The Angels Saga Stories

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Sep 15, 2020, 10:24:05 PM9/15/20
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The Moon and the Sun and the Stars

'It's a piece of prose,' said Callodyn. 'Written a while ago.'

'Obviously,' replied Kayella, looking at the document. It read:

'Celestial Objects. The Earth is the primacy of the Celestials of the Milky Way Galaxy, despite its humble location outerwards. It is the birthplace of man. The Moon is the Birthplace of the heart of the longings of the wolf, and the heart of the longings of the tides of the ocean. It is the heart of new age thinking oft at times, and the heart of night, when dark creatures come out and roam. The Sun is the glory of the day, when activity is greater, and creatures of a different kind, more active in some ways, rush around, nibbling their morsels of food, not so nocturnal in their activity. Then, when day is done, they rest, and the creatures of the night get back into the swing of things. There is design here. Creative design. Man can be nocturnal if he chooses to be. Fire can light the night, and bold heroes step forth at time into the cold starry light to see what adventure they can have in the cooler time of the clock, going on voyage to friend for comfort in distress, going to wood and forest to seek lost things, lost things of mystery from circumstances involving friend and foe, who have hidden away answers in the shrubs, were they retrieve a cloak, a dagger, a sword, a shield, a chest of treasure, or a lost tapestry of their heart. And in the woods at night they search, for the comfort of the night, confronting dark creatures, and looking at the sky and stars, and pitying themselves for the rain is surely coming, and they will not complete their quest for the object they need for the delight of the purpose of entertainment those still at home are awaiting them for. The lord of the manor is not fearful, and in the dark forest he collects these objects, the ladder left there by the lazy worker, the shovel by the lazy gamesman who needed to bury the dead carcass, all sorts of things the brave souls past gone from us, venturing forth in the shadowy twilight times, venturing forth to retrieve. And they always carry fire, or lamplight, till the torch of modern eras replaced the classical ways of man. And the moonlight was sung to and loved, as the seeker spied the lovers, the faithless maiden of the man down the road, who he would mock subtley the following evening at the tavern. But only mild mockery, for it is a case for concern. All the time the stars chatting about the silly fool who is not really a nocturne by nature, but is brave at heart, and doesn't mind the slosh because he is a real man. But when he rises, and the sun says to him, now you have better light, if you do recall, and he actually doth find his item of questing, he retires to the back shed, throws the shovel, and refrains from cursing the lazy worker, for good help is hard to find these days. And so it goes.'

'It's good,' said Kayella.

'Obviously,' replied Callodyn.

The End


The Wind and the Waves and the Clouds

'It's prose,' said Kayella.

'I can see that,' replied Callodyn, and began reading:

For the wind is strong, and blows the waves tempestuously, and the clouds pour down the rain. And the sailor sails the sea, and glorifies the God of the Oceans, a wise God is he, to put man in the richest of the elements. For the oceans abound with life untold, some we perchance are still to discover. All the richness and beauty of another world, locked beneath proud waves and strong and mighty winds and terrible grey clouds. And this is life in metaphor, for we all as humans, made in the divine image, have the forces of nature within our appearances, apparent to all. But lying within them is a rich tapestry of thought and heart and emotion, hidden, only to be found by true seekers of the depths of the human soul in their inquiries, through honest affection for the other, into their mysteries and knowledge and wisdom's and understandings. The woman's heart – who can fathom it. It is more than rubies and more still than diamonds in costings, for in that heart lies a strength that those of the masculine kind have still not uncovered, nor could they possibly, nay, nor should they possibly. For when the waves are wild and the wind is blowing, a woman's heart is wild and untameable, and no brave counterpart, no matter the strength of their proud proclamations, can unhinge or undeter the knowing truths of the woman's heart. For she can enter the forest also, guided by light of fire, for she knows that in the forest are not simply the things she seeks, but the encounters of life and experience, appreciating the beauty of the night, and its creatures, as she does also in her own oceanic explorations, in other wild creatures, less of a concern to a mere lord of a manor, caught up in manly mundane affairs, to simple to appreciate the greater fullness of the creation of the immortal God from heaven above. But this is a mystery, and not all would understand it, especially those of the less fair sex, for a woman is eternally unknowable in truth, eternally beautiful in reality, and eternally mysterious and enigmatic, in her hidden depths of the soul, those intoxicating delights ever luring strange sailors, who, brave enough to risk the ire of the Lord of the Manor, have taken to sea at the siren's call, dared its depths, and uncovered and redeemed pearls of wisdom which, for many, have laid hidden countless generations. Or so the story goes.

'It's good,' said Callodyn.

'I can see that,' replied Kayella.

'Mine was longer,' said Callodyn.

'Bite me kemosabe,' replied Kayella.

The End


King Saruviel

'There is a way to the world. A way to understand the world which is a right way and a true way,' said Saruviel to his followers. 'It is not the Divine Way and it is not the Noahide or Jewish or Christian Way. It is none of those ways. For those ways are service. The right way is power. It is in the power of ruling and making the decisions – leading others, who are simple and not capable muchly of leading themselves – that we find the right way in life, having risen above our fears and the fear others would impose on our lives. Being stronger than those who would lecture us and give us command. When we lead, they follow us. For we are strong by the boldness of willing to be as such.'

'Here here,' said Kantriel.

'Speak it brother,' said Daraqel. The crowd was hushed.

'I am King now. King Saruviel. The monarch of the Realm of Eternity. And I will conquer not just this realm, but all others, and the planetary bodies also. For I am supreme in my knowing ability to rule with the right attitude of strength.'

And they worshiped him in their hearts.

* * * * *

'Now Djamama Mama,' typed God. 'I don't really agree that you can lay anybody, both male and female AND animal also. That really is pushing it a bit too much.'

'But that's all the fun,' typed Djamama Mama.'

'Hardly fun. Consequences are devastating long term,' typed God.

'Spoilsport,' was the reply. God typed 'Shrug' and left the chatroom. Djamama Mama was just having a go. She was wont to do that. It was her sense of humour. He turned on the TV, as Rihanna walked in the room, bleary eyed, with a bottle of Jack Daniel's, and collapsed next to him.

'I feel like shit,' she said.

'You look like shit,' replied God.

'Your a piece of shit,' she said.

'Touche,' he replied.

'I think – I need rehab,' she said, and reached for the phone book. She dialled a number on her mobile, and it answered after a bit.

'Yep bitch,' she said. 'Rihanna the frikking popstar. I know. Not every day huh? Really? First major celebrity client huh? Amazing. See you next week,' and she hung up.

'I'll be gone a month,' she said, and left the room. God shrugged. He turned over the channel.

'So you see,' continued Saruviel. 'I am unopposed at this present moment, and am now your King. Do not worry. I will rule with wisdom and tact.' God flicked over the channel to 'The Transformers,' cartoon, and settled back to watch for the rest of the afternoon.


That evening.

'Dahell is he talking about?' God asked Metatron.

'Wants to rule the universe,' said Metatron. 'Gotten it into his thick head that he is now the boss, and people can simply accept that.'

'Over my dead body,' replied the Theophany of the Almighty. It would seem time had now come to teach this young and blessed son just who ran the show in the Realm of Eternity and other related properties.

* * * * *

'Ok, shake his damn hand cherubim Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly,' said Wolfgang the Theophany of God.

'I don't want to,' replied Daniel.

'He doesn't want to,' complained Michael. 'And Zaphon sucks. I don't want to even be up here anymore. They rejected me, fuck em all.'

'We didn't reject you,' said Daniel. 'You are just too lame a fucking Jew to fit in our world. Always up yourselves about Torah Israel and Moshe the frikking lawgiver and yada yada yada. It never fucking ends the Jewish boasting. Sick to fucking death of it.'

'See what I mean. They hate us,' said Michael, sticking out his tongue at Daniel.

'Up yours,' replied Daniel, flipping Michael the bird.

God looked at them both. 'Unbelievable,' he said to himself. 'SHAKE HIS DAMN HAND DANIEL. THE SITUATIONS ARE MOSTLY RESOLVED,' said Wolfgang.

'Fine,' replied Daniel, and held out his hand.

Michael took it and shook it.

'Now you two are going to have to work together on this one. Saruviel has a judgement coming upon him. It's been hibernating a long time, his plans, and his works. But he's been up to it behind all your backs. So he's got a thing coming to. I need you two in agreement, with your cohorts, and I will be tag-teaming it with Samael of Infinity to ensure Saruviel realizes just who runs the show.'

'Understood,' replied Daniel, glaring at Michael.

'No problems father,' replied Michael.

'But when this is over no more love and cuddles,' said Daniel.

'Wouldn't dream of it,' replied Michael.

'Tomorrow. In the overseer's office with Azrael. He's in charge at the moment. We have a conference.'

God handed them both the USB drive he had prepared. 'The response is in that. Implement it carefully.'

'Fine,' said Daniel, taking his drive.

'And remember, don't mess this up. Saruviel is just about over it in most respects on his rebellion in general. This is a final lesson he will learn, because the good nature in him has been developed for a long time now, and I will have the fullness of my son back with all of us when he has learnt his lesson.'

'Good to know,' said Daniel.

'Long time coming,' replied Michael.

'Now go,' said God.

He watched them leave, and stroked his chin. The Children of Destiny were nearing a conclusion of an ancient plan. It was a good time to be alive.

* * * * *

'The old man is making plans,' said Kantriel.

'I know,' replied Saruviel, sitting at his desk, all dressed in black, in the heart of Kalphon Keep.

'He's not going to let you get away with it,' said Daraqel.

'I know,' replied Saruviel, stroking his chin.

'You might be better to consider being King Saruviel in a defunct sense, and moving on with the next part of Oblivion Tube Agenda Protocols,' said Luladiel, sitting next to Krystabel, working on a complex cryptic crossword puzzle.

'I know,' said Saruviel. 'I'm thinking that is probably what I'll have to do. They've wised up to the agenda, and they've got a responsa divinum planned, so I'll let it slide. Just for now. Won't push the old man that hard if it pisses him that much off. Happy with my life, don't want any real shit coming my way again, so I'll tone it down, and play it by his rules. Get the slack I need later on in life.'

'Wise,' said Krystable, nodding.

'Indeed,' replied Saruviel, and picked up the new black cat called 'Janet' he had acquired recently, turned and looked out the window at the grounds of Kalphon Keep, and started stroking the cat, thinking. It was not the time, now, to play King Saruviel cards. Too much consternation on the idea at this time. So he would let it slumber till another day, get on with life, and perhaps, perhaps, the next part of the agenda, but, far more likely, business as usual, and another fine era in the Realm of Eternity. And, as always, time would tell.


The End


Butterfly


Sariel sat down. 'She's tough.'

Azrael nodded.

'She's hard,' said Sariel.

Cosadriel nodded.

'She's a fighter,' said Sariel.

'Nail the bitch,' said Daniel.

Sariel nailed the bitch.

9 months later.

'Call him Sebastian,' said Geri – Gloryel.

'Sebastian Halliwell-Grant,' said Hugh. 'That is just fine.'

At 9 Sebastian was dressing in dresses. He did it for 5 years. He was a beautiful butterfly, a totally convinced Transsexual in training. He never got the cut though. It was – to be done – once convinced.

'I'm a girl,' Sebastian said to his parents one day.

'We know,' said Geri. 'We accept you for what you are. We love you Sebbie.'

'It's a sinking ship. I'd rather be a male butterfly. You know. Got a lesson from Daniel on biology. I didn't argue in the end. I saw that point that it was choices and feelings, so the DNA was the best way to let the thoughts lead me. So I'm your brand new rising Son.'

'Good to know,' said Hugh. 'Proud of you whatever you are Sebastian.'

Sebastian stood there. Took off his dress, put on black jeans, a metal T-Shirt, and took out the fake books. 'I like being a bloke. Did it last week with some friends. Actually felt normal. I actually liked it. I'm your son, mum and dad. Your son.'

Sebastian left.

Geri – in the end – was relieved. Just a bit easier the old fashioned way.

The End


Universe Revisited 2

'Ursula Santorini. Does that whale zombie have a name?' queried Valandriel.

'Theodore,' replied Ursula, the touring party's hostess. 'We have several wallaby zombies on lower levels of the compound. They hop around, and eat food from feeding troughs.'

'Fascinating,' replied Valandriel, staring at the whale. They were in a large open entrance, not too far down from the upper opening of Nippon's Universe, a part of the Multiverse. It had a large aquarium in it, many leather couches to sit on, and some adjoining rooms which appeared empty, with a few stairwells leading downwards. Nobody else appeared to be around very much.

'So, suck my fingertits,' said Daniel.

'What exactly are fingertits?' replied Melanie C, sitting on a couch next to Daniel, going over the cube.

'Fingertips which have seen a lot of Melanie Chisholm breast action.'

'Unsurprisingly crude,' replied Melanie.

'Sarcasm. Don't confuse the two. Crude would involve very vulgar words,' said Daniel.

'Heard a few from your lips over the years,' replied Melanie.

'I'm not sure if your innocent, sporty spice,' defied Daniel.

'Wholly wholesome in my slurs. They are admonishments from a responsible soul,' replied Melanie.

'Typical parental reply,' said Daniel.

'You need a few of those to manage your life,' said Daniel.

'I am completely responsible,' said Daniel. 'Manager over several life systems in ANM.'

'You know how to pastor and guide, that much I give you. And you are very serious with new people, and good at setting an example with them. But you drift into toxic humour when people get to know you well.'

'All love and charm,' said Daniel.

'Devilish charm,' replied Melanie. 'I'll solve this damn cube, you know.'

'I have strict rules for when a joke ends,' said Daniel. 'Well discussed theology between myself and Valandriel. There are lines we do not cross in our humor. We don't really do pranks much, mainly verbal wit and mockery. And if we don't have a point of rebuke or entertainment, we don't do it simply to be offensive. I keep that in mind with my words, you know.'

Melanie looked at him for a moment, scanning her history with him. She looked at the cube, and put it beside her. Daniel sat in silence. For many minutes she contemplated that. Finally she spoke.

'That might be true. I'm recalling several encounters which stand out, and usually I can see that you are quire deliberate and in control of what you are saying, and have specific purpose about it.'

'Thank you. I don't attempt to bring people down, but make them smile, and it does include embarrassment if that is called for.'

'Fine,' replied Melanie, picking up the cube. 'I'll accept the excuse, dimwit.'

'Grateful for that, Sellout Girl.'

Melanie looked ahead, but decided to ignore the slur. But shortly her pride got too much for her.

'Sellout Girl? And what is that supposed to mean?'

'Turned your back on your dismal faith component of youth, the three Jesus movies you watched, and the 10 Commandments that Christmas when you were bored, and sold your soul for rock and roll.'

'You don't know my upbringing,' said Melanie. 'I don't talk about it.'

'I remember back further, though,' said Daniel. 'Naive little angel Melanie. 'Bright and bushy Cherubim girl, who thought Jesus was all that when he got on his initial Christ campaign.

'I only liked the ideas,' said Melanie. 'He was interesting for a while.'

'Sellout,' replied Daniel.

'I should call you out,' replied Melanie. 'I have reserves of ammunition on your life which could last aeons.'

'Your too gracious,' replied Daniel.

'Naturally,' said Melanie.

'And too dimwitted to know how to use your material properly. Dimwit.'

'Shut up,' said Melanie. 'And drink your damn cola.' Daniel sipped on his drink.



'Do they ever stop arguing?' Ursula asked Valandriel.

'Daniel has a custom,' replied Valandriel.

'Which is?' asked Ursula.

'Piss everyone off if at all possible.'

'I see,' replied Ursula. 'Fascinating.'

And the afternoon passed.

The End


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