The Angels Saga

Chronicles of the

Children of Destiny

Volume Alpha

Gloria Excelsia

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

Copyright 6179 SC

STORIES:

The Angelfire

The Book of Truth

Gloria Excelsia

The Heart of God

The Birth of Meludiel

Ariel and the Wolf

The Challenge

In The Beginning

Life at Home

Metatron’s Gambit

Metatron and Logos: War of the Worlds

Logos and Memra: A Day in the Life of

The Play

The Garden of Eden in the Heart of Heaven

The Fate of Destiny

Deborah the Dinosaur

John:  Seer of Visions

The Book of Destiny

Samael and Aphrayel: The Agenda

The Rock and the Harlequinn

Gaia's Garden

Ark of Destiny

Scrolls

The Children of Heaven

Laps

Girl Talk

Light and Dark

Girl Talk 2

Brave Hearts

History

Infinity

Infinite Class

The Divine Order

PART ONE

THE ANGELFIRE

The Angelfire

Genesis Chapter 1 בְּרֵאשִׁית

IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE ANGELFIRE. THE ANGELFIRE WAS THE POOL OF SPIRITUAL FIRE FROM WHICH GOD DREW FORTH HIS ANGELIC CHILDREN. METATRON WAS FIRSTBORN, AND THE 7 ARCHANGELS CAME LATER, URIEL, RAPHAEL, RAGUEL, MICHAEL, SARAQAEL, GABRIEL & REMIEL. AND THE CHERUBIM SEMYAZA AND OTHERS WERE ALSO DRAWN FORTH, INCLUDING AZAZEL AND SAMAEL. BUT ALL WAS DRAWN FORTH FROM THE ANGELFIRE – THE DIVINE FIRE AND GLORY OF GOD FROM WHICH ULTIMATE CREATION WAS BORN. GOD DELIGHTED IN THE ANGELFIRE, AND ITS MYSTERY AND BEAUTY. AND WHEN HE HAD WORKED HIS HEART'S IMAGINATION FROM ITS MELTING POT OF GLORY, HEAVEN HAD BEEN BORN, AND THE CHILDREN OF DESTINY HAD BEGUN...............................

'Michael, Michael, Michael,' said Metatron. 'You are not the highest of angels in our hierarchy. Why dost thou seek the glory?'

'I shall tell you what is written in the Holy Book of Prophecy of the World to Come,' replied the Archangel Michael. 'And these are the names of the holy angels who watch. Uriel, one of the holy angels, who is over the world and over Tartarus. Raphael, one of the holy angels, who is over the spirits of men. Raguel, one of the holy angels who takes vengeance on the world of the luminaries. Michael, one of the holy angels, to wit, he that is set over the best part of mankind and over chaos. Saraqael, one of the holy angels, who is set over the spirits, who sin in the spirit. Gabriel, one of the holy angels, who is over Paradise and the serpents and the Cherubim. Remiel, one of the holy angels, whom God set over those who rise.' Michael glared at Metatron. 'I have the authority in time, dear older brother. God has granted it to me in things to come and things yet to be.'

'Yet he speaks of this Callodyn who shall be born one day, and this Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly, who, minor Cherubim they will be, shall usurp thine glory. The woman destiny has this plotted in her heart, he doth tell me.'

'The contest and competition shall indeed come in time,' replied Michael. 'But Israel shall be firstborn and rule in strength a while.'

'Yet why dost thou seeketh the glory now? Can you not exhibit some holy patience. Good things come to those who wait, dear younger brother, and I am the glory of God at this time. Can ye not be patient. Your glory shall come. Be patient.'

'I am only plotting ahead,' replied Michael. 'Besides, I am worried about Semyaza and his cronies. That Cherubim is starting to become troublesome. He needs dealing with. Saraqael is of the firm opinion he should be punished, and I am gathering influence to put him in his place I do think.'

'Azazel will war with you,' replied Metatron. 'He does not like you very much I doth think.'

'No. He doesn't, does he,' replied Michael thoughtfully. 'But I shall cross that bridge when I come to it. I shan't usurp thine authority older brother. But I shall teach some angels a thing or two, I do think.'

'Do as ye must,' replied Metatron, looking down at the chess board.

'I worry of Samael also,' said Michael. 'His sarcasm is increasingly wicked these days. He should be taught a lesson or two as well.'

'So you are the self appointed judge of the living and the dead, are you?' Metatron asked Michael.

'No,' said Michael. 'But the Lord acts in justice, so I shall also.'

'I sense – arrogance,' replied Metatron. 'The Firstborn of the Seraphim, I sense arrogance in him.'

'He's terribly arrogant,' said Gabriel, interjecting.

'He's up his arse,' said Samael, showing into view behind Gabriel.

'Hello – Scum,' said Michael to Samael.

'Scum, is it?' asked Samael, and sat down in the eating hall of the Angelic Home of Heaven.

'Yes. A fitting title for one lacking morality,' replied Michael. 'And Samael the Angel has no morality.'

'I learned it all from Azazel,' replied Samael. 'He is a fearsome one, who does not tolerate minor Seraphim usurpations.'

'Hah!' exclaimed Michael. 'The Ophanin believes me arrogant. That is rich.'

'He might have a point,' replied Gabriel. 'Azazel just has a rich sense of humour. Sarcasm, as they call it.'

'The angels of heaven prefer order and sobriety,' replied Michael. 'Not comedians.'

'Lighten up,' replied Samael, and lit a cigarette.

'Another fowl habit,' said Michael about the cigarette. 'They smell, and cause problems with the lungs breathing after a long indulgence.'

'I can cope,' smiled Samael. 'I take periods of abstinence.'

'Like abstaining from wanking?' asked Michael. 'You like the feeling of orgasm in your loins when you jerk your gherkin.'

'What else is it for?' asked Samael.

'It – has a purpose,' replied Michael. 'God will disclose it one day. You sin against your own body doing that. I am sure of it.'

'Yada, yada, yada,' replied Samael. 'The Israelite thinks himself holy. The clan of the Torah worshippers have standards. Forgive me for being such a sinner,' said Samael sarcastically.

'Torah is the will of God,' stated Michael.

'Which Raphael made up,' said Samael. 'To try and control all of us with his sense of spiritual decorum. God gave us 5 rules, and no more. And I keep the 5, so fuck off with your so called morality.'

Michael glared at Samael, but left it at that.

'Michael. You are very strict,' said Metatron. 'Fit in some ways for rulership, but it puts our angelic brotherhood off a lot of the time. Lighten up brother.'

'Humph,' said Michael, and stood, and walked out of the eating hall.

'No sense of humour,' said Samael, puffing on his cigarette. Metatron just gazed at him in response.

'So, what have you been up to Mettie?' asked Samael.

'This and that,' replied the Angel.

'Yeh, this and that. I do a lot of that. Wanking around, being a devil. It's fun. Don't take life too seriously, and all that yada yada yada. Know what I mean.'

Metatron sighed. 'I think I do.'

'Besides, your a dickhead,' said Michael, coming back into the room.

'I'm a dickhead?' said Samael. 'Torah Kid calls me a dickhead? The King of Squares calls me a dickhead? Hah! That's rich?'

'He's more a circle,' said Gabriel. 'Or what he likes to think of himself. Well rounded.'

'A small circle,' said Samael. 'Not much life in it. It circumvents a ridiculous code of self control with no real living fun. Torah is for fools.'

'It guides us and creates a holy life,' said Michael. 'It's strictness guards against infidelity to God.'

'I don't think God minds our freedoms that much,' replied Samael. 'He only gave us 5 rules, and left it at that. Just like Michael to want more. Just like the legalist.'

'It helps him order his life,' said Metatron.

'Probably the most disorderly then, without the extra rules, I think,' said Samael. 'Needs it all just to keep his ego in check.'

'That's not true,' retorted Michael hotly. 'I like to comply with calm lawfulness. So that people may find peace.'

'People want to live a little,' said Samael.

'You are a wild man. You will never understand,' said Michael.

'I follow the five. And the Locus of my heart knows exactly where it is at each time in all my decisions.'

'I doubt that,' said Michael.

'My Locus is all powerful, and beautiful,' said Samael. 'She is the champion of my universe.'

'She?' asked Michael. 'What does that mean?'

'Softer. Tender,' replied Samael.

'Hardly you, now is it,' grinned Michael in response.

'Go to hell,' said Samael and puffed again on his cigarette.

'Yeh, hell. Exactly where you belong, dimwit.'

'Hell is a realm which I have visited. It is not quite my style. Dark, depressing, full of heavy feeling. Down below the catacombs of our heaven, in secret stairwells God speaks to few of.'

'There you go,' said Michael to the angels. 'He's already been to hell.'

'Perhaps you should come take a walk with me to the lower depths,' said Samael. 'It will put some humility into your religious pride, I think.'

'Ha, rich,' replied Michael. 'Well, I wouldn't go. Hell is a place of punishment. I obviously don't need punishing, unlike some I could mention.'

'The dark side,' began Samael. 'Is an experience. I don't regret my time their. It made me live in reality. Something which escapes your kind quite obviously. It learns you quick and proper bruvva. But that is obviously beyond you.'

Michael glared at Samael in response, as the angel just puffed on his cigarette and lit another one.

'How do you get to hell?' Gabriel asked Samael. 'Can you show me a stairwell?'

'There are secret latches in some of the catacombs. Talk to father in the throneroom if you want me to show you. I wouldn't take you normally, otherwise. You are too innocent Gabriel. Naive in your sticking with these bunch of do gooders,' said Samael.

'Don't underestimate the strength of angel Gabriel,' said Metatron. 'I've seen inner abilities in him from time to time which might surprise you Sammy.'

Samael puffed on his cigarette and considered Gabriel. 'Maybe,' he said after a few moments.

'Ho, it's Raphael,' said Michael, as Raphael entered the eating hall of the angels abode.

'What is going on here, fair angels?' queried Raphael. 'I see the upper hierarchy fiercely debating it doth seemeth to my wisdom.'

'If you call discussion with imbecility debate,' said Samael.

'No, not really,' retorted Michael instantly. 'Mostly intelligent conversation from one party, and drivel from the other.'

'So keep that drivel under control,' grinned Samael at Michael, and puffed smoke at him.

'The inane converse of Samael the fool,' said Raphael. 'He thinks himself cool I thinketh.'

'You think?' replied Samael. 'There is a first time for everything I guess.'

'He is a sinner, isn't he,' said Raphael, now standing confidently next to Michael.

'Rebellious in every way,' said Michael proudly, glaring at Samael.

'I think it is obvious in his farts,' said Raphael. 'They stink of the fowlest intoxication.'

'Much akin to the breath of Raphael I would imagine,' replied Samael.

'Oh, the lad is in a feisty mood,' said Raphael. 'Good sport, what.'

'Listen you black skinned posh bastard,' began Samael. 'Your attempt at singing with all those bongo drums is not only boring, but grandly irritating. And then you try and preach new Torah at us, and pass it off as divine. Give the angels of heaven a break, Raph. We're not impressed.'

'By numbers much of the community likes our approach,' said Raphael.

'About half I think,' commented Gabriel.

Samael looked at Gabriel. 'That might be true, in fact, brother. I do acknowledge truth. But the other half of us are far from impressed.'

'The dark side never likes to conform,' said Raphael.

'Indeed,' commented Metatron soberly.

'You know,' began Samael. 'If we could be bothered to actually respond to your assumptions on living standards, you would be embarrassed. You would see the pointlessness of maintaining behaviour traits which do not enrich a life and the living experience, but dullen it down, take the edge of adventure and vitality, and make you a boring conformist to Raphaelism, which only serves to enlargen, might I say even more so, the ego of a Seraphim angel who really should know better.'

'The response of evil only justifies a life style which will fade away when its crude pleasures are all spent up,' replied Raphael.

'And you will see then,' began Michael, 'that sin has a season, and when that season has expired, so much of the divine fire within has died. It's a fool who does not live the life by the light of Torah.'

'Torah of an angel,' replied Samael.

'The wisdom of the Book of Truth,' itself,' said Michael in respons. 'That is what Raphael's words really are. Truth. We know. We know it in our hearts.'

'A revelation of vanity,' said Samael.

'Ha. Rich,' replied Michael. 'Your vanity exceeds all and sundry, including blasted Azazel. You think yourself the pinnacle of wisdom.'

'Yet your team is guilty of that very act, through the machinations of new Torah, created only in your interests of sovereignty, or attempt thereat, and nothing of genuine life assistance,' replied Samael. 'Pot calling kettle black indeed.'

'A fool perishes for lack of knowledge,' said Raphael.

'A vain man pretends he knows all, yet fails to see the deceit in his own heart,' replied Samael.

'We have no deceit,' protested Raphael. 'Nought but good intentions.'

'With Raphael and co running the show. Ha, I spit at your vain attempts at authority. They shall never be recognized by myself, and many others I would claim.'

Raphael glared at Samael, but remained silent.

'A tree is known by its fruit,' said Gabriel. 'If Raphael's fruit is good, from his ministry, he justifies himself.'

'Yet those with eyes to see the truth judge the fruit more accurately, and do not give into vain belief in ones immaculacy,' said Samael.

'Says the angel whose eyes are blind,' replied Raphael.

'So you say,' said Samael, and puffed on his cigarette.

'Foolish arguments profit not,' said Gabriel. 'Let us adjourn this discussion. It breeds no peace in our common fellowship.'

'As you wish,' said Samael, and stood, and left the eating hall.

'He's stubborn,' said Michael.

'He knows his own mind,' said Metatron. 'He has a perspective which is not your own. Judge him if ye must, but ye may indeed be fighting a truth you'll acknowledge one day.'

'I doubt that,' said Michael, but did look towards the departed Samael.

Just then the Seraphim angels Simiel and Oriphiel entered the eating hall.

'We've been chatting, Michael,' said Simiel. 'Time to retire Saraqael and Remiel from their Archangelic duties. 'They are average Seraphim, and we two can do a much better job.'

'Gregoriel never stops championing them,' sighed Gabriel. 'They are a pair of comedic dimwits, who think themselves the authority of heaven.'

'The divine comedy,' said Simiel.

'We're a laugh a minute,' said Oriphiel.

'Yes, definitely a joke,' said Michael.

'You want a joke? What do you call an angel without wings?' said Simiel.

'I give up,' replied Michael. 'What?'

'Grounded,' said Simiel, a big grin on his face.

'Bad jokes at that,' replied Michael.

'I think we are happy with the seven Archangels as they stand,' said Gabriel. 'Your champion Gregoriel should think again.'

'But Saraqael and Remiel are just so average,' said Oriphiel. 'Boring mostly. We'll be much more lighthearted and popular.'

'Not the tone we're looking for,' said Raphael.

'So damn serious all the time,' said Oriphiel. 'At least dastardly Samael knows how to have a good time.'

'Don't mention that clown,' said Raphael. 'We've had our fill of him for the day.'

'There were tense discussions,' Gabriel said to Oriphiel and Simiel.

'Why we two would be perfect on the Sovereign Seven,' said Oriphiel.

'You'll come round,' said Simiel.

'Indeed,' replied Michael.

'Camael, Jophiel and Zadkiel also had a go at being among the Seven once,' said Gabriel. 'We had a temporary team with them, with Saraqael, Remiel and Raguel on other duties for a while. It didn't last though. It was before you guys were born.'

'So you are saying we have a chance,' said Simiel.

'In your dreams,' replied Gabriel, giggling.

'Our time will come,' said Simiel to Oriphiel. 'And we'll be ready, Mike. You'll see.'

'I can hardly wait,' replied the Archangel Michael in the dryest of tones.

* * * * *

Samael looked down into the whirling maelstrom. The Angelfire. The source of creation. It was a lake of fire, in the heart of heaven, beneath the divine city above, down around which the catacombs hovered on its outskirts. A large lake in some way, but small in most, 100 metres across, roughtly circular, and alive. That is all you could say when you were in its presence. It was alive. Spiritual fire. The Angelfire. God had created the Angelfire as the very first of his projects, so it was taught, and brought forth angelicdom of heaven from it. They were the angels of heaven, 700 brave male angels. They knew not what a male angel was, but they were it, brave and true. And some were good, but Samael was bad, because Michael always reminded him he was bad, whatever that meant. Like the tree of good and evil in the garden up above, Samael was the bad fruit. He didn't really believe that was true. Samael had a conscience. He did listen to it. But he also did whatever the hell he wanted to do, and didn't really give a damn what any other angel said to the contrary, including Michael and Raphael and co. Metatron left him alone, and that was what seemed to matter the most, as he was the oldest, and had the most respect. Azazel inevitably opposed Metatron, and in the council of things which they established to run their own affair Metatron sat at the head, and on the other side of the round table sat Azazel, who challenged everything, and gave no respect to the apparent authority of heaven. And then there was God, whose person was represented in an old man, who walked around heaven, eating fruit from the garden, a constant puzzle to all, who seemed good and benevolent, and left it all up to their own ministrations, the running of their lives. And all of that life began here, in this chamber of life, the chamber of the Angelfire.

'Destiny is born in there. Fate to,' said a voice to Samael's left.

Samael turned. It was Michael ironically enough.

Samael returned his gaze to the Angelfire and puffed on his cigarette. 'The dreams of eternal life unfold within do they?'

'Something like that,' replied Michael, drawing alongside his brother. 'All good is in there. And all bad. And the fates of eternal lives are lived out and grown and lengthened inexorably and inevitably, through trial and endless trial to strength of life is gained, and the ability to cope with the eternal.'

'The ability to cope with the eternal? Is that what it is all about?' asked Samael.

'Getting used to everyone else, and this complex thing called life, and learning the mastery of it all,' replied Michael. 'God explained it to me very clearly. This is the Angelfire where the heart of creation is played out afore hand, and that was and will be is born and liveth.'

'Fascinating,' said Samael. 'I use it to light my cigarettes.'

'You were born in there,' said Michael, looking down into the flames.

'I recall its life somewhat,' said Samael. 'There are – echoes of it, in my mind. I still remember things of the future, and that at the end of it all it all works out in the end, even if ironically.'

'God is good, you see,' said Michael.

'Perhaps he is. Or perhaps he is the living God, and you take what you get either way,' replied Samael.

'And perhaps that is true also,' said Michael. He turned and looked at his brother. 'We are adversaries. That much is true. But I don't hate you Samael, and I have respect for your life and person. Do remember that,' and Michael nodded to his brother, turned and went away.

Samael returned his gaze to the Angelfire. Such a Michaelesque statement to make, he thought to himself.

The fires cascaded, and spun away. Samael watched, fascinated, as it comforted his soul, and gave ease to the slightness of dark depression which seemed to be there these days.

'Every Samael was born in there,' said another voice from his left. Samael turned. It was God.

'Father,' said Samael, nodding.

'And they were all born in you,' said God, coming to stand next to his son.

Samael glared at the fires, and thought he saw an image for a moment. One occasionally reached out and grabbed you. A face, sometimes a thought, or another flame of passionate life.

'All born in me,' said Samael softly to himself. He turned to God. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

'You are the archetype. The ultimate fashioner and source of all who bear your moniker, as their name, or first name. Even family names are born in you somewhat, the house of Samael.'

'Who?' asked Samael. 'Who the hell are these people?'

They are in your nature, 100% completely. The entirety of eternity of the life of Samael. All of it is in you. You are very special to me because of it. All 700 of my angelic sons are. And the daughters one day will be also.'

'There it is again. Daughters of God. What the hell are these females?' asked Samael.

'One day you will know,' said God. 'The heaven of Angelfire is my foundation stone for eternity. All names are born here in time. Every first name – every proper name – every surname. All, from the first to the last.'

'Fascinating,' said Samael, returning his focus to the flames. 'The Archetype of Samael am I? Bloody wonderful.'

'Yes,' said God, looking directly at Samael. 'It is all in you.'

Samael glared at the flames, and was vaguely aware God had departed, but he was not ready to leave. He needed some comfort this afternoon, to sooth the darkness within.

'What the hell is an Archetype?' he asked the flames in front of him. They just burned brightly in response. 'I am Samael, am I? The font of all wisdom?'

'Hardly,' said a voice.

'Another visitor,' said Samael, turning.

'The font of all wisdom is in all of us as one,' said Metatron. 'You can hardly claim the wisdom of your Seraphim brothers, so much you disavow them, but wise they are.'

'If you call dung wise,' replied Samael.

Metatron chuckled and looked into the flames. 'There is not much of me. Not much yet anyway. It is not a name greatly favoured in the infinite ones to come after us.'

'And you know this how?' asked Samael.

'I just sense it. Michael speaks boldly. Says unlimited numbers are within his heart. So much strength I do sense as well. His unfailing popularity it would seem.'

'Some guys get all the breaks,' said Samael, lighting another cigarette on the angelfire.

'If you call them breaks. Equal responsibility, God has told me from time to time. To represent so many and so much.'

'His egoness I am sure can handle the job,' smirked Samael.

Metatron looked squarely at his younger brother. 'And egos will you handle? The devil's themselves it seems to me.'

'Perhaps indeed,' replied Samael.

They stood there, as if gaining warmth from the fire, but it was just a mild warmth. Cool at times, even.

'Life will go on, anyway,' said Metatron at last.

'That much I do know,' said Samael dryly. 'Life will go on.'

'And there the query endeth, and we fill in time as best we can,' said Metatron.

There was no reply. They stood there, watching the eternal glory of God's creativity, and Metatron stole away, eventually Samael joining him, finding rest in his abode, and dreaming dreams. Of Samael's and Michael's and Metatron saying 'Still bugger all will use my bloody name.' And Samael grinned on that.

The End

PART TWO

THE HEART OF GOD

The Book of Truth

At the first beginning, God existed. He existed in perfect rest and harmony with himself. And then, the first cause, he contemplated. At some point in those contemplations, God had conceived of ideas pertaining to creation. Yet to achieve that creation, God would require knowledge. A system of data and information necessary for that creation to function and run by. And thus, the knowledge and data God created first of all, which was to be used to create the world and the cosmos, was wisdom. Wisdom was the firstborn of God's creation, the knowledge of how creation works, and the knowledge of how mankind would be formed. Wisdom was there at the beginning with God, a companion of sorts, through whom God created all things. The source of energy which was used with wisdom to create all things was the power inherit in God's being himself. So, as it is written, God created all things through his wisdom and power. Alleluia.

Gloria Excelsia

The first impulse of God. It had been debated by Callodyn and Kayella, sitting in the 'cafeteria' as it was called, nestled in the heart of God. The heart of God was an everchanging reality. Every morning, when the two of them woke, they found each other quite quickly, and the adventures began. The old man, who called himself Wolfric, showed up from time to time, and then he called himself Wolfgang, and occasionally the old wolf or the dark wolf. He would have adventures with them, as they day changed regularly, and the scenery changed at a constant rate, and landscapes came and went, in green and gold and red and brown, and all sorts of funny things, like ducks talking to them, saying 'We're pretty Daffy, aren't we', and rabbits talking to them saying 'What's up Doc?'. All sorts of weird creatures kept them entertained. And then, that morning, Callodyn and Kayella were again debating the first impulse of God.

'Perhaps he had been at eternal rest,' suggested Callodyn. 'And then decided to do something. He had been sleeping or resting all eternity and was sort of aware of himself but had never yet decided to act.'

'Reasonable assumption, bro,' responded Kayella. 'But who says we really are his firstborns? Perhaps he has played out this game a trillion times over?'

'Even if he has, what was the first impulse?' replied Callodyn.

'Something like your schema,' she replied. 'Most likely. Probably at eternal rest.'

'And then he created Callodyn,' smirked Callodyn.

'And gave him a break making Kayella,' responded Kayella.

'A break?' he asked her. 'I guess you could call it a break. Perhaps. If being introduced to a person with less charisma than a daffy sort of duck is a break.'

She chuckled at that. 'Oh, you think you are all charms? At least Daffy washes himself regularly. How many times have you showered this week? At all?'

'Shaddup,' he replied. 'The shower is not working.'

'I'm sure it's not,' she replied. 'Stubbornly refusing to clean such an ordinary soul.'

The old wolf was suddenly in their presence and sat down.

'Private information,' he said.

Kayella ate a chip and looked at the old man. 'What is?'

'Beginnings. Not for you to know.'

'Fine,' she responded. 'Have a chip,' she said, and handed him a chip, which he dutifully wolfed down.

'So what's next?' asked Callodyn. 'Here we are? What now?'

'Do you like the name Michael? Or Metatron?' asked the old man.

'They sound like nice names,' responded Kayella.

'They lack flair. Panache,' responded Callodyn. 'Rather plain and boring, quite frankly.'

'You're all charm,' said God.

'Have a chip,' replied Callodyn, who handed the old man a chip, which he dutifully wolfed down, his eye kept on the troublesome Callodyn all the while.

'I have an idea,' said Kayella. 'Create a whole stack of worlds, with many children of God.'

God was listening. 'Speak on,' said Wolfric.

'I and Callodyn can be the two special ones, and the others can be in awe of our majesty,' said Kayella.

'Sound's good,' said Callodyn.

'Vanity to me,' replied Wolfric. 'I think I'll demote you two down the list a bit. Teach you both some humility.'

'Glory inevitably rises,' replied Callodyn casually.

'And shit sinks,' said Kayella sarcastically.

'Enjoy the bottom then,' retorted Callodyn immediately.

'Yep. It's settled. Demotion it is,' said Wolfric firmly.

'Awww, give us a break,' said Callodyn. 'We two are all the fun. The true life of Eternity.'

'Right, the realm of eternity for you two then,' said God.

'Huh?' asked Kayella.

'Definitely not Heavenly material, let alone good enough for home,' said Wolfric. 'I was considering the Realm of Infinity for you two, but Eternity it is.'

'Realm of Infinity?' queried Callodyn. 'You've already got it all planned out, don't you?'

'Destiny does all that,' replied Wolfgang. 'I just read her heart and bring it all to be. Might plot a thing or two myself, but she's my prime principle I work with at this stage in the Angels Saga.'

'The angels saga?' queried Kayella.

'Never mind about that,' said God. 'Suffice to say you two children of destiny will have a lovely world of your own to be part of, and we'll leave it at that.'

'Sounds wonderful,' said Callodyn. 'Remember, all the glory,' said Callodyn, winking at God.

'Yep, and lots of lovely types of food you have been creating for us,' said Kayella.

'She'll be a fatty,' said Callodyn.

'Shaddup,' replied Kayella, eying her twin with hostility.

The End

The Heart of God

God did indeed have a sense of humour, he thought to himself in reflection.  Daniel.  Callodyn.  Two very funny angels.  Ariel.  Kayella.  Two long-suffering twins.  Where on earth shall I place their glory?  Well, at the beginning, shall we say, just a little before the egos from Israel.  Just a little before blessed Michael and Ambriel.  In the heart of God.  Before Time began.  Before love and hate, before life and death, before good and evil.  Before all things.

'Jesus.  You really are stupid.'

'Fuck off, Daniel.'

'Start a church?'

'You have no ambitions, Rothchild.'

'I keep the faith, Yeshua.'

'Dream on,' responded the Christ of God's greater glory.

Callodyn and Kayella were, in God's estimations, the actual talent amongst his infinite children.  Bright.  Gifted.  Charming.  Sensible.  Adroit.  Skilled.  Pragmatic and practical.  Wise.  Humble.  Exceedingly proud.  And all together lovely.  Best to give them some weight problems to keep them in check.  Of course, God loved 228, a very dedicated pair.  To shine forever.  To shine always.  The heart of God, were he created number 2 first of all, Michael of Eternity, was a quick 'Cool' by God, but then back to the 228 project.  The glory.  The exciting stuff.  And then, at another point, much later on in history, reawakening some older memories which he had put to sleep, had lie dormant, he looked into them and recalled some things in the earlier thoughts from the heart of God.  Some forgotten thoughts.  He had existed forever, after all.  Forever.

'You are Callodyn and you are Kayella.  Destiny and life hinges upon you both.  You are my true firstborn children.  And this is the beginning.  For later a jealous rival shall show up, but we shall slumber till then.  Yet you, Callodyn, and you, Kayella, are my true firstborns.  The oldest of the covenants.  The first of the covenants.  For it is your heart, Callodyn.  It is your heart.

And the true firstborn son and daughter of God rested, in comfort, and the hand of eternity turned its course, and what was to be would come to be in God's good time.

  The End

  The Birth of Meludiel

God mused.  The heart of the Messiah was a complex and difficult thing to fathom, such being his yearning towards love and infinity.  Such being his yearning towards God and eternity.  Yet, one heart, one love, filled a void in him, which nothing else could fill – his blessed twin, Meludiel.

Ambriel – the Messiah to be – would be twin and heart of Meludiel, as she would be his – and yet, there would be one other to claim her soul as well – charming old Daniel.  He was ever so incorrigible.

Meludiel took form in the heart of God for months, if not years, such being the devotion he was placing into her being, the sheer commitment to those she loved, and those she was concerned about.  He ministered grace into her innermost being, patience, and virtue.  And he would place Jesus in her heart, as her King, for a time period as well.  And in those things she would find her completion as an angel of God.

He worked on her, and continued to work on her, birthing her spirit in his heart, and whispering dreams to her mind, and adventures of passion and glory to her soul, and telling her he loved her, and she would forever be in her father’s hands.  He whispered songs of melody to her heart, and songs of harmony, and the song of creation, the song of eternity, was implanted into her very soul, the very fibre of her being.  And he loved her, dearly.  He loved her.

Meludiel sat, those early days, on the pre-school floor, sitting there, looking beautiful, with Ambriel running all over the place, chasing Daniel, and playing games, and watching, occasionally, his twin, to make sure she was ok.  And Ariel came inside from time to time, away from hunting the wolf who bothered her, and sat with Meludiel, and they sang songs, and they played games, and they loved each other, and God was happy.  Watching them, there, in the nursery of his heart, in the nursery of his soul – in the nursery of Infinity, in the nursery of Eternity.

  The End

Ariel and the Wolf

  She was 15.  Or was she 25?  She couldn't remember.  In this place things changed a lot.  A hazy kind of reality, or so she thought.

Daniel was her twin, though.  He loved her.  He said so all the time.  But the wolf hunted her.  It always hunted her.

Suddenly, she was in the nursery again.  Away from the green grass and leaves she had just been familiar with.  Back again in the nursery, and there was the old man again - her father.

'Ariel.  Come here.'

Ariel obeyed.

'Is that wolf bothering you?' he asked.

She nodded.

'Are you scared of the wolf?' he asked her.

She nodded.

'Wolves can be like that.  Scary!' he finished.

And she was away again, deep in the forest.

*

It was late - and she was further in the forest than she had ever been.  But it was ok.  Daniel was just back in the clearing a little - wasn't he?

She followed her trail, and a new bridge appeared, one she had never seen - And out came the wolf.

He snarled a deep snarl, but she knew, this time, she would have to be brave.  She would have to conquer the wolf.

A staff was suddenly in her hand, and she thrust it at the wolf, who dodged it nimbly.

'Go away wolf,' she yelled at it, but it stood its ground.

Suddenly it sprang at her, and, the fear overcoming her, she turned and ran and ran and ran and ran...............

And just as suddenly she was in the arms of Daniel, who was calming her down, wiping away her tears.

'I hate that wolf,' she said sobbing.

Later on she was in the nursery again, and the old man was there.

And she was a child, and he picked her up, and cradled her and comforted her.

And she hid in the heart of God, but outside the nursery she knew he was there, watching, silently waiting.  The wolf.  Ready to eat her all up.  Ready to devour her fear.

And then she hid there, in the heart of God.  Quiet.  Gentle.  Shy.  Humble.

Home.

And soon the new day began, yet another, and Daniel and Ambriel were soon there, playing with her.  And Meludiel soon also.

And, joy of joys, finally a visit from Michael and Elenniel.

And she noticed, throughout the day, the old man, watching her, silently.  Guarding her.

Against the Dark.

Against the Fear.

Against the Wolf.

The End

The Challenge

God told them his plans, his children, and then told them they'd forget when born in the real planes of reality. But Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly, who would be the 347th Cherubim of the planned Realm of Eternity saw an opportunity, and he took it.

Metatron was firstborn. He would rule Home, Heaven, Infinity, Eternity, Paradise and the Seven Heavenly Realms. And he had an ego. But he had met his match.

'You won't win,' said Metatron. 'Your wasting your time.'

'If I lose, the whole 347th Disc will give you a tithe of its GDP.'

'That's a lot of cashola. Sure you want to risk it? I'll thrash you at chess. I play the old man. He calls me a handful.'

'If I win, I'm the technical authority. Over you. And I can claim it later on officially, through my accomplishment, and end up ruling forever. Ok. I remain technical authority from the birth of Home forever, but the ruling authority in the Real world when I have shown my stuff.'

Metatron mulled it over. Sure. He couldn't lose. 10% of the Disc planned for the Cherubim was huge cashola. He'd take the easy money.'

A little while later.

'Why so dejected?' asked the Old Man.

'Don't bloody ask,' said Metaron. 'Firstborn? Yeh right. Lost my glory on a game of chess. Amazing.'

The Old Man looked at his son, and looked over at Cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly talking with Cherubim Taylor. Now that was something which didn't happen every day.

The End

PART THREE

HOME

In The Beginning

Beginnings and Endings.  Endings and Beginnings.  And in between perhaps infinity and eternity.

In his plans God had thought through much of what would take place within the realms which would come to be known as the Realms of Infinity and the Realms of Eternity.  But prior to their advent, would come his own special home – his private and personal domain – a place he would share only with the 3 firstborn of all the Children of God – Metatron, Logos and Memra.  And that private special dwelling place would simply be called ‘Home’.

And then the children of God and the very first of the four Realms – the Realm of Heaven.  God planned 70 children.  70 only who would be his firstborn children – no more – no less.  The 70 children he had in mind were 35 boys and 35 girls.  They would have a destiny, of course, but they would not have a destiny.  His own children would decide, after they had learned their life lessons, their future and fate for themselves. 

The rest of his offspring, he would never grant that right in full.  He would never allow his other children to be lost to him through their own choices – he simply would not allow that.  That decision had become immutable in his mind – eternally unchangeable.

But his own children, them he would teach and allow – in the fullness of time – the right and ability to craft their own destiny.  That much he would allow those who had been last in planning, but were to be first in origin.

And so would come ‘Home’, followed by the four Realms of ‘Heaven, Infinity, Eternity and Paradise’.  And thus God took to the work of the eternal – the work of life and love.

The End

Life at Home 

0 HY

  ‘You are Metatron, my Firstborn child.  And I love you.’  Metatron nodded, having just been animated to life by the eternal spirit of God.  He rose up from were he was laying and looked around.  There were structures, which God shortly told him were buildings.  One main farmhouse, were they would live.  A barn out the back, were cows gave milk.  And a shed over to the side were chickens gave eggs.  And then fields for a few hundred metres filled with crops before disappearing into an eternal void – that void a cascade of wavering lights, almost like an eternal aurora.

‘Where are we?’ he asked, with the intuitive voice given to him.

‘We are Home,’ replied God.

For a year they ate, drank and slept.  And God introduced Metatron to chess, which they played avidly.  He liked beer, did Metatron.  He liked it a lot, and got drunk often, much to God his Father’s annoyance.  But God relented, acknowledging that in the end such stuff had been created for that purpose.

And then came Logos and Memra shortly afterwards.  And Metatron had a family.

And then later, in discussion, ‘Yes, there will be 70 of them.  No, we will not meet them.  Not initially.  But you can watch them through the portal I will place in the living room.  But it is only the beginning, children.  Only the beginning.’

  The End

Metatron’s Gambit

  2,300 HY

  Life for Metatron, firstborn son of God, had its ups and its downs but, for the most part, he was generally satisfied with his lot in life.  He lived in Home, the very first of the created Realms, of which there were now 3:  Home, Heaven and the Realm of Infinity.  From what God had shared with him he knew of a Realm to be created coming up in the future known as the Realm of Eternity.  And after that, over the aeons, a significant number more from what God had said.  But for now he resided in home happily living out his life.

Metatron played Chess, often engaged with bouts with the theophany of God and his younger brother and sister, Logos and Memra.  He liked Chess, in fact a great deal, and was currently engaged in a game with God.  God had shared with him this truth – in his theophanic form he had limitations – particular limitations, which were suitable for such a form.  And while Metatron, after over 1,000 games of chess with God had never beaten him, God had told him he was capable of doing as such.  And so, currently sitting out in the fields surrounding home, gazing out at the neverending aurora which surrounded the realm, Metatron considered something.  A gambit.  A gamble.  A risky move, something he had not really tried before, to try and finally claim victory over his eternal father.  And it was a gambit which involved a new idea he had come up with:  Sacrifice.

The sacrifice gambit in Metatron’s thinking was this:  instead of making the most obvious moves in strength, put forth a subtle move for a piece which he knew could be taken without risk to, in the hypothesis, make it easier in later moves to take a more powerful piece.  This idea – sacrifice – seemed to him a new development in the game.  Looking at his father as he played he often felt that God was still going easy on him.  But God never really seemed to play with this type of move in mind, usually playing a similar, but slightly different, gameplan to himself.  Perhaps this idea, perhaps this new idea, would work.  Perhaps it would be the very thing which would give him his first victory over his eternal father.

*    *    *    *    *

Logos took the cookies out of the oven, an oven mitt on his hands handling the hot tray, as God and Memra, hearing the oven buzzer, came into the room.  Metatron soon joined them.  He carefully used the tongs to put the cookies onto a plate and put them in the middle of the table.  God was about to grab one when Logos rebuked him saying, ‘wait for your milk.’  But God was hungry and snatched one anyway and started nibbling.  Memra looked at God’s substantial belly and smiled.

‘Your starting to put on weight, father.  You really should watch what you eat.’

‘I guess,’ replied the theophany of God.

Logos placed four glasses of milk and the jug on the table, and God prayed to his eternal spirit thanks, and they started munching.

After eating his fourth cookie God looked at Metatron.  ‘Have you considered your next move?  You are getting better you know.’

Metatron looked at him cautiously and said, ‘Mmm.  Perhaps father.  You’ll see.’

God eyed him cautiously and went back to his cookie.  ‘Well it had better be a good move son,’ he responded.  ‘I think I almost have you again.’

‘So you say,’ responded Metatron, being as cautious not to brag as possible.

Logos and Memra looked at the two of them and Logos said, ‘He’ll beat you eventually, father.  He does persevere.’

‘Perhaps.  But we’ll see.’

‘Indeed we will,’ said Memra, and took another sip of milk.

*    *    *    *    *

17 moves had passed, and the Gambit was about to show its fruit.  God looked stuck and finally caved and moved the piece in the only way he could, Metatron instantly taking the exposed rook with his bishop.  God looked at him and slowly a grin came to his face.  ‘Well, son.  I think you have finally done it.’  And Metatron beamed.

2 days later, Metatron having claimed victory, went to the chalkboard scoreboard out on the side of the house.  God was still keeping score and on his half he still managed to fit in all his strokes of victory.  God had followed him outside and Logos and Memra were just behind him.  As Metatron picked up the chalk Logos started going ‘Da darr.  Da darr.  Da darr,’ and in triumph Metatron put his first chalk stroke up on the board.  Logos looked at him and said, ‘Well done Metty.’  God just grinned, looked at the chalkboard, and gave Metatron a formal bow.  ‘It seems you have bested me for once.  But beware my wrath, dear Metatron.’  And Metatron smiled.  Yes, indeed, Metatron’s Gambit had proved successful, and for that he was immensely happy and relieved.  Most relieved indeed.

  THE END

“Metatron and Logos – War of the Worlds”

  Metatron was out in the fields, gazing at the neverending aurora, feeding the chickens.  And looking at the chickens an idea suddenly came to him.  A most amusing idea.  ‘Let’s have a war.  The war to end all wars,’ he thought to himself.  ‘The War of the Worlds.’

Logos was out the back, shovelling hay in the barn, just for the heck of it, and looked at the cows.  And looking at the cows an idea suddenly came to him.  A most amusing idea.  ‘Let’s have a war.  The war to end all wars,’ he thought to himself.  ‘The War of the Worlds.’

Inside Memra was suddenly overcome.  ‘Good grief,’ she said to herself, suddenly gaining a portent for what was coming.  ‘Home will never be the same again.’  And looking over at God who was sipping on a can of Coke, he just smiled a little smile and said nothing.

*    *    *

He had spent all afternoon in his workshop, going down three sublevels to find the necessary resources, which just seemed to magically appear.  But that was the way it was at home.  Things tended to magically appear.  Now, driving his little lorry out of the workshop, towing 25 tips full of weapons, he made his way to the chickens out the front of home.  Getting off the lorry he whistled sharply and yelled.  ‘Alright chickens.  Attention.  Come forward, two by two, and receive your weapons.’  And, in obedience, the chickens gradually came forwards and Metatron started handing out the mini bazookas to each of the chickens.  They would attack at twilight, and they would take no prisoners.

*    *    *

Logos looked at the flame throwers he had prepared.  Yes, they should do perfectly.  He filled the lorries gradually and, as the afternoon passed, drove the lorry out to the cows in the field and prepared them for battle.  The carnage was expected to be great indeed.

*    *    *

First Commander Clucketty Cluck looked through the binoculars at the enemy.  He turned to Metatron and went ‘Bok.’

‘Bok?’ inquired Metatron.

‘Bok,’ responded Clucketty Cluck.  Metatron turned to Second Commander Brightfeather, who had a feather protruding from his head.  ‘And your analysis?’ asked Metatron.

‘Bokitty Bok,’ responded Brightfeather.

‘That bad, huh?’ said Metatron, and returned his gaze forwards.

General Moo looked through the spyhole and turned to Logos.  ‘Moooooooo.’

‘That bad huh?’  General Moo nodded.  ‘Well, it’s now or never.’

*    *    *

The chickens attacked on the left flank initially, and casualties were high on both sides.  Feathers and fur flew everywhere, but both sides were determined to gain the upper hand, so no quarter was given.  Metatron decided on a surprise attack.  He had cheated a little and arranged for some extra forces.  And yelling ‘Attack’ the Turkeys sped right ahead, armed with crossbows, taking out as many cows as they possibly could.  But Logos was ready for such tactics.  He pressed a button on his remote and a loud noise started coming from the barn.  Suddenly a giant tank appeared, a cow’s head popping out through the top, and it blew bombs at the attacking turkeys.  Feathers and turkeys flew everywhere.

Metatron looked concerned.  Logos had the numbers.  Time, perhaps, for a tactical retreat.  He gathered his remaining forces and headed inside the House, out to the safe back yard.  Logos stood in front of the House, motioned for his bravest cows to follow him, and they entered, passing through the dining room were Memra and God were looking at the grandfather clock, engaged in some sort of conversation, and soon came to the back yard.

‘They should be right back,’ said God to Memra.

True to God’s word Logos suddenly ran through the dining room, his cows following him quickly.  Suddenly Metatron appeared holding, of all things, a large bomb with ‘1000 Metatron Bomb’ written on it.  Things looked dire.

*    *    *

It was the final showdown.  God was on the swinging couch on the porch, Memra seated next to him.  Metatron was facing down Logos, looking very menacing with his ‘1000 Metatron Bomb’.  Logos said, ‘Go on.  Explode it.  I DARE you.’

‘Don’t tempt me.  I will, I tell you.  I will.’

‘I DARE you.  I Double DARE you.  To hell with it.  I Triple DARE you.’

‘As you wish,’ and he pressed the detonation button.

*    *    *

A mushroom cloud was an original event for Home, but when the buildings were, by the grace of God, left standing, the mess of dead cow and chicken and turkey all over the landscape was truly a sight to behold.  Metatron’s hair was all singed and he had black ashes on his face, as did Logos.  Logos looked at him, grinned a little, and walked over.  ‘We’ll call that a draw, shall we?’

‘As long as you cook the chicken.’

‘Okely Dokely.’

An hour later they were in the dining room, feasting on fried chicken and steak and some of God’s reserves of Coca Cola, when Memra posed this interesting dilemma.  ‘If that was the War of the Worlds, how can we possibly top that?’

Logos looked at Metatron, who looked back in return.  And then God said ‘I’m sure they’ll think of something,’ and everyone laughed.

The End

Logos and Memra: A Day in the Life of

Memra was in the kitchen of home, were Logos liked her. But that was his way, wasn't it. A woman's place was in the kitchen. Metatron grinned at his younger brother's oft heard sarcasms to his sister on the proper role of women. 'Women stands for Worship Our Master's Every Need' Logos was oft heard remarking,' to which Memra, in her fit of rage, would say, 'And you can go eff yourself up your clacker if you think I am bloody......,' and so on and so forth, yet that was the relationship between them. Metatron enjoyed the rivalry.

One day Memra was in the kitchen, with Metatron looking at the chess board in a game he and God were slowly involved in, when Logos walked in.

'Hey honey,' said Memra turning to Logos. 'Would you like a bit?'

'Oh, yeah,' said Logos, glancing over the body of his sister. 'I'm in the mood I suppose.'

Metatron smiled to himself.

Memra turned away, and then turned back and handed him a gingerbread man.

'Gee. Great,' said Logos, somewhat disappointed, and reluctantly took the gingerbread man, sat down and took a bite.

'You seem disappointed,' said Memra. 'What did you think I was offering you?'

'Not this shite,' said Logos, muttering to himself.

Metatron grinned again.

'I mean, are you sure you can cook, babe?' queried Logos. 'Even the old fart does better gingerbread men than this.'

Memra was aghast. 'MEN!' she screeched. 'You spend all day slaving over a hot oven and this is the bloody thanks I receive. You know, brother, you can go $%£” yourself for the rest of the day, and don't expect any tonight, if you know what I mean.'

'Nah,' said Logos to himself again. 'Just shitty gingerbread men.'

Metatron grinned once more.

In a huff, Memra took a teatowel, threw it at Logos, and stormed out of the kitchen.

'Women,' said Logos, and munched away on the gingerbread man.

After a while.... 'It's not bad, actually. The gingie,' said Logos.

Metatron raised his head, and looked at Logos.

'You know, brother of mine, there are a lot of things I could say. And perhaps there are a lot of things I should say.'

'Yes,' queried Logos.

'But what I will say is this. You sure know your way to a woman's heart.'

'Gee. Thanks,' said Logos smiling, and munched again on his cookie.

Metatron just shook his head and said 'Unbelievable' to himself, and returned his thoughts to the chessboard.

And all that week all that Logos got fed was gingerbread men.

The End

PART FOUR

HEAVEN 

The Play

1990 HY

  ‘Lucy.’  ‘Yes Enrique.’  ‘Do you love me, Lucy?  Do you love me?’  Lucy, child of God, sitting in her abode in Azaphon, the Diamond city, considered her brother Enrique’s question.  Enrique was, in a sense, Lucy’s personal brother.  A brother in rank of birth the same number as Lucy in order, that being the 35th and last of the children of heaven.  In overall order of birth amongst God’s 70 children, Enrique was 65th and herself Lucy was last of all, 70th.  Of course, she loved him dearly, and told him that often, as she did all her brethren.  Yet, in listening carefully and sensitively to Enrique’s question, Lucy sensed something in the tone, in the intent of the question that searched for an answer unlike the standard ‘of course I love you.’  She looked straight at him.  ‘You are a dork, Enrique.    Don’t be so dramatic.  Just like dreamlord Daniel – always so dramatic.’

‘Come now, sister.  I am far from the likes of Dream.  A most obsessive personality, that one.  Yet he, like us all, does have his charms.’

‘Yes, he does at that.  I feel it in the dreams he sends me each night.  In the subtleties of love and friendship he graces me with from my dream brethren and, of course, those other faces we all know so well now – yet who do not, seemingly, exist.  Tell me, Enrique, do you share the common view?  That these people we see are other brethren?  Others which God does not share with us?  From another realm?  Another place?  Another dreaming world of love?’

‘Who knows, Lucy.  Who knows.  I see them in my dreams, like you do.  Some faces familiar now.  As if I had known them, yet never met them of course.’

‘Perhaps they are people yet to be, brother.  Perhaps they are people yet to be.’

‘Or maybe products of Dreams overly fertile imagination.’

‘Yes, it could be that Enrique.  It could just be that.’

Enrique, lying on the end of Lucy’s bed, playing with a small paper umbrella, looked at his sister, who was at the front of her large grand bed, reading one of the texts Adam, firstborn, had written.  ‘Tell me, Lucy.  Have you yet decided on the role you desire?  The choice of life calling that Father has beckoned each of us to choose and pursue.  I have, I think, settled on the dramatic qualities in life.  Singing and writing song.  And also dramatic deeds.  The role of the ‘entertainer’ seems, for me, a role most entertaining and worth pursuing.’  Lucy, twirling her raven black hair between her fingers, closed the text Adam had written and thought on her response to her brother.  Father, God, had given each of them a list of 70 roles.  70 key roles which, so he claimed, would shape their eternal lives.  Yet he had left it to each child to pick and choose the role they desired for themselves.  Adam had chosen author.  To write books, perhaps neverendingly so, on all sorts of strange and delightful events and happenings.  Daniel had chosen the role of dreamlord.  Another role, one both Daniel and Lucy had considered but had finally left to another sister, was that of ‘Death’.  Death dressed in black, and wore dark mascara.  The roles purpose, so God had said, was to bring final and ultimate resolution to things.  Yet, one day, in ways which, so he said, would shock all the children of heaven.

Lucy, after much consideration, had finally chosen the role of ‘Witch’ in which to satisfy her life’s passions.  The ‘Witch’ role, seemingly, had so much promise and potential.  God’s promise that he would allow the role of witch to engage in what he called ‘magic’ – the manipulation of spiritual energy for various affects – seemed so enticing, ultimately, to Lucy that she simply could not forego the role.  As strange as it may seem, it seemed her life calling.

‘I will be the wicked witch of Azaphon, dear brother.  Best beware my might and power.’  Enrique laughed at Lucy’s joke.  ‘So the witch role.  I had thought that Jezebel or Delilah, as befits their nature, may have chosen such a role.  Have you already claimed it from Father.’

‘Yes.  Two months ago.’

‘Two months?  So long.  And you had not told me yet?’

‘Don’t sound to disappointed, brother.  I haven’t told anyone else.  It has taken me all year to finally choose the role, and I was not sure if it would be taken or not.  But fortunately I am the lucky one.  So do not be surprised if it takes me a while to likewise share this news.’

‘Most unlike you, sis.  You are usually forthright and quick to share things.  You have been all your life.’  Lucy placed the text of her brother Adam on the drawers beside her bed, and picked up the apple she had been eating and gave it a bite.  Chewing on it, she thought on her response to her brother.  ‘Yeah.  I guess that is true, Rique.  But I want to, in a strange way, bring an aura of mystery to the witch role.  Something like the ‘death’ role in its possibilities, yet something different as well.  It was why I waited to share the news’

‘The witch seems like Samael’s Devil, perhaps?’ suggested Enrique.  Lucy thought on that comment and saw the connection.  The Devil role her brother Samael, secondborn of the children of heaven, had taken seemed perhaps, like the role of ‘Death’ and ‘The Witch’, linked to the mysterious, the unknown.  To those things hidden and away from them.  Almost, as it were, draped in darkness.

‘Yes, I think so Enrique.   Yes, I do think so indeed.  Similar textures.  Similar roles which each have much promise.’

‘I think, sister.  Like the entertainer, my own role, each will entertain us for many years to come.  Perhaps eternally so.’  Lucy looked at him, and slowly nodded.  ‘Yes, perhaps, dear brother.  Perhaps.’

*    *    *    *    *

Michael, third-born of the children of heaven sat with Jesus eleventh-born of the males and 21st in rank of all the children.  They had finally chosen their roles.  Michael had chosen the role of ‘Archangel’.  It was a role of spiritual ministry, responsible for nurturing and encouraging his brethren.  Being dressed with wings, dressed in bright white, and wearing a garland called a ‘halo’ around the head.  Jesus had chosen the role of ‘preacher’.  His responsibility was to take the lessons of life which their eternal father had taught them, also lessons from the ‘Author’ role found in Adam, and the yet unclaimed ‘Scholar’ role.  Each child of God seemed pleased and happy with the role they had chosen.  And in that happiness they sat in Jesus abode in Azaphon, dreaming up destinies for themselves.  ‘Of course, Michael, the destiny role, for whoever finally chooses it, may decide everything for us.  We may make our plans and choose our fates, yet I think destiny will ultimately have its say.’  Michael nodded, understanding the truth Jesus expounded to himself.  ‘Well, perhaps we should make close friends with whoever finally chooses the destiny role.’  ‘Yes, that would be wise Michael.  Perhaps indeed we should.

*    *    *    *    *

Eve, firstborn of the females of heaven, eleventh in overall ranking, finally settled on her choice.  In the end, it seemed, there could be no other role than that of ‘Destiny’ for the firstborn female child of God to partake of.  If Adam thought things up and wrote about them – if he created new ideas – if he conjured up in the imaginations of the heart new fantasies to entertain the children of heaven, then Eve would choose the role in reality which could shape the lives of her brethren, perhaps inspired by those very tales of Adam, the Author, to take their lives and make, in a way, a living story for them.  A destiny, a saga, a fate, which would give life, love and other mysteries to the souls of the eternal children of heaven.

*    *    *    *    *

‘Come Elf, let us hunt.’  The proud ‘Warrior’ Paul, fifth-born of the Children of Heaven spoke to Christie the ‘Elf’, eighteenth-born of the Children of Heaven.  Christie had chosen the role of the ‘Elf’, whereas Paul had chosen the role of the ‘Warrior’.  And, presently, both of them were hunting Saul the ‘Mercenary’ and Tammy the ‘Gypsy’, in a game the four of them had devised – a merry chase around the Realm to see who could first tag the others without being seen and thus claim victory.

The Realm of Heaven was alike the very first of the Realms of God, ‘Home’, were Metatron, Logos and Memra resided, in many ways – yet altogether a much greater and grander enlargement of ‘home’ to house not just the 3 divine ones, yet the 70 children of Heaven.  The Realm of Heaven was located directly below ‘Home’, many cubits downwards.  It was spread out on a grassy plain, with various hills and ponds, the main towers and buildings in the centre of the Realm.  Around the ‘Rim’ of the Realm ran a solid stone wall which the Father had put in place with the creation of the Realm.  In the centre were around 20 to 30 main buildings of various types which suited the purposes of the Children of Heaven – both for living, food, cleanliness and entertainment.

Right in the centre of the Realm stood the ‘Tower of God’, a tower of many cubits high, watching, as it were, over the Realm and the affairs of God’s children.  The Tower was a solid stone brick pinnacle, which the children climbed from time to time to gain the view from its uppermost tower.

Presently Paul the Warrior and Christie the Elf were descending that tower, having counted to the mandatory 1,000 before being allowed to chase down their adversaries in the game of ‘Tag’ they had invented.

‘Were fore art thou, proud mercenary – were fore art thou?’  Paul the warrior spoke, carefully and quietly, with Christie in tow, coming to the corner of a building and peering cautiously around it to see if they could spot their foe.  ‘Dare I say it,’ began Christie the elf cautiously, attired in green, with a pointed red and green cap with a small bell attached at its end.  ‘Dare I say it, brave warrior, but they won’t be stupid enough to hide in plain sight.’

Paul considered those words, carefully, but not to carefully, as befitted one of the less intellectual of the children of heaven.

‘Why speaketh as such?  Saul our Mercenary opponent is infamous for his stupidity in bravery.  As we all know he comes forth, knowing no fear, confronting all who would oppose him.  Hast thou not forgotten our recent celebration when he was courting his fair twin Tammy and, in the process of attempting to present her gift, he cometh down the curtain from aside our grand hall’s top entrance only to have his slacks catch on the curtain hooks and tumble down before her butt naked.  Nay, I tell you.  He is not one to be feared, our mercenary opponent.  He is a silly duffer, obvious to all.’

Christie the elf grinned, fondly remembering the said adventure, and Saul’s gross embarrassment at having his privates paraded in front of the whole clan.

‘Yet, dare I say it brave warrior,’ began Christie in response,’ that our foolhardy mercenary foe has, perchance, learned from his mistakes and will not so be easily caught again.’

‘Bah.  The man’s a fool.  He will be in plain sight, bravely yet foolishly challenging all who would oppose him.’

Paul peered again around the corner, spying nobody present, and signalled for Christie to follow him cautiously.

‘Lead on brave fool,’ said Christie lovingly, yet slightly mockingly.

*    *    *    *    *

‘Deborah, Deborah, Deborah.  Poor, poor Deborah.  Our poor dear dinosaur.  I full well know you have always questioned Father’s eternal wisdom in the granting of your substantial girth, but feel not ashamed at my, dare I say it, brilliant painting of such a beautiful dinosaur.’

Deborah, the largest of the children of heaven, looked at the painting her older brother Samael, the Devil, had painted, of a rather fierce looking lizard-like creature of rather gross proportions.  Her twin brother Matthew, the new artist, gazed at Samael’s painting of Deborah the Dinosaur, and crossing the art-room, picked up a canvas he had likewise painted of Deborah the Dinosaur, however being a lovely picture of Deborah herself, with the subtitle of ‘Deborah the Dinosaur’ on the bottom rung of its frame.

Deborah finally, after due embarrassment at Samael’s picture, bravely spoke of Matthew’s.  ‘It appears, Devil, that my dear artist brother Matthew is far more the gentleman and has portrayed myself in a far grander glory, as doth befit a child of heaven.’

Samael looked carefully at Matthews’s latest masterpiece of his twin sister, yet persisted in praising his own.  ‘But, can you not see dear sister, what such large teeth you have,’ he said pointing to the dinosaur’s teeth.  ‘Why, they are certainly ample to chew all that lovely food you consume at mealtime.’  Deborah blushed, embarrassed.

‘Oh, you are sweet,’ chided Matthew at his older brother.

‘What can I say, dear artist of grandeur – the devil befits me in every perfect way imaginable.  It is the role I was born for, and I delight in it.’

‘That’s the truth,’ said Deborah, the subtlest of grudges in her voice apparent.

‘Oh, dear sister.  Fret not.  Matthew loves you after all.  Fret not – dear sister.’

‘Shaddup,’ said Deborah, annoyed at his sarcasm.

‘Oh, dear sister,’ chided Samael the Devil once more.

*    *    *    *    *

Adam sat contemplating the roles his brothers and sisters had now all chosen.  In the last few days there had been a rush to choose the final roles available, and now all 70 had been chosen.  The choices for everyone were:

1) Adam – the Author

2) Eve – Destiny

3) Samael – the Devil

4) Aphrayel – Death

5) Michael – the Archangel

6) Elenniel – the Sculptor

7) Seth – the Chef

8) Adah - Fate

9) Noah – the Builder

10) Titea – the Mistress

11) Abraham – God

12) Sarah – the Princess

13) Isaac – the Lawyer

14) Rebecca – the Saint

15) Ishmael – the Wildman

16) Naamah – the Virtuous

17) Jacob – the Trickster

18) Rachel – the Maiden

19) Joseph – the Deputy

20) Asenath – the Model

21) Moses – the Lawgiver

22) Zipporah – the Collector

23) Aaron – the Priest

24) Natalie – the Scholar

25) Joshua – the Adventurer

26) Jenny – the Tailor

27) Barak – the Barbarian

28) Bragenta – the Ballerina

29) Samson – the Titan

30) Delilah – the Seductress

31) Boaz – the Librarian

32) Ruth – the Servant

33) Samuel – the Elder

34) Sophia – the Philosopher

35) Saul – the Mercenary

36) Tammy – the Gypsy

37) David – the King

38) Bathsheba – the Queen

39) Isaiah – the Prophet

40) Zelophadel – the Oracle

41) Harry – The Wizard

42) Hermione – The Spellcaster

43) Ron – The Bowler

44) Elizabeth – The Baker

45) Daniel – the Dream lord

46) Ariel – the Lioness

47) Ezekiel – the Cunning

48) Esther – the Enchantress

49) Malachi – the Magnificent

50) Melanie – the Wise

51) Jesus – the Preacher

52) Mary – Gaia

53) Matthew – the Artist

54) Deborah – the Dinosaur

55) Gabriel – The Fireman

56) Magenta – the Muse

57) Peter – the Rock

58) Fiona – the Harlequinn

59) Andrew – The Athlete

60) Andra – The Singer

61) Paul – the Warrior

62) Christie – the Elf

63) John – the Seer of Visions

64) Joanne – the Comedian

65) James – War

66) Janie - Chaos

67) Callodyn – The Extraordinary

68) Mandy – The Musician

69) Enrique – the Entertainer

70) Lucy – the Witch

*    *    *    *    *

In the still of night, a dream came to Eve, Destiny herself.  A dream of hope – a dream of inspiration – a dream of life.  In this dream, not unfamiliar to those encountered by others of her brothers and sisters, Eve met with the OTHER children of God.  Other children who yet were not – perhaps in idea they existed – yet begotten from God they seemed not to be.  And upon waking, Eve conceived a plan – a plan to speak with God about bringing forth other children, alike those born in her dreams.  And she had a name for them – ‘Angels’.  They were to be special children of God – born with wings, as she had seen in her dreams.  And she would ask her eternal father to bring them forth.  To bring forth the new life of the children of God.

*    *    *    *    *

Eve stood in the centre of the new realm.  The new realm which her eternal father had created, to be known as the ‘Realm of Infinity’.  Logos had been instrumental in the creation of this realm – a realm created further down below than the just created Platinum city of ‘Kalon’ which was to be Logos private domain.  When God had agreed to Eve’s request to bring forth the Angelic host, he had placed Logos in charge of the project, and had brought into being Logos’ primary seat of operations for the creation of the new realm, ‘Kalon’ the Platinum city.  And now, just brought into being that very night before, she stood upon the new realm of Infinity, right in the centre, were was to be built ‘Azaphon’ the Golden city.

*    *    *    *    *

‘Phanuel.  That is a nice name,’ began Lucy.  Enrique looked at her, slightly amused.  ‘Another one, huh?’  ‘Well I have to compete with the Author and Destiny some way.  They have named so many of the future children anyway.’  Enrique thought on the name Phanuel and, in the end, decided he liked that new name also.  ‘And what rank of birth shall he be amongst the eternal children?’  ‘Sixth.  He shall be sixth.  Sixth-born of the Seraphim of Infinity, the fourth group of seven Angels.’  Enrique nodded, taking in that news.  Lucy looked at him sternly.  ‘Don’t you think you should contribute a name or two dear brother?’  Enrique took a sip of juice from his glass before responding.  ‘Oh, so many of them have been named already, and there are only meant to be 70.  So not now.  I know that eventually that number is meant to increase, so maybe then.  But I don’t think I will worry about it for now.  Let you and Destiny have your fun.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Eve, going back to her naming game.

*    *    *    *    *

‘Yes, lord of evil.  I will serve you.’  The grand devil, up on the stage with the father of eternity watching on, spoke his next line in the play in response to his sister’s deaths words.  ‘Then we shall go forth and conquer.’

The play in which all the 70 children of heaven performing in their roles for their heavenly father progressed for the next 3 hours.  God was recording the play so they would all see it on the screen later on.  The play involved the Devil and Death forming an agreement to destroy all the children of heaven.  Abraham as God would oppose them and sent in the Preacher Jesus to preach holiness.  The devil then attempted to tempt all the children of heaven and lead them astray.  Eventually goodness triumphed in the play and the devil had to repent of all his sins and evil, much to everyone’s delight.  It was a grand and great play and all the children of heaven watched intently later on that night their performance.

*    *    *    *    *

Samael, the Devil, contemplated his role.  The play they had recently been involved in to try out their roles had been, in truth, inspiring.  When he had watched it on the ‘Screen’, he had been amazed out how each of the children had shone in their roles.  Each of them had impressed him, remarkably so.  It would be a play he would watch again and again as the years passed by.  Yet, now that he was fully aware from father that such roles were to play a key part in the eternal destiny of life before them, Samael contemplated the possibilities in such a role.  After the play, with Father’s announcement of the future realms, Samael had begun contemplating the influence he could bring amongst the future children of Paradise, Infinity and Eternity.  And, finally, in the time of manifestation, such influence he could bring amongst the children of mankind.  The possibilities, seemingly, were endless.

*    *    *    *    *

Unfortunately what had only been fantasy became somewhat of reality.  Samael, as he had begun with Deborah, continued on his merry way of causing havoc for the children of heaven.  And then one grand day Abraham announced the news to the children that father had planned another realm.  A realm in which many ‘Angels’ would come to be born.  The Realm of Infinity.  And when Abraham overheard Samael speaking of the delight he could have in leading angels astray, Abraham knew the role of the devil had gone to Samael’s head.  And so sitting quietly, talking with Michael the Archangel and Jesus the preacher, the planned.  The planned something special and arranging it with Destiny and the Author, they presented the ‘Contract’ to Samael.

*    *    *    *    *

Naturally he had signed.  It presented him with opportunities, great opportunities, and how bad could it be if he lost anyway.  The contract with the children of heaven had been this:  Lucy the witch was the key to the contract.  In the plans of Destiny for the future realms, one key Angel, the dread Saruviel, would have to be dealt with in a particular way.  And on the day in which Lucy chose the fate for Saruviel, that fate would determine Samael’s own fate.  And Samael, honestly, felt he could not lose.  For if Lucy chose to vanquish Saruviel, Samael would win.  And if Lucy chose to succumb to Saruviel and the darkness, again Samael would win.  But there was one choice the children of heaven had said that, if Lucy made this choice, this strange and mysterious choice, then Samael would serve the children of heaven instead for the one billion years in repentance and servitude.  Hell, he had to take the risk, and so he did.  And looking forward to the newly anticipated ‘Realm of Infinity’ Samael, the Devil, the child of heaven, made his plans.

Epilogue

At Home God sat out in a field, staring at the neverending aurora display at the edge of Home.  It never ceased to fascinate him, the eternal display he had set up.  God thought, then, of Samael.  He thought on this particular child of his and grinned slightly.  Samael would certainly have his say.  And, inevitably, Destiny would lead them onwards.  The Author would chronicle out the events as best he could until, on that fateful day, the witch herself would choose.  And then new life beckoned for all the children of destiny.

THE END

The Garden of Eden in the Heart of Heaven

In the Heart of Heaven was the Garden of Eden, the birthplace of the Children of Heaven. And from the centre of the garden radiated the tree of life, intoxicating all 70 children of heaven with its life, love and delicate fragrances of joy and harmony. Happiness and peace.

Adam and Eve were the firstborn of the Children of Heaven, oldest pair of the 35 pairs of the Children of Heaven. They had it in their hearts to watch over and protect the other children of heaven, often from their own childish ways, for they were young, full of foolishness and fantasy, gentle little children of God's heart and Glory.

One day in the garden of Eden, Samael was hanging around the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and Adam and Eve were sitting nearby, eating apples and having themselves a good time. The tree of knowledge of good and evil was a fruit forbidden to the children of heaven, for unwise indeed was God's warning for the partaking of such a fruit.

But Samael was rebellious. Today he took a bite.

And then a dark and magical and very wicked smile crossed his lips and he grinned, and stared over at his older brother and sister. He slithered over to them.

'Take a bite, babe,' said Samael, proferring a piece of the fruit to Eve.

'What is it Sammy?' she asked him.

'Forbidden fruit,' he responded.

'Oh, we shouldn't eat that,' interjected Adam.

'Who asked you, buzzcock,' responded Samael somewhat hotly.

'Temper, Sammy,' said Eve softly to her younger brother. 'You know it is unwise to go against God's advice. You should know that. You haven't eaten any, have you?'

Samael grinned.

'He has,' said Adam hotly.

'Take a bite,' he said again to Eve, and handed it to her.

Adam looked at Eve as she accepted the fruit and looked it over. But she contemplated and looked at her brother. 'Tempting me, are ye?' she asked, a smile on her face.

'He's always been trouble,' said Adam, casually, losing interest.

'Live a little,' said Samael.

'I live just fine, Samael,' responded Eve, and looked at her brother. 'Some day, Samael, I may consider your delightful temptation, but not today.'

'So I need to be patient,' Samael responded. 'Sure thing, then. Babe. But one day, we'll party. You and me. And Adam can go to hell.'

'Sure thing,' said Adam, again casually, again disinterestedly.

And then Samael slithered away.

'He is young and foolish,' said Adam. 'I am sure he has bloody eaten some.'

'Oh, don't betray our trust in our brother's sensibilities. You know Sammy. He has that devilish sense of humour.'

'A devil indeed he is,' said Adam sternly,' looking after the departed Samael.

'I don't know,' said Eve. 'Perhaps one day I will eat that fruit. Be a little rebellious, huh?'

'And nothing good will come of that,' responded Adam, returning to his fruit salad.

And Eve glanced towards the forbidden tree and smiled to herself. 'Nothing good at all, I am sure,' she said to herself,' and returned to her meal.

And the day passed, and life went on in its usual way in Heaven, and none were the wiser to the new and darker heart which had slowly come upon one of the children of heaven, a dark and magical spirit, surely one to tempt all the children of God in the fulness of time. Sure to tempt them indeed.

The End

The Fate of Destiny

  1999 HY

  Destiny was immersed in study in the library of heaven, oblivious to all, concentrating deeply on the Torah of Heaven.  God had written the Torah in eternity and it had been one of the first things the children of God had learned upon their birth into the Realm of Heaven.  It contained 70 divine lessons, one corresponding to each of the children of God, and was studied often by God’s children.  But today Destiny, known by her personal name of Eve, twin to the firstborn Adam, was concentrating on 5 particular lessons within the Torah of heaven.  They were lessons or teaching which she had now come to label as a particular type of lesson – a lesson she called ‘Prophetic Poetry’.  These lessons were written in fanciful language and had long been difficult to understand amongst the children of God but, in recent years, Eve had started to speculate on what they might be all about.  The 5 lessons were the lessons of her sister Adah, known by her role as Fate, Seth’s twin; Isaiah whose role was the prophet as well as another lesson from his own twin Zelophadel who was known as the Oracle; John, twin to Joanne, whose role was the Seer of Visions and, finally, the lesson for Eve herself.  Looking at these lessons now and understanding the particular roles which all the Children of God had seemingly instinctively chosen she could not help but see the hand of her eternal father in the whole affair.  He must have known all along – he must have.

For a while now she had been concentrating on trying to understand her own lesson, but it seemed complex.  It read;

TORAH S1:P2 “In the world of the living, in the world of the dead, In heaven eternal, in Hades dark dread, the children of destiny, the children of fate, their eternal decision for them does await.  Perhaps they’ll chose wisely, perhaps they’ll chose dark, in there purest true soul, in their deepest black heart, the children of life, the children of love, will their fates destiny be below or above.

A dangerous road awaits them beyond, the realm of the darkness, the realm of the wrong, for beyond all the evil of darkness pure might lies a hideous fate beyond all goodness and light.  Yet what will they chose, the brave and the strong, is it already decided?  Is it already Done?  For the children of destiny, the children of fate, in their darkness of life their end they’ll create.

Many decisions await our brave souls, on the journey before them before all is told, the dragon triumphant, the angels despaired, and it seems at those times that no one does care.  For the fate of their destiny, the end of their road, is to confront the evil that’s never been told, and the brave and the true will triumph that day, for the song of their life will have its final say.

The dragon defeated, new life it begins, beyond the temptation, beyond the dark sin, new life it awaits, new hope in their hearts, the lessons now learnt they knew from the start.”

Honestly, it perplexed her.  She was destiny and she knew nothing of this.  But sitting there in the library amidst the rows of books the spirit of the eternal came upon her and said three words, one after another.    ‘PLAN.  LEAD.  CHOOSE.’

Sitting up instantly, thinking on those words, it was as if Eve, the Destiny of Life, suddenly understood her chosen role.  Almost now instinctively.  She was to plan out the fate of the children of Heaven, and then she was with the powers given her to lead them on through that fate.  But then the final part, the part which she only was beginning to understand.  A choice was to be made.  One day a terrible and dreadful choice, and she herself was part of the choice.

And sitting there she thought to herself, ‘Just what would be the fate of Destiny of the children of Heaven?  Just what indeed?’

  THE END

Deborah the Dinosaur

  2005 HY

1005 ROH

  She was upset.  Most upset.  Samael had yet again drawn another picture of a great green lizard like creature and called it Deborah the Dinosaur.  But the most embarrassing thing this time was that he had given it an extra large belly, larger than usual.  Deborah knew she was fat.  Oh how did she know she was fat, the subject of over a 1000 years of laments.   Of course, she had tried diets, and for a few months here and there she seemed to be slimming down only to get the urges to eat more food again and go back to her substantial figure.  And because of this she cried at night, cried her eyes out, wishing she could be thin like the rest of them and be a good friend for her twin, Matthew the Artist.  But Deborah was fat and such it seemed was her fate in life.

She was sitting at the table of the kitchen of heaven, eating ice cream of all things.  That wouldn’t help her weight, she sarcastically thought to herself.  But she loved her ice cream and ate it whenever God finally supplied a new batch, which she felt he didn’t do often enough.  You see, God supplied all the various food and clothing items and other things which the children of Heaven relied upon for their daily sustenance.  Each morning they would find out in front of the main keep the stone table laden with all the new foods for the day and various other items.  They made their requests known by going to the throneroom of heaven and speaking to him, to which he rarely replied, but without fail they got what they asked for, most often the next day.

Deborah, being Deborah the Dinosaur, often asked for ice cream but this only turned up far less than she desired, usually a couple of tubs ever few weeks.  The other children often complained that Deborah ate all of it before she could get a look in, but she loved her ice cream.  ‘Probably why I am so fat,’ she sarcastically thought to herself.  Her oldest sister, Eve, who seemed like something of a mother figure to most of the children of heaven, encouraged her all the time to try and eat a better diet.  And while at times she faithfully put into practice that advice, her inspiration was usually only short lived.  It seemed no matter how hard she prayed or how hard she tried to lose her substantial girth she simply was never able.

Looking at the bowl of ice cream she suddenly got the urge to put some chocolate syrup on it.  She got up from her seat, went to the cupboard, and grabbed the syrup jar, but it was empty.  She continued to look and managed to find some caramel syrup still left, so she would use that instead.  Sitting there, eating away, she was happy enough for the moment.  She had her yummy ice cream which seemed to make her weight worth it some how, but she knew she would continue to pay the price of Samael’s mockery and her own sense of humiliation.

*    *    *    *    *

Matthew looked at the latest painting that Samael had painted of his twin sister Deborah.  It was less than flattering, as usual for Samael, and Matthew sighed because of it.  He felt sorry for his sister, deeply sorry.  For so long she had complained to him of her weight problem and he had always given her a sympathetic ear.  He had encouraged her, often, like Eve had, but to no great avail in the end.  And she suffered because of it.  But looking at the picture, knowing how bad Deborah must be feeling, a spirit of love came upon him and he decided enough was enough.  It was about time they did something significant for their suffering sister.  Something truly significant to show her they really did care.  And Matthew had just the idea that might, hopefully, by God’s grace, work.

*    *    *    *    *

She noticed it late afternoon and finally, her curiousity aroused, she went to Tammy to ask her why all the children of Heaven had been taking turns in the throne room.  Tammy looked at her, smiled, but all she would say is that it was a divine mystery which Deborah would understand one day.  And so she simply took her at her word.

It was about 5 months later, 5 difficult but rewarding months, in which Deborah was looking at her figure on the mirror in her room.  She couldn’t believe it.  She really couldn’t believe it.  She was half her size.  Still not quite thin, but getting there.  It had happened to her one night about 4 and a half months ago.  She dreamed a dream and then, right near the end, the spirit of God had said to her, ‘JUST BE SENSIBLE’, and somehow she knew what he had meant.  Straight away she dedicated herself to no longer attempt to give up the foods she liked to lose weight, but instead eat a more moderate diet.  A more balanced diet and to try and resist the cravings for the very junky foods.  And having committed to this idea, seeing it work and for once finding within herself the ability to persevere with this new method, she started losing the weight.  And now, 4 and a half months later, she could barely believe what she was seeing.  It was like a whole new person, a completely different Deborah, and she was so proud because of it.

She had asked God for some new dresses and that night, wearing a lovely red dress which showed a curvy but attractive figure, all that the male children of God would say at dinner was ‘Wow.’

She smiled that whole week did Deborah the Dinosaur and when she finally confronted Samael she teased him, saying, ‘I’m a big scary dinosaur Sammy.  Beware I might eat you.’  And Samael the Devil chuckled in the only way he could.

The End

“John – Seer of Visions”

John looked at the clock.  ‘Time is ticking’ said Samael opposite him.

‘Yes, I know.’  Finally, out of frustration, he moved the piece – e2 to e4.  Samael contemplated the opening move.

‘17,000 years, Johnny boy.  It took you 17,000 years to make that move – your OPENING move.’

‘Your point?’ responded the Seer of Visions.

Sammy thought it over and over and over and over, finally responding.

‘Well it’s about bloody time.’

 The End

The Book of Destiny

Eve – Destiny – stood on the stage, dressed in green.

'Greetings, Audience.'

The audience consisted of Adam in the front row and, way down the back of the drama room, Enrique and Lucy sitting, chatting to each other, but watching on none the less.

'The Book of Destiny,' said Eve. 'The Book of Destiny is the future. The future eternal, in many ways, for it is a pattern of eternal life, a repeating motif, a re-occurring symbol, of the hope of justice and truth triumphing over darkness and evil. For good must always triumph over evil.'

She left the stage then, and Adam watched on anxiously, while Enrique and Lucy continued chatting, mildly amused.

Shortly she returned, now dressed in Purple.

'The Book of Destiny,' said Eve. 'The Book of Destiny in the past. The lessons of the past many of us children of Heaven have learned about the goodness of God and the error of choosing the evil way. It is about the lessons the Children of Destiny need to learn – and will learn – to carve out and understand with perfect clarity for their guidance, indeed, in their eternal future.'

She left the stage once more, and Adam shifted his butt in his seat, slightly amused.

'Interesting,' said Lucy. 'What colour next do you think?'

Eve returned again, dressed in Blue.

The Book of Destiny,' said Eve. 'The Book of Destiny is consistent and eternal truth. It remains relevant, real and true to life. It is the genuine key of success for the Children of Destiny in the lessons it teaches for it perfectly understands the psyche and potentials and limitations of all the Children of God. The Book of Destiny is truth.'

Again she left.

She returned in Yellow. Adam smiled.

'The Book of Destiny,' said Eve. 'Is humility. It is about understanding that God is in control of the Destiny of all of us, and that to learn the fundamental lesson of obedience to God and his holiness is what will guide us in creating eternal life within us. The lessons it charts humbles the proud, and the Destiny it desires teaches them they only are what they are. Not anything more than that.'

She left the stage, and Enrique and Lucy came wandering down to sit next to Adam.

'She is being very sophisticated in her speech,' said Lucy. 'Very formal.'

'This is important to her,' responded Adam. 'Something central to her heart and life.'

'And who is the heart of this Destiny?' queried Enrique. 'Is it Eve, or is a higher power at work?'

Adam looked at Enrique, and the answer to a question which would perplex the children of heaven for untold ages remained unanswered.

Eve returned.

She was dressed in Red.

'The Book of Destiny,' said Eve. 'Is passion. Furious passion for living this life God has breathed into us. Passion to overcome obstacles, to rise against oppressors, and to care out a place of our own, in face of all that would oppose us. The passion for life, the passion for success. Such is the Book of Destiny.'

She left the stage again.

'How many colour's left?' asked Enrique.

'We'll see,' said Adam.

Eve returned, dressed in Orange.

'The Book of Destiny is the Agenda of the good . The agenda of the holy. The agenda of the wise. The agenda of the true. It is the agenda which shall prevail.'

And she left again.

Half an hour passed, and Adam finally spoke. 'That must be it, I suppose.'

'Witnesses, right,' said Lucy. 'She wanted witnesses.'

'She's a cryptic gal,' said Adam.

But Eve walked onstage again, dressed in Indigo of all colours.

'But beyond the Book of Destiny,' she said, in a very dramatic and powerful voice. 'BEWARE those who would oppose. Bwah ha ha hargh.' And she cackled and cackled as she left the stage.

'Very funny,' said Adam to himself.

'Hilarious,' said Enrique.

'Da Bitch,' smirked Lucy, and the other two burst out laughing.

Later on, back in their abode, Adam turned to Eve.

'So what was all that about then?'

Eve looked at Adam and, very sensibly, and very wisely said, 'Well, dear brother. I suppose. I suppose. Whatever will be will be. And we shall leave it at that.'

Adam looked at her, nodded to himself as she walked off, and puzzled on that idea for the rest of the day.

And Destiny was told, and Destiny was said, and Destiny would be.

The End

Samael and Aphrayel: The Agenda

'In the end, dear Samael.'

'Yes father,' responded Samael of Heaven.

'What doesn't kill you,'

'Yes father,' responded Samael.

'Makes you stronger.'

'Yes, father,' finished Samael.

Later on, in Samael's abode in heaven.

'What did he have to say?' queried Aphrayel.

'His usual supposed wisdom,' responded Samael, and sipped on his alcoholic beverage.

'Was it a rebuke?' she asked eagerly.

'He doesn't give a shit what I do, sis.'

'Oh, goodie. Then we can have some more fun with the silly duffers. I have all sorts of new plans.'

'I am sure you do,' he said glancing over her, in her black t-shirt with arms cut off and her black pants. 'Your looking pretty good, babe.'

She looked at him. 'What. Are you hoping for something. Not tonight, bro. I have other plans.'

'Pity,' he responded, and returned to his drinks.

'Sammy,' she said, coming closer, and leaning against him.

'Yeh, babe,' he responded.

'Seeing as you are the devil and all,'

'Yeh, babe,' he responded.

'And I am death.'

'You sure are,' he said grinning.

'Then why don't we form a pact. An agreement.'

He looked at her seriously. 'What sort of agreement?'

She twirled in front of him, and got down on her knees, looking up at him. 'My lord. Let's get them all. All of the fucker's. Let's get them with the ultimate revenge.'

'Which is?' he asked.

She grinned and twirled in front of him. 'Let's kill them all. Hah. That'll teach them a lesson.'

The devil looked at his consort. She was quite a catch indeed. 'Kill them all, huh. Mmm. I sure could teach that bastard Adam a lesson or two. But when, babe.'

She danced over to her bookshelf and brought out a scroll.

'The Book of Destiny. By Eve,' she said, showing him.

'Yeh, I know it.'

'It finishes with grand and great glory for all the Children and supposedly the Angels of God. At the end of the third era, when they have triumphed and triumphed over us again and again, we have humbly and earnestly learned ALL our lessons.'

'What you saying?'

'I'm gonna get the bitch back,' said Aphrayel, with her delightful little wicked grin.

'And how are you exactly planning on doing that?' asked the devil, now grinning.

'Now you leave that up to me,' said Aphrayel, but her wicked grin was enough to satiate all the carnal desires brewing in the first and foremost dark lord of evil.

And, as the day passed, Samael drank his booze, and Aphrayel danced around with wicked delight, and the Children of Heaven, going through their thang, were none the wiser. None the wiser indeed.'

The End

The Rock and the Harlequinn

Peter. Peter the Rock. Jesus the Preacher's main main. Peter the Rock. Yet, in the eyes of Peter's preaching big brother, Fiona the Harlequinn, Peter's twin child of heaven, was quite a bit of a drama queen. But for a Harlequinn, what would you expect?

'You are insane, Fiona,' said Jesus, as she was dangling over the edge of one of the tower's of heaven, playing 'Scaredy Cat' which was her favourite game of torturing the other children of heaven.

'You are a wuss,' replied Fiona. 'Live a little. Jesus, you have never lived a day in your life have you bro?'

'I have lived every day of my life so far,' responded the Preacher forthrightly.

'If you count living in a state of boredom, conservatism and rather mundane dullity living,' she smirked. 'Come on,' she screeched. 'Live a little. Let's have some fun.'

'Your idea of fun is getting drunk all night, smoking and cracking on to Peter.'

'Hey, he's a hell of guy. I don't know why your so keen on him though. More of a bloke then you'll ever be.'

'Quite,' responded Jesus.

'I have invented a term to describe Jesus the Preacher,' she said dramatically, coming away from the side of the tower, dressed in her red and black flowery flamboyant affair.

'And what is that?' asked Peter, who was sitting, drinking juice, and mostly ignoring the shenanigans of his beloved twin.

'Square,' she responded. 'He has no idea of having a well rounded personality.'

Peter chuckled.

'Well if I'm a square,' said Jesus. 'Then your a hexagon,' replied the preacher.

'Fascinating,' said the Harlequinn. 'Why a heaxagon?'

'Because your the kind of girl who's a hex to everybody.'

'Oooh, perhaps I should hang with Lucy the Witch. She loves hexes. Part of her calling in life, from her chosen role.'

'Don't I know it,' replied Jesus. 'I'll be binding her forever I would imagine.'

'Binding?' queried the Rock.

'Bindings. Prayer bindings. To defeat the power of Samael,' said Jesus, somewhat proudly.

'Fascinating,' said the rock. 'I would suggest, corner him, dack him, and pour tomato sauce over his genitalia, but bindings work as well I suppose.'

Jesus grinned a bit. Ever the larrikan, Peter the Rock. It's probably what he liked about him.

'I know what,' said Fiona. 'Let's play a prank on Deborah.'

'Leave Deborah alone,' said Jesus firmly. 'You know she is sensitive.'

'She's a freak,' said Fiona offhandedly. 'Never worked that one out. Likes ice cream too much, I think. Eats gallons of it. Usually has well developed thighes because of it. Tough luck bitch.'

'Hardly a kind thing to say,' commented the Rock.

'Hey, I'm that kind of doolally gal, ain't I,' responded Fiona.

'Don't I know it,' responded Jesus under his breath.

'You two are old fuddy duddies. Go on, bugger off with your bindings, and I'll find my own fun for the day.'

'Fine,' responded Jesus, and walked away a bit.

Peter stood, and looked at his twin. 'Not too much trouble. Or the old man will come down on me like a tonne of bricks.'

'I promise,' said the Harlequinn, saluting.

'Yeh. Right,' said Peter.

And then Fiona danced off, singing to herself, leaving a worried Peter and a perturbed Jesus wondering just what trouble she would get into this fine day in heaven.

The End

Gaia's Garden

'Fiona. You lack stability,' commented the twin of Jesus the Preacher, Mary, known by her role as the earth-mother 'Gaia'.

'A fool's game,' responded the Harlequinn, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of Gaia, who was seated on an engraved stone bench, in the middle of Gaia's garden, dressed, as she always was these days, in her flowing green robes.

Gaia examined the face of her younger child of heaven sister and thought on that. 'Foolish games?' she finally responded,' are how creation happens. Wasn't God a bit of a fool to make all of us in the end?'

'Sure was,' replied the Harlequinn cheekily.

'You have such a profound insight,' replied Gaia, a subtle smile on her face.

'Your robes,' said Harlequinn. 'Somehow I pictured you would be in blue. Don't know. An earth-mother is supposed to be in blue. Somehow I just picture that.'

'I am sure that there will be plenty of Mary's in blue in the end,' responded Gaia. 'But I am the colour of my garden. Faithful green.'

'Yeh, blues rather depressing in the end I guess,' responded the Harlequinn.

'A rather bitter thing to say, dear sister,' replied Gaia.

'Hey, I specialize in bitterness,' responded Harlequinn. 'It's how I get my kicks.'

'Which we all fondly appreciate,' responded Gaia. 'Now, are you bored? I haven't see you for a while, and you usually only show up when you have nothing else to entertain your delightful imagination.'

'Got bored with Jock Rock and the Sermonizer,' replied Harlequinn sarcastically.

'Jock Rock and the Sermonizer?' queried Gaia, eyebrow raised.

'J-Man and P-Boy,' responded Harlequinn.

Gaia's bland face still begged the question.

'Peter and Jesus,' sighed Fiona. 'They are no fun. Way too serious these days. They need to lighten up.'

'Wise words from Fiona,' stated Gaia softly, as she returned to her interrupted embroidery.

'I don't know. Think I'll make some pumpkin soup,' said Harlequinn.

'Your favourite,' said Gaia.

'And then pour a bucket of the stuff between Deborah's sheets and cover it with blankets,' she said gleefully.

Gaia looked suddenly very seriously at Fiona.

'Just kidding, sis,' replied Fiona. 'You know me. Ever the clown.'

'Indeed,' responded Gaia.

And, as they chatted the afternoon away, another day turned in heaven, and Deborah, fortunately, slept sound and secure all night long. Lucy the witch, though, waking up and finding her sheets and blankets saturated with pumpkin soup had not been so fortunate. Oh well.

The End

Ark of Destiny

'Noah. What kind of name is Noah anyway?' asked Titea the mistress, Noah's twin amongst the children of heaven.

'I might ask in response,' paused Noah from building his 18th rowboat to boat upon Lake Infallible, a lake on the outskirts of the domains of the children of heaven. 'What kind of name is 'Titea?'

'A name of splendid glory,' replied Titea. 'A name far removed from the common grounds of a mere 'Noah'.

'You honour me,' said Noah softly. 'With such remarkable sarcasm to describe my commonality.'

'I foresee,' said Titea, putting her hand to her head and looking outwards. 'A time to come. A many and splendid adventure awaits our chosen ones, destiny's children, yet my personages grand moniker remaineth scarce.' she stated proudly.

'What fore art thou declaring?' queried Noah, pausing again from his boat building, wiping his brow, and gazing upon his twin.

'That in my glorious visions of future world, a name like Noah is bandied around as common as muck, dear brother.'

'I think you have me confused with Adam. He has the dirty name, dear twin.'

'I beseech thee by the powers of the living God, do not denigrate the name of firstborn to justify the winning of an argument you can't possibly do with a sister, so wise it seems, that heaven would verily tremble, curl over and weep at the glory of her knowledge and prowess.'

'Right,' said Noah, looked at her momentarily, shook his head, and returned to his boat building.

She looked at him, unsatisfied. 'What pathetically trite name will you give that monstrosity.'

'How about the Ark of Destiny,' replied Noah. 'In honour of your beloved firstborn's twin?'

'An interesting choice,' she said soberly. 'I would have thought the 'Sunken Abomination' a more appropriate title, but call her as ye will.'

'Yes,' said Noah. 'The sunken abomination. Well, I could change the name I suppose. Perchance, you would do me the honour of being my valued guest upon her maiden voyage.'

'If she's true to her name, I'm not quite sure I would,' she replied, smiling.

'As you will,' replied Noah.

'Mmm,' she said, and continued watching him build.

'Of course, while I value your deep devotion to your chosen role,' she continued. 'I truly think your pride is motivating you beyond your capabilities. Your hardly a builder. Your prior efforts remain quite a discussion topic for us all. Very decent, Jesus comments of your works. He likes to flatter. Fiona is far more honest. They're crap, our young sister says. She speaks the mind of many I would suggest.'

'Dear Titea. Mistress of mine,' said Noah. 'I fear that I shall, albeit vainly, pursue my task as builder of boats for the foreseeable future. After all, Destiny is at work, is she not.'

'Apparently,' responded Titea.

'So let me build me damn boat,' he replied.

'Build away. Don't let me disturb you.'

He glared at her, and returned to his building, and Titea watched on quietly, all afternoon, barely again speaking a word.

The End

Scrolls

'A book a book, my world for a book,' stated Ruth, gazing through the library of the children of heaven. 'Quite a number of Adamic texts, which is perfectly understood, but I feel I crave an original tome from an alternative source.'

The librarian, as his role was thusly chosen, Ruth's twin, Boaz, stood next to her, listening intently. 'If ye serve me for a week, and bring me my grub and serve me at the dinner table, I will disclose to the wisest of the children of heaven a tome of incredible wisdom and adroit understanding. One to rival the greatest feat of Adamic brilliance.

'The contract seems acceptable, yet an offering of detail is required,' said Ruth, looking at her twin.

'The Adventures of Bastard. By Jesus,' said Boaz.

'The Adventures of Bastard?' she queried. 'Why, I don't think I've even heard of such a title.'

'Very well written. Accurate as well, for the character portrayed is a very real and visible presence amongst us.'

'Samael?' she queried.

'I shall not speak this Devil's name, but perhaps you are not far wrong.'

'Does it contain wit?'

'Jesus is well known for that,' replied Boaz. 'He has a sensitive insight into the mind of diabolaclicity, I strongly feel. And Bastard leaves nobody guessing when he wants to 'fuck with you'.

'Sounds intriguing,' she replied. 'Do go on.'

'Bastard believes he is in fact firstborn amongst the children of the 'Wise One'. Yet, while the mystery of their early years remains shrouded in mystery, another contender vouches that he is in fact number one.'

'Right,' she said. 'And what does Bastard do about that?'

'Knocks off the children of the wise one, one at a time, till the final showdown between a preacher of sorts and his twin and bastard and his twin. The ending is quite dramatic.'

'Sounds perfect,' she replied.

'I will endeavour to get the scroll to you this evening.'

'Where is it?' she asked.

'The author has not quite finished the first chapter yet. In fact, 200 words into it he says he is having difficulties in finding good jokes.'

Ruth stared at Boaz. 'You asshole,' she said.

Boaz grinned most of that afternoon.

The End

The Children of Heaven

Plots and counter-plots.  Plans and glories – fates and destinies – joys and wars and trouble and strife and happinesses and encounters – and all sorts of things.

The Children of Heaven were the dear children of God, and the future for them was glorious.  They would live forever – forever and ever – and God delighted in them, and found peace in them, and found consolation in them.  And he loved them.

There were 7 heavens – and perhaps even more one day – for the purposes of God were indeed eternal.

And in these 7 heavens God would find the life of his heart brought to life.

And he would rest in that life, and find meaning and satisfaction in that life.  And find completion in that life.

Yet the Infinite realm beckoned.  And beyond that the eternal.  And even more afterwards.

And so God planned, as he had long done, and the future beckoned, and the future awaited.

The End

Laps

Andrew the Child of Heaven, who had taken the role of athlete, 59th of the children of heaven, was doing laps around heaven. Running laps around the central abode of the city of the children of heaven. If you could call it a city. It wasn't really a city, but it was dubbed as such out of honour, whatever a city was.

'I could do twice as many laps in half as much time,' said Andra, Andrew's twin, who had taken the role of singer.

Andrew came to a stop and looked at his sister. 'In your dreams. No, not even there. Even there I would demolish your tryhard attempt at feminism.'

'Feminism?'

'All you girls are into that these days. Adam is quite sure Eve has sown seeds of rebellion in all of you. Feminists, he call's you. Secret women's business. You all have hidden agendas.'

Andra looked at him, mouth agape, but closed it.

'Right,' she said. 'Of course we do. Mine is to report to my 'Sistah's' on just how much of a fool you have been all week.'

'Don't I know it,' said Andrew, grabbing a towel to wipe off his sweat.

'You're silly,' she said, and turned away.

Andrew sat down next to her, and sipped on his bottle of water.

'We're not stupid. Men, you know. We know how you girls think. We study you too.'

'You've learned very little about us then,' replied Andra. 'We are only trying to push you guys to bring out your best. You never do, though. Mostly lazy, men. Your abodes are always messy, and it's up to us to clean them up all the time. Especially that Daniel and Callodyn. Those two are pathetic. Without their twins they would be living in a literal rubbish dump.'

'Ehh,' replied Andrew. 'What you going to do, huh?'

'Take life more seriously than bumming around all the time. Half of the time at least its us girls out in the fields getting the vegetables and fruit, and we are ALWAYS cooking the meals now. You guys never do it anymore. It's a conspiracy I think.'

Andrew looked at her, and sipped on his water. 'It's not a conspiracy,' he said at last. 'It was a counsel decision.'

She looked at him. 'Counsel?'

'We've formed a private men's counsel. To discuss men's affairs and the proper running of heaven.'

'God Almighty!' she exclaimed. 'How completely sexist do you guys want to be?'

'Yep. Your a feminist,' said Andrew, getting to his feet, and limbering up for some more laps.

She stared at him. 'Maybe we girls should form a counsel of our own, huh?'

'We assume you already have,' said Andrew.

'Right. So be it,' said Andra, and glared at him as he took off, giving her a little wave, as he made himself around yet another 5 laps of the city of the children of heaven.

The End

Girl Talk

Andra, the 60th of the children of heaven, Christie, the 62nd of the children of heaven and Joanne, the 64th of the children of heaven, were having a chat.

'And then he says,' continued Christie. 'That women have their place, and should not go beyond it.'

'Sexist bastard,' said Joanne.

'Tell me about it,' replied Christie.

'Andrew is worse,' said Andra. 'He thinks women should do all the cleaning and cooking for men. And that man should naturally be in charge. That they are the real deal and women should serve them.'

'That's horrible,' said Christie.

'He needs his head examined,' said Joanne.

'This counsel intends on making all the decisions for all of us,' said Andra. 'We simply can't let that be.'

'We better talk to Eve. She can organise our response,' said Christie.

'That would be for the best,' said Joanne. 'She'll talk with Adam and have him cut all this nonsense out before it becomes a problem.'

'I think they like the sense of power they are trying to get,' said Andra.

'Just like men. Always obsessed with their ego,' said Joanne.

'Paul is the worst,' said Christie. 'He thinks women should keep quiet when men are around.'

'Noooo,' replied Joanne. 'That's terrible.'

'And that we can't cut our hair, and have to ask our twin's permission to do just about anything really. He's been acting like this for the last few weeks,' said Christie.

'We'll need a counsel of our own, in the end,' said Andra. 'And I think we better keep quiet about it and not let the guys know about it either. A quiet rebellion, as it were.'

'Might work,' said Joanne. 'But I'd like to punch that Adam in the nose and let him know what I think of all this hoo hah.'

'Don't do that,' said Andra carefully.

'You know I'm only kidding,' said Joanne, who had taken the role of the comedian. 'But I would definitely give him a piece of my mind.'

'It might just be a thing they are going through. A growing up period. Perhaps they are actually trying to become responsible at last,' said Andra.

'Or just being bossy,' said Christie.

'Yep. Bossy 100%,' agreed Joanne.

'Then we have problems,' said Andra, and the other two sighed in agreement.

The End

Light and Dark

'Light is energy,' said Jesus the child of heaven.

'Energy?' queried Adam.

'Energy,' replied Jesus. 'Like fire. An outflow from fire. It is everywhere in heaven, but it abates at night, when God removes the light for a time. This light is in us. It is what gives us life. Light is the life within us. God us light – infinite light – and life – infinite life. A consuming fire.'

'So we have energy. It gives us the strength to move, does it?' asked Adam.

'Yes. And to think. To reason. All of our life is powered by light within. And our words – they come from the type of light within us. Some of us have good light and some have very much darkness, which is less or the absent of light. Or corrupted light. Some have chosen the darker things.'

'Samael,' said Adam.

Jesus did not reply.

'There is an interplay in the light within us,' said Jesus. 'Our ability to manipulate this energy fashions our decisions into the actions we make each day. The light within us expresses us in all we say and do. We can't resist what we are. We can't resist what light is within us. It is what we are made of.'

'The light can grow and it can diminish within us, depending on moral choices we make,' said Callodyn the extraordinary.

Jesus looked at him. 'No. We are set and based on what we are. It is all predetermined.'

'Nonsense and poppycott. An excuse to justify doing whatever we want to do,' said Callodyn. 'God expects us to make wise choices and use the light in a positive way. Evil can become good if it will consider its ways.'

Adam looked at Callodyn. 'It is called repentance in our writings. The writing God gave us from the beginning.'

'Which few study any more,' said Callodyn. 'The old scriptures. They sit in the study halls untouched these days. Nobody bothers with them. I see Jesus once or twice in a hundred days, and few else.'

Jesus looked at him. 'You sit in the corner, there, with books. Is it the scriptures you study then?'

'Why bother with Adam's works yet. Scripture needs mastery first of all,' replied Callodyn.

'I am flattered,' said Adam to Callodyn. 'We are what we are or we chose what we are,' continued Adam. 'Which is true?'

'There is a balance between them,' said Paul. 'There always has been. Some things are rooted in what we are, and how we function as God's children. Yet we can and do make our own choices. Some flow naturally from ourselves, but sometimes we think and choose more precisely than mere nature. Mere instinct.'

'Fascinating,' said Adam.

They were in Adam's abode after a counsel meeting. 20 of the males had been in attendance at counsel, and many subjects were raised for discussion, but a theological debate had began, and they had retired to consider it.

'God would not create a flawed product. Samael and his darker sarcasm is from his own thinking,' said Callodyn. 'He enjoys the sensations and rewards from his behaviour. It's his own making, his being in much way,' said Callodyn.

'It was always what he was,' said Jesus. Callodyn gave him a dismissive look.

'The question is, how to we judge our actions? Do we just accept people choose what they will choose and do what they will do, or do we judge and make law and rule and seek to correct fowl misdeed.'

'We judge it for it is our nature as being good to judge evil,' replied Jesus.

'Coz it's a frikking sin,' replied Callodyn sarcastically.

Adam nodded. 'Because it is a sin. So we judge it regardless. Very well, that is how we shall proceed on that issue. Law we will make in counsel, and rule of life. And that seems to be the direction we will head in.'

'I agree,' said Paul.

'Naturally what we must do,' said Jesus.

'Or we could mock the girls some more and just live and let live,' said Callodyn. The three others collective sigh seemed to sum up the response.

'I'm hungry, and tired,' said Adam. 'Get ye hence, and I'll see you in the morn.'

And the three of them departed, leaving Adam with a head full of thoughts, but happy to let them find their rest, after a solid meal, fortunately left for him on the counter by his beloved twin Eve. Where would he be without her godly choices of goodness? Where would he be indeed?'

The End

Girl Talk 2

'You know, men are stupid, really,' said Joanne.

Eve tilted her head and looked at her sister. 'Please explain.'

'Face it. They have nil ability in deciphering what we are saying without saying it. They can't read ANY signs. They take as completely literally, and unless we spell it out in black and white they assume everything is fine. Sensitivities of a brick wall,' replied Joanne.

'They smell too,' said Mandy.