Angels of Hope Part 6

[The Way of the Eternal Dove]

Angels of Hope



The Dark Saber





Chapter One



Gloryel was a champion of champions. In truth, that much could not be denied her. For the past million years she had been actively involved with training competitors, primarily for the now famous ‘Challenge’ which was a trek around the central continent of heaven which usually lasted a decade for serious competitors. But, sometimes, it was other forms of training, in various athletic pursuits, that she was called on for, as well as a whole host of business seminars which Daniel had arranged for her on the subject ‘The Pursuit of Excellence’. They were a tag-team, Daniel and her, and they had lived the high life for the past million years, building up incredible wealth, and even managing to secure a few more houses in the exceedingly expensive capital city of heaven, Joniquay, the diamond city.



She had again competed in the challenge around a dozen times all up now, and was a firm and competitive spirit, winning it twice, with another third placing to her credit. She was a hardened competitor, a strong competitor, and Daniel admired her.



Daniel himself had finally, after years of waiting, competed the once, and finished 96th out of a field of 400,000 competitors – an astonishingly good effort to Gloryel, considering the competition. It had taken everything Daniel had to finish it and finish that well but, now, a long time later, he had been steeled by this effort and was thinking he would one day attempt to really win the thing.



Yes, they were happy, busy, complete. Things were good for the couple, and with the extra housing they had a little larger an extended family in their home city.



But life goes on, as they say, and in time a new challenge arose for the famous couple. A challenge in the form of a Mr Bruce Dickinson, a heavy metal singer of world renowned fame.



* * * * *



‘You want me to do what?’ queried a confused looking Gloryel.

‘Train me. Give me your fire. I have been a master of the blade since ancient of days, but never won the Olympic Gold. I want it, Gloryel. I need it. I need an edge, now. And I think you have that edge. You and Daniel, as a team. You have what I need to claim my glory.’

‘Ok, Bruce. We hear you,’ responded Daniel. ‘But fencing? That is hardly our specialty.’

‘Then make it your specialty. Technique, I can do that already. I need a spirit – a focus on excellence – an attitude in my actual training, which only people like yourselves can give me. I have tried it enough by myself long enough – a bronze was the peak of me. I need your help. I really do. And, sure, I can afford your astronomical fees. The band royalties are amazing, you know. Legally, with our copyrights, we have a heck of a lot of spending money between us. I can afford it, ok.’

‘Ok,’ said Daniel. ‘I don’t doubt you. Look, we have commitments for about a century – it will have to wait. But, after then, sure. We can help you.’

Gloryel nodded. ‘Yes, Bruce. Would be delighted. And ‘Up the Irons’.’

Bruce smirked and got to his feet. ‘Email me. Here is my card. It is a very private email address which I check often. I will definitely answer you when you are ready.’

‘Will do,’ nodded Daniel. ‘Oh, and one last thing. Can I possibly get you to sign my copy of ‘Number of the Beast’. I am a fan from aeons ago, ok.’

‘Sure,’ said Bruce, who shortly signed with a big black marking pen a rather old looking record cover, which had certainly seen better days.





Chapter Two



‘You are the dark saber, Bruce. The dark saber. They can’t see your sword, they don’t know what is coming next. You are quick, like a shadow. Like a spark suddenly flashing in a flash of the blade, striking its enemy, claiming its glory. You are a champion.’



Daniel watched on as Gloryel continued encouraging Bruce in a lengthy work out session. They had taken to a particular style of psychological motivation talking with Bruce, something, given his heavy metal heritage and personality type, they were sure would work well – breathe some fire into the bones. And, so far, they were proving correct.



Training Bruce Dickinson, famous singer of legendary heavy metal band ‘Iron Maiden’ was, in many ways, a dream come true for Daniel. He had been a huge fan in his youth, which had dwindled somewhat in latter years as he returned to a more pop-oriented focus in his music listening habits. But, from time to time, the beast in him would rise, and he would let the stereo blast with a good belting of the heavy stuff, which often included Iron Maiden as its primary band of glory. He had once, himself, long ago tinkered with the idea of a hard rock outfit called ‘Paradise’ but had never quite gotten around to it. He could not sing – he knew that. And while they did have a large collection of copyrighted music for the tentative band, which his brother Gregory and Greg’s wife Christie, as well as her uncle Michael were to hopefully get together upon one day, they had still not quite gotten around to it. To their credit, demos had been done, and there had been a dozen or so live performances with mixed reviews. Some said they rocked. Some said they had great potential, but needed good management, good mixing, and a lot more practice. And some said they were just another fucking rock and roll band in the end, so who gives a fuck. Of course, the latter voice came from a somewhat cynical onlooker at a couple of their concerts, which while it had negatively affected Daniel’s confidence for a while, he had always maintained was not the real reason they gave it away. But that didn’t matter anyway. With copyright laws they had a lot of room to manoeuvre with their copyrighted lyrics and music. A lot of ground could potentially be covered and, with a heck of a lot of work on there 12,000 songs, they could potentially have a series of hit albums. They had one live ep instead, which still sold from time to time, but nothing more. They hadn’t yet pushed, and weren’t likely to do so for some time yet. But eventually, Daniel always told himself. Eventually ‘Paradise’ would have a hell of a name.



Perhaps, as strange as it may seem, in the form of Mr Bruce Dickinson, in all the training they were giving him, perhaps something could be returned to them. Perhaps some of Bruce’s energy and know-how could be injected into the life of Daniel Daly and, some day, Paradise could see its glory. Only time would tell.



‘Come on Brucie. You have had a good day. We’ll call it quits.’

Bruce nodded, grabbed a towel to wipe of his sweat, and headed for the showers.

Gloryel came over to chat with her husband. ‘He’s good, now. Very good. But I feel, in all honesty, we should still wait. Let one more Olympics go, and the next one. The next one we aim for glory.’

Daniel nodded, somewhat agreeing with Gloryel’s wisdom, thinking it over. Sure, they could have a go now and Bruce might do amazingly well. But all good things come to those who wait. Best to pass the test first time. Best to be patient, and hit it head on when they were ready.



‘We’ll wait, but Riverdale look out. Bruce Dickinson is coming for you.’

Riverdale, the host of the Olympics following the next one, might just have trembled a little at Daniel’s statement. It might just have.





Chapter Three



‘Faster, Bruce. Faster. That froggie is the French Flash for a reason. He will show you no mercy, remember. He has not done so in the past, has he?’

Bruce, the Dark Saber as Gloryel and Daniel had nicknamed, was thrusting, parrying and making all the moves associated with the sport of fencing with a renewed energy – almost a brand new form of energy. He had pushed on, beyond old psychologies of yesterday, of dying with a flash of the blade, of being a warrior, into the company of the elite. He was precision now – perfection. Like one of Iron Maiden’s classic characters, Kold Steel, whose ‘Blade was bright, which cut through light’ in the words of the song. He was not a ‘Golden Axe Warrior’ anymore. He was the defender of the King, Lancelot in all his glory, deadly with the blade, answering to nobody but the most high on the battlefield. He was ready, and they all knew it.



* * * * *



Gloryel was a decent girl. Perhaps a holy girl, perhaps not. That much was still, relatively speaking, up in the air. She had good faith in God and believed in his holiness and was of the opinion that God was the holy one in any competition between herself and himself so, in the end, praise God, Alleluia, and back to everyday life.



She was happily married to Daniel, an angelic brother she had long fancied before they had wed, and seemed to somehow think she had known him, somehow, in a previous life. But that, of course, was impossible. Wasn’t it?



Apart from Daniel, there was her faithful band – the Spicies. Long ago, on earth, she had risen to Glory as one of the champion singers of a five piece band which had rocked Britain and then the world. The Spicies – 5 British Girl Power babes, with an attitude. And boy had it been a rush and a hell of a ride.



They still toured, these days, the band, every aeon or so, as Victoria would put it. When they finally got there acts together to team up, do a tour, do the interviews, sign their autographs and sing their songs. And it was still a hell of a good time and good partying for while they were doing it. Four of the five girls lived on the central continent of heaven itself, and Victoria also lived in Joniquay. Emma was not that far away though, on a nearby continent, doing her solo thing for the most part, probably the most dedicated girl to her own solo music career which she had pursued non-stop since reaching the heavenlies. Mel B was a fitness guru, and her videos were in constant demand. Gloryel also did a bit of that sort of stuff still, and also had a range of fitness things, but was mainly occupied with her current training phenomenon. Mel C pursued a musical career as well, like Emma, but was not as devoted and mainly concentrating on being a good mum and wife in her family with Tom. They were another rock in Gloryel’s life – Mel and Tom – a faithful couple. She would see them together, doing there thing, a happy family. A joy to be around, as Melanie always had a strong spirit from her often made prayers. She had always been the slightly religious one in the group, which had never really changed. And Victoria. Oh, Victoria. Queen of fashion, always seen in that bloody black Gucci dress, usually sporting Mr David Beckham on her right hand side, a constant delight for the pulp magazines of heaven, with their stories and their photos and their fabulous life. And, in reality, their lives always seemed to be made of the stuff of the stars anyway – always another drama to give a fervent news reporter the break of the decade.



Oh, there were other things which her life was full of, family, her Ugenia Lavender books and movies being a constant success, and other things. Daniel things. But, she was a content soul for the time being, and training Mr Bruce Dickinson for Olympic glory was the stuff of life she currently, and most happily, found herself busily engaged with.





Chapter Four



‘Ducking, weaving, spinning, going in again.’ Bruce was singing to himself, off in a little world of his own. Off on his glory escapade, ready to defeat the French Flash, Jean Dupre, his most feared opponent for the big day. He was usually in a world of his own, these days, noted Gloryel, not quite asking as much of his trainers as in previous months. But, when they suggested there was not too much more for them to offer him, he reminded them of the vast fees he had paid, and that he really needed them more than ever now, for moral support if for nothing else. An old trainer of his came along from time to time, not really to offer the champion anything new in technique or method, as he had largely exhausted the knowledge base on how to fence, but the old friend knew how to rev him up and get him focused. As a team, with Daniel and Gloryel constantly there, encouraging him, egging him on, Bruce was confident that on the big day the glory would be his.



* * * * *



Bruce Dickinson was a man of action – a man of war. Of course, as of late he had developed an elitist attitude, primarily for the gaining of the glory he had long pursued, and personally felt he somewhat deserved for all his long service to the metal industry. Bruce Dickinson – legendary lead singer for metal band ‘Iron Maiden’ – a hero to some, perhaps a foe to others. Perhaps.



The metal industry, in heaven, was an interesting beast. Still full of savagery in its heart but, somewhat consoled by finding there actually WAS a God, the beast had mutated for the most part towards the lyrical contents of bands like ‘Dio’ on his Sacred Heart album and even similar contents to the really religious ‘Stryper’ occasionally cropped up. DC Talk were a band that the metal industry claimed somewhat these days, as their epic ‘Jesus Freak’ about the old Christ Child legend was technically admitted as metal by some magazines, and the old Christian metal scene took the album as a tribute to their former saviour, and purchased it regularly. They never really described themselves as a metal band, but there were some ‘Nirvanaesque’ elements about the Jesus Freak album, and they seemed to fit with a certain part of the metal crowd who appreciated their rocking style. Especially the pseudo-religious ex-Christian metallers, who felt somewhat safer with a spiritual album in the collection, which usually alleviated concerned friends and relatives on the edgier side of their catalogue of greats.



Iron Maiden themselves had been almost a philosophical band as they had emerged. Questioning spirituality, judging hypocrisy as they saw it, a common theme in the metal and punk world, but also open enough to the big questions and seeking answers to what it was all about. To Bruce Dickinson, in reflection, they had emerged from full on rockers in their youth, with something of an attitude, into a stable, pseudo-spiritualesque metal band, with the big questions. But, fuck it. Ozzy Osbourne, Black Sabbath, even Metallica from time to time, seemed to approach that sort of shit. Even the heaviest of them dabbled on the side of the angels from time to time, even if it was just to poke there head in and ask ‘What the Fuck?’



Bruce himself was not an overtly spiritual man. He was not against it anymore, in any real way. He, through a long stint in being relieved enough to find himself make the heavenly domain, had considered the big moral questions enough to know that God made the rules and, while you seemed to have a degree of liberty in heaven as to how much you conformed, if you really went devilesque you would inevitably pay the price. This the metal scene knew all too well.



So you conformed enough, sang your rock and roll, drank your booze, found a stable dealer if you needed the shit, which was still, funnily enough, only marginally illegal, and shagged as many hot birds as were willing to spread their legs for a superstar. And that was the shit of life.





Chapter Five



‘So. Jean Dupre. Master of the Blade. The French Flash. We meet again.’

The frog stared down his opponent, lifted his sword and said ‘En guard.’ And the battle commenced.



* * * * *



It was probably Daniel who was more relieved than Gloryel when the British Flag had been raised, and the national anthem sung. First place in fencing was, apparently, one of the major long term goals of the British Olympic society to maintain as much as possible. And now, there best champion for a long time, Bruce Dickinson, had brung home the glory. He had done the deed, achieved the victory, found his glory, and was basking in the limelight of it all. And Daniel, still a proud Brit, was buoyed by Britains, again, solid effort in yet another of the four-yearly event, and had a bit of a buzz to him for a number of days.



But it had been more than that. It had also been his personal reputation with Bruce Dickinson which had been a big motivating factor for them pushing Bruce to new levels of excellence. In truth, Gloryel had again done the brunt of the work. She had been there, with her words, pushing him on, encouraging him, and motivating him. But Daniel stole in often, focused Bruce on the flag, his nation, and the glory they sought as a people. And that had been enough for him in the end, when he had seen the steel in Bruce’s eyes, and known that the determination was solid and eternal. That had been enough.



Were the Dark Saber would go in the future, well, nobody really knew for sure. He had asked Daniel and Gloryel if they wouldn’t mind training him for another go in four years, and promised that he could yet again afford the astronomical fees, but they refused, admitting they were solidly booked out for quite some time to come. ‘Perhaps another day,’ were Daniel’s last words to him as they left for home after a final long party in Riverdale.





And then, back to life, back to reality, and taking a sip from another rare can of beer, motioning to Gloryel that they had ‘had a good one,’ the two of them sat on the verandah of their Joniquay home, gazed out at the suburbs, and were both quite and truly happy enough with all that had recently transpired.



The End









Angels of Hope



An Age of Glory





The Age of Glory. The age in which angels had grown up, learned their lessons, come to their strength, their name, their fame, their power. The age of becoming who they were. The age of memories to one day look back and say ‘That is when we knew it all.’



Yet, all ages must end, and the second of the Divine Ages of the Angels of Hope came and went, and for the Angel Daniel, living happily with Gloryel, seemingly having resolved most of the fundamental and necessary issues between them, the future beckoned, but he looked upon it favourably and, as in all things, with proper and due hope, for things good to come and to be and for the continuing and eternal consolation of his soul.



The Age of Innocence a distant memory. The Age of Glory now just past. The Age of Power now to be born, and, as always and as in all things, whatever would be would be. Whatever would be would be.



The End







Angels of Hope



Gloryel and Daniel



Pleasant days. Gentle days. Humble days. Daniel, after all is said and done, seemingly getting over it. Finally, seemingly, getting over it.



Gloryel took the load out of the washing, filled the basket and waltzed outside, her headphones on, listening to a Mozart Concerto, happy in her world of contented love. She put the clothes up one by one, the socks, shirts, skirts and pants. The pegs were good pegs – plastic Eternya pegs which Daniel had recently purchased, and would last forever. Well done hubby. When the clothes were up she looked at them, dripping in the light, the water cascading downwards, to the grass, perhaps splashing some unfortunate ant, or other bug. Disappearing into the earth of the heavenlies, finding its home. Perhaps to return somehow, but in mysterious ways beyond the knowledge of Gloryel. Heaven had always been strange to Gloryel. It was like a mystery, in many ways. Held together, perhaps only by the fidelity of God. Physical laws? They had made sense on earth. In heaven everything was backwards. But perhaps it was meant to be. The true power of life. The true power of God. She looked at the water, dripping down, looked at the clothes in the heat of the day, and wondered if they were happy. It was a recent thought, so Daniel had claimed, that things, even mundane objects in heaven, had a spirit of sorts. A true animistic idea for which Daniel was truly famous for. Were her clothes happy? Did they enjoy being washed? Did they enjoy being cleaned? Gloryel knew she certainly did and their cat, Mushroom, which was over near the bushes, in the shade, currently licking herself, also obviously enjoyed being cleaned. But did clothes enjoy it? Water. The stuff which cleansed. Oh, a little soap never hurt, but Daniel preferred his stuff washed just with water, and Gloryel did not object. Water? How did it clean? Oh, chemical reactions she supposed. Washing away loose particles of dirt and gunk from clothes – clothes more strongly knitted together through their atomic connections than the dirt, which was more loose, and able to be dislodged by the cleaning agency of H2O. Water. Cleaning. And more – for drinking. To quench thirst. And, of course, to cleanse the inner system. And the more you drank, usually, the weight stayed away, which was ever so important for a typically vain spice girl of renowned weight fluctuations. She stood there, looking at the dripping water, when Daniel yelled ‘Babe. Were are you?’ and so she disappeared back inside, looked at the fast food he had brought home for dinner, and looked forward to enjoying the new movie just made – Titanic 47, yet another instalment in the epic series.



* * *



Daniel looked at the ice block. It was the last one in the freezer. ‘Do you mind babe?’ he asked her, pulling it out, giving her his best ‘poor me’ look. She wanted to complain. It was hot. It was the last one. ‘Go on, then. I’ll have some ice water.’

‘Thanks babe.’





5 minutes later, sitting out the back, watching the neighbours a little, she sipped her water, and thought again on the purity of the stuff. Simple chemicals. Simple energy, apparently, from the source of all life – God. Apparently spirit matter filled everything – the whole universe – and the spirit of God moulded such stuff into life and other useful things, for his entertainment, and to impart his children into the grand adventure of it all. Water – one of the fundamentals. But, supposedly, 5 elements. Fire. Very hot. Earth – solid. Wind – Free as a bird. And then, the most intense, the ecstasy of Plasma. The fifth element.



5 elements – the basis of existence. The matter of the physicality of the spiritual realm. 5 Elements, and 5 of the angels claimed them. But the other two? Saruviel at 6 and Michael at 7? What on earth represented them? The unknown elements? The unknown powers? Who knew.



* * *



‘So, babe, you wanna go see a movie. The new ‘Freerider’. It should be great. Saruviel never stuffs up with his epics.’

‘Maybe,’ she responded, sipping on water. ‘But I really want to cleanse myself at the moment. To understand something. To ascertain a mystery.’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘What mystery?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see, dear Daniel. We will have to wait and see.’



‘Oh, ok. Well let me know if you find your answer. I’m off to see Freerider.’

‘Bye,’ she responded. And he was gone.







She sipped on her water, purifying herself. She needed to be clean. She would wash 7 or 8 times tonight. Cold showers. Scrubbing a lot. Perfectly clean. Then she would sit in the quiet room, and pray, and think. The sixth element? And the seventh? What could they possibly be?











The music of Enya made her at peace, and as Boudicea the extended version entered her heart, she found the sixth inside. It was darkness. A very, very, dark spirit. Very, very cold. Capable of Absolute Zero – of absolute nothing. Frozen in time, frozen in heart, at peace with the darkness, cold, but a cool breeze to soothe what she knew the seventh to be. The eternal power and wrath of the Almighty one. Michael, God’s favoured child. The seventh son. The power of God. White light. A burning power beyond the heat and intensity of Plasma. Excruciatingly powerful and strong. A blaze of absolute glory. BUT, as they say, it was always darkest before the dawn. ALWAYS.



*



Daniel watched Freerider catch the bad guys, rescue the maiden, get a kiss, and save the day. Another typical classic. Well done Saruviel.



He ordered water from the movie canteen. He drank it all. He ordered two more bottles. He drank them all. He needed to be suddenly clean. Something in him was telling him this.





When he got home Gloryel was naked, and she kissed him, and they sat in the cool of the night, drinking ice water.



‘I have found what I needed to find. Understanding.’





‘Did you work out 8?’



‘Huh? What was that Daniel?’



‘Nothing babe. Lets fuck.’



‘Hmm. Men.’



The End







Angels of Hope



Summation, Completion, the Entirety

of the Principle



‘Mikey Robinson. Danny Robinson. Paul Robinson. Three very stubborn men.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ responded Daniel. ‘Don’t I know it.’



Joniquay – the centre of heaven – the centre of the universe for the Empire Glorydanielphora. Glorydanielphora – the ultimate project of Gloryel and Daniel, with a single, solitary, purpose. Establish Empire from Joniquay, and rule everything. Every continent under the 7 heavens from the centre of God’s glory, Joniquay.



And so they had saved, and continued to save, and had slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the ship, when houses and land had become available, purchased them over the long aeons in their project, to claim all the megacity of Joniquay.



But they found opposition. Opposition in the most familiar of adversaries. The Robinsons. The bloody bugger Robinsons.



The Angel Valandriel was sitting with Daniel and Gloryel. ‘Completion of your project will not be easy, divine warriors of justice. For the Robinson’s have ego, and the cash to match.’

‘Amen,’ said Daniel.

‘Indeed,’ said Valandriel. ‘But I sense a new opportunity on the diplomacy table. A new, and cunning tactic. Intermarriage – the joining of Kingdoms. Have a boy – Gloryel and Daniel – and marry your boy to one of their girls. And pray over him. And he shall be King over Glorydanielphora forever.



And Gloryel looked at Daniel, who smiled, and got that devil’s look in his eye.



* * * * *



‘Gloryel. Daniel. The Bane of our lives. And their dastardly Glorydanielphora.’

‘Yet I have an idea,’ responded faithful friend Valandriel. ‘Intermarriage. Have, say, a girl. And marry her to one of their boys. And through her persuasion you shall rule a nation.’

And old John Robinson said ‘What the hey.’



* * * * *



Young Valhalla and younger Velladorrea were married, joining two warring tribes, making them one, making them united.



Valhalla was a good king. He ruled with Wisdom. The Great Grand Kings and Queens, which watched over his dominion, the real powers of the new Empire of Glorydanielrobaphora, were finally at peace. And, slowly, in finding completion, summation, and the entirety of their lives, they expanded their kingdom, and expanded it, and expanded it, until they were well and truly stuffed with citizens.



And then.



At the end of all good days.



Heaven rested, and the angels and children of God fell asleep, and the second great rest began.



And God smiled.



And it was unforgettable.



And it was good.









Family Politics





Callodyn the Cherubim, founder of Haven Noahide Fellowship, his first Karaite Noahide Assembly and founder of Assembly of the Divine Creator, his second, and far more successful Karaite Noahide Assembly, sat with Daniel the Seraphim, in a Joniquay tower of the Diamond City Central District, discussing the Robinson brothers.

'Valhalla has many children,' commented Callodyn.

'He is bold in his lovemaking,' responded Daniel.

'And with 777 children to Velladorrea, he must be bold indeed.'

'Indeed,' responded Daniel, smiling to himself.





Finally.





'Well!' stated Callodyn, insisting that Daniel really should already know his desire.

'Well what?' asked Daniel the Seraphim, casually.

'Are they committed? To Haven? To AOTDC? They rarely attend, any of the princes and princesses, and your brood of Daly-Robinson's have a lot to learn about the real world out there if they expect the community to just go idly by and not deliberately notice what we all know you are planning.'

'And what is that?' asked Daniel grinning.

'Believe me,' said Callodyn, summing himself all up with that statement. 'Believe me, bro. We know what you are up to. Joniquay has seen it coming for a while now. Yet another bloody dynasty builder. We always sort them out though, you know. When they push to hard. Guess what mate? We push bloody back. We do, you know. We push bloody back.'

Daniel just smiled.

'We're watching mate,' said Callodyn, and went off to get a can of ginger beer.





Daniel brooded for a while. He would have to be a bit more careful, now. They had started being – noticed. Quite obviously. But come on – who were they fooling. You didn't set about ruling the 7 heavens and not expect some competition. It naturally came along in time. Naturally. And Callodyn, founder of the Noahide Fellowships he had spent his human life building, was were, so it seemed, the most concern for their recent activities as a family, was coming from. Perhaps his oldest and most trusted confidante. Callodyn the Cherubim, twin to Kayella. Two of the most respected angels of Joniquay. Figures.





What would he do? Naturally, continue on with the mission, but perhaps not be so obvious about it. But he was not one for shady activity, nor Valhalla his son, who was very forthright about being honest and open with people. So, then, perhaps that was the best strategy of all. If they wanted to end up being the ruling clan and family of heaven, then keep it obvious. Keep it very obvious. Keep their plans open to every one.





And by doing that, by being so bloody obvious about it, Daniel had a hunch that people would assume the situations were being dealt with by others. People always left their problems to everyone else. Always.





But Callodyn could be a worry.





Because he wasn't an idiot.





And that twin of his. Kayella. Who knows what she would think of it all? Who knows indeed.





And so he sat, and brooded, and ignored Callodyn who re-entered the private club room with a cold ginger beer, sitting watching a cricket match now, but who was still slinging him an occasional, looks could kill, stare.





But that was Family Politics, wasn't it. For he was descended from Callodyn. Your greatest enemy was always in your very midst.





Always.





Daniel got himself a ginger beer, smiled at Callodyn, and standing by the window, looked out at the traffic of the Diamond City, the day passing by, another day in the affairs and machinations of the eternal angelic children of God.





The End





Jael of the Diamond City

Her name was Jael. She was angelic. She lived in an ancient tower of Joniquay – the Diamond City. Her tower was encrusted with Diamond's, for it was one of the original towers of the city. The old world. The Old City. The Heart of Joniquay. She never really left it much. She'd lived on Earth, for a while, but now resided at home, in Joniquay, eternal.

'Sister,' said Gabriel. 'You worry too much.'

Jael ignored him. She poured out for herself a glass of red wine. She looked at him, steadily, and drank it. She had words.

'I am of the Assembly of the Divine Creator. I am an Angel of Hope. And I want to remind you Gabriel that you do not rule everyone's heart in the Diamond City,' said Jael.

'What more do you want from me? What more must I do? Heaven runs smoothly, and the populace are happy and content. Daniel is ego. I shan't suffer any more of his attempts to gain power amongst us. And Valhalla can bite me as far as I am concerned. They have joined the Divine Creator's Assembly only in a vain show of popularity, and whilst Callodyn has admitted them to positions of Authority, they are no fit contenders for gaining true power in Joniquay.'

Jael sipped on her wine, smiling at Gabriel with the luxury of her knowledge. 'You have little left, dear brother.'

'Little what?' retorted Gabriel.

'Little anything. But, mostly, little of anything new to offer any of us.'

'As I said, dear Jael. What more needs be done?'

'The AOTDC has creative faculties, and we have created much. We could grow this world BEYOND what has already been accomplished. We could reshape it, revitalize it, and build a better version. You have nothing left. Why do you stop in our way? People want something new, brother. They are bored with the humdrum of Gabriel's steady ways. He no longer inspires. Picnics on the weekend is about all you are good for any more.'

Gabriel sighed. 'And what wouldst thou do should thine power be attained? Corrupt us all I think.'

'I shan't disclose so easily dear brother the accumulated wisdom of our Lore. Move over. This is generation next, and we have something new to say, and something new to offer. If you allow Callodyn the Authroity over Heaven he has asked for, then we will have a new beginning, and new inspiration. Something new in life to think and ponder and indeed cogitate verily upon. For you bore us,' she said, and sipped her wine.

'I bore you,' he said exasperated. He looked out at the night sky, up at the stars of heaven. Fine, he said in his heart. I can retire, do some fishing, mess around with some blondes I know. Sure. Whatever. If they make a mess, let them clean it up. He turned to Jael. 'Have it your way. Convene a council. I'll nominate Callodyn my successor, and I'll retire in grace. Move away and enjoy the quiet life.'

'That is truly excellent,' said Jael of the Diamond City.

'And God help us all,' muttered Gabriel under his breath.

The End





Daniel's Lesson

'Yes grandfather,' said Daniel to the Angel Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly. 'I will ensure I comply with the directives of Callodyn.' Daniel switched off the videophone link, and said 'Old Fart,' and looked at his room. It was a mess. Papers and folders everywhere.

'You have too many agendas,' said Gloryel, sipping Coca Cola on the armchair.

'I don't have enough of them,' smiled Daniel in response. 'Yeh, I know. Way too many. Valandriel always has a new scheme he wants me to do, and fitting in with AOTDC is a frikkin headache.'

'Jael expects results Daniel San,' said Gloryel. 'She got Callodyn the job, so you gotta perform bro. I know you are finding the new congregation a challenge, but try to get along with them better. They could probably teach you a lot. Especially about your pride. You think too much of your abilities. You're only an angel you know. Not a god.'

'I'm trying to hard to exalt myself, you think?' he asked her.

'You and Valandriel never quit on that agenda you cottoned up once. Rule heaven. Very funny. Gabriel is secure in that job, and now with Callodyn in charge you have a new battle yet again.'

'I just wan the frikkin glory sweetie. Not necessarily the power, not necessarily the responsibility. Just the frikkin glory.'

'Have your cake,' started Gloryel.

'And eat it too,' finished Daniel. 'Yep. Something like that.'

'Callodyn has served forever building his religions, you know, Danny. It was blood, sweat and tears to get it all established. He earned his respect. You think it comes cheap?'

'No, probably not. But I have a 10% discount card for Woolworths if that is any help.'

Gloryel smiled. 'Try one agenda at a time, kemosabe. And follow through with it till you get a decent result. Only then move on.'

'The girl's a mentor already,' said Daniel sarcastically.

'One at a time,' said Gloryel, and stood, lit a ciggie, and wandered off to the rest of the house.

Daniel sat down on his bed, looking at all the folders, and thought on that. 'Actually, yes. That was wise. One at a time. Don't do everything all at once. Spread yourself too thin. So, thinking about his priorities, he looked through his folders, found an old plan he had of space age playground equipment with patented designs held by his corporation, and thought it was as good a place to start as any.

The End





Children of the Divine Creator

In time, Daniel indeed accomplished much of the glory he sought through his son Valhalla. Yet, indeed, he did not go unopposed, and Callodyn and the members of the Assembly of the Divine Creator were Daniel's greatest teachers in the humility that he truly needed to learn and the lessons of the heart – the lessons of love – that he also needed to master to think beyond the social circle and dreams of just Daniel the Seraphim and realize a greater world, a greater community – a greater family – which also desired its own glories and salvations and that Daniel was not one, like every member, to simply rule this family, but to take fair and honest part in this family, and love this family, for all members were children of the Divine Creator, and not just those with egos and paypackets to pursue their dreams of dreams.

The Children of the Divine Creator went on for countless aeons, like the world which had existed before them, but at the end of it all, the angel Callodyn found a quiet brook, and a quiet bungalow, in a quiet corner of a quiet english county, in a quiet section of heaven, were a gentle and timid Amy Lee, finally showing up for the first time ever in her new existence, since she had finally died just before the completion of the first rest, to take her part, and had forgotten all things but, in a destiny which had taken her the eternity of her second life to work out, she had found the world were she belonged.....

by a quiet brook....

in a quite bungalow....

in a quiet corner....

of a quiet english county....

In a quiet section of heaven, were she rested from her quest of heart to find where she belonged in this world, as the pop singers would sing and, meeting Callodyn, she looked at him one evening, and noticed a familiarity about him, and a strange sense of comfort which rested in the centre of her heart and world and, taking his hand, walking home from the brook, she came into the bungalow and, in quiet corner of the house, she sat with him, and kissed him and said 'I love you.'

And the world fell asleep.

And the rest came.

And Callodyn and Amy lived again their time in the rest, and they did less than last time, for they were mostly content.

And God watched over them, together, from time to time.

And he planned, yet again, for the next world of amazing life, love and other mysteries.

And life went on and on Forever.

And life went on and on.

The End





Gone Fishing

Gabriel was at peace. The firstborn son of God – truly – was at peace. He was in a southerly continent of heaven, a small one, with lush forests, wild wilderness, beautiful hills, and rivers full of rainbow trout. And he was fishing and a hunting to his delight, with two attractive blondes keeping the home fires burning in his log cabin, warming him up each night with their tender caresses. Life was good. Then Gloryel showed up.

'Well, it's pretty much a wreck in the Diamond City,' said Gloryel.

'Fascinating,' said Gabriel, as he continued chopping wood.

'They've tried redesigning the whole city centre, and have moved everything around, unfinished and abandoned projects are everywhere, because nobody can seem to agree,' said Gloryel.

'Exciting times,' said Gabriel.

'Inflation is at an all time high practically. 27%,' said Gloryel.

'A good time to invest in gold,' replied Gabriel.

'Unemployment has technically crept in a little,' said Gloryel.

'A time for entrepreneurs,' smiled Gabriel at his sister, as he continued chopping wood.

'Garbage men are on strike. They want better pay,' said Gloryel.

'Gotta take care of that,' said Gabriel.

'Jael is acting like a witch queen,' said Gloryel.

'She's a character,' replied Gabriel.

'But, apart from that, things are about the same,' said Gloryel.

Gabriel put down his axe, came over to his sister, and took both her hands and looked into her eyes. 'Tell someone who gives a shit, sis,' he said in the sweetest most sarcastic of tones.

Gloryel nodded, and Gabriel returned to his wood chopping.

When she had left, he looked up at heaven, then thought of his two blondes inside and said 'No. Fuckit. They can work it out.'

And he continued chopping wood.

And life just went on in heaven.

The End





The Gloryel Complex

'It's shit,' said Gloryel.

'It doesn't smell,' said Daniel.

'It's hardened to the point were the smell has gone,' replied Gloryel. 'It's a toilet full of hardened shit. I mean, who comes in here and doesn't flush the toilet?'

'Joniquay has a variety of colourful streetlife,' replied Daniel.

They were inspecting the 'Gloryel Complex' in the heart of Joniquay, a semi-built project dedicated to Gloryel, of public toilets, bathing and an amphitheatre with a playground. Hazards abounded everywhere.

'You think, maybe, your management style suffers?' asked Gloryel.

'Everyone in Counsel frikkin blocks me – and everyone else. Nobody can agree,' said Daniel frustrated.

'Take the bull by the horns,' said Gloryel, as they continued their tour.

'And what does that mean exactly?' asked Daniel.

'Take charge. Just do it. Tell counsel to go to hell, because nothing is getting down. Get your workers in and get the job finished, and deal with all the crap around town. Just do it Daniel.'

He looked at her. 'I couldn't. It's not the way counsel works. These are the issues of debate we work through excruciatingly slowly. It is the whole point of the game, sweetie. We spare no quarter, but we play by the rules.'

'While Joniquay suffers. Think laterally. Defy tradition. Do it your way.'

'Love to. Not my style, sis,' replied Daniel, as they looked up at the pipe running from the top of the toilets into mid air, with water spewing forth regularly.

'This is the shit we deal with when we follow old tradition,' said Gloryel. 'You have great ideas, but you will get bogged down in counsel. Take charge buddy. Or I will.'

He grinned at her. 'You would. Ok, ok. Fuckit then. I'll dazzle em with a speed of profound wisdom, and let them know I am 'Getting things done'. Some charm, sharp talking, and I can be the man of the moment.'

'So get on with it,' she replied.

Daniel took his mobile from his pocket, rang a number and spoke briefly. 'Team X is on the case,' he said. 'We'll have the city going according to the plans right away.'

'Better,' said Gloryel, as they surveyed the amphitheatre full of rubbish and 3 or 4 homeless people, snoozing the afternoon away. 'We have an example to set to Gabriel. Let's not disappoint.'

'Yes mistress,' replied Daniel, as he wondered just what he would do with the homeless mugs in front of him.

The End





Revitalisation

It took a while, but Daniel spoke well in Counsel, and the other angels of the upper hierarchy mocked him a bit, but said 'Well get on with it then.' And so he did. Callodyn worked with Daniel, and they worked at one of their first goals – revitalisation of the old town of Joniquay. Not in new tradition, though, except were deemed of 'Culturally Eternally in Style' significance. Things which endured, and remained popular, staying in style. Designs were mostly classical, but modern and space age thing were present, and after a decade of solid and hard work, well, as crazy as people wanted to make it sound, they'd did a spectacular job. The Old Town was larger, bigger, still traditional, but more aesthetically beautiful and convenient and accessible than ever. Towers, more of them encrusted with diamonds, were even more luxurious, and little parks, galleries, eating establishments and cafes were all over, with all sorts of wonderful designs and sights to see. They'd actually pulled it off – transformed a traditional Gabrielesque city into a far more elaborate and complex design, which actually appealed to both the heart and the pragmatic. And every day which passed Daniel got more and more comments of 'Job well done.'

Gabriel got word of it. Gloryel visited him. He sat quietly, next to the small stream down from his cabin, and eventually smiled. 'Well, it looks as if you were right in the end then. I'm old, set in my ways, and didn't have that much inspiration any more.'

'A good rest,' said Gloryel. 'And you'll have more of an imagination.'

'That may indeed be true,' said Gabriel. And looking up at heaven he said it to himself again, 'That indeed may be true.'

The End





Queen of AOTDC

'Well, you are the Queen,' said Callodyn to Gloryel.

'Humph,' said Gloryel. 'I've been a member 5 minutes, and I'm the best you can do? You've had an eternity with your fellowship, and you haven't been able to find a queen till I joined?'

'It takes the right kinda gal,' said Valandriel. 'And your the bestest, Geri girl.'

'And what are my royal powers?' asked Gloryel.

'We put you on a throne. And you pontificate,' said Daniel.

'I applied,' said Jael. 'They said they'd think about it. Your the lucky girl.'

'Lucky me,' said Geri. 'Queen of Assembly of the Divine Creator. Whatever will my subjects say?'

'Long live the queen, I'd imagine,' said Valandriel. 'They've wanted one for ages. Too many power made males to choose a King, so they asked for a Queen. And your it.'

'And the Queen shall reign in glory,' said Gloryel.

'We are now bigger than the official Torah faith of the community,' said Daniel. 'More members by about half again. We have a chance of pushing for official royal power over Heaven if we play our cards right. It's a game with counsel, but we can win it.'

'You hope,' said Gloryel.

'And that is what it is all about,' said Callodyn. 'Angels of Hope. Hoping for a better future, a better tomorrow.'

'Here we go again,' said Gloryel, as Callodyn launched into another speech on the virtues of the Assembly of the Divine Creator and its core message of hope, a very well worn message. It was going to be one of those days, she thought to herself. It was going to be one of those days.

The End













Finding Eternity

Carman Licciardello was having an argument with Aphrayel, child of heaven.

'Look, dear Aphy. May I call you that?'

'You may,' replied Aphrayel.

'Look, frankly, we have a decent contract with God for some ongoing life now. We're stronger since that rest, and I think we can go the distance now.'

Death shook her head. 'No. I don't think so. But who is we?'

'Jesus. Of course. Those Daniel Daly idiots. Monique Wright. Melanie C, possibly, but probably not. She might need a rebirth. Amy Lee of course.'

'You have faith for a translation to spend time with God?' asked Aphrayel. 'And then back into the pack quietly?'

'Yes,' replied Carman. 'We do.'

'Ok. You guys, just you, you here, I will give a break. You have learned enough respect for death now, so I will give you a break.'

'And that old Satan?' asked Carman.

'That's your own grudge issue. I'll leave that with you Mr Licciardello. Prove your case, and such is life and death and punishment.'

'Fine,' replied Carman. 'Leave it with me.'

'That I'll do. Survivor.'

The End