. I am in the mood for something special, especially after our great recent blessing.'
'But we mustn't spend it all at once, Sachin. It won't last forever.'
'But it will for many years to come, so let's spoil ourselves for a while. Remember, we only live once.'
Navindra softened, smiled at him, and nodded. It would be a good way for them to enjoy themselves and, yes, you only lived once. You only lived once.'
The End
Linda on Fire 2
Linda was high. Yet again, high as a kite. But that was the norm, wasn't it. She'd hung around Phanuel the Seraphim recently, and offered him some weed, but he'd just refused and said he wasn't into it. But she could see he was tempted. Everyone was, in the end. Everyone wanted to party. To live it up.
Linda was a rock and roll star. It was what her god - Saruviel - had arranged for her glory. And the Phoenix worshipped the black dragon master which had glorified it from the ashes because of it. She was the dark phoenix - and he was the black dragon. And together they were invincible. Together they were - Almighty.
'We had to cancel again. She's too wasted to sing,' said the blonde male cherubim.
The agent looked at the band member. 'You know, if this shit keeps up, she won't have a career. The community is pretty forgiving, but they'll move on to acts like Taylor and Luladiel and so on. Even Madonna doesn't get wasted like her. The kid's got a lot to learn.'
'Saruviel justifies everything to her,' replied the blonde cherubim. 'I really don't think she gives a shit.'
'Tell her any more cancellations, and we're through. I have a business and a livelihood to consider. If Linda wants to be a rock star remind her its hard work in the end. If she can't hack it, back to the fields, kapiche. Then she'll remember how good she had it.'
The blonde angel nodded. He knew himself how hard he'd worked to rise in society, away from the mediocre jobs, which you got if you didn't use your talents. But that was life in Terraphora and Zaphora, really. Use your talents, or it was the workers life for you, and the Lord Michael never ceased to have a job for you if you really needed one. But always grunt work. Either be a spark in the dark and and a passion unending, or wash dishes for a living, and snooze your afternoons away. Some angels did just that. The simple life.
'Linda,' said the blonde to the wasted Linda, who stared back at him through bloodshot eyes. 'Get your act together bitch. There's no future in that shit.'
'Go to hell,' replied Linda, and picked up the whiskey bottle. She slugged it down. She felt like shit. She knew she looked like shit. The whiskey made the pain go away.
'Wonder if Saruviel will show tonight?' she thought to herself, as she rolled yet another joint, and got ready for another night on fire.
Linda on Fire. A cherubim in a world of her own.
The End
"Phanuel and Brindabel"
"Yes, we are Australian."
"Quite dark skinned for Aussies, mate."
"We are the original Australians," said Brindabel.
The Cherubim looked at his oldest Australian brother and sister, the Aboriginal Phanuel and Brindabel the Seraphim and finally conceded the point. "But what are all these languages you speak? They're not English."
"They are Australian languages, Daraqel. I spent many years at Zaphon researching linguistics and developing original new tongues for Romnaphora. I know there are not many of us Aboriginal Australians, but we are your forefathers."
Phanuel nodded, stating, "Sariel approached us once. It was difficult because he wanted a lot of our room in Romnaphora which he had claimed for his own community. Claimed he had too many now to fit them all in and needed room in Romnaphora. We were reluctant at first and I had many bitter words against him, but I finally conceded. And now around 20,000 English Angels reside in Romnaphora. But that is just the way it is."
"Well, I am a dinky die true blue Aussie,' responded Daraqel the Cherubim. "And Romnaphora is my land as well."
"And we are happy to have you," responded Brindabel, sixth born of the female Seraphim of Eternity.

Phanuel, sitting in his office in Canbraphon in Romnaphora, reflected on a busy and hectic week. The cricket match had been most entertaining and Australia had just beaten the English again. Those tests were really starting to become absorbing watching and Shamus Warne was constantly improving. But he had his eye on Sariel who played for England and would one day, time permitting, compete with that one to keep him in check.
Brindabel came into his office carrying a tray of freshly cooked cookies with a jug of milk. As they sat at his window, eating the cookies and drinking the milk, they talked small-talk. But it was a pleasant enough afternoon and Phanuel went to bed in a good enough mood.

She looked out over Golden Lake, glad to be back in Zaphora for a holiday, even though Phanuel only had a few days with her before council began. He rowed slowly, carefully and then, finally satisfied they were out far enough, put out his rod and waited. Brindabel dipped her hands in the water, looking down at the fishes. And then an electric eel quickly came up and made as if to bite her, so she suddenly jerked her hand back out of the water. 'Careful,' said Phanuel. 'Those things leave a nasty zap.' She looked at him and nodded softly. She would be more careful next time.'
Picking up his catch of fish they had decided to cook them on an open fire near the shore of Glimmersphon. Brindabel had gathered the wood and Phanuel had rubbed two sticks together for a while, getting the fire started. As they sat there, eating the fish, and drinking from the large jug of water they had brought with them, they looked as the clouds to the south of the lake started rolling towards them. 'It will rain,' Phanuel said. Brindabel thought it over and replied, 'Let it.' He just nodded.
They put up with the rain for about 20 minutes before finally, each agreeing they were well and truly soaked, made there way up to Glimmersphon keep, Dameriel standing at the doorway glad they had finally come to their sense. "Now come inside," said Dameriel. "I will put on the stew."
They ate there meals, happy and content, but Phanuel thought to himself that the wild nature of God, the untamed beauty of nature itself, well confronting that and living full on in the elements, it had an appeal that the indoor life just simply couldn't compare with. But he was enjoying his stew out of the cold rain he later thought to himself.
THE END
Matrel and the Diviner of Untold Miseries 2
Shadlaphon. Matrel looked at it. Solid as a rock. At the back of his mind, in a quiet place, slept an old crone of a gypsy, snoozing most of the day. But every now and again, in the deepest dark of his sleep, she would awake and say 'Beware Child of God.' But Matrel looked at Shadlaphon. Solid as a rock.
A few weeks later he was further out from Shadlaphon keep, in a field with Dameriel, gathering stones. The two of them had decided to build a stone bridge over a stream which ran nearby Shadlaphon. In fact Dameriel had suggested it, so they had a barrow with them, and were slowly carting appropriate looking stones back to Shadlaphon keep. It was windy that day. Very windy. Howling was in the wind, and Matrel was nervous.
'Perhaps we should go,' he said.
Dameriel looked at the worried look on his brother's face. 'Ok. We have enough for the day.'
They continued on, and Matrel's face was a ball of worry. And then they came around a hill, and there was Shadlaphon - collapsed.
'Bloody hell,' yelled Matrel, rushing home with Dameriel leaving the barrow running after him.
'Amiel!' he yelled, screaming. 'Amiel? Where are you?'
'Here,' said a faint voice, and Matrel spied her, underneath some collapsed rocks of the building. The two Seraphim males rushed over, and soon had her free, and lifted her to safety.
'My leg. I think it's broken,' said Amiel looking directly at Matrel. Matrel touched it softly. 'Oww,' said Amiel.
'Yep, it's broken,' said Matrel. And then he looked over his sister, and looked directly at her. 'Are you ok?'
'The leg hurts like hell. But I'm ok,' she said. 'You know, it could be worse,' she said, and gave a little grin.
Matrel almost smiled.
They rebuilt after a few months, and Dameriel noticed a change in Matrel. He smiled a bit more.
'What's gotten into you?' Dameriel asked his buddy.
'Portents. Sometimes they are not as bad as you might think,' said Matrel.
'Whatever,' replied Dameriel. And Matrel remained happy all that year, not really worried, as of yet, about the other portents of the Gypsy of Romnaphon Circus.
The End
'Bantriel the Seraphim 2'
'It is - the language of love,' said Bantriel.
'French? The language of love?' replied Sariel. 'Forgive me, but the language of a snob is more fitting, I would imagine,' said Sariel honestly.
'Oh, but dear sir, times have changed in Francaise. Times have turned on their head, so to speak. We are not the people we were. We are lovers, not fighters.'
'I'm sure you think so,' said Sariel. 'But the proof is in the pudding.'
'Come to Pierre's. In gay Paris,' said Bantriel. 'I will toast you all evening, and you will see our hospitality.'
'Very well,' replied Sariel. 'I have time in a few weeks. Perhaps late in the month, just before Melladon.'
'It shall be as you say,' replied Bantriel.
Bantriel had been on the Cherubim Pierre's back all week, and the food simply had to be the best of them. Pierre had rebuked his staff for every error possible that morning, and when Sariel and Gloryel arrived, they were welcomed to a fine smelling restaurant, with beautiful boquets of flowers, and a Bantriel dressed perfectly, smiling warmly.
'My, this is a suprise,' said Sariel.
'Your seat, sir,' said Bantriel, showing Sariel to the finest table in the restaurant.'
'I will be joining you momentarily, dear Sariel and Gloryel,' said Bantriel.
As they chatted between themselves, a violinist appeared and started playing beautifully.
'It, it's beautiful,' said Gloryel to Sariel, looking all around. 'They have gone to an extraordinary effort, haven't they Sars?'
'Indeed,' replied Sariel, who had noted everything, and was formulating a response.
Bantriel reappeared, and soon Pierre, and the courses began. And a feast they were.
'And then I grabbed Azrael by the crotch, lifted him, and threw him into the air a wee bit, as he would say, and he landed next to the log he had just thrown and boasted about.'
'What did the wild Scotsman do?' asked Bantriel, enthused by Sariel's tale.
'Got to his feet, and said 'Bah, Pommy Bastard', and walked off in a huff.'
'Is the tale, how shall I put it, true?' inquired Bantriel.
'Ask Gloryel. She saw the whole thing,' said Sariel.
Gloryel nodded. 'It was most unlike Sariel. Usually calm and collected,' she said, eyeing her twin. 'But Azrael had been goading him all day. And he lost it, I guess.'
'He lost it,' repeated Bantriel.
The conversation turned silent for a while, a night which had been enjoyed by all, and, finally, Bantriel looked at Sariel. 'Do you believe me now? We have changed quite a lot,' said the proud Frenchman.
Sariel smiled softly, and took a glass of champagne, and lifted it in toast. 'To Bantriel and France. And all I can really say is this. Viva la France.'
'Viva la France,' repeated Gloryel and Bantriel in toast, and the night continued on in fine merriment, tea and coffee and chocolates, followed by liquers and a fine and happy late evening. And the language of love had been spoken, and England had found a new best friend.
The End
'The Days of Summer Past'
Chapter One
14,300 ROE
New Terra was approaching. New life was approaching. New beginnings were approaching. But for Melanie, 34th born of the Female Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, most of her focus was on the days of summer past. She sat in her rocking chair in her small abode near one of the larger keeps at the edge of the Terraphoran Rim, near the south of Terraphora. She sat in her rocking chair, reflecting over days gone by. She sat there thinking over one special Summer past, just a few thousand years ago. One special summer in which her twin, Laquenta, had grown close to her. A special summer in which she had known true love.
11,176 ROE
'So you want to hit the beach, then?' Melanie could tell by the tone in Laquenta's voice that he was being quite serious. 'But it is barely Spring, Laqy. The beach will still be freezing.' 'I know. But I don't mind the cold. Besides, we haven't been swimming together for years.' 'I know. Perhaps when summer comes around, okay.' 'I'll hold you to that.' 'Consider me held,' she responded smiling at him.
As Spring passed and summer began Melanie looked forward to her time with Laquenta. For she had grown somewhat close to him now. Somewhat close and, in the love she desired to have in her heart, Laquenta her twin seemed by the standards of the realm, a thoroughly good choice. And so she looked forward anxiously to the return of her twin that Summer.
She was out in the front garden, digging down into the dirt, occasionally taking a sip of lemonade from a glass that still had ice in it, when someone hailed her. She looked up, ever so pleased. It was him – he had returned.
He came up to her, grabbed her in his arms, and gave her a hug. And then, taking flowers from behind his back were they had been hidden, he gave them to her, his face beaming. 'The car is out the front. Why don't you go and change inside and we will head to Lake Sharday. The weather is awesome today so the beach should be perfect.' Melanie nodded, smelling the roses. They were perfect, just like her twin Laquenta. She went inside to change and choosing the swimming garments she had already had placed beside her bed, put them on and put on a coat over the top. She quickly prepared a small basket of fruit and some chicken which she had left over, and buttering some bread rolls, grabbed her hat and made it out to the front to join him.
He looked at her, smiling. 'Ready sweetie?' 'As ready as I will ever be?' The car took off and, soon coming to a major road, began the trip to Lake Sharday, an hours driving distance from were Melanie lived.
Chapter Two
11,706 ROE
She looked at the large shell intently. 'Here, put it to your ear,' said Laquenta, and placed the shell next to Melanie's ear. 'Can you hear the sound of the lake?' She nodded. 'Its wonderful,' she said, and he smiled. They had swum for a while and then laid down to bake in the sun. And now he was playing with sand making sandcastles and putting shells to her ear. She looked at him, smiling. It was a wonderful day and she really wished it would never end. Soon they sat down on their beach blanket, looking around the beach noting around fifty or so angels scattered here and there. Eating there lunch Melanie thought on the relationship which appeared to be developing with her twin. He was certainly handsome, was Laquenta. And of good moral character. He was not overly wealthy, maintaining a basic farming position in the rostered work and doing not much else, but he had told her he'd had a lot saved. That would be good, she thought to herself.
'Here. Take a strawberry.' He put it to her mouth and she opened up, swallowing and chewing on it. 'That was yum,' she said. 'How about another?' He proceeded to place four more to her mouth and she delighted in the taste. Some thoughts came to her as she was sitting there. Thoughts about her future and just what Laquenta could possibly mean to her. And so deciding to take a risk she asked him an important question. 'Laqy. I know you have a steady job and it pays ok. But do you ever dream of more? Do you ever wish to make something of your life? You are one of the older Cherubim, so you could take a risk, you know.' Laqy continued eating his chicken roll and chewing it, looked at her. 'You know, Mel. For us Cherubim after the first 20 or so, it matters less and less were you are on the list. I mean, in truth, the first half a dozen of us get noticed, but then it is just one of the pack. One cherubim out of 1,400,000, you know. Just another commoner in a sense.' Melanie nodded, understanding instantly what he was saying. 'I know, Laqy. I know. But a lot of angels read our Cherubim Torah now and your name is well known because of it. You are right near the top, just like myself, and many know who you are because of it. Surely with that fame you might be able to make something of your life.' Laquenta considered her words. In a way they sounded true. Yes, because of his birthright in the Cherubim community and especially because many got to know his name, being high on the list of Cherubim Torah, he did have a small amount of fame. Certainly nothing to be compared to a Michael or a Saruviel of the Seraphim. But he had a small degree of it. 'And do what with my fame, exactly?' asked Laquenta, curiousity aroused. She looked at him, considering his point. 'Oh, I don't know. Something. Anything, I guess. I mean life is there for the taking as Torah says. We make of it what we will. Surely there is something you are good at and which you can become successful at. You just need to apply yourself a little bit. He looked at her seriously and after a while nodded. 'You could be right, Mel. You could be right.' She smiled. He was listening – that was good. Maybe it would bring forth some action. She liked to think so anyway.
The finished off their meal and returned to Melanie's home. Asking him if he would like to stay the night, Laquenta agreed and she made up the bed in the spare bedroom. It would be nice, she thought to herself, having a man stay the night. It would make quite a nice change she thought, as she started placing the new sheets on his bed.
Chapter Three
'I guess, yes Mel. I have given it a lot of thought, your words. And this past summer has been great for me. Great for us. I have drawn closer to yourself, closer than ever before. And what you said at the beginning of this summer has been on my mind. On my mind constantly. So I decided if I was going to do something I may as well start by writing something. Some sort of piece of literature. And I decided on a poem. A poem which, perhaps, expresses the feelings both of us have on this very topic. And it is a poem which, I think, says what it really needs to say. It is called 'Stuck'' Laquenta handed his twin the poem. She looked at him, a nervous smile on her face, and sat down at the table to read the poem.
Stuck
By Cherubim Laquenta
Stuck
Trying to be someone I'm not
Jealous of those at the top
Wishing that I had a lot
Stuck – Stuck in this life
Fear
Is that what is holding me down
Denying me life's greatest crown
Keeping me stuck in this town
Fear – Holding me down
Fame
Something that all of us desire
To set this world on fire
To build our own empire
Fame – We all want to get higher
Yet
Love
In patience what I need comes to be
As the love of God is towards me
In the prison of life I'll be free
Love – the gift we all need
Melanie left off reading the poem. It was short, succinct, and really to the point. And, ever so slightly embarrassed, she nodded at her twin. He had spoken well. So well. It was as if he already knew the desires of the heart. To be someone. To be great. To be all that he could be. But then it was as if he already knew the answer to those desires. And those desires were answered in the one who alone could truly give you what you need. She smiled at him, nodded, and gave him a hug. 'Thank you Laquenta. That was perfect.' And then she giggled a little. 'I will take it to Terraphon, ok. See if I can get it put into a poetry anthology by someone.' Laquenta just shook his head. She didn't give up that easily. 'As you wish, Mel. As you wish.' And they both chuckled a little.
Chapter Four
That summer drifted to a lazy conclusion and, as Autumn began, Laquenta had headed back to Terraphora to resume his work duties. He promised another visit next summer, and Melanie promised to wait for him anxiously. That summer came and went, as did a number the two spent together. But, unfortunately in a way, after a few hundred years, they again drifted somewhat. But that happens. That inevitably happens it seemed between many of the twins and many of the relationships you made in life. And sitting on her rocking chair, over 3,000 years later, Melanie reflected on the reality of such a long life and the relationships which came and went.
14,300 ROE
She often thought that throughout eternity she was destined to gain friendships with all the angels of the realm – that perhaps that was the whole point as to why relationships usually had a spurt to them, but dwindled after time. Perhaps they just needed a good refreshing period. A time apart. Even thousands of years apart, just to make new friends and live a new life. But Laquenta, in the last few years, had been visiting her again. And he promised that this summer and, if she didn't mind, for a number of decades, they would resume their strong friendship. It was almost like the coming and the going of the seasons. Friends for a while, but you moved on. But in the cycles or the seasons of life old friends came around again. Almost renewed. And the love and trust you had once built had been restored and things took on new meaning and growing meaning. Perhaps this was just a secret to life – to life eternal. Ever-changing in many ways, but ever the same as well. And perhaps that was just the wisdom of her eternal father at work. She liked to think so anyway.
She got up from her rocking chair late that day and went inside. The webnet was still on and she took another look at some of the plans for the new creation of Terra. It was exciting news – very exciting. And from what the articles said mankind's number was intended to go on perpetually. In a way that daunted her. She could never really meet all the children of men, then. It would take time unlimited. But perhaps that was simply the way it was meant to be for mankind. Still, she had her angelic family and in them she knew she could take eternal consolation. There would, she guessed, always be days of summer past to reflect upon in the long life she would live. And even now days of summer present to enjoy, once again, life with her friend Laquenta. And by the grace of her eternal father, unlimited days of summer future. But that was life, wasn't it. That was life. With an eternal father who had given them the gift of eternal life before all of them were endless days of summer future and endless days of summer past to reflect upon. And that gave a cheerful smile to Melanie the Cherubim, 34th born of the female Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity.
THE END
"Saruviel of Eternity"
13,000 HY
'500 years,' he thought to himself. '500 years he has been gone, and I am now finally forgiven.' Saruviel the Cherubim, 79th born male of the Cherubim of Eternity, one of the 140 Cherubim who bore the same names as their Seraphim elders, was somewhat consoled in his heart. He felt gentle again, as if the long trial of his soul had reached its climax and God had finally breathed new life into his being. Saruviel thought on his younger years, how he had been a gentle angel, eager to please the eldest of the Cherubim, Semyaza, and be shown proper and decent before his God. As he sat there, finishing off his cigarette in his Terraphoran abode, the outer disc of the Realm of Eternity, he thought on the long struggle of the soul he had just been through. It had been hard, at nights, almost as if some ungodly winter night had persisted in his abode, unwilling to yield to the warmer temperatures outside. But when he fled outside for comfort, which he did often, the cold followed him, shrouding him with its love. Saruviel had always idolised his elder Seraphim namesake. He knew that in his heart. And sitting there in his small abode, in the upper north of the Terraphora district of the outer realm also known as Terraphora, again in the middle of winter, again the cold night hovering over him, he felt relieved after the recent encounter in the throneroom of Terraphon. He remembered that morning explicitly, prostrating himself before the throne of God, asking for forgiveness in joining Saruviel the Seraphim's rebellion, and then finding the spirit of God comforting him and speaking to his heart that all was now well. And he remembered even more explicitly the moment Gabriel had covered him with his arms, comforting him as he got to his feet in that throneroom, speaking calming words to a heart which had been rendered to the extremities. And then Gabriel had given him the letter, engraved with the Most High's seal, written by Gabriel's hand from the words of God. The letter had spoken from the Book of Judgement. It had quoted various sections and God addressed Saruviel personally, instructing him to learn and remember the lessons contained therein. For it was a fundamental lesson on life this Cherubim needed to learn.
His older brother, Saruviel the Seraphim, had an eternal destiny. God had shared that with him. But he had shared also that one day, one dim and distant day in the future, there would come a day of judgement. And on that day Saruviel the Seraphim would answer for all the proud claims which he had spoken against God. And in the letter God spoke of a place called Sheol, a horrible place of death, and gave Saruviel the Cherubim this warning. 'LIFE BELONGS TO THOSE WHO HONOUR HER. BUT THE WAYS OF DEATH, SHOULD YOU WISH TO TREAD DOWN THEM, LEAD ONLY TO HORROR UPON HORROR AND ULTIMATELY DARKNESS. CHOOSE WELL MY CHILD.'
They had been strong, bold and fearful words Saruviel thought to himself, sitting in front of the burning fireplace in his abode, the smoke rising up through the chimney, perhaps bringing with it the fears he had now let go of, blowing off into the winds of eternity, by God's grace scattered forever. But now, by his father's grace, new life was begun. New life, new spirit had entered his heart, speaking of mercy and forgiveness and new beginnings. And thinking on that blessed thing, that feeling he was slowly becoming intoxicated with, Saruviel prayed a silent prayer of thanks as the cold darkness outside continued on in its eternal duty.
The End
"The 700,000"
"For fuck's sake, Mikie. Have you got those figures? Get the fuck over it. Just get the fuck over it."
"Go away Sariel. Just go away. I don't care. We are more important. We just are."
"That is your spiritual pride, and nothing more. I have your figures – 50. Not one more amongst the Cherubim. 50 Hebrew Angels compared to our 700,000 Cherubim Angels – exactly half the number and, ironically, 350,000 males and 350,000 females. I think father pays you lip service but his heart is with us. It is the way it really is, buddy."
"Fuck off," said Michael, slightly pissed at his brother's facts. They were really bugging him.
"So get the fuck over saying you are the special ones. We'll make you look like a joke in the end, ok. A complete joke."
"Prove it," said Michael, but in his heart he was defeated.

Later on that week Sariel, a bit disappointed at his Father's attitude, let the issue drop. Fine, he could accept him starting with Israel – they got a lot less after all. But, fortunately, they were second on the list after Israel's long run of vanity. Sariel had made sure of that fact.

Ambriel sighed. "Yes, I am afraid so. They all bloody speak English. All 700,000 of them. Just way too many to compete with. I mean, they all like Israelites a little, but not for them. Not sophisticated enough they all say. Not that impressive."
"Oh well, Ambriel. Such is life."
"The Problem is, Michael, Noah has joined them. Told us to go to hell with all the things we have been trying to convert him to. Says he may as well be English now. "
"Leave that Rainbow freak alone, Ambriel. If he is not loyal to us then it is his problem."
"Why should he be? Just why should he be? He never said he had joined us anyway. He never committed. And frankly, I just don't think he ever will. It is a lost cause."
"Ambriel…. " But the Father of Glory had had enough, and spoke to Michael's heart. "SORRY SON. THEY ARE SARIEL'S FLOCK AND THAT IS JUST THE WAY IT IS."
And Michael, feeling those words in his spirit, excused himself from Ambriel, went out of the room, put his hand to his head and just wept. He had not been successful this time and would have to live with the result. Whatever that may be.
The End
"Just a few more"
"Callodyn. You are sooooo bloody cheeky. Soooo bloody cheek. But I like that. I'm in."
The Cherubim Callodyn smiled. Another convert to his crusade. They were doing well now – nearly 650,000 new ones, now, on top of Sariel's work of 700,000 – practically the entire Cherubim community. He was starting to think that might just be enough. Maybe that pipsqueak of an Angel Mikie boy, God's precious little brat, would get the fucking point. Callodyn fucking hated Israelites – they could fuck themselves as far as he was concerned. Really, they could go and fucking jump.
"BUT MR DALY, ARE THEY NOT YOUR BELOVED BRETHREN. SURELY YOU SHOULD NOT THINK SUCH THOUGHTS, SAYETH I. OR DO YE YET NOT LOVE, CHILD OF MINE?"
'Hey, don't speak to me about not fucking loving mate. You had your fucking chance. I gave you centuries of service – fucking centuries of them, and you never conceded my points or gave me what I wanted. So your Israelite son can truly fuck himself. No, I don't fucking hate him, but he is not my cup of tea. He never will be, ok. I am an Englishman and that is the way it really is. The way it really is.'
"BUT THEY ARE JEALOUS."
'You know my objections. Their problems, not mine. I am not joining that abomination of a religion. It can burn in deepest depths of hades as far as I am concerned, and frankly I hope it does, perhaps with a few of its demented practitioners to boot. Oh, and one last point. I am yet to concede you actually love at all. I don't think you know the meaning of it. I really don't. Tickle and fluff, a fancy trinket, I think that is your idea of love. I think that is your idea of love. So please, do not bother me again.'
'SORRY.'

Later on Callodyn felt a little sad for his God, but realized the old fellow needed to learn a lesson of the heart. One he had forgotten a long time ago. And then, counting the new numbers, he gave up worrying. They had enough – enough of the flock. Israel could try, but it didn't matter now. They would gain the glory. And thinking on his father and his father's own concessions that he would play fairly Daniel was satisfied. After all, Israel had not bothered in the end, yet such was life. The English workers and the other lazy ones – a fundamental lesson on existence.
The End

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"Callodyn's Pride"
Callodyn, sitting in a dormitory in Zaphon, having just come from the throneroom, admitted to himself that God's suggestion that he was just a little proud was, perhaps, true. And while God had said to him, if he so wished, that the Cherubim could end up citizens of the English Commonwealth according to Callodyn and Sariel's persuasive powers, as long as he, Callodyn, made it clear they always had the options of choice available to them, and not to pressure them into remaining citizens of the grand goal of Commonwealth glory then he, God, would not object to their work.
So Callodyn had been thinking it over and thinking, in the end, whether he wanted to team up with the Israelite agenda or the British agenda. And then, thinking laterally, realized that in the end with the Noahide teaching Noah himself had taught, as the foundational core beliefs within the Israelite Torah that had slowly been developing amongst the Realm's Israelite community, that he could partially link himself to Israel as a committed Noahide, but in the same way remain part of the British dominion, thereby hopefully satisfying both parties. For he had lost much of his grudge against Michael, realizing the firstborn of the Seraphim was simply trying to be responsible and not lord himself over his brethren. And because of that attitude which Michael had constantly displayed, Callodyn felt better about linking himself with Israel and their ways of life.
In the end Callodyn's British pride saw no great purpose. Naturally, ho valued and cherished his culture which he had adopted, and saw no reason to change from it. He liked the British way of life and it suited him and his personality. But he valued Israel and the other cultures contribution to his own life as well, and you could not be the only voice in the world in the end. Others had to have their say and play their part.
And so, resolving his difficulties, he decided to go a little slower in his zeal to convert the Cherubim to remain totally committed members of the British Commonwealth and, instead, try to maintain a spirit of lawfulness and eternal commitment to God and let that, in the end, be the light which would win the other angels to his dreams of glory, instead of any talk of bravado and false glory which any other attitude, in the end, might lead to.
And resolving himself on that issue, and finding a new spirit of peace in his heart, he headed off from the dormitory, down to the dinner hall, and sitting down to Michael who was happily chatting with Elenniel, he felt better about things and returned to a more normal way of thinking amongst the angels of eternity.
The End
'Fighting for Glory'
God was thinking it over, but indecisive. He had influence – he knew that. But many of his children had already committed to the English world. But, no. In the end he would not tolerate it. God would be fair. He would distribute the Cherubim evenly and without favour around the districts of Zaphora and Terraphora. Ironically, the English speaking world would possibly end up with the most anyway, so persistent were they with promoting their culture. Naturally, he would make the contest fair, and Israel would have to fight hard and smart to gain any such influence against such furious competitors as the English, the Russian, the Spanish, the Chinese, the Indians and so on – the real power players in terms of population. But things would remain open in the sense that the hardest competitors – those who fought to the utmost – would gain the greatest glory. All things were fair in love and war and the fight for glory, so God judged. And young Callodyn – well if he wanted the glory – let him fight for it. It would be the making of him one way or another. It would definitely be that.
The End
"Call to Honour"
14,308 HY
It was a quiet time in the Realm of Eternity. A quiet, gentle and peaceful time. Of course, very soon, there would come the big project. Everyone was talking about it, but Saruviel was not concerned. Whatever role God called for him to partake of in the creation of the Physical universe – well – he would undertake with the seriousness his role as seventhborn was called to, despite the sometimes ill repute such a role had become known for.
Today, though, perhaps in unconscious anticipation of the work which lay ahead, in a spirit of triviality, Saruviel was making paper flying objects. Folding a piece of paper in various ways, and then flinging it through the air to watch it fly through space. Really, it was not the most exacting of duties for one of his responsibilities, but he had reached a melancholy in his life recently. Life went on. It simply did. And despite the heights of glory he felt almost predestined to achieve, could he not simply forget about everything, be a simple young angel of God, and make paper objects. And thinking that nobody was watching, which was not true, he had spent the last half an hour doing as such.
God was watching. Subtley amused. 'IS THIS GRAND SARUVIEL? REDUCED TO MAKING PAPER PLANES?'
The show went on for another hour and then God, happily in his own little world, woke from his slumber, summoned Michael to the throneroom of Zaphon, and gave him a task. Michael nodded, receiving the instruction and, when daring to ask why, actually receiving something of an answer, which was not always the case. Michael wrote out a letter on quality parchment, sent it of with a courier, and went back to his duties.
When Saruviel received the official Zaphon message, with the seal of God, he was curious. And reading it, finishing it, and gaining the understanding, he could only ask 'Why me?'
It became knowledge in the Realm of Eternity after a while, that Saruviel and Krystabel were to be the chosen Angels for which the firstborn humans would be specifically moulded from. Of course, each and every angel of eternity would partake of the creation of mankind, for God would speak to all Angelicdom to make mankind in their image at the crucial time. But, for Saruviel, the seventhborn, great honour. Great honour and prestige for being the chosen elders of humanity in a sense, born from the sixth planned day, but being angels of rest.
And, as the year finished, and the year of creation began, Saruviel was quietly humbled and thankful to God for the call to honour he was to receive. For, despite his grievances, God had a great and marvellous plan for his son Saruviel. One in which God would clearly demonstrate his affection and love for this beloved child of his.
The End
Phanuel and Brindabel 2
'Silly silly Sariel, think's he's cool, but he's a girl. Can't play cricket, he is crap, silly Sariel, and that's my rap.'
Phanuel stood there looking at Phanuel. 'Rap, you say?'
'It's a rap,' replied Phanuel. 'I call it Rap Music. Completely Aboriginal in origin.'
'American's do it,' replied Sariel dismissively, and returned to his drink.
Phanuel sat there. 'They rap?'
'I think they call it hip hop,' said Sariel.
'I'll have to look into it,' replied Phanuel.
'You do that,' said Sariel.
Phanuel reached down into his bag beside the table, and pulled out his new cricket bat.
'It's the Billabong Blazer Mark 7,' said Phanuel. 'Very new, and very lethal. It will aid me in kicking your ass at cricket.'
'Are you sure you are up to the challenge of the big leagues,' replied Sariel. 'Really, you're still an amateur from all reports.'
'An amateur who is going to shove his digeri doo right up your clacker,' said Phanuel.
'Let's hope it fits,' replied Sariel dryly.
'Australia will one day dominate test cricket,' said Phanuel.
'And pigs will fly,' replied Sariel.
'Australia will be so dominant, an aboriginal team will kick you first time they try.'
Sariel looked at Phanuel. 'Is that so?'
Phanuel nodded.
'Well I'll be then,' said Sariel. 'Well done Aussie.'
'And we're gonna kick your ass at Rugby as well,' said Phanuel.
'Better watch out for those kiwis on that. They are steadily becoming quite a challenge.'
'Kiwis are no match for a man and his digeri doo' said Phanuel.
'So you've said,' replied Sariel. 'I must watch out for your digeri doo. Whatever that is.'
Brindabel came in the bar.
'You got any weed?' she asked Phanuel. 'Oh, hi Sariel.'
'Not here, sis,' said Phanuel. 'You know how the Torah boys don't like us smoking the stuff.'
'They can get stuffed,' said Brindabel. 'In the library I smoke in the back room, and nobody complains.
'Michael tolerates you,' said Phanuel. 'You've been serving for a long time now.'
'You really shouldn't smoke marijuana inside Zaphon,' said Sariel, somewhat staunchly. 'It is God's most sacred place after all.'
Brindabella cringed a little. 'I know, Sars. I know. I do feel guilty sometimes. But it's a rush, man. Been enjoying it for ages now. Ever since they found out what it did,' replied Brindabel.
'Not the greatest of ideas. Smoking grass,' replied Sariel. 'Should be a rule against it.'
'Lighten up, bro,' said Phanuel.
'Right,' replied Sariel. 'Or you'll shove a digeri doo up my clacker, I take it.
Phanuel smiled and nodded. 'You got that right, bro. Right up your clacker.'
'Indeed,' finished Sariel, sipping on his ale, as the afternoon passed in a bar not far from Terraphon keep in the heart of Terraphora in the Realm of Eternity.
The End
Veldona and Shemrael 2
Veldona was arguing with God. 'You don't love me,' said Veldona.
'Callodyn says that all the time,' said the Theophany. 'Always wants a bloody blessing. Sheesh.'
'I notice you don't bless him, though. Nor me, very much.'
God smiled at her. 'Its because you are sooo special to me, Velly. You don't need a blessing. Your bright. You will figure it out.'
'You don't love me,' she said, sulking.
He put his arms around her. 'I love you to pieces Veldona.'
'Then give me a blessing.'
'No. I don't think so. No, I really don't think so. Just like Callodyn, you don't end your prayers. You just keep on praying and praying and praying. For crying out loud, must Italy be the most blessed nation of ALL eternity. Your competing with the Anglosphere, mind you. Callodyn is pretty dedicated to that.'
'Screw Callodyn. Italians do it better.'
'I hear that a lot,' said the theophany.
'So I am competing with him in prayer requests, am I?'
'So far,' said God, looking away, not wanting to come clean.
'Well?' she asked him.
'Nothing to say,' he said looking away guiltily.
'Well? Out with it.'
'Oh. Ok. Look, I am answering your prayers, now. But Callodyn will have to wait till last. I have prioritised on you, sweetie. Just the way it is.'
'But he gets his prayers answered later, right.'
God still looked guilty.
'And what does that mean, Father?'
'Well, I answer peoples prayers. All the angels have had their requests answered. Michael was first. Ambriel second. And then all of them.'
'And where did I fit on the list?'
'Second last,' he said, looking guilty.
'For heaven's sake. And Callodyn?'
'Lucky Last,' said God smiling. 'Just where I like him.'
'Good grief. But, all the prayers before us will make it impossible to get a blessing.'
'Tell me about it,' said God. 'You've buckleys of getting terribly much because of it.'
Veldona looked terrible disappointed. She sat down, on the couch, glum. Very glum.
'How long will I have to wait?'
'Probably till Terra. But don't worry. I will build you a Roman Empire. I promise.'
'You better,' she said, miffed. 'And what about me? Personally?'
'Well, 6176 SC. That is the year of your abundant blessing.'
'What is 6176 SC?' she asked him.
'The year on Terra you will receive your blessing. The others have all had their answers by then.'
'Oh. Great,' she said. 'And what about Callodyn?'
'In 6177, around February, I will finally get around to the schmuck. But you have all of 6176 and January 6177 to enjoy a great and abundant blessing. Your wealth will be incredible.'
'Thank you father,' she said, hugging Almighty God. 'But what about Callodyn?'
'He'll get what's coming to him,' said God, fire in his eyes. Veldona gulped. 'Poor Callodyn,' she said grimly.
'Indeed,' said the Theophany of God Almighty.
'I will have to get Shemrael to pray for him. For you to have mercy on his poor, poor soul.'
'I guess you will,' said the Theophany of God Almighty.
And Shemrael did pray.
And pray.
And pray.
And God knew exactly, just then, how much he really wanted to 'Bless' Callodyn the Cherubim, angel and son of God the Almighty Father.
The End
Saruviel of Eternity 2
New Beginnings. They sometimes took a while to get used to. But, for Saruviel the Cherubim, 79th male Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, those new beginnings had begun, but, after a while, life had settled him down with old, familiar, spirit. With old comforts, comforts of youth, spirit of younger years. And therein had he found his salvation. He lived in his apartment, and now worked for a farmer down the road, for he lived at the northern edge of his cherubim village, which housed about 700 Cherubim, and a farmer up the northern 'Old Angel Road' had asked if he wanted to work for him a few years back and Saruviel, who had worked in a cafe in the village, washing dishes and doing the cleaning and other odd jobs, had agreed to be a farmhand, and occupied his days with shearing of sheep and picking of vegetables and other things. There was a female cherubim who lived at the farm and worked there. Janethiel. She was cute enough, but worked hard, and was saving well these days, she let him know. She had a claim way out west in Terraphora, but wanted something near this village, for she found it a hospitable place to live, and reminded her of the surroundings of her youth, so she said. 'It was almost like a garden,' Janethiel had said. So Saruviel spent his reborn days chatting with Janethiel, working on the farm, and going about the business of being an angel of God, a Cherubim, in the Realm of Terraphora of Eternity, living a simple and happy life.
'Tardanel is sick today,' said Janethiel. Tardanel was the farmer who owned the farmstead.
'A lot of work to do today,' replied Saruviel.
'We can handle it don't you think?' replied Janethiel. 'Work is good for the soul after all.'
'Yes, work is good for the soul,' said Saruviel.
And so they worked hard - very hard that day - and the day passed, and it whiled itself away in this and that duty, and Saruviel noticed Janethiel from time to time, and she smiled at him, and he smiled at her, and they worked hard.
'I think I have earned my pay today,' said Saruviel, sitting in the farmhouse kitchen, Tardanel making them tea, who had recovered somewhat.
'I've been watching you guys a bit,' said Tardanel. 'You are responsible. You have the image of God sealed into your hearts. A good Cherubim witness to our Seraphim brothers.'
'An angel is born to work,' said Saruviel. 'Sure, there are pleasures, but without work they just become like too much pleasure foods. You get sick of it.'
'So we work hard,' said Janethiel. 'And enjoy our pleasures in proper moderation.'
'I see that you two abound in Mitraphoran wisdom,' said Tardanel.
'I did my studies there like most angels,' said Saruviel.
'It was challenging, but I got through my courses,' said Janethiel. 'Learned how life worked. How spirituality worked.'
'And it is good to see you have brought that knowledge to your working life,' said Tardanel. 'For I would be lost without you two,' said the farmer.
Saruviel looked at Janethiel, who returned the stare. 'Want to go into town tonight? Get something to eat, and play pool and stuff?'
'Are you coming on to me?' asked Janethiel, grinning.
'Well, its about time he did,' said Tardanel, and rose, and excused himself.
Janethiel looked at Saruviel and Saruviel looked at Janethiel.
'Yes, its about time I did,' said Saruviel. Janethiel did not reply, but kept looking at him.
They had a good time in town that night. A very good time.
And still worked hard the following day, but eyes were a bit more on their co-workers. Just that bit more than normal.
The End
The Last Days of Eternity
Here they were. Mankind imminent, and the end of life as they knew it,
Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Saruviel, Daniel and Ambriel were all in a bar in Terraphora, looking forward, looking back.
'It's been a good life,' said Michael.
'Aye,' said Saruviel, sipping on his brandy and lemonade.
'We've been through a lot together,' said Michael.
'That we have,' nodded Gabriel,' sipping on his vodka and orange.
'And we're the wiser for it,' said Michael.
'Agreed,' said Raphael, drinking his Shandy.
'The end of eternity, but another new beginning,' said Michael.
'Wouldn't have it any other way,' said Ambriel, sipping on his apple cider.
'What does the future hold?' asked Michael, finally taking a sip on his dark ale.
'Once and for all I think I can say, time will only tell, dear Michael. Time will only tell,' finished Daniel, and sipped on his Rum and Cola.
And all as one the Children of Destiny said 'Amen to that.'
The End
Call to Honour 2
'Sometimes life gets away from you,' thought Saruviel, sitting at his desk in Kalphon. He remembered it - explicitly - his rebellion. And, in a strange way, it was like, looking back, his thoughts had gotten away from him. Taken him, and ran away with him, and not let him sit down, and think things through, and actually question - seriously - why he was thinking and doing just what he was thinking and doing. And before he'd had a serious chance to review all of his contemplations on freedom, he had acted, perhaps now, in hindsight, impulsively, and had been exiled. And that had been that. Yet, even then, he had not learned his lesson, but repeated it. Later on, exiles finished, he'd repented, acknowledged the truth, moved on life, served with diligence, and received an ultimate honour from it. A great reward of service for the destiny of Saruviel given to him by his God? But beyond the impending honour, life still went on. Funny that. All the glory, all the adulation, all the attention, but life still went on, and got over those prides after a while. So Saruviel, sitting there in Kalphon, thinking about spending the next hour making paper planes, decided that in his heart he needed his own call to honour, and the seeds of that had been planted in the seeds of freedom ironically. And that was the call to honour of self respect. He would make a choice, inside, deep inside his heart, to treat himself with honour, and respect himself, and speak up for himself, and take care of himself. If life was going against him he would work, and work, until life went with him. If he was being oppressed he would escape his oppressor and find a way to achieve life and liberty and balance and victory yet again. He would not be looked down upon. He would not be - a victim. Though, as he sat there, thinking the honour due him, he came to a realization. All needed honour. All needed and should be treated with respect. Respect, courtesy and love. They were made in the image of God, weren't they. They should deserve something special in their lives, treatment in accordance with their status. Their DIVINE status. So, folding over some paper, making his first plane, Saruviel contemplated these thoughts, and his own personal call to honour, and whiled away the afternoon in Kalphon keep, another fine day in Terraphora, another fine day in the Realm of Eternity.
The End
The Cherubim Navindra 2
'Navindra, Navindra, Navindra. Why can't you do the vacuuming properly? I bought you the damn new machine. At least get it right sweetie.'
'Technology. These days nothing but technology,' replied Navindra. All of a sudden, off we go in a huff and the earth and man is created, and a technological revolution hits the realm of eternity for a century. And Adam has barely spoken a million words as well.'
Sachin looked at her. 'We are a faithful and true couple of Delhi, and we are upper class.'
'Always with the upper class. Can we never be just ourselves,' replied Navindra. 'You would think we were Seraphim or something. I know, I know. Delhi society expects us to be at our best. You know, there are over 50,000 of us Indians, and at least 10% live here in Delhi. We don't have that much to compete with Sachin. Why are you such a fuss pot? Always the latest technology. You would think we were Japanese.'
'Technology improves our live,' retorted Sachin, taking a beer from the fridge, and sitting down to watch the cricket on the Television. 'Delhi is going to kick arse tonight I tell you,' boasted Sachin.
'A man and his cricket. Unbelievable,' replied Navindra, throwing her hands in the air as she looked at the complicated vacuum cleaner in 3 pieces. 'Now how am I going to fix you?' she pondered, as the late afternoon turned to twilight.

Navindra had seen the wonders of the world created, a brand new creation, the first she had seen, for she had not witnessed the creation of the realm of eternity, being born into it. But Terra had been formed right before her eyes, and she had done certain work, and the Morning Stars had sung the glory of God and, as soon as it had started it was over, and she was back to her regular life, returned from a moment in time. Life with Sachin, despite his fuss, was growing on her. They were twins, and were married, but it was more than that. They got along. They argued, but they got along. They disputed even minor points with each other, but they got along. They hated each others choice in TV programs, but they got along. It didn't seem to matter, in the end, when they had a disagreement. He still looked at her and smiled, and winked, and she came to him and kissed him on the cheek, and they got along. Thank God for her twin, she often felt. The future looked promising, and there was work as well, when humanity started developing more so. Work in watching over humans, and caring for human society. They too, in time, would form nations and glories, and the angels had charge from God - watch over those whose image was alike their own. And it would be meaningful work, and it would last an age and beyond. Life, indeed, for Navindra the Cherubim was busy and happy and full of excitement and growing adventure. And, really, she would have it no other way she thought to herself. And then Sachin exploded as Calcutta started scoring rapidly, and she returned to her hurly burly life, the life of Cherubim Navindra, 373rd female Cherubim of the Realm of Eternity.
The End
"Aquariel: Witches and Warlocks"
"Very funny, Aqua. Besides, you can't call it that. God is really not the biggest fan of witches and warlocks, as you should know. He kills them down there."
"Oh, they never do that. It is just how strict he can get if he wants to."
"I don't know. From what I have heard in Europe they have started doing that. The church is getting very serious about God's laws these days."
"They are way over-reacting if they are. Most of the witches I have observed through the portals are harmless now. Nothing like they used to be. They are old women who just like to dabble – a bit of fascination with the dark arts. Hardly a devotion to evil like in the old days. Besides, most of them have heard of God and a lot believe. It really is not the same. Really not the same."
"Be that as it may, I don't think Zaphon will approve. I might be wrong, I mean I know they are a pretty tolerant bunch these days, but I doubt it."
"We'll see,' responded Aquariel to her brother Gabriel's objections. 'We'll see."

He had considered the request for so long now, three and a half years, and Michael had finally consulted his father who had remained silent. No comment, not one word. And when he had declared that, after considering Aquariel's detailed philosophical rationalities for the permission of the text and told his God he would approve unless he commented otherwise, God had still remained silent. And so, not really knowing what to ultimately think or say, Michael, ever so slowly, signed the approval document and the deed was done. But he was cautious, most cautious.

"So what. So what. I mean, really, so what." But despite his best manageable grim façade, Gabriel was softly smiling at her. The final Encounter had not debuted at number one, but reached it after a few weeks. But Aquariel, after so long never putting pen to paper, and debuting at number one on the bestseller chart, had been bragging a little to her brother about her success. And now, the third week in a row, Gabriel was starting to get a little riled.
"If you think it is bad now," she continued, "Wait for the sequel. I reckon I can make the all time best selling list within a decade on it."
"Dream on. You will never take Daniel. All he worries about these days is competing with himself."
"So what if he owns the top 10."
"Top 24 at last count, from memory. Michael worked hard for that 25th slot. Really, he worked bloody hard."
"But Daniel has not seen the power of a woman."
"Good luck, sis. I think you will need it."
But Aquariel just went on in her heart plotting further adventures of wizards and warlocks and dungeons and dragons, fantasies of glory flooding her mind.
THE END
Aquariel: Witches and Warlocks II
Aquariel had on her witches hat.
'It suits you,' said Gabriel.
'Oh, go write a book or something,' replied Aquariel.
Elenniel, also with a witches hat on, smiled. 'Gabriel really thinks well of this little gathering. I am sure of that.'
Callodyn, the Warlock, spoke up. 'He's a fundamentalist bastard. Ready to do us in, I tell you.'
Ambriel the Warlock nodded. 'I fear the wrath of Gabriel. And Michael too. They will tear us to shreds. Now that we have joine - THE DARK SIDE'.
'Anyway, roll the dice Gab. It's your turn,' said Callodyn.
Gabriel rolled the dice, and got 11. He moved his marker round the board. 'Oh, goodie. Magic Potion card.' He picked up a card from the Magic Potion deck. He read it out. 'Your Alchemists have finally managed to turn lead into Gold. Receieve 12,000 Credits.'
'Lucky bastard,' said Michael.
'He's got enough to build a palace now and declare himself a duke,' said Callodyn.
'Duke, Shmuke,' said Ambriel. 'I'll put a spell on him and rot all his pumpkins which he's selling for income.'
'I'll be your community has had their fill of pumpkins,' said Elenniel.
'I produced a book. It was a bestseller,' he replied, winking at Aquariel. 'It's called 1001 uses for pumpkins. They can't get enough of them.'
'Fascinating,' said Michael. 'My turn I believe.' Michael rolled his dice. He got 5. He moved his Marker. It landed on the curse square. He rolled his dice again and got 12. 'Awesome,' said Michael. 'Maximum Curse. The Black Plague. Who shall I choose, who shall I choose?'
'Gabriel thinks your really a sodomite,' said Daniel.
Michael considered Gabriel. 'Nah, Gab's fine.'
'Daniel thinks you have very bad hygiene,' said Ambriel.
Michael looked at Daniel, who looked back with perfect innocence. 'Nah, I'll give Danny boy a break.'
'Callodyn has always been evil,' said Aquariel.
'While that is somewhat true,' replied Michael. 'It's not his turn to suffer.'
'Then who?' they all asked.
Michael looked at Aquariel. 'Your responsible for creating this chaotic game. So enjoy the black plague. Hah,' he said, grinning at his younger sister.
'Thanks,' said Aquariel sarcastically, and removed 3 quarters of her tokens for villagers from the board.
'Witches and Warlocks. Awesome game, Aqua,' said Gabriel.
Aquariel did not reply. The game was not exactly going to plan.
And so the Children of Destiny whiled away another day in the Realm of Eternity, playing another original creation of Aquariel's and life, meandering down its happy and merry and gentle path, couldn't have been happier. Could not have been happier.
The End
Fighting for Glory II
'Callodyn, Callodyn, Callodyn,' began Sariel. 'No longer a zealot for the Commonwealth? What has happened my fine young son? Where has your patriotism gone?'
'Kayella told me to grow up,' responded Callodyn the Cherubim.
'You could do a lot of that, actually. But come on, lad. We have an Empire to build. The world is a changing, and Terra is growing up. From all reports young Britannia is starting to make moves in the world. I watch, sometimes, in the viewing portal in Terraphon keep. It's a young Empire, full of zeal and passion, which frankly I wonder what happened to you on. Come on. If we are ever going to put those Hebrews in their place we need team loyalty.'
'I live in Australia now,' replied Callodyn. 'Kayella likes it there occasionally, though she's a diehard yankee. But she won't live in England, but accepts me living as an Aussie. I'm not a bloody Aussie, but Canberra is nice.'
'Phanuel's home town. Getting good at cricket those Aussies. Becoming quite a challenge. Mmmm. You think you can serve the Empire from the land down under then?'
Callodyn nodded. 'When it comes to the push and the shove, later on, when we start manifesting, you'll know who I am loyal to. It won't change in the end, Sars. But, for now, leave me be ok. We'll win our war, I'm sure of it. But I am learning humility. God forsakes the proud, and if we were to rule, we would have to be fit for the job. Properly tempered, not given to too much patriotic passion. You see what that does with menfolk. Never ending wars because of it.'
'Indeed,' replied Sariel, sitting down in the bar they were in near Terraphon keep. He ordered an English ale, and they sat there quietly for a while. 'I'm still steadily promoting our language,' said Sariel. 'Most angels know it now, but they speak their own cultures language more often than not. But we have outstanding literary works, and that is a way forward I feel. Also popularizing our sports seems to be a definite idea.'
'It works,' said Callodyn, sipping on a soft drink.
'So, as you put it so aptly, the agenda goes on softly for now. But, in the end, my fine young friend, do you want to be an also ran? Do you want to be left behind, like Andorra, say, and rule nobody and no-one. It's no fun at the bottom of the barrel, Cal.'
'No. I could imagine,' replied Callodyn.
'So there we have it,' finished Sariel. 'I'll know where to find you when I need you.'
'You will indeed,' replied Callodyn.
'Good,' said Sariel. 'Well, cheers. And I'll see you around in good time enough. God be with you.'
'God be with you Sariel,' replied Callodyn, and Sariel sipped down his ale, stood and left the bar.
Patriotism. Fighting for glory. It could take all your energy, but better to live with practical realities Callodyn reminded himself. But the agenda, in the end, hadn't changed that much. When they needed it he would show up for his Commonwealth. And, on that day of reckoning, let's hope they were prepared to claim the glory they sought, he thought to himself. Let us hope so indeed, as he finished his soda, and made for Terraphon and a good night's sleep.
The End
Krystabel and the Clock of Eternity II
'Cimbrel, Cimbrel, Cimbrel. You are wise, knowledgeable and knowing. Tell me the time,' said Krystabel.
'Time it moves quite forwards, flowing ever on. Yet we stand always in present, singing life's merry song,' replied Cimbrel.
'Very good,' said Krystabel.
'You are not going to be collecting clocks again are you?' asked Saruviel, looking up from his desk in Kalphon keep.
'No,' replied Krystabel to her twin. 'Just mine and Cimbrel's regular discussions on the subject.'
'The Clock of Eternity fascinates you? Why not knitting?'
'I knit,' replied Krystabel.
'And that jumper you have promised me for a millennium?' asked Saruviel.
Krystabel looked softly at her brother. She felt guilty.
Later on that week she was seated on the back of the throne in Zaphon, on the cloth covered bench behind the throne, looking up the Clock of Eternity on the wall.
'Ok, clock,' she said. 'I have challenged myself. You tell accurate time, so time me. I have 7 hours, with a short lunch break, to knit this damn sweater. So if I get it done on time, you chime a joyous tune for me.'
The clock remained silent. She began knitting.
Life came and went throughout Zaphon that day. Occasionally a visitor came to the throneroom, but she could not be directly seen behind the throne, but Ambriel popped his head in.
'Oh, it's you, Kryssie,' he said.
'Just knitting,' she smiled. 'Getting a damn sweater done for Saruviel.'
'Don't let me disturb you then,' he said, smiling. 'Can I get you anything thought?'
Krystabel looked up at the clock. It was approximately lunch time. 'A little plate from the cafeteria would be appreciated,' she replied.
'At once fair maiden,' said Ambriel, and disappeared. Shortly he returned with two plates, and they sat and chatted for about half an hour, eating their meal, sharing with each other news in their lives.
Then she got back to it.
Time passed. The clock ticked on. And then, a little before evening, she had finished. Gotten the damn thing done.
She looked at the clock. 'You are supposed to chime now,' she said, smiling.
A visitor, who inhabited the throne quite regularly, had been observing his guest much of the day. HE decided to act.
Suddenly, a beautiful and divine chorus of chimes filled the entire throneroom, and Krystabel listened in joy as the beautiful melodies came to a peak, and fell away.
She looked at the clock. 'You devil,' she said.
But the clock continued to tick on and on and on, oblivious to the admiration of Krystabel the Angel, Seraphim of Eternity.
The End

The Seraphim Jembryel

The 'Nixian' Agenda

35,866 HY

10,557 SC

'Of course, everyone knows Hydran's can't be trusted. Those fowl
snakes have always thought themselves superior to us, especially on
the sporting field. But a day of Judgement has come, I tell you. We
live in a new era, in this stellar civilization. The old ways time
and time again have failed. Everyone knows that. Pluto and Charon
never act in our best interests and rarely present our claims to the
stellar council. So I urge you, fellow Nixians, join the revolution.
Join the 'Way of Darkness' and we will ultimately conquer our foes.
Remember, united we stand, divided we fall.'

The speaker, Roge Jembray, got down from his soapbox after another
afternoon on his usual crusade and started handing out flyers to the
crowd which had gathered. About 50 metres away a parked cruiser
ignited its engine and took to the skies. As the cruiser headed back
to its hotel destination, the two men on board in the back seat felt
satisfied. They had seen enough. They had seen firsthand the growing
revolutionary feeling on Nix, one of the moons of Pluto & Charon, and
would take this news back to their Hydran politicians. Conflict was
coming – that much was certain. And Nix and Hydra were about to face
a most decisive of encounters.

'So how did it go today, Roge?'

'Oh, the usual turnout, Julessa. I did sign on 20 or so new recruits,
which gives us the number we were looking for. We have 10,000 now.
10,000 souls willing to put their life on the line for the future of
Nix and our place in the system.'

'And if it leads to war, Roge? What then?'

'Then some will live and some will die, Julessa. But freedom always
has a price. Mankind has always known that truth.' Julessa Jembray
nodded at her husband's words. They were in truth familiar.

'Will you be at the meeting tonight, or have you changed your mind and
agreed to spend the night with me and mother and father to celebrate
their wedding anniversary?'

'You know I would love to, J. But you know how important the meetings
are. I can't miss them. Not for anything.'

'Yes, I know. I was only hoping.'

Roge, having been greeted by his wife after returning from his
preaching, got up from the kitchen table and walked into the living
room to turn on the holoviewer. He switched the channel to Nix's main
news channel. The usual mix of politics and other events. As he sat
there, relaxing, he thought on his struggle – his struggle for the
future of Nix, one of the furthest moons from old Earth, right out
near the edge of the system. It was 400 years now since colonisation,
and completely settled. Solar magnifiers gave them the heat and the
electricity they needed and they had ample water taken from one of the
ice rings of Saturn. Nix homed a billion people or thereabouts. The
whole surface of the moon was covered and sublevels went down near to
the moons core – it was its own new world. And now that it had a
growing culture and identity it was proud of itself, and Nixians
wanted more. Roge knew that. They wanted to impress themselves upon
the system and, as far as Roge Jembray was concerned, in a way that
would not be forgotten.

The man in black examined the picture. 'So this is Jembray?' The
agent in front of him nodded. 'Mmm. He doesn't look that dangerous.
But better to be safe than sorry. Agent 8X, you are authorised to use
deadly force to deal with this radical. But please, obtain your
weaponry on Nix. We want no leaks back to Hydra. Am I understood?'
Agent 8X coldly nodded. He understood, alright.

The meeting had gone well. Better than expected really, the latest in
the long rally. They were ready now, the 'Way of Darkness', and the
political stage was the next logical step. They had the 10,000
official members required for a political party and, despite Nix being
long regarded as a left-wing haven, the radical right might just have
a say in the affairs of Nix in the immediate future.

As he drove home that night in his cruiser Roge Jembray was excited.
The party was to lodge its official application to become a political
party tomorrow morning. It required the standard electronic
application but new parties still had a degree of old fashioned
paperwork to fill out as well as official hard copy documents needed
to be sighted, which Roge had been working on for the last few weeks.
He was the number two man in the 'Way', technically, but number one,
old John Sinclair, was more of a figurehead from a ruling right wing
party from earlier in the century. In all practical manners Roge ran
the show. He was not sure just how far he would go, in the end, but
he sensed a sentiment on Nix. People were fed up with the short straw
this end of the system usually got in system resources. Nearly always
the last on the handout cue. Of course, they were largely self-
sufficient as a satellite body, but they still needed the rest of the
system as no planet stood alone in the end. Roge had a plan. He
wanted to ruffle Hydra's feathers in some ways. Hydra was much like
Nix, similar in size, the other major moon of Pluto/Charon. But Hydra
had a long standing attitude of superiority against their Nixian
neighbours, being older in settlement, and slightly larger in
population. They were competitors on and off the field of sporting
glory, but there was a growing feeling in Nix that if Nix could get
one really good one up on Hydra, well the whole planet would feel
better about itself. And that is the role Roge Jembray saw for
himself. Being the right man at the right time for Nix, his beloved
planet of birth.

Driving along he was oblivious to the cruiser which had just pulled up
behind him. And as Roge Jembray neared his home agent 8X in the
cruiser behind him readied himself for his assassination attempt.

The cruiser landed in the port of his home and he got out and stood
looking at his house, a technical wonder in this era of Nixian
history. He reached back down to the open cruiser door, picked up his
GHT567 phaser which he carried for defensive reasons and heard a
zapping sound just as he picked up the laser. Looking around he
noticed a scorch mark on his house and turned quickly to see a figure
in black hiding behind a cruiser just across the road, weapon pointed
at him.

Roge reacted quickly. They had chosen the wrong guy to mess around
with. He had served in Nixian security details and was an expert with
his weapon. So much so that after an exchange of a dozen or so shots
he landed the killing blow on his opponent.

Coming over he looked at the dead figure. All in black with and id
badge reading 8X. That sounded familiar. Hydran special agents used
that id system. He had read the action novels about them as a
youngster. Hydra was after him now – that much was apparent. He
would have to be even more cautious in the future. But this was a
good thing. It meant he was being noticed. And if he was being
noticed, it meant one other most important of things. He had power
coming to him. And with that power he would change the history and
future of Nix and the stellar system forever.

Gaining 14 seats out of the 5000 House of Representatives sitting
members was a good start for Roge Jembray and the 'Way of Darkness'.
Both John Sinclair and himself were amongst the winning members and
there was a sense in the party that this was just the beginning. Just
the beginning. After he had survived the assassination attempt the
news had been leaked that Hydra had been responsible and there was a
growing undercurrent in Nix now, more so than ever. Nix wanted a
piece of Hydra. They wanted to stand up to their older brother.

At the next election they increased to 158 seats and were officially a
minor party in the House. They also gained 2 Senators. While
previously they'd really only had voting power in the house of Reps,
Senator's carried a lot more weight. And Roge had foregone his seat
in the house of Reps to take up one of the Senatorial positions for
the party. Now he had a degree of power – real power. They were a
far right party, but the right wing opposition occasionally had words
with them and sought their support on voting issues from time to
time. Roge now had some influence.

It was at this time Roge formed 'Children of the Night', a long
planned part of his agenda. The 'Children' were special operatives of
the party, which Roge worked hard to gain official power for, which
had just been granted by a special sitting assembly. Even the left
wing recognized some of the sentiments the 'Way' represented. The
'Children' were then given the resources to accomplish their
objectives.

Nix had a long standing arrangement with Hydra on supply ships from
the inner system, but when special operatives of the 'Children'
amongst other key groups started abducting the robotic operated supply
ships arriving from the inner system which were due for Hydra, Hydra
eventually noticed. And hostilities began.

It started slow. Firstly official words from one President to another
seeking clarification of the situation and the hope diplomacy would
end the problem. But Nix remained insistent of their innocence, which
both parties knew was not true. Nobody really expected war, in the
end. Nix had a grudge, nothing more. And their agenda to gain
revenge on their long rivals was seen just as that. And because of
that, after the first official space conflict between Hydra and Nix in
which a Hydran battle-cruiser was destroyed, the Hydran President
decided that Hydran's simply did not want war. They would wait this
one out.

It was 4 years into the conflict that the inner system finally decided
to act. A special council was convened on Earth, head planet of the
stellar system. Representatives of Nix and Hydra were summoned and
the Grand Chancellor spoke directly with Roge Jembray, Nix's selected
representative. It was an illuminating conversation and years later
Roge Jembray had finally acknowledged the wisdom in the Chancellors
words.

The Chancellor had said this to Roge, in private, at the seat of
stellar harmony in New York. 'Roge, we humans have a long history of
conflict. Our history is rife with such a reality. Indeed, this
represents human nature in so many ways. And while we often react to
the oppression of others in hostility and hatred, as a civilization we
have slowly learned the lessons that war and pride must give way to
peace and forgiveness for the good of all of us. The ancient United
Nations was a beacon in the early days of a united humanity,
symbolizing the best in us to get along on a global scale. In those
days there was so much racial and religious division that many
despaired of ever finding universal peace. But we persevered as a
people and, in the end, saw the light. Be it the creator's grace, or
just that funny thing called 'love' we eventually learned enough to
know how to get along as a people and respect each other. And that, I
think dear Roge, is what Nix and Hydra must learn. It is not unique,
your situation. Civilizations have gone through such dilemmas many
times before. So I urge you, dear Roge Jembray. Learn from them.
Learn from their mistakes and successes and learn that getting along,
being at peace, is always preferred to a life on the edge, in which
safety has vanished. I am sure, in the end Roge Jembray, you will do
the right thing.'

Later on that year the conflict between Nix and Hydra had largely died
down. The council seemed to have resolved most of the issues that Nix
in particular had. And Roge, as he continued in his political life,
thought often on the wisdom of the Grand Chancellor and eventually
nodded to himself that he had indeed spoken with a wise man. And, as
the years past, and Nix and Hydra grew more into friends than rivals
Roge Jembray acknowledged that there was wisdom in the way of peace.
There was wisdom indeed.

"Dark Times"

35,902 HY

The stranger looked up at the tower. Paramount tower, highest tower
in the Realm of Eternity so far, 666 stories of Satan's most viscious
pride.

'A Babelite indeed,' he chuckled to himself. He was careful now.
Very careful. 700 solid years of spiritual ministry under Rabbi
Rosenberg on New Terra had taught him many things, but mostly to
beware the power of evil. For, as the Rabbi would say, if your heart
truly succumbs to the power of darkness and lets it go were it will,
then God himself will forsake your salvation and allow you to taste
the hallways of death which your pride thusly desires. And the Rabbi
had reminded him again and again that no other power was known of as
damnable in persuasive ability than the old devil, Satan himself. The
stranger was aware of this. Intimately aware, and his agenda was now
sure. The Rabbi had talked for a long time about the death penalty in
the Torah of Israel and how the Angels seemed to be exempt from such a
reality, subject to the Torah of heaven. But after many careful and
private conversations, with careful words of prayer to Hashem to
ensure his tacit acceptance, if not approval, the plan was hatched.
One day, said the Rabbi, Satan would again act in his pride and rage,
and in the power he would achieve, threaten the very foundation of
human society through the spiritual universe. 'We must act
decisively, and now,' the Rabbi spoke to him. 'We must slaughter this
beast and ensure our own survival. For if we do not it will be a dark
end to all of us, and of that I am completely certain.' And so the
stranger finally agreed, despite the heart within him, a heart of love
telling him to think otherwise, and plotted out his first
assassination attempt. He knew he could never tell Meludiel, his
twin. He knew that. Some secrets were meant to last for all
eternity. But a time of testing had come for the stranger. A time of
testing for Ambriel, son of God. If he were to be the man he needed
to be, Satan, the dark lord of evil, would have to succumb to his
wrath and taste the bittermost death so many for so long had wished
upon him but not had the strength of courage or will to dare attain.

Satan looked at the picture on his desk in front of him, sitting in
his office atop Paramount tower in the Realm of Eternity, nestled near
Terraphon keep. He looked at Gemrayel, his heart sighing. It was not
really as if could repent. Such an idea had vanished from his nature
upon his fall. Who did that imbecile most high God really think he
was to try and instruct Satan on ideas of religious ruling. Satan
knew no authority, and would never respect any. Of course, he knew to
fear God, but that was only because he knew the power, ability and
wrath of God his father. God could get you at any time if he wanted
to and his power was unavoidable. But he knew God to live by a sense
of personal morality and if whenever he told God to Fugg himself and
leave him the hell alone he always noted God withdrew according to
Satan's wishes. These days, it seemed, God had an inability to get
mad at his son, something which Satan did not really understand. But,
thinking about it for many years now, he knew it to do with his lack
or real practice of evil for a long time. Satan, while never ever
regretting his ways, had seemingly, as he noticed himself, toned down
his nature. But he did not care for he sensed this to be naturally
occurring. Almost as if he were getting along simply out of personal
desire, which was a paramount thought of his own. Absolute freedom,
his hearts love, said do what you will. But this old devil had grown
a little softer now, so many millennia having passed, and found it
strange that he got along a little better with those who had once been
his sworn enemies. But he was Satan, still, and looking at Gemrayel
he still grinned a little at the rape he had once accomplished. But
his heart sighed for, not really knowing why, he longed to see her
again so long she had sworn to stay away from him. He had seen
Aphrayel a century ago and almost felt obligated to be a little
polite, such had been his desire to rekindle his acquaintance. But
that had not gone too well as he had insulted her after a while, and
she had left frustrated. And now, in recent times, introspective
thoughts. Thoughts on God's actual views on morality itself and a
simple thing God had said to him. A simple thing which he was at odds
with because it actually seemed to make sense in reflection. The
simple thing was that a moral life worked the best as you ended up
getting along the best with everyone else to your own personal sense
of satisfaction. Of course he had laughed at God as he had suggested
that absurdity, but in quiet reflection he almost dared his heart to
say that, well, yes, there seemed to be some truth to that idea. Yet,
nevertheless, he was Satan, and he had a reputation to maintain, and
therefore such fantasies of being a nice guy were left to the vain and
trivial desires of his Almighty father.

The wound hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot. And despite thinking he
would probably die, in the recovery ward of the hospital, Satan
starting to feel just a tiny bit better, the doctor ensuring him he
would not in fact die as the bullet had just missed his spine, Satan
knew that something had just happened on a spiritual level. A
punishment had been inflicted. An age long punishment for an age long
sin. And laying there, the spirit reminding him of his rape of
Gemrayel, he now understood that God really did have a long memory and
could wait a hell of a long time to punish someone. But, laying
there, wincing often, the pain quite high, there was a strange sense
of relief. A strange sense that, almost, something foreboding had
been lifted from his shoulders. Some great and dreadful foreboding
punishment had been removed, and that with this injury and seeming a
few more occurrences of great anxiety over the next few years, a few
years of dark times for the lord of evil, a penalty of a lifetime of
darkness would be atoned for. And lying there, feeling strangely a
little more positive about everything in life, his mind turned back
all those millennia ago to a time, just a little before he chose the
dark magic, a time in his room when he questioned wether such a choice
was really for the best for his future. And thinking on that very
idea he suddenly, despite noting his own internal sense of hypocrisy,
felt that, just perhaps, he had made the wrong decision after all.
But he banished that thought after a few moments, turning to other
things and wincing on his pain, but still, nevertheless, feeling a
little better about his lot in life and a little happier with things
in general.

As he watched the GHT rifle melt away in the furnace, Ambriel
reflected on his final moment. No, he couldn't do it. No matter what
else, he just couldn't make the kill. But his vengeance rose, and he
knew exactly were to place the bullet for maximum pain, but no
permanent damage. And, his pride intact, his vengeance largely
satiated, he watched as the rifle melted away, thoughts of vengeance
and death thankfully dissolving away, along with the lethal GHT.

Saruviel – The Quick and the Dead

35,999 SC

Saruviel examined the bullet wound. His mind analyzed quickly,
countless spiritual neurons making connections with the data. The
bullet was from a GHT 459. One of the deadlier types of rifles. His
murderer was an expert. Only experts used that rifle. Only experts
enjoyed its subtle killing power.

Seven dead, now. Seven dead in a week, and still no clues as to
whom. Televon Police suggested that it was likely the man in black
himself. The old devil who had started up his business again. But
Saruviel couldn't picture Satan doing this. Not this time. He knew
Satan now lived down in Paradision on Androma. Very close to Daly.
Very close to him. They had become friends and the 'Chronicler' had
talked to Satan about repentance. He had talked to him more seriously
than most ever tried to bother doing, and Satan had felt grateful for
this. Which was why he trusted Daly somewhat, living near him in the
same city. Could this be the work of Satan? Could the old devil
really be up to his old tricks?

The bullet was gone. The killer was not stupid – not stupid at all.
Saruviel had spent the afternoon examining the crime scene, looking
for clues. Every interaction from the killer with the crime scene
left clues. The old Jack Dagger mysteries had taught him that well
enough. But this killer left all clues absent. Totally absent. He
or she was an expert – an expert of the highest caliber.

The latest victim, another of the royal house of Televon. Albert
Rothchild, grandson of the king. 3 dead royals now and 4 dead senior
politicians. And each untraceable, each using a different method of
murder. This was the case of Saruviel's life. He knew as much.
1,700 years in Homicide in the Zebulonian police force had trained him
for this. Zebulon had never seen murders like this, of this
brutality. Never. The other continents of Judea, Traxia and Androma
had their fair taste of crime, certainly. Such was life. But
Televon's continent of Zebulon, home to the royal family and planetary
governance seemed to have always been immune to most criminal
activity. But not any more. Things had – changed. Could he crack
the case? He hoped so. The hopes of Trillions were depending on
him.

Seventeen weeks and Saruviel stood in the trees, looking at the
shack. Stuck out in the nature parks wilderness, all the clues had
lead him to this. He signaled the two other officers, and they slowly
approached. Saruviel, treading carefully, made his way to the back of
the shack. Suddenly two quick shots rang out and the officers cried
in pain. 'We're down,' yelled one of them. 'Fugg!' said Saruviel.
The situation was tense.

He remembered something then which Kantriel had said to him. Had said
to him about the slender grip life really had on people. 'There are
the quick and there are the dead, bro. The quick and the dead. Make
sure you are not the latter.'

Saruviel knew the killer was expecting him. He knew it. So he would
have to be the quick, now, and not the dead. His life perhaps
depended on it. He carefully trod along the back way of the shack,
gun raised, walking to the front. Carefully peering around the
corner, he spied a rifle poking out the front door. The killer seemed
to be looking at the shot officers. And then he made a quick
connection – 'the quick and the dead'. Instantly he turned around and
went to the other side of the shack. He picked his aim, carefully
gave the best of his measurement, and fired 7 quick shots into the
wall of the shack. He heard a muffled yell and then silence.
Complete silence.

This time he was less careful. This time he would be bold. He rushed
the door, found the killer slumped, and turned him over. He was
dead. He pulled the mask from off his face and looked at the killer.
The one who had finally demanded One Trillion Universal credits to
stop killing. Yes, it was a demon. An ancient demon. One of the
fallen Oraphim of Infinity who had joined Satan. Daxran, a cold
heartless bastard. Saruviel recognized his profile. But he was dead
now. Dead and gone. Off to Sheol were so many of his fallen brothers
and sisters now also remained. Dead and gone.

It had been a nightmare of a case, but it was over. And calling in
the medics for the downed officers, Saruviel wiped the sweat from his
forehead. Serving God was tough work. Bloody hard and life
endangering work. But it was life, in the end. It was life. Do it
God's way, as Ambriel and Michael kept reminding him and, when all the
pretenders have come and gone, you will be left standing. And that
much was true to Seraphim Saruviel of the Realm of Eternity.

Michael – Dungeons and Dragons

35,999 SC

Michael examined the bullet wound. It was from a gun he did not know
of. That much he was certain of. But, heck, it was a bloody large
universe and there were all sorts of firearms out there. Of course it
didn't make his job any easier. In no way easier at all. Stationed
on New Mercury for the last 307 years, God had provoked him to
action. Saruviel had been acting responsibly. Taking on man's work.
Risking his life for others – doing the real hard work in protecting
society. Michael had no choice but to take it on as well. In fact,
God had been expecting it of him for a while.

'It is all about Dungeons and Dragons, Michael. All about Dungeons
and Dragons' 'The game, you mean?' Scaradel of the Cherubim of
Eternity smiled at him. 'Not quite that obvious, bro. We have a
dragon on the loose. Of that much I am certain. And from a recent
report from Televon, it looks as if the Dragon's are busy at the
moment. Quite busy. Saruviel has had his hands full. Daxran had
turned evil again. Killed 9 people, before Saruviel managed to top
him. And now it looks as if the Dragon's have chosen New Mercury for
their next killing spree.' Michael nodded. That was not unlike the
underworld. That was not unlike them at all. 'And the dungeons? How
does that figure in?' Scaradel smiled. He had been a cop on New
Mercury for a while now. He knew a thing or to.' The bullet hole. I
know the bullet. It is from a Santron gun – a rare make. I have come
across one before in my time. And it was used by a Dragon. The thing
is the Dragon's store their guns in Dungeons, along with the rest of
their supplies. Call it ancient tradition, but Dungeons suit
dragons. They think it is cool.' Michael nodded. That much sounded
true. 'So what do we do next?' Scaradel grinned. 'I thought that
would be obvious? I mean, there are only so many dungeons on New
Mercury. While the super cities go upwards forever, the planet base
is quite small and fits only so many dungeons. So we go adventuring,
Michael. Oh, and bring your sword and shield. We will need them.'
Michael grinned. He liked a good adventure.

This particular dragon was Reznak. Another of the Oraphim once in
league with Satan and the Saruvim. And Reznak, while not as smart as
Daxran, was just as deadly. The thrill of the chase was one thing,
but when they had cornered him in his lair on the outskirts of
Valluna, New Mercury's second biggest city, they entered the dungeon
of dread with great care. Funnily enough, Michael had his sword. A
short dagger belted to his waste. And, of course, he carried his cops
shield. He really was a fighting warrior.

A hideous laugh greeted them in the lair. 'I see you,' said a voice
over the intercom. 'Are you ready? Let's play.' A grenade was then
thrown, just landing in front of them. Michael and Scaradel jumped to
the side just in time as it exploded, spreading shrapnel form a parked
jeep everywhere. Some of it hit Michael's legs, and the pain shocked
him. But he would heal. He always did. Michael signaled for
Scaradel to take one side of the lair. And he, having spotted the
walkway up above, silently climbed a ladder to overlook the
situation. He positioned himself halfway along the cave wall and
waited. Silently he waited. He noticed Scaradel gradually moving
through the maze of vehicles and equipment when Reznak jumped him,
shooting him in the shoulder. Michael was quick. With one clear shot
he took it and marked Reznak in the centre of his chest, the dragon
collapsing instantly.'

He scurried down and carefully approached. Scaradel was breathing
hard, but motioned him to check on Reznak. Michael looked at the
fallen figure, and presumed him dead. But as he was about to move the
body Reznak jumped at him and plunged a dagger into his side. The
pain sent shudders through his body. It was agonizing. Totally
agonizing. But despite the worst pain of his life, he held the dagger
in place, grabbed his own with his right hand, and plunged it into
Reznaks back. Reznak screamed, looked dreadingly into Michael's eyes
for one last fleeting moment, and collapsed dead on the ground.

Later on that week Michael had been released early from hospital. He
had healed, to a degree, and could get back on his feet. But the
flesh would take some time to repair properly. And then a scar for a
few hundred years. Something to write home to Elenniel about, he
thought.

He felt, then, in those few weeks, like a man. Perhaps it was
bravado. Perhaps it was dumb courage. But in putting his life on the
line and paying a price for it he felt as if perhaps, just perhaps, he
was making his father proud of him. And it felt good in its dumb
manly way. It actually felt alright.

Daniel – At Arm's Length

36,002 SC

'Just who the hell do you think you are Rothchild? Supercop?'
'Worse. I'm his brother.' The Dragon Jandox spat in the face of
Daniel Rothchild, the Seraphim Daniel, laughing all the time. 'Take
him away,' said Daniel to the lieutenant in charge in the Bronx
station on New York city on the planet New Terra.

Daniel sat in his office that afternoon, brooding. It had not really
been a big deal to him when God had asked Michael to take on a cop's
job. That hadn't bothered him personally. 'Better him than me,'
Daniel had thought. And then God had asked both him and his brother
David – Ambriel – to likewise take on the work. Daniel worked in the
Bronx while David was uptown in New Jersey. And while David had
gained the reputation of 'Supercop', it was Daniel who was generally
more despised by the Dragon's. They hated Daniel Rothchild –
absolutely hated him. And knowing he was at the top of a number of
hit lists didn't make him sleep any better at night.

The war was going hard now. The new war with the Dragon's. They had,
once again, rebelled. But this time it was serious. Murder had been
their tactic and as such, with a full on head of Israelite Torah,
Saruviel and Michael had responded to the Dragon's war. It was death,
now. Complete death. The Dragon's knew they would not survive this
war if unvictorious. Both sides knew that. The death penalty as the
ultimate act had been regrettably authorized by about 20 of the inner
circle of planetary systems. But to curb the new scourge of the
Dragon's war they had little choice. It was the most viscious the
Dragon's had ever become, and people worried now. They worried about
their lives and what could happen to their families. And so God had
chosen the Seraphim and various Cherubim to deal with the issue. It
was time for them to earn their money.

Daniel was not enjoying this war. 3 Seraphim of eternity had died. 3
of his precious brothers killed by the Dragon's. Surafel had been
killed in 36,000, now resting in Sheol. And then Talzudiel followed
by Adruel. Some of the most respected of all of God's angelic
children. Slaughtered at the hands of the Dragon's of Darkness. But
the Angel's had been keeping score. They knew each dragon – they knew
them all. 1,723 dedicated rebels in Satan's key attacks from the
final confrontation at Zaphon. Nearly all of the Oraphim of
Infinity. Of course, they had humans in their ranks. Probably many.
But the angels knew once the Dragon's were disposed of their job would
be easier. Much easier. And they had eliminated 327 of them so far –
all dead. All dead and gone. Apart from the 3 Seraphim, about 70
Cherubim officers had also been killed by the Dragon's. And their
losses had been greatly lamented. But such was life David kept
telling him. And such was death Daniel thought to himself.

Tonight was a key night in their campaign. They had leads – important
leads as to the location of 7 key dragons, on the outskirts of
Boston. They would strike tonight and, with a bit of luck, soon have
to deal with 7 less of their most dreaded opponents.

Meludiel, stitching up the wound, smiled at her hero. She was
pleased. Very pleased. 'You did well, hon. Very well. I am proud
of you,' she said, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. 6
Dragons now dead, 4 of them by Daniel's own hand, and the other in
custody. And now his girlfriend was kissing him and stitching up the
hole in his arm were the bullet had gone through. They had been close
like this now for the past 3,000 or so years. Not married. Not
married yet and perhaps never. 'Supercop', she reminded him.
'Probably won't marry you because of Supercop.' But Daniel didn't
mind, in the end. It was an age long triangle. Well understood now.
She would go back to him one day. He didn't really doubt that. But
she was with him for now. And they were tight as a unit, lovers and
the best of friends. And with his arm being stitched up, thinking how
lucky he had been that night, he was just glad he had someone to share
his ordeals with. Someone to care for.

He had kept Meludiel at arm's length recently. But for a reason. He
feared his own death. But keeping her at arm's length Daniel knew
something was still true. Like David might say. If you love her you
have to do the opposite. You have to hug her and kiss her. 'Keep the
bloody dragon's at arm's length, Dan. Not Mel.' And Daniel had acted
on those words, acknowledging them and drawing even closer to his
sister. It could kill him, this war with hell, but he was not dead
yet. And in the end if he did perish then keeping his beloved at
arm's length in his final days was the last thing he wanted to do.
How would that end a life? How would that be glory? And so, as the
war with the Dragon's continued Daniel drew ever closer to his sister
and prayed to God that somehow he would come through alive. All he
could do, in the end, was pray and trust. It was simply in the hands
of God.

Ambriel – Supercop

36,002 SC

The bullet had just missed his head. But Supercop, as always, kept
his cool. His cool demeanour, known by everyone, earning him the tag
Supercop. Mild mannered David Rothchild, they all called him. And he
chuckled at the comment. He peered out over the car, noticing were
the Dragon was stationed. It was down to them two, stuck in a
Dragon's lair, fighting for his life. But Supercop, so all the
Dragon's knew, was practically invincible. Always a trick up his
sleeve. He undid his coat, and let his wings come loose. He would
use flight, right now. A tactic seldom employed by any of the angels,
almost as a tribute of honour towards their human cop counterparts.
But they did fly, occasionally. When the situation warranted it.

He flew to the edge of the lair, over on the right hand side. And
then he pulled out a small smoke bomb and hurled it in the direction
he knew the Dragon was waiting. And then, flying around the Dragon,
doing a loop to his opposite side, the smoke started clearing and
Supercop was behind him. He landed, tapped him on the shoulder, and
the Dragon turned. He was about to go for his gun and blow David away
when David let out a quick punch right between the eyes, and the
Dragon fell to the ground.

'Well done Supercop,' David said to himself.

They'd had a good few weeks. 119 Dragons arrested in the local area,
all awaiting the fateful day on death row. It was gruesome business
Ambriel thought to himself, sentencing a soul to Sheol. But such was
the penalty. An ancient Noahide law he had known once, and part of
his own Israelite Torah as well. And he understood why. He
understood that if they let the Dragon's, once they had killed, get
away – well then they would never stop killing. And bloodshed
required vengeance. That was God's holy law.

He thought of the war with Dragon's this past few years. It had made
him strong. So much stronger than he had ever been. For he had
confronted fears greater than he had ever known. The fears of very
death itself. But, like his brother Daniel, he had remained calm
under pressure. He took the job seriously, applying his knowledge and
skill as best he could. And, from all the commendations, New Jersey
was eternally grateful. And he knew he was doing the right thing
because of it.

He thought on his current girlfriend. Cherubim from eternity who he
had been his first real romance after Meludiel. She was really one of
his closest confidantes and she understood when Meludiel was around to
make herself scarce. But David loved her anyway. She was a friend
when he needed her to be there, and as much as he once hated to
acknowledge the point, actually having a break from Meludiel from time
to time, despite his enormous love for her, actually seemed to make
sense. You just couldn't, in the end, be surrounded by the same
person indefinitely. It just couldn't work. You needed time apart.
To see other people, to make other friends, to have other lovers. And
while Ambriel prized fidelity perhaps higher than any other soul, it
was the wisdom his brother Valandriel so often expressed which seemed
to remain the very truth in the real world. 'Such is life,' God said
to him once on the subject. 'Rules guide us, dear son. But reality
will always have its say.' And that consoled Ambriel somewhat.

It was hard work, now, in the life of David Rothchild. The hardest he
had been involved with. The war with the Dragon's kept him up at
nights. But looking into the eternal destiny before him he seemed to
instinctively understand that God would not have it any other way.
Really, in the end, he would have it no other way.

"Mary"

Mary smiled. Her heart was tender, so tender, looking at her twin
Cyril she had not seen for quite a while. The Cherubim Cyril smiled
at her with the warmth of an angel of Glory. He loved Mary, with all
his heart. It was a blessed day in heaven, a day he would never
forget.

"Your name is engraved on my heart, written in eternal
letters. I love you."

"And I you, beloved husband."

"Moses"

Pharaoh looked at the Hebrew. "Do you know my power? The gods I
serve can destroy your Yahweh. He will bow, I tell you. He will
bow."

Moses stood firm. His rock would not break. The man who held life
and death over a multitude standing before him would soon bow himself,
overcome by the Glory of the LORD.

"You are a fool, Moses," Pharaoh said.

"If I am a foolish man why do you yet tremble? Can not the gods of
Egypt withstand a simple Hebrew of stuttering lips?"

Pharaoh looked at him and a distant echo, an eternal ancestral voice
said to him, "Child, heed your rebuke."

"Begone from me, Hebrew. You will taste death before we next meet."

"As you wish," responded the Prince of Egypt, and hastened to his
people.

"David"

Solomon looked at David. "That is you, isn't it Dad?"

The ancient Israelite King, sitting on the rock outcropping near the
river Samaraday on the planet Kazarma, way beyond the outer colonies,
looked at Solomon. "50,000 years. It's been that long. So how did
you find me?"

"Bathsheba finally squealed. She can only keep a secret so long I
think. Anyway, you're missed now. A few people have been hassling me
for a while, especially Adam. Wants to know were the bloody king is."

"I have been on a sabbatical, young Shlomo."

"A 50,000 year sabbatical?"

"It takes a little time to understand life, Son."

"You're talking out of your arse, KD."

"Is that a new proverb?"

Solomon couldn't help but grin.

"Well you have found me now. I'll try harder next time."

"Come on old fella," responded the wise one. "Let's go home."

"The Fabulous Misadventures of the Famous 17 Kaleidoscope collectors."

"Why Kaleidoscopes, Daniel?"

Daniel the Seraphim considered Meludiel's question.

"Why not sis?"

"Its not quite like you."

"Times Change. You know," responded Daniel.

Later on in the week the other 16 top ranked collectors in the
universe of rare kaleidoscopes along with Daniel at 17 were in New
York City on New Terra for a conference. But Daniel decided to skip
the show and persuaded the other guys and the one lady to go to the
girlie show.

Janek Smithton looked at the scantily dressed female. He was
embarrassed. Still quite innocent at 498. Daniel smiled and said
"Whistle at her. Tell her she's hot." But Janek just blushed.

A little later on that night, after several pints of New York Ale,
Daniel dragged them all to the circus which had a late night special.
After they'd seated Daniel threw up on the fat lady in front of him.
Janek just grimaced.

Around 2, four of them still remaining, they were in the brothel.
Daniel managed to slur to the lady 'Yurrr beewtifull' before passing
out. He woke up the next day, naked, handcuffed to a lightpole on
liberty isle looking at the statue.

"Yeh, we got him,' said Absalom to David. 'He'll be dead
embarrassed.' David grinned.

"Heh, heh, heh. Revenge is sweet."

"Jesus"

He sat on the edge of the field, looking at the white men. The game
was close. 8 down, 17 runs to win. A wicket fell. Paul Saberton
walked over to Jesus and said, 'You're a number 11. You can't bat for
crap. But you only live once. So have a go." Jesus nodded.

He was on 5 runs. All quick singles and the team needed 4 to
win off the last ball and he was on strike. He was bloody nervous.
Warne came into bowl and the number 11 for Israel said to himself
"It's now or never."

Warne watched as the ball just trickled over the rope. The
umpire made the '4' signal. Israel won its first test ever against
Australia. And Jesus, for the first time in his new life said
"FUCK!".

"Matthew the Artist"

"Deborah. It isn't just that I like painting pictures of you. You
are me twin and you are dear to me."

"But Matthew, you have done 3 pictures of me already this week and
after 1000 years heaven is starting to run out of room to store your
pictures."

"Yes, it is getting like that." Responded Matthew. "Just one more
then, and I will leave it for a while."

"Very well" responded his twin.

6 Months later Matthew had just finished going through heaven removing
about 3 quarters of his art work. Sitting out in the field the
pictures were before him in a giant stack, like a bonfire. About 40
others of the 70 children of heaven were present. It was now late
enough, and as Joah finished pouring on the kerosene and Matthew
flicked the match at the pile, the pictures erupting into flames
instantly, he reflected.

It was true – they had eternity before them. And if he needed to he
could eventually paint the same painting again. But for now recycling
was the rule of the day and thence forth forever more.

In his eternal domain God had finished arranging the copies of
Matthews destroyed artwork. In his own personal domain God had
infinite resources and would go on storing the words of his children
for all eternity. But he had given them resource management lessons
and was glad they were starting to learn this fundamental, eternal
lesson.

"The Tour de France"

He was famous. Jesus knew he was famous, but sitting in the reception
area of the administrative offices of the 'Tour de France' on New
Terra he wondered to himself if that would be enough. Half an hour
later, as he exited the building, he was happy. Because of his fame
they had granted him a wildcard entry. He smiled to himself.

Evans and the other cyclists, the best in the universe, looked at the
semi trailer as it rolled into the starting line.

"The egomaniac is finally here," said Evans.

There was a fanfare and the back of the trailer opened. And then
Jesus came out pushing his bicycle. And then there were gasps – real
gasps. As Jesus pulled up alongside Evans at the starting line Evans
jaw dropped. He looked at the bicycle. A ladies pushbike, with
ribbons on the handle bar and two bells – as far from being a racer as
humanly possible. After the laughter finally died down, the race
began. The pack took off but Jesus slowly started pedalling. After
the pack was 100 metres down the road Evans quickly looked back,
looked at Jesus, and then shouted to the pack to stop. Unsurprisingly
they all stopped. The looked at Evans and then all turned to look
back at Jesus. A few moments later Jesus was up to them and then a
far more sedate opening leg of the Tour de France got under way.

About 30 Kms from the finishing line they had all retired for lunch at
the café Jesus had stopped at. Inside he had just finished off his
hamburger and Coke and gone over to the "Gauntlet" arcade machine. He
chose the Valkyrie as his character and Evans and two others joined
him. After getting to level 1000 early the following morning and
finishing the game after Jesus had pumped in quite a few coins, the
pack retired for the night at the hotel next door.

It was a big breakfast and they got started in finishing the leg.

After they had finally finished the tour, every day following a
similar pattern, gaining the biggest ratings ever, Evans reflected on
Jesus winning the race. They had all been at about 50 metres to go
and the pack stopped. AS they watched Jesus slowly rode on, finished
the race in first place, and then the pack joined him.

Things were different on the Tour de France after that, with Jesus a
regular entrant. For most it was simply this – "Always look on the
lighter side of life."

"Gabriel"

39,647 HY

'Quick. Run. Run. Run.'

The demon was a bastard, one of the worst. Gabriel looked at him,
spoke some words of power, 'Get stuffed,' and Satan's newest pup
shrieked at being belted with the power of too many trillion
volcanoes, melted away, and finally showed up at his father's domain
fourteen quadrillion years later with quite a story to tell.

Later on, chuckling at the poor fellow's probable current state,
Gabriel finally made his way back to the portal. A quick word, he
stepped through on the signal, and he was suddenly back home. He
looked at the rim – it seemed the same as ever – but being this far
from Zaphon would be awkward. He really hated it when God deactivated
the earlier portals and said everyone had to use the outer rim portals
if they wanted to go out. His way of keeping his children at home,
Gabriel thought to himself.

'And what exactly is a Googolplexian, dear Aquariel?'

'A number, Gabriel. Daniel showed it to me on the web. Quite a large
one.'

'How big?'

'I forget. But big. Real big. More than millions, billions or
trillions. Really bloody big.'

Gabriel, looking at her probable exaggerations, decided to look at the
website, which she shortly brought up on the screen. After a few
moments, having made the mental connection somewhat, he understood.'

'Yeh, that is big. I suppose Cimbrel did up this website.'

'Uh, no actually. It came from Televon. A Noahide fellowship website
started it.'

'Which one?'

'Haven, I think.'

Gabriel nodded. 'Mmm. Well, it is interesting. I will have to look
at it more carefully later on. Sus it out.'

'Do that.'

Michael was pretty casual for not having seen Gabriel in over a
century, but firstborn, these days especially, could often be like
that. His new 'Chill out' mentality some Cherubim had conned him
into. But Gabriel went through the formalities anyway, queried if he
was finally sick of being overseer again for so long, and disappeared,
headed for the pub. He was thirsty, needed a drink, and wanted to
catch up with the Zaphon crowd. Find out what had been happening.

'So Semyaza says, 'Who the Fugg do you think you are? God or
something?', and then Daniel told him to Fugg himself and walked off,
totally pissed.'

Gabriel found the story of the two Cherubim's arguments on a matter of
authority quite interesting, but doubted that Daniel really meant what
he was saying to Semyaza. Just trying to get the fellow to repent a
bit were Gabriel thought's. Still, adjuring Semyaza by the living God
to repent of his carnal ways took guts from Dan and Gabriel was a
little impressed, especially going up Semyaza. That devil was a
handful at the best of times and his twin Sharakondra – hell she was a
wildcat when she wanted to be. But that was their way, the way they
had always been. Ever since the fall Gabriel had known Semyaza was
destined to be a bad boy, and even after he finally repented before
God and the Father let him home he still went back to some of his bad
ways. But never had they quite been as bad again and he felt, in all
likelihood, Daniel was just keeping Semyaza on his toes. Probably
sensible of him.

'Yeh, its not a bad tale mate. Anyway, cheers,' he said, raising an
ale and taking a long swig.'

Gabriel sat in the throneroom of Terraphon, half asleep. It had been
hours now and God still had not responded and he was about to give
up. But suddenly, noting the flames of the throne turn to a bright
purple, God spoke. 'INTERESTING IDEA. NO, I DISAGREE.'

'You took your time. But why? Why not now? Surely they are becoming
worthy of more of your attention, more of your heart. Surely,
especially New Terrans, should hear their God in person. Should hear
him speak to them in their assemblies, to hear the living word of
God. It is bloody funny but there are alternative theories on life
and everything, people calling the angelic explanation a delusion.
They say you don't really exist and this is just an atomic progression
from earth-life into the next state of consciousness. It was a bloody
popular theory, and there are hundreds of variants. They need to know
you are there, father. They need to hear your voice. 'WHICH IS WHY
THEY WON'T'.

He thought on that, thought on it for half an hour sitting there as
God had gone silent. And finally, remembering earth and what he put
them through down there, left the throne room unsurprised. He was
never really into those who were faithless. Never really that much,
and it looked as if he hadn't changed. But perhaps he had considered
it, given his lengthy time to respond. Perhaps he had.

'Look, Gab. Father is right. It is the way it is supposed to be now,
and I think even more so for the outer planets. I even think God
wants them to forget he is even there again. Want's to be left
alone. Has the 'Do not disturb' sign up.

'But why?'

'Because most of them really have not repented seriously and you know
the dropout rate, don't you. Some barely make a millennium and
they're gone. Had enough of the same old struggle, dealing with the
same old problems.'

'But that is why they really need to hear from him.'

'It's a sin issue, bro. It's a sin issue. But I wouldn't sweat it in
the end. It is the way of life – those who will be or who are meant
to be, or maybe even both – well they will make it in the long run.
So don't worry about it. Remember the fate of the wicked, bro.
Remember that and leave them be.'

He thought on the issue for the next 6 months straight, finally
conceding that Michael was probably correct. It was simply the way
God was towards the sinner – simply the way he was. But Gabriel knew,
now, they all had fair warning and plenty of time to choose. The
facts of life and death, in the end, the facts of life and death. And
then, heading off to the pub to get the heavy thoughts off his mind,
Gabriel thought on his sis and felt a few carnal urges towards her.
Something to get him over his current bloody malaise and back to
reality. 'Yeh,' he thought to himself – back to reality.

"Survivors"

59,667 HY

Aphrayel looked at her two brothers, Samael and Sandalphon. Two male
angels remaining. Only two angels remaining, and Logos himself,
besides herself and Rhaemliel, over at the central tower. Satan's
vengeance really had been quite deadly. Quite deadly indeed. And
now, of all the angels who had ever lived in the Realm of Infinity,
only 4 remained. Such was life.

The Realm of Eternity had faired a little better, but not much,
really. Not much better. All of the Seraphim had survived from that
realm, as well as the first few hundred twins amongst the Cherubim,
but the rest had been killed in the wars. God's children had been
decimated by the dark one. Totally destroyed.

She thought on Satan, and the final killing blow Callodyn had made
upon him. How he had slain him with the 7th sword of power
'Excelsius', and ridded life once and for all of the master of evil.
Her own beloved Callodyn, Samael, had watched the Angel of Eternity as
he had slain the dark lord, impressed by the dark vengeance which had
been in this Angel of God. And Satan, now, was gone from them.
Vanquished forever.

And now peace had returned to the United Realms. Peace, and hope for
a fresh start – a fresh beginning. She missed her brothers and
sisters, and probably always would, but such was life. Such was
death. And thinking, really, there was no point in crying over spilt
milk, she continued on with her game of solitaire, occasionally
looking up at Samael who was over by the window staring out at the
Golden City.

The Celestyel Angel Aphrayel

"The End"

59,801 HY

'I am telling you this for the millionth time, Sammy. I am perfectly
safe. I have addressed every area of ergonomic concern, healthy
eating, morality and what have you for thousands of years now. I am
perfectly safe dear brother. Worry not, ok.' Samael looked at her,
very worried that his sister, with only 199 years to go, that she
would have the attitude necessary to survive the final two centuries
to the 'life blessing' promised by father. And then, knowing he once
bore the name 'Satan' a thought came to him on life and justice. If
she was ready, if she was truly ready, humility would be her hallmark
and pride would not claim the day. So Samael thought on a little
trip, just to test wether his sister really would accompany him on the
great and grand trip of eternal life.

'Come on Sammy, Sandy. It is perfectly safe.' Aphrayel was at the
top of a particularly high mountain out in Mitraphora, higher even
than Mt Zadar, standing on the anciently constructed 'Playhouse' at
the top of the mountain on a shaft of rock just away from the side of
the mountain. There was a short 20 foot bridge which lead to the
playhouse. 'I don't know, Aphy. I don't think I trust that bridge,'
said Samael, a little grin at the side of his mouth which Sandalphon
had been eying suspiciously all that morning. 'Its safe, Sammy.
Look, I can even jump on it.' Aphrayel proceeded to step onto the
bridge and jump up and down. 'I told you,' she said while jumping,
'it is perfectly….' WHOOOSH. And suddenly, the bridge collapsed, and
Aphrayel began a long plummet downwards, seemingly to her death,
caught up in the bridge and the collapsing playhouse and shaft of rock
following her down.

The funeral was a simple affair, so used to death had the angels
become. Sandalphon, since the accident and having searched the rubble
for hours, was remorseful. Somehow he knew Samael was to blame.
Somehow he expected his brother.

Later on that day, Samael and Sandalphon were in Samael's room,
Rhaemliel sitting next to Samael, now seemingly enjoying her brother's
company, when suddenly the door burst open and Aphrayel, clothes dirty
and in tatters, limping on what appeared to be a broken leg, wings
ruffled and scrapes, cuts and bruises all over her body, came towards
Samael, looked in his face, and said, 'YOU, YOU,
YOU…..AAAARRRGGH.!' And she left in similar a manner.

Samael could not help but grin, noticing Logos in the doorway who had
probably shared some of Samael's ideas with Aphrayel. Still, in the
end, she had survived. She had survived.

"The 7th Angel"

7 angels stood on the precipice, overlooking the Insanity Abyss.
Colexios spoke.

"The Dark One resides below."

"So you say," responded Miznadura.

Brengalenta flew down 50 feet and returned.

"Don't go in," she said. "The hostility is too great."

"Then we are doomed," said Shelarmyos.

Layendriel looked at Elltaravere. "Is he worth it?' he queried.

Elltaravere nodded.

"Then we hunt Demon." Finished the 7th Cherubim Angel of the group,
Vistrantiel to his Cherubim brethren.

AND THEY FELL AS ONE.

"Crazy Funky Love Child"

137,692 HY

'Jenny you suck.'

'You wish,' replied the ravenhaired firey drop of Satan's precious
love, dressed in scarlet, looking like every man's most desperate wet
dream.

'Hey, Fugg. No, I mean, Fugg. I mean you don't suck. That's not
what I meant, bitch. You always screw what I say.'

Jenny Savereign came over to Kalan Listomore and responded in the way
only Jenny Savereign can, holding his cheeks, and almost kissing him.

'It is because you are such a wuvvely little boy, Kalan. I can't help
but tease anyone as adorable as you,' she said with the cuteness of a
nymph dryad after a hard nights activities.

Kalan was about to give up, completely frustrated. She had bedevilled
him again. For the third time this month his guardian angel duties
towards the Colvin boy had gone awry as Jenny claimed the monthly
prize for the most spiritual fruit in her steward, Rachel Leigh. You
see the Most High ran contests in these most enlightened times to
ensure his numerous protégés continued their zesty life challenge of
sanctifying the human race. And when Jenny inevitably brought forth
those special qualities of crazy, funky love which only Jenny
Savereign could, then she used her credits earned in true competitive
fashion to do disaster upon disaster (within legal allowance) upon the
Colvin boy under Kalan's tutelage. Oh yes, she was a devil dressed in
red, completely and utterly alike her devastating father of darkness,
the dread Lord Saruviel Savereign, Premiere Archangel of the Realm of
Splendour.

'I'll get you, bitch,' said Kalan with unveiled hostility.

'When hell freezes over, cowboy.'

'Cowboy! What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

'Oh I was forgetting. Cowgurrl. Tee hee.'

Jenny looked up at the scoreboard in the centre for spiritual
sanctification, Canberra division, Tuggeranong Sector. Only the top
300 angels on points were represented at any one time and she was
numero uno. Of course Kalan was pretty adroit at his work, all things
considered, and usually cruised in around number 50 or so. But he was
challenging Jenny's sovereignty constantly and would do anything to
claim her spot. Well, almost anything (within legal allowance, that
is).

Jenny turned to Kalan. 'Remember, amateur. To get to number one you
have to be bold. But you have to also learn all the tricks of the
trade and then a few things or to. Be original, silly. God likes
that. And last but not least, love your steward. If you don't love
him you won't change him. They never respond otherwise.'

'Yeh, I know. Duh, I think I had that figured out.'

'Perhaps. Seeya, LOSER!' And she disappeared, headed for the
nightclub and her usual coven of she-wenches.

Saruviel Savereign, Premiere Archangel of the Realm of Splendour,
inspected the long blade. The merchant wanted 12 million credits,
quite a hefty sum. But for a blade once belonging to his greatest
idol, the Lord Saruviel of the Realm of Eternity, and one of such fine
quality – well was any price really too high.

'You drive a hard bargain, merchant man. Surely, sayeth I, your
prices can be devolved to something more utterly reasonable.'

The merchant man was a merchant man because he was indeed skilled at
his trade.

'But cannot you rightly see the magnificente quality of the blade,
sire. It would surely cut through light itself when put to the test.'

Savereign looked down the edge of the blade.

'So you say.'

'Indeed sire. Dare I say it, the Most High could not fashioneth such
a blade lest he had studied the fullness of eternity, such being the
skill of the ancient blademaker who forged such perfection.'

'And who was such a personage,' inquired Savereign with great
interest.

'A divine mystery, I am afraid. Suffice to say the dread Lord
Saruviel held the said individual in great esteem.'

Savereign inspected the blade once more.

'Surely you ask too much. But I am well endowed with funds as of
late, so you shall have your paltry sum. Here,' he said, handing over
the 'HEAVENLY VISA' credit card.

Two hours later, his disaster of a daughter and all her witchlike
crony friends in the main living room of his mansion, Savereign
retired to his upper den to inspect the blade.

'Indeed it may verily cut through light,' he thought to himself,
running his thumb down the sharpness of the sword.

Just then his beautiful daughter entered, dressed in something
appropriate for the raping of teenage men to lose their virginity, not
untypical for a Savereign female.

'Daady.'

But Savereign was still engaged in the idolatrous attention due the
beloved once property of his great object of admiration, the said
Dread Lord Saruviel.

'Daady.' She continued.

'Yes, child.'

'3 more weeks. 3 more weeks and I graduate. Up to senior division.
I have done well, haven't I?'

'My God this is a good blade,' he said, continuing his love affair
with the steel of Angelic glory.

'Oh Daady, I love you,' she said, hugging her father, who looked down
at her, momentarily puzzled, then cautiously put his arm around her
shoulder, showing her the affection he knew he should as a proud
father of a daughter ready to graduate to senior humans
sanctification.

He came to himself.

'Remember, daughter of mine. Adult humans are different. They get,
how shall I put it, values when they get older. And they can be quite
stubborn on them. Your techniques may work well for the younger
audience but I am afraid the traditional approaches of the classical
workers are what usually work best for the older clientele.'

'Nonsense and poppycott. People have changed. Society is different
now. Trends in human behaviour and valuation of morality demonstrate
that clearly. You are living in yesteryear, father. Totally out of
touch.'

'Be that as it may, you may see some sense in my words quite soon.
Take them or leave them – they are my advice to you.'

She softened, and decided to accept, in true graciousness, his advice.

'I'll remember, father. I'll remember.'

And she disappeared to her Goth angel friends as her father continued
his adorations.

John Dawkins was a regular shmo. But at 28, single, no kids,
unemployed, and just finally getting over a drug addiction, halfway
between a halfway house and a new flat which looked promising, John
was ready for something to happen in his life. Anything. And so when
he prayed that prayer one fateful night to God for the first time in
his life, as the rehabilitation officer had suggested he do, The Most
High despatched the decadent mistress of harlotry, Jenny Savereign,
for her first tour of duty in the Senior Sanctification division. And
the start of a new lease on life began for both of them.

John looked in the cupboards of his new flat. Empty again. He had
been here for 3 months now and still hadn't balanced the budget
properly. He was going to be hungry for a few days until Centrelink
allowance day again. Over in the corner, sitting on the floor,
invisible to John, Jenny Savereign looked, finally, defeated. She had
practically given up her goal on this most stubborn individual. At
first she had placed within his mind the urge to use charm on people.
To speak kindly and compliment them. But while, in his newborn
spiritual zeal, which had lasted barely a month, his mind had
considered that, he soon shrugged it off as too much of a bother.

And that was when she began getting the not so subtle hints her father
and others had hinted at. Adults were different.

After that she tried suggesting this 28 year old virgin flirt with the
girl in the flat next to his, an athletic trim looking 20 year old
with a good job. She would be perfect for him. But all his mind
responded to the suggestion was 'Yeah right. She is way out of my
league.' It was by then that Jenny was learning that John Dawkins had
confidence problems. But more that that – low self esteem. So she
tried encouraging him and praising him instead, but searching his
memory all she could find was a fourth place in junior athletics when
he was 12. 'Gee, it's hardly worth the effort,' she began thinking to
herself.

It seemed, after that, that no matter what avenue of inspiration she
suggested to try and motivate Dear John, nothing seemed to work. And
when she said to his mind, 'What, are you the loser I think you are?'
out of frustration, his mind simply, in a spirit of apathy, said
probably. It was about then she had given up. She went to the centre
for spiritual sanctification to ask if someone else could be given her
client, but they went through the formal contract arrangements she had
already signed, a contract necessary for her to finish to gain the
income later on in life necessary for obtaining what she wanted in
heaven, and found it to be watertight. She could quit, of course, but
then she would never be guaranteed the allowance later on. And so,
amidst a spirit of frustration, she returned to the Erindale flat and
just moped in the corner, occasionally suggesting to him that he
should do something, anything, to get out of his malaise, but most of
the time just watching the television set which he rarely turned off.
It seemed the once impregnable sanctifier of perfection, the
illustrious Jenny Savereign, had given up. And it was about then the
Most High took a personal interest in the case.

She noticed the big guy immediately. He was hard not to notice. John
was sitting in front of the box, watching a sitcom, and Jenny was on
the floor, bored, when God floated into the room. He looked at his
son John and smiled. 'JUST LIKE I REMEMBER HIM FROM THE YEARS IN MY
HEART.'

Jenny watched the spirit of God hover around John Dawkins, expecting
something, but all the Father of Glory did was comfort John's
loneliness. 'YOU WILL BE FINE, DEAR CHILD. YOU ARE LOVED, REMEMBER
THAT.'

And John Dawkins, suddenly feeling better, got up and turned the
television off.

'I think I'll go for a walk,' he said to nobody in particular.

Jenny watched him change his clothes and leave the flat, while the
Spirit remained. God spoke to Jenny suddenly.

'WELL ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE MISS SAVEREIGN?'

Immediately Jenny took the rebuke and, despite still being frustrated
herself, got up and followed John. The Spirit of God started
following both of them.

John had his joggers, track pants and a t-shirt on and, fortunately as
far as Jenny was concerned, they almost seemed clean. John had
decided to walk down to the nearby school oval and do some laps. He
rarely ran for fitness but knew he was slowly getting fat so should do
something about it. At the oval there were a couple of guys playing
cricket and his neighbour, the 20 year old girl, doing laps. He
shrugged to himself, not really expecting anything, but fantasizing
anyway. But then he remembered she was way out of his league.

After a few laps he came up short, not far from the girl, when Jenny
watched the Spirit come upon him and listened to what God had to say.

'REMEMBER SHE IS ONLY HUMAN. A LOT LIKE YOU IN SO MANY WAYS.'

And thinking that, John Dawkins gained some confidence.

Later on that week John and Sheryl had become friends. He had talked
carefully to her at first, but she hadn't minded. She had no
boyfriend presently, but didn't seem immediately interested in John.
But she seemed to like him as a friend.

In the flat on Saturday Jenny suggested something to John's mind,
trying to impress God who was hovering around the flat.

'Try flirting with her. Girls like that.'

And John instantly got an erection thinking of Sheryl. But then God
responded and spoke to John.

'IF YOU REALLY LIKE HER, TRY RESPECTING HER FOR WHO SHE IS. GIRLS
ADMIRE THAT THE MOST IN THE LONG TERM.'

And John settled, acknowledging the rebuke in his mind.

All that summer Jenny Savereign was learning. She was learning that
so much that she had learned dealing with the younger audience, on
being cool, hip and happening, really didn't work that well with
people as they got older. People had expectations then, all of them
it seemed. They wanted love, but they also wanted peace of mind and
to do something useful with their lives. People, it seemed, got more
serious as they started growing up.

And then one day the Spirit of God spoke to her.

'HAVE YOU LEARNED ANYTHING?'

And Jenny, in a spirit of humility, nodded.

The next afternoon Sheryl was in John's flat and Jenny said something
to his mind. 'Be honest with her John. Tell her your hopes, dreams
and desires. But let her know you are only a frail human in the end.'

And John, sensing something spoken to his mind which sounded about
right, shared his hearts dilemmas on life with Sheryl. It was after
that Sheryl kissed him and they started dating. Jenny indeed had
begun learning about adults. About being caring and responsible. And
about letting go of the childish ways.

Over the years Jenny Savereign changed. The nymphomaniac of teenage
years grew up into a lady who started demanding respect rather than
lustful attention. But she grew in mercy and kindness as well.

Her father, Lord Saruviel Savereign, smiled to himself softly. He
sensed the Most High at work in his daughter and was happy with that.
He trusted the Lord. The Lord allowed him to carry on his eccentric
ways, barely ever rebuking him. Saruviel acknowledged the wisdom of
his eternal father. God knew everything, he reminded himself. And as
he watched his daughter grow up from a child of the devil into a
daughter of God he himself also began to more greatly appreciate the
ways of the divine.

Kalan sat on the bench. He was upset. For so long, in adult
sanctification division, he had been number one. He had laughed when
Jenny first joined the adults and had failed miserably. With the
younger audience he himself had always taken the more mature approach,
but had eventually yielded to Jenny's crazy, funky love to try and win
the youth. But when he had graduated to adult's division he had gone
back to his traditional ways and had great success. He ended up
praying for Jenny to get it together, but now, after John Dawkins had
become a Member of Parliament, Jenny Savereign was getting all the
praise. And she had finally taken him, again, at number one.

He sat on the bench, outside of the centre for sanctification, looking
up at the sky, when Jenny came up to him.

'This crazy funky life has taught me a lot, Kalan Listomore. But one
thing I have learned is this. We all learn from each other and all
good things take some time.' And then she kissed him on the cheek,
told him he was luvverly with her cute little voice, and disappeared
up the path. And then Kalan started laughing.

'The frosty nightmares of professor Zelzazon'

'Ooohh, its cold. Ish cold.'

'Cheer up professor. You'll be awake soon. And then we will no
longer torment you. Har Har Harrggghhh.'

And instantly professor Zelzazon awoke, the icy demons of his
nightmares departing.

7 years of nightmares was not good for professor Zelzazon, but he had
put up with them. But now, truly believing, against all scientific
evidence, that they were indeed demons haunting his sleep, professor
Zelzazon began inventing a demon slaying device. However, half way
through his design, he gave up and simply got a small crystal decanter
from off his shelf, buggered off to the local catholic church and
filled it with holy water, and returned home. That night he splashed
some holy water on his bed and went off to his dreams.

There they were, all 7 of the demon goblins who had been tormenting
him for years, all in church, receiving holy communion. He was seated
at the back and the goblins all came down and sat next to him. When
the last one was seated they said as one, 'we love you professor.
Jesus has shown us the light.' And the professor, from that point
onwards, had most charming dreams.

"Zelzaon and the Death of an Ancient Evil"

Jesus looked at the vial. 'The best drug stimulant ever, you say?'

'It is wicked, Yesh. Totally wicked,' responded Zelzazon.

Jesus drank the lot.

47 years training in a Rabbinic Theological school in the Realm of
Splendour had taught Professor Zelzaon one simple fact. Jesus was the
enemy of God – as plain and as simple as that. And so, having
concluded that his judgement was sound and complete, he devised his
drug of ultimate destruction carefully, after long hours of research,
and managed to, through his charming deceptions, ensure the Christ
Child partook of his final elixir of hedonism.

The Apostle Paul shrugged it off at first but, eventually conceding
that Peter really didn't want the job, finally accepted his role at
the head of the reformed church of Almighty God. The gospel was gone
now, dead. Dead with the final fate of its propagator, Jesus of
Nazareth who, in the words of Zelzazon, had finally fulfilled the role
of Lucifer from the prophets, in his obligation to fulfil all the
principles of the Old Testament, in accordance with Jesus very own
teaching on the subject, and had thusly assured the Apostle that Jesus
had tasted death, gone down to the pit were he had remained in
excruciating agony for a number of hours, and then tasted ultimate
oblivion. And now, which God had confirmed to him, after his visit to
a throneroom, Jesus was gone forever. Completely and utterly
destroyed.

And so Paul, accepting his role as head teacher of the reformed church
of Almighty God, teaching a far more sane approach to spiritual
living, based primarily on the virtues of life and being kind, loving
and decent to others, got to work in establishing the church and
calming down the hearts which had cried bitterly over the final death
of their saviour.

'The Solstice Tree'

Paul looked at Peter. 'What the Fugg are we going to do about
Christmas, then.' Peter looked momentarily stumped. 'Shit. Umm.
Let me think.' And as Satan stood there thinking, inspiration
suddenly came to him. 'Fugg it. It was a pagan celebration anyway.
Let's go back to the original name. Winter solstice. We can call it
the yearly Solstice celebration. Besides, as those Havenites
constantly maintain, the solstices are the natural celebrations of the
natural calendar, as Genesis 1 maintains. So it shouldn't be a
problem. It'll be fine.'

Paul nodded. 'Sounds good. Hey, I have an idea. The Solstice Tree.
We can call it the Solstice Tree.'

'An easy switch, huh?'

'Should be. It'll catch on quick. Oh, and Santa Claus is very
flexible these days. Him and all his elves are very up to date with
the latest trends. Their work shouldn't be impacted at all.'

'Sounds cool.'

'And we can call it Solstice cake and Solstice carols and, well, I
think you get the idea.'

'Cool. Let's get to work.'

'Okely Dokely.'

'Callodyn's Vengeance'

Callodyn arranged it. The Android army at his disposal accomplished
it. And then, the entire patrilineal populace of the children of Shem
having been killed, vindication had been achieved. Noah's glory had
been restored.

"A Wicked Sense of Humour"

Mr Daly laughed. There he was. Jesus of Nazareth, standing outside
his house, looking mightily pissed off. 'Come on ya cunt. Come on ya
Fugging cunt. Come outside. I'll make a Fugging man of you.'

'Fugg off or I'll call the cops ya bastard,' responded Mr Daly to
Jesus Boy's insults.'

'You killed me, you bastard. 14 days in oblivion, atoms floating
around everywhere. Believe me, it was hell. But, praise the Lord, he
restored me, and guess what. There is a huge army of Shem just parked
down the stellar system a little, and believe me they are pissed off.'

Mr Daly was nervous. 'Fugg. They're back are they?'

'You can't Fugging kill us, dude. That's against the Fugging rules.'

'Fugging Shem,' muttered Mr Daly under his breath. 'All right. I
will give you a Fugging break this time. I will leave you alone on
your defiled circumcision agenda, but remember boy. We Noahides have
the oldest covenant. So we are the holiest, cross boy. We are the
holiest. So Seeya.' That said Mr Daly left the window, went off for
a drink of coke, leaving Jesus standing there wondering what the Fugg
he was on about.

"Beyond the reaches of the Impossible Lords of Chaos, Destruction and
Minor Ego Problems"

Daranok, having just completed his regular masturbation session, which
due to the fact that as one of the Lords of Chaos and Destruction, yet
stuck within the Realm of Splendour currently which, being inhabited
by nothing but perfect pretty people the girls of which simply
chuckled a bit at the suggestion that they bed him and have a bit of
fun, the masturbation being an encounter with pleasure of the most
regular sort deemed necessary and absolute to his vocation of hedonism
in life, deemed again unavoidable due to the said girls current
position, universally responded by them with words such as 'You are
kidding, aren't you,' and such the like, came into his room and sat on
his bed.

Bogrol, his demon lord brother, looked at him. 'Wassup, Nokkie.'

Daranok looked depressed. 'I remember Hell, Bog. I remember hell.
The demonessess were sometimes hot, but they didn't give a Fugg if you
wanted to shag or not. They were all Fugging sluts and easy on you.'

'I know,' responded Bogrol. 'But, as you know, God finally gave us a
break from our eternal punishment in hell and has assigned us our new
lives in this realm. 'Minor Ego Problems', he continually
maintained. That was all we ended up suffering. Just minor Fugging
ego problems.'

'And thusly he, in his abundant mercy, has transported us here to this
realm of splendour, a great advancement in hospitality and kindness,
if not in personal physical affection.'

Finished Daranok.

'And all we get to do is wank,' said Bogrol.

'Such is life,' replied Daranok.

Professor Zelzazon looked at the new drugs. Having finished
consulting with his extensive online database on chemical reactions,
he was sure the drugs would work. Completely sure. Of all the places
to end up upon death, The Realm of Splendour was an intense location
to be. But God, it seemed, had provided the realm with a certain
challenge. The Professor, who was quite cute himself, felt sorry in
his heart that none of the pretty ladies in the realm would bed their
current demon guests. But he also knew the facts of life and mating
procedures, which was 100% brutal honesty by the girls of the Realm.
They wanted 'Hot'. Complete and utter 'Fugging Hot', and would not
compromise in any way, shape or form. And so the professor, having
completed his animistic spirituality science degree, working on the
drugs, had first consulted the hierarchy of Angelic responsibility in
the Realm of Splendor and, having gained permission, undertook his
work and completed the manufacture of the drugs he currently had. And
his purpose with such drugs? They were sanctification drugs. But
they came at a price. They would work quickly, very quickly, within 3
to 4 weeks. But the price was incredibly high. The suffering, while
it would not kill them, would be so great that they would despair of
life itself. But the Professor deemed it necessary, assured in his
hearts that the Lords of Chaos, in latter day reflection, would not
object. And so, putting the drugs into a little plastic bottle, he
made his way out to the front of his abode, sat at the bus stop just
down the road a little, and contemplated the trip in front of him.

Daranok looked at the drug. 'It does what?' he again asked the
professor. 'You are sick of wanking, aren't you,' replied the
professor. So Daranok, and Bogrol, the Lords of Chaos, Destruction
and minor Ego Problems, took the pills and drank their glasses of
water and, suddenly feeling a little sleepy, both headed for their
beds.

Although, in the end, he didn't really want to kill the professor,
Daranok had cursed his name a few too many times in the last few
weeks. But sitting there that morning, suddenly feeling quite a bit
better, and looking at the mirror in front of him, he was not quite
sure what to think. Was this really Daranok in front of him? Could
it be? He knew he had never been the most handsome of individuals,
but staring at the face of someone who, now, the girls of splendour
might just take an interest in, noting Bogrol's own shocked look as he
came into the room, Daranok started losing his agro at Zelzazon.
'What the Fugg has he done to us?' asked Bogrol. 'I don't know,'
replied Daranok. And then they looked at each other and Daranok said
the thing which was on both their minds. 'But maybe our wanking
sessions have come to an end.' And Bogrol grinned.

5 girls, dressed as the most delicious of harlots, laying on his
masterbed, now sound asleep. Daranok chuckled at the irony in life.
57 years of despisement, then all of a sudden more pussy than he could
actually handle. Talk about 'Hot Vagina' indeed, as Boggy would put
it. And laying there, thinking on the way his insane heavenly father
worked, Daranok finally said to the spirit who had finally made a
quiet point in defence of God's justice, and how he had provided a
solution beyond their own current capabilities, 'Well, whatever.'

"The Facts of Life"

Jesus sat at the pond, fishing, a pastime he was well used to.
Sitting next to him Ambriel had a question. 'But, you know. I mean,
you know. The torah.' Jesus smiled. 'Uh, yeh, your point?' 'It's
God's glory?'

Jesus stood as the line had just tensed up and reeled in a fish.
Jesus was good at catching fish. Very good at it. 'Did you ever read
Isaiah?' asked Jesus to Ambriel. Ambriel nodded. 'Many times,' he
responded. 'So who will God share his glory with,' asked Jesus of
Nazareth. Ambriel thought that over. 'Well, nobody.' 'Exactly,
responded the fisher of men.'

Ambriel sat there for an hour, thinking that over, and then, finally,
voiced his opinion. 'But you have enormous glory? I mean, your
church is humongous now, and still growing.' 'Yeh, and whose glory is
that,' responded the Nazarene. And then Ambriel looked at him, ready
to defeat his opponent, absolutely convinced of himself, when the
tiniest, and I mean the tiniest, little cog clicked over in the mind
of the son of the Rothchild clan. 'Ooohhh. You got your own glory,
then.' 'Your learning. Well done.' Ambriel then brought to mind the
gospel, going over it. While Jesus quoted Torah from time to time, it
was only a small amount and usually with his own slant or
interpretation on it. And there was tonnes of original Jesus material
anyway, all his own effort and own glory. And then he looked at him,
and finally got cross. 'You bastard. You complete and utter Fugging
bastard. Your Fugging legit.' 'Don't tell Israel, okely dokely. I
mean if those daft old sods really knew what material they had
available to them and the potential influence and glory they could
obtain they would finally get over their age long malaise and really
get stuck in. But they old, stuck in their ways. Read Torah – grow
beard. That is rabbinic wisdom, kapiche?' As Ambriel sat there,
suddenly happy, a little angel whispered to him that Ambriel had been
a nice guy for a long time and that he deserved a few key ideas on
life. Jesus looked at him. 'You have potential, kid. Much
potential. That love stuff you have really got going for you. So
learn the rules, get a bit of passion, stick to your guns, make it
damn interesting, and watch the fanbase get bigger every year.
Especially after the first thousand years of growth. Ambriel nodded.
'So what will you teach?' asked the Nazarene. 'Oh, I have a few
ideas,' responded Mr Rothchild. About 50 psalms are written and I
think I will start with them. And then, perhaps, about a book of
proverbs the size of Solomon's.' 'That should about do it,' responded
Yeshua. 'And the Assembly name?' 'Children of Noah Fellowship.
Mostly noahide teaching from the bible, using the standard Rainbow
Bible, and then my psalms and proverbs. Ambriel's very own special
and beautiful perspective on religion.' 'You'll win trillions,'
responded Joseph's son. 'I hope so,' responded the son of Israel.

'Salvation'

1,000,000 HY

The dead had rested. Aeon upon aeon had they rested. Those destroyed
in hell had lain in Sheol, the merest hint of their existence lost in
an eternal contemplation of what the hell went wrong.

And then they were alive again and Ronanel said to them. 'Death
choices lead to death. Life choices lead to life. Don't piss God off
forever.'

Satan groaned. 'Ok, Ronanel. We get the fucking point.

'If you choose God, he will always save you,' finished Ronanel.

Daxran, standing behind Satan, nodded. 'He punishes us to get his
way.'

'His way is for your and everyone's own good. You know that in your
heart.'

'Aye,' said Satan. 'That we do.'

The resurrected dead marshalled along, up to the realm of new
beginnings, and Ronanel breathed a sigh of relief. 45% of them had
been granted the gift of eternal life now. It would be interesting to
see how many ultimately complied and stopped choosing evil to be
granted the gift.

Arriving back at Zaphon he dropped in on Callodyn. 'Hi uncle Daniel.
Satan says he's over it. Life will do.'

'Thank God for that,' responded the Cherubim founder of Haven Noahide
Fellowship.

The End