Certain physicists have come to the conclusion that our universe is made of strings.  While their simian minds are too primitive to grasp the true nature of the cosmos, the metaphor gives an accurate model of Creation at large.Whether the world is made of strings or string-cheese, and the moon is rock or Swiss, the material of existence has certain qualities.  Swiss, as you know, has holes in it.   Threads break.  And string-cheese, obviously, is designed to peel.  It's all very well that humans have discovered the material of the universe.  But the sad fact remains that they understand little about it. The tapestry of our universe is imperfect.  It unravels.  It comes undone.  An occasional hole pops up, and its edges fray with time.  Wormholes, physicists call them.  As if some hungry annelid munched its way through space and popped out into another dimension.  Higher beings laugh at our

“Hey, wait!” I panicked.  No way in hell was I staying here.  I straddled Pallor, trying to start it uselessly.  Cursing, I turned to run but stopped dead in my tracks.  Hooked bat wings crept round the building's corner.  I froze, overwhelmed by terror as a foul-smelling cold mist filled the alley.  Ragged breaths came from the beast.  It sniffed the air viciously, and a monstrous, leathery black hand grasped at the bricks.  Its hulking form stalked forwards.Bile rose in my throat at the sight of its naked, bat-like body, belly swollen with God knew what.  It looked exactly like the monster from Samael's book.  The incubus spoke, voice grating like the clang of metal chains.  “Ah, what a delightful encounter!” it howled, unsheathing razor claws.  “Another idiot mortal ripe for devouring. This town is an endless buffet.”I was rooted to my spot in horror.  It smirked g

Rain fell softly beyond the window, clinging to the balding autumn trees.  Eva tapped her pencil against the desk, humming as our Calculus teacher handed back tests.  I froze, heart racing as he approached.  He raised his brow: “Callie Parker, excellent work... except for the fact that you integrated instead of derived.”I went pallid.  “Oh god.  Did I?-”“Fail?  No.  I gave you half credit on those problems.  The effort was spectacular.  Just be more alert next time.  The AP graders, unlike me, will be relentless.”I cursed inwardly as he handed me my test with a thin smile.  “C+,” I groaned, slamming my head against the desk.  “I hate math.”Eva smiled serenely at her A, putting it in her skull covered binder.  “Lo siento, chica.  But it's just one C.”“In a continent of failed tests.  I

The waves trembled, rearing up like stallions.  They thrashed against the rock.  The ground beneath my feet hummed.  My heart soared with the song, mesmerized by the raw power.  The air itself sang- the music of the spheres. My eyes stung with tears, and a beauty so deep shattered me.  It was as if lightning raced down my spine. Michael was singing.  It was the voice of an angel in song.“I suppose I'll join in, then,” Samael said under his breath.  He raised his arms; shadows enveloped him.  A howling wind appeared, and six pairs of wings materialized on his back.  He flexed the black pinions, draping them across him so he was veiled in darkness. I would have made a smart comment about how he looked like a burnt bird.  A blinding light suffused him, and Samael's wretchedly beautiful voice boomed across the waters.  I understood why he'd cloaked himself in wing a

“Existence.  What necessitates existence?”“I don't know?  Atoms, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, water.”“Belief.  Belief creates existence.”“No it doesn't.  Things just are.  I didn't believe rocks into existence.”“No, but someone did.”“Who?  The rock god?”“Maybe.  I don't know.  But we're obviously someone's idea.”“Whose?”“God's.  Perhaps an author's, or playwrights'.  At the end, it's all just a dream.”“But who's God?”“Don't know.  I know lots of gods.  No God.  I had a Father, once,” his face grew sorrowful.  “But he left long ago.”I didn't press further.  “Do you believe in God, Gabriel?” I asked quietly.“Of course I do.”&ldqu