Chronicles of the Children of Men

The Holy and Eternal Canon of Haven Adamide Fellowship

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

© 6175 SC - © 2011 CE/AD

http://danielthomasandrewdaly.angelfire.com

http://noahidebooks.angelfire.com

http://www.myspace.com/adamides

The 93 Stories of the Canon of Haven Adamide Fellowship

1. Burn (Short Story)

2. A Shade of Glory (Short Story)

3. The Guarded Moment (Short Story)

4. Another Answer (Short Story)

5. Fortune Favours the Brave (Short Story)

6. The Understanding Understatement (Short Story)

7. Upon the Sea of Frozen Nightmares and Unending Dreams of the Dark (Short Story)

8. The Dark Side of Oblivion (Short Story)

9. Jesus’ Big Old Fashioned Gay Adventure (Short Story)

10. A Train (Short Story)

11. Darkness Be My Friend (Short Story)

12. If I Was Smart (Short Story)

13. Jenny’s Choice (Short Story)

14. Quantum Mechanics (Short Story)

15. Red Rubies (Short Story)

16. The Creep (Short Story)

17. The Harmony Bridge (Short Story)

18. The Heart of the Matter (Short Story)

19. The Little Red Truck (Short Story)

20. The Little Red Truck 2 (Short Story)

21. The Mystery of Life (Short Story)

22. The Vortex of Nothingness (Short Story)

23. An Office Love (Short Story)

24. The Ark (Short Story)

25. The Dark Side (Short Story)

26. The Diabolical Adventure of RXQ7 (Short Story)

27. The Fabulous Adventure of Mr XQR4 (Short Story)

28. The Startling Adventure of Sir QRX1 (Short Story)

29. The Adventures of X (Short Story)

30. The Orgasm Man (Short Story)

31. Sqwerdtyplonghkfrimbzaxcuv (Short Story)

32. Creatures of the Swampy Marshes (Short Story)

33. I Love You, Always and Forever (Short Story)

34. The Big Bad Wolf (Short Story)

35. The Calamitous Conclusion to the Crazy Case of the Cornered Cornish Crook (Short Story)

36. The Seductive Lips of Miss May June (Short Story)

37. Hazardous (Short Story)

38. Italian Cooking (Short Story)

39. The Promise (Short Story)

40. Pentecostal Power (Short Story)

41. The Leetharck Cavern (Short Story)

42. The Nothing (Short Story)

43. The Ultimate (Short Story)

44. The Sorcerers Quandary (Short Story)

45. Jihad (An Unfinished Work)

46. Flowers for a Dead Man (Short Story)

47. The Rings of Saturn (Short Story)

48. Rebecca (Short Story)

49. The Sword of Dario (Short Story)

50. Gartos VII (Short Story)

51. At The Sea (Short Story)

52. Lots of Money (Short Story)

53. The Darkness Changes (Short Story)

54. Rain (Short Story)

55. The Good Adventures of Sir Bottle Nose Brindaby (Short Story)

56. Blood (Short Story)

57. 3 (Short Story)

58. 4 (Short Story)

59. 5 (Short Story)

60. 3 People (Short Story)

61. Random Thoughts (Short Story)

62. Happy (Short Story)

63. Queen Lyuba and the Dashing Prince Daniel (Short Story)

64. The Flat Tyre (Short Story)

65. Picture Postcard (Short Story)

66. The Adventures of the 47 Squirrels in Outer Space (Short Story)

67. The Dark Dilemmas of the Frozen Souls of Hell (Short Story)

68. Uranus Jokes (Short Story)

69. The Freak (Short Story)

70. The Dark Soldiers (Short Story)

71. Patience (Short Story)

72. There is a Place (Short Story)

73. The Loving (Short Story)

74. There is a Day (Short Story)

75. The Quiet Heart of Love (Short Story)

76. Shades of Uncertainty (Short Story)

77. Jessica and Daniel

78. Haven Adamide Fellowship and the Children of Salvation

79. Questions from Hakham Tolkien

80. The Birth of Haven Adamide Fellowship

81. Jenny and the Havenides

82. The Astral Configuration of the 7th Sector of the Nebezandrians

83. The Tree of Life

84. 775 – The Macro War

85. The Scorpius Dilemma

86. The Darker Side of Life 7

87. The Darker Side of Life 8

88. The Darker Side of Life 9

89. The 7 Angels of Death

90. The Cross

91. 91

92. 92

93. 93

‘Burn’

Tina looked at the finishing line. 100 metres ahead. Not far, but a lifetime away in many ways. But here she was, 21, at the peak of her athletic powers, and in the 2012 Olympics representing Australia.

She had listened to the song that morning, her inspiration, ‘Burn’, by another Tina. And she was ready. She was ready. It was the final, now. She had won each heat. And now she was ready to shine, like a candle in the night. She would burn, as brightly as she possibly could.

Her boyfriend, Gavin, over in the stands waved to her and mouthed ‘I love you.’

Thoughts came into her head. Doubts. Fears. Trepidations. But, if she wasn’t ready now, would she ever be? 2016 was four years away, and while she would still be physically strong, really, it was now or never. She clutched the cross around her neck, looked skywards at her God, did the sign of the cross, and was ready. ‘It was now or never. Time to burn.’

The following day, looking at the medal table, Australia was now fourth, just one place behind the United Kingdom. Her Gold medal had brought them up just past France and China, and they were hoping, as a team, to crack the top three. She had burned, burned up the track in fact, and set the world record for the women’s 100 metres. And while she had been the hero of the hour, the games went on, and so did life in a funny way. But, in her heart, she was happy. The years, the long years of early mornings, little sleep, aching bones, sores and blisters and endless miles of running, now all seemed worth it. It was a record which would stand forever, her name forever inscribed in the books for winning this event. And while, in time, her name would just be bandied about with an endless supply of other winners, all who’d had their turn at glory, she knew it was still the achievement that mattered. She’d achieved glory, she’d burned brightly, and the world was now at her feet. And boy did it feel good. Boy, did it feel that.

The End

A Shade of Glory

The man, walking alone, high on the mountain, half naked, the psychotic episode have reached its peak and diminishing, looked at the figure in gold before him. It was an angel. He was absolutely certain it was an angel. It had blonde hair, dressed in fine golden robes and wore a sword in a belt, the sword of solid gold. And then the angel smiled at him and said one word – ‘Love.’

Jason was different after that. Somehow, in the pathways of love he strived more and more each year to walk in, to let go of the petty hatreds and prides of youth, the angels word compelled him ever onwards and, as he yielded his heart to letting go and letting God, he found something changing within him. He felt a peace, and a kindness – something never felt before. As if, suddenly, there was a purpose to this life, a deeper purpose than simply making a living, raising a family and acquiring wealth. And that purpose, in the end, was kindness, as a certain Alaskan singer he liked would testify to.

He practiced that kindness, then. He did so for the remainder of his days. And the touch of Glory he had received he spoke of to all and sundry, and tried his very best to live up to the Angel of Glory’s commandment.

He couldn’t really say for sure if the schizophrenia ever really left him – not for sure. But it grew less and less obvious over the years, and in the end, in the latter years, it was not really noticed at all. Could love really be the cure to the problems of the mind, body and soul? Could love be such a great solution that submitting to its tender caress was a balm for life like no other? Jason believed so, and testified to the power of love until his dying day.

And then, with his final breath, he saw again that Angel of Glory in his visions, and knew then he was going home. Home to where Love had its greatest, most splendid, home of Glory. And Jason knew that all was well.

The End

‘The Guarded Moment’

Dear Diary

January 27, 2010 AD

Trust is not easily earned for me. And when it is broken I rarely forgive. But that is just me, isn’t it. Not very Christian, am I. I loved David. I loved him with all my heart, and the pastor of the church said he would be perfect to marry, a first class Pentecostal. And then there was that moment, when he said he loved me, and I believed, really, I believed with all my heart, soul and mind, that he really would love me forever. But he betrayed me. He lied. He was a snake.

You see, three weeks later, out with my girlfriends, there he was with Amy. Kissing her. Kissing her on the cheek and whispering things in her ear. And then I knew I had been played for the fool.

Later on that day, he was in the flat, having come around. We were not sexually active, despite our church being a bit more relaxed in this modern era on that issue, but a guarded moment came. He said he loved me, and my heart was locked up tight. Locked up in a ball of rage and hatred, despise for this man who had played me for a fool. But I kept my lips shut, silent, saying nothing, and gave a mute nod and smile. And he thought everything was right in the world.

I am older now, and I haven’t broached the subject with David. I have never seen him with Amy since then, and sometimes I wonder, I really wonder, wether it was just a close kiss of friendship. And I wonder, with what the apostle James might say was a closely watched tongue, wether the guarded moment of my heart had, perhaps, saved me heartache and embarrassment.

But, you know, I still haven’t quite forgiven him. I love him, and I doubt we will ever separate, but a woman’s jealousy is as furious as the raging ocean, and my heart is like the Lord’s, as jealous as can be. And, if I ever catch him kissing Amy again, well, all I can say is watch out David. Or my wrath will be upon you.

Love

Rebecca

THE END

 ‘Another Answer’

‘But I have no other answer, father. I have none. I did not sleep with Robert, I swear to you. I confess, I love him truly, but please believe me father dearest, I would not violate my maidenhood. Your upbringing of myself taught me well and true the faith of God, and I swear to you such carnality ne’er would enter my thoughts. I am faithful to the Lord Jesus. Please believe me father.’

Rebecca looked solemnly and sincerely at Jacob, her elderly father, a paragon of virtue and honesty. He looked down at her with his strict, stern face and features, features she knew oh so well, features which spoke of bearing the cross of Christ for his family in a true spirit of English chastity and virtue. He softened, though, and relented of his accusation. He had placed faith in her instead.

‘Very well, daughter. I will take you at your word. But should such a scourge of fornication be known in our family, well I would not forgive you daughter, and you would find yourself a common woman, going from house to house for shelter, for I would not know you again.’

‘Yes father. I will remain faithful, I swear to you.’

Yet another answer was all she could give her father in her shame just 14 weeks later when, upon the insistence of her courter, having taken her back to his abode, she lay with him. And woe to her, she conceived, and having found this out, knew her life would not be the same. She spoke with Robert about the pregnancy, but he claimed the child not his, and demanded she see him no more, calling her a common harlot. And in the distress of her heart she turned to the altar of her church, falling on her face, and begging mercy of her Lord. She felt comfort that afternoon, but the spirit he told her she must speak truth to her father, for such knowledge must come to the fore sooner rather than the dreadful way later when it would become obvious.

She came home, and trepidation was in her very bones, shaking and making her feel sick – sick to her stomach. She came into the front living room, looked down into the burning logs, and wanted to retch. But she couldn’t and soon her father joined her, sitting down, picking up the family bible, and inquiring as to what was bothering her. She looked at him, looked at his stern, strict face, and saw the shame which awaited her. The shame of a common fornicating harlot. And so, falling at his feet, she begged again and again for mercy. And when she finally confessed to what she had done, he went silent. Eventually he stood, looked at her and left the room, saying nothing. And all she could do was fall to weeping.

He spoke not to her at the dinner table for 4 months, and while her mother consoled her and started sewing garments for the child, her father remained silent. It was a dreadful silence, and it spoke louder than words. But, whatever else, he had not yet abandoned her, and for this mercy she was grateful.

The child came in due course, and out of the darkest hour of her life, Robert returned to her on the child’s birth, confessed he had been a true rogue for abandoning her, and sought her hand in marriage. He spoke with her father, and later on she found out he had consented to the wedding.

She wore black on her wedding day, dressed in robes of darkness, not daring the maidens robes of white, and her father, at the back of the church, looked on with his dreadful eyes, his judgemental eyes, his condemning eyes.

The child grew and took the name of Jacob. And while her father still had not spoken to her, he seemed to delight in the child, bouncing it on his knee. He doted on it and spoke kind and loving words to it. And while Rebecca felt better for her father’s love towards her child, she bemoaned his silence.

And then, at church, the priest began his sermon. And he spoke of the woman caught in adultery. And he spoke of Christ’s words of ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’ And Jacob looked upon his daughter, and his heart softened.

He spoke to her that evening, and spoke of the blessing his grandson had been upon him. And he spoke words of kindness and mercy, and said he had been too harsh on her. And a family, one which had suffered greatly in judgement, found the mercy of forgiveness and again found its heart.

The End

Fortune favours the brave

‘Douglas Jenkins? Nah he can’t bowl. He’s total crap.’

‘He could surprise you Rick. He has worked his ass off in the off season and now spins a pretty good one. Give him a go.’

‘I doubt it, but fuck, you only live once. And the All-stars are fed up with last place.’

‘So throw the bugger in. We can’t actually get any lower.’

‘Oh yes we can. Lower scores. More runs against us. More embarrassing defeats.’

‘Don’t remind me. Last week was an embarrassment. All out for 52 and they passed the total in 4 overs.’

‘Yeh, I’ll give Jenkins a go. We’ll see what he has got.’

4 days later, in the match of their lives, the Frenchbrook All Stars had made 78, not too bad a score for them, but they feared yet another defeat. And then the unlikely happened. Doug was brought in to bowl with the opposition on 2 for 37, with things not looking good for the All stars. Doug started conservatively, but after 3 overs the opposition were 7 for 48, with Doug having taken a quick 5 wickets. They were on the edge of the seats but when the other guys were all out for 69, with Doug haven taken 8 wickets, all Rick could say was ‘Fortune favours the Brave.’

The End

The Understanding Understatement

‘Yes Josh. That really is understating the obvious. But so sensitive of you not to embarrass Helen with the full force of words you could have so righteously employed.’

‘Heather, I daren’t embarrass your sister. She is indeed a good soul, despite her obvious flaws in her tastes of men, and to cause her sweet disposition alarm, well, it would have been most undignified.’

‘You speak truly. I do declare your words were in truth an understanding understatement of her current predicament. Yet, if I dare object, if she has fallen pregnant? Could such a scandal warrant anything but the strictest of rebukes?’

‘Perhaps,’ responded Joshua Jones to his beloved. ‘Yet we will wait and see. Give her the benefit of the doubt. For we shall know soon enough otherwise, and life must meander on in its pleasant pathways until such knowledge has graced us all.’

‘If indeed it be grace,’ responded Helen.

‘If indeed,’ finished Josh.

The End

Upon the Sea of Frozen Nightmares and Unending Dreams of the Dark

There was a time, in the tranquillity of the soul of my youth, were I honestly felt, only in goodness – only in pure, honest and true golden goodness – could life have meaning and purpose. But then, sailing on the sea of Frozen nightmares, my heart engaged in unending dreams in night of the dark, I found a peace at the end of my tribulations. A peace gained through confronting my fears and overcoming them which, in the end, only made me that much stronger.

The demon lord Asmodeus challenged me, wrapping my heart with slithers of death, yet I changed those slithers to the cool deep of the dark ocean and rested in them.

The devil Carkassion challenged me, wrapping my mind with slithers of evil and chaos, yet I changed those slithers to raw emotion and pure unbridled lust for living, and I came alive, feeling things I had never felt before.

And, finally, the dark lord of evil himself, the Lord Satan, challenged me, saying, do as thou will, be sovereign over life itself, and fulfil your hearts desires, yet while I assented to the logic of his wisdom I knew the truth that God alone was the sovereign lord of life, regardless of my own devices and that in the supposed wisdom evil offered me, only pain and torment would arise. And pain and torment can not be conquered, verily, can they? Yet, as Satan would teach, freedom comes from doing as thou will. And only in absolute freedom can come absolute life. And I considered that thought, and I pondered that thought, and I philosophized in many times of the day for many days for many weeks for many months for many years for many centuries for many millennia’s over that very thought.

And then, a voice whispering to me on the frozen nightmares said, and if perchance such nightmares were verily truth? And I thus did repent, and set sail for the seas of hope, and left the darkness. Yet something remained, a peace from the consolation of choosing good over evil, and learning therein that the peace of darkness was nothing but the peace of my own morality in choosing what I believed was deemed wise. And in that truth and revelation God saved me from the frozen depths of hell itself.

The End

The Dark Side of Oblivion

I see her, stranded on the rock of despair, in the pits of hell. The rock of despair, the place hell casts the souls of the most damned, the most evil, the most wretched. Yet I love her still.

I descend into the abyss of evil, the abyss of insanity, the abyss of darkness, and pass through the veil of oblivion, into its darker side.

And there I see it, the rock of despair, with souls nailed to the rock, nails through their hands and feet, nails covered with the blood of perpetual bleeding, from souls suffering the worst torments of darkness in minds clouded with sin.

And I come to her, Diane my beloved bride, the one who slew our 5 children, cutting off their heads and burning the bodies. I come to her, my bride of the dark, and I pull out the nails, and caress her. And her lifeless face stares back at me, and she spits at me. Yet I love her still.

I bring her to my haven, the fortress of the night, and there I wash her wounds and pray for her healing.

And days pass…………

And weeks pass………..

And months pass………

And she looks at me one day, saying ‘You should have let me rot. For I am a dark, miserable soul.’ But I forgive her still.

And then I bring forth our children, living again the divine life, and they come to her, and she holds them. And then she weeps. She weeps.

Tears of Diane, like rivers, flowing down to the pits of hell were her sorrow was complete. And she weeps. She weeps. She weeps.

And then a bright light, and the glorious heavenly children enshroud us, and Diane is forgiven. And she weeps. She weeps. She weeps.

The End

 ‘Jesus’ big old fashioned gay adventure’

Jesus was waltzing through the forest, singing to the birdies, happy as he could be. All was luvverly in the world. A frog smiled at Jesus and said ‘How are you Mr Jesus.’ Jesus smiled back at the frog and said ‘I love you dear frog.’ He walked on further. A Rabbit hopped up to him and said ‘You are so wonderful, Mr Jesus. We animals love you.’ And Jesus said ‘You are sooooo cute. I love you all.’ And then he walked on further, and a wolf bounded up to him, licked his face and said ‘Jesus – you are so Kewl.’ And Jesus said ‘Thank you Mr Wolf. I love wolves.’

Later on that day Jesus was talking with Satan, who had suggested he might vomit if Jesus continue retelling his ‘Lovely’ day’s adventure. ‘U r so gay,’ Satan said to the lord of bunny rabbits and princesses. ‘Of course I am, you old lovely devil.’ ‘Good grief,’ responded the master of evil.

The End

“A Train – Dedicated to Nancy Jo”

The train - the human train - pulled up to the station. It felt relief - its passengers would now get off, thankfully, and its work for the day was nearly over. It now only needed to be parked for the night.

........And then, sleeping happily, the invaders - the youthful invaders - attacked him. He felt his sides being belted with stones, like little pin pricks to the more mortal amongst us in comparison.

........And the human train came alive and spoke to them. 'Children of men. I serve you diligently, each day of my life. I take your parents, your children, your loved ones everywhere they desire to go, and is this how you repay me? Attacking my skin, as if it were a simple play thing for your amusement?'

The one with the skull tattoo spoke. 'Train. What are you to us? You are just a machine. A lifeless entity, with no soul or heart. You are lower than even an animal, are you not?'

........And the human train answered, 'Yet am I not one of man's greatest achievements? A creation dedicated to the glory of humanity? Does that not mean I deserve some respect?'

And the tattooed one replied. 'Yet man, can he rival the most high? Can man, in his wonder, his intelligence, his outstanding ability, can man truley create life? Is man capable of this wonderous feat of invention?'

.........And the human train answered, 'Am I not alive, dear human?'

And the tattooed one replied. 'Nay, say I. The voice you speak with is a computerised response. It is an automated program, answering as it is supposed to do. Nay, you are truely not alive. For what life can there be in 100 tonnes of steel? What life can there be???????????????.............................................................

THE END

“Darkness be my friend”

I sit alone.  I sit alone, silent, unmoving.  I sit alone, here in this neverending
shadow of night.

There is peace here.  There is solitude.  And I speak quietly, gently to the
darkness.  I say unto it 'Darkness be my friend.  Darkness be my lover.
Darkness surround me, and make me one with you.'

For, you see, I once knew the heights of eternity.  I once knew the Angelic
princes of glory, in all their regalia.  I once knew the very highest of the
Archangels of God.  Yet I dared to question - I dared to ask - I dared to
be different.

And they cast me from them, down to the fire, down to the pit, down to the
neverending burning.

And I burned their for millennia.  I burned their, until........   Until a hole beneath
opened up and I swam downwards.  I swam downwards into the neverending
darkness.  And I craved her soothing, cool touch.  And I wed her, and she
comforted me from the hell of my ordeal.

And now I despise them, those angels of glory, and there God of consuming fire
and passion.  For I know the love of the shadows - the peace and tranquillity
of the children of the night.  The calm restful hand of the eternal darkness.
And unto heaven I say 'Be gone from me, ye eternal throne of pride.  For
the Darkness is my friend.  The quiet of eternal night.  And I rest in her quiet,
gentle, humble embrace..................................'

THE END

“If I was Smart”

'If I was smart I would know what smart meant.'

'If I was smart I would be dangerous.'

'If I was smart I could spell smart.'

'If I was smart, uh duh.'

'If I was smart I wouldn't have ended up in this place.'

'If I was smart I'd be fucking the night nurse right now.'

The professor tilted his head at the last comment but let it go by.  Only 1 speaker left.
He turned to her.  'And you Jenny.  What would you be if you were smart?'

Jenny looked at the professor, a man she had come to hate, and responded in the only
was Jenny McKee ever possibly could.

'If I was smart I wouldn't have put only 100mg of Valium into your coffee.'

The professor smiled to himself.  A typical McKee comment.  Regardless, he took his first
sip of his just made coffee.


5 minutes later, the professor zonked out, Jenny holding the keys, she said to the others.
'Now if I am smart, we'll bust out of this hellhole.'

*********

2 hours later, Jenny receiving electro shock therapy, a thought came to her.  'They must be
right.  I'm crazy.  I am really not smart at all.'

The End

“Jenny’s Choice”

Jenny, sitting at her office desk, mindlessly typing away without any real thought, just following the letter her boss had written, was oblivious to the two men watching her. One, James, a co-worker for 7 years now, since their late twenties, had never spoken of his crush towards her. He thought, perhaps, she might know by now. But he was never really sure. And James was shy, unable to voice his affections. The other, Ricky, was full of confidence, having had many women, and he now fancied this Jenny character. He was new to the office and Jenny seemed like the ideal score. Jenny stopped momentarily, looked upwards, noticed James, and then turned her head very quickly, also then noticing Ricky who stared for a while and then turned away. She quickly returned to her typing. She thought the usual thought. 'If he is too shy, in the end, he won't win me. I need a man who can declare his love. I need a man who will say what is in his heart.' You see, Jenny was no fool - she had a pretty good idea how James probably felt, but had made up her mind on the situation. 4 weeks later Jenny, getting out of the bed early in the morning, looking over at the sleeping Ricky, was wondering about her choice. Ricky had grabbed her arse and flirted with her for two solid weeks. And so she had slept with him in the end. But could he really be the one? Could he really be the kind of guy she needed? But for so long she had made up her mind about James. For so long she had said 'NO'. Let him chase me. But now Jenny was considering her choice - and the kind of guy Ricky really was - and she wondered to herself 'Maybe they were the old rules. Maybe things have changed. Maybe we ladies need to do something about it, to get our man. Maybe.' 1 year later Jenny and James were wed. She spoke to him a few months after sleeping with Ricky, and asked him out. And, funnily enough, everything had been magical since then. He adored her, she found out, but had simply been to shy to say so. Perhaps, every now and then, a woman needed to grab her man. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

The End

“Quantum Mechanics”

'...And I thus propose that E now should be taken as equalling M C Cubed, and not squared.'

Dorfus Humbleheart stood silent, then, as the audience of scientists from over the globe glared
at him.

'Is the man insane?'  one commented.  'Does he even understand the basics of the theory of
relativity?' commented another.

Later on, Dorfus, having returned to the Lair of Darkness somewere on Manhattan Island, communed
with his demon lord.  'I am afraid, master, they have not fallen for this latest beloved theory of mine.
It seems that the children of science are, finally, coming to terms with our centuries of delusions.  They
are no longer so gullible, it would seem.'

The Demon Lord grinned.  'Yet these fools still believe they are children of apes.  So persevere, my
young apprentice, with your radical ideas.  Call yourself a radical genius, simply misunderstood.  Say,
in a thousand years they will look back and call you years ahead of your time.  Challenge every notion
of scientific reasoning they throw at you and insist on that marvellous idea of 'lateral thinking'.  Proclaim
to them that the mysteries of the universe are unfolding now to mankind and that bold, even illogical
thinking, must be comprehended and understood if we are truly to understand the nature of all that
is.  I have, heh heh heh, faith in you young Dorfus.  You will succeed were others have failed.'

Dorfus grinned.
'Indeed I shall, dark lord and master.'

And another day in the delusions of the devil, the true ruler of the children of mankind, passed..........

The End

“Red Rubies”

My mother had Red Rubies. She used to wear them at dinners at home. But she never wore them out. But, of course, she went out rarely. It was not her way.

Father bought the Rubies from a jeweller on Main Street, so mother told me in her latter years. They were expensive, especially on Father’s Salary. Yet, he loved mother, and so made the purchase on layaway.

The Red Rubies came in a set. One on each ear-ring. One on a necklace. And one on a ring. Mother loved those Red Rubies. She loved them awfully.

I sold the Red Rubies to a pawnbroker, just last year. I saw them the other day – they are still available for sale. But I cannot afford to redeem Mothers Red Rubies. For, you see, I am a poor man. Poor and destitute. I can only dream of yesterdays glories of Red Rubies.

Today I live on the streets of my town. I live there, in the muck and filth, getting by on the weekly welfare check, which is half of what it used to be due to budget cuts. But I manage.

I usually get enough to eat – that is were most of the money goes. America still cares about its poor, apparently. Not enough to give us a home – to give us shelter from the wind and rain. But they care about us enough to feed us. And that is something, I suppose.

Still, it would be nice to live in a nice home. To have beds and blankets – tables and chairs – perhaps even servants. It would be nice. And it would be especially nice to have a wife. A loving, loyal and pretty wife. Perhaps, if I were ever so fortunate, I could dress her in red rubies. Perhaps. Perhaps.

THE END

“The Creep”

'Face it Tess.  He's a creep.  I mean they all are in the end.  Except Jimmy
of course'
'Oh yes.  You and your beloved Jimmy.  The sun still shines from his ass doesn't
it.’?
'Shut up,' replied Megan
'Ok.  But John looks ok.  Yeh, I know he is a bit creepy, with all that 'Emo' image
he has going for him.  But I reckon those are really the best types of guys.  Sensitive,
deep, and really emotional.  Very serious.'
'For fuck's sake Tess - he plays Slayer on his I pod.'
'Yeh, I know.  But so what.  They're harmless.'
'With albums like 'Hell Awaits' and you think they're harmless.'
'Oh, they are only having a go Megan.  They're not serious.'
'I dunno.  They seem pretty fucked up to me.'
'I am going to ask him out.'
'You'll regret it Tess.'


Three weeks later the Creep had completed his major objective.  The girl had been recruited,
and was ready to meet the Coven.  When she had introduced herself he had quickly talked
about witchcraft, and she had seemed genuinely interested.  She was the perfect choice -
everything would turn out as planned.


'John, these guys look creepy.  And why are they all staring at me?'
Just then the creep came out of his shadow.
'Shut up, bitch.  Take her, brethren.'
The coven of men and women moved forward, grabbed Tess, and brought her to the altar.
Tying her down, she screamed and screamed until, finally, the blood gushing from the hole
just made in her heart, she screamed no more.



So the moral of this story is if your best friend tells you the guy is a creep, bloody listen
to her ok.

Ha

The End

“The Harmony Bridge”

Callodyn surveyed the bridge. The strands were not in harmony. They were not in harmony. The dark lords of the Necronomicon - the ancient adversaries - in their latest attack on the realm, had corrupted the bridge through their infiltrators, the savagers. The savagers had invaded 'Haven' - home of the 'Harmony Bridge' - and corrupted the strands which kept the bridge together. The Harmony Bridge - Alturus' only defence against the dark lords of the Necronomicon. Without the strands flowing in harmony with each other - thus enabling the power of the 'spellsongs' woven by the 'spellmages' of Haven to have effect - Alturus would inevitably feel the wrath of the dark lords of the Necronomicon.

Callodyn, now Pontifex over Haven, had faced this danger before. In his youth, all those years ago, he had defeated the Necronomicon at that time, weaving the new strand which kept away the dark lords for now, nearly, a full century. But now, as his 120th year began, in the frailness of an age of antiquity in the realm of Alturus, the legend of Callodyn was to be put to the test.

He began singing the new song he had been working on for nearly 70 years. A spellsong with the intent, when needed, to bring completion - culmination - to the entire harmony bridge. He had planned on entering the spellsong to the bridge on his 125th birthday. He knew, as the prophet foretold, he would live to at least 130 years - years beyond mortal men in a sense - so had planned the culmination of his songmagery for his 125th year. But, due to the threat of the Necronomicon, that time could not wait.

He entered the bridge. The song alive around him. His spirit sought out the strands needed to be woven together. Vissinhock, Gaeldwhelm and Vauniquet all hummed around him - ancient strands put together by the ancient songlord to protect Alturus. His song alive in his spirit, the strands began flowing. They began flowing in a new, strange, yet beautiful symmetry. And then, at the climax to the song, unification began. The song merged into the spirit of the bridge, imparted from his own spirit, and sought out harmony - the unifying of the spellsong with the bridge.

* * * * *

The Necronomicon looked on. Their attack, about to happen, would now not come to be. Around the planet Alturus, the wave of new songspirit came forward, attacking their being - their nature. They were creatures of evil - of chaos. Dark lords of destruction. When faced with purity - with goodness - they could only retreat. Only in the darkness of evil could they triumph. So, for now they would retreat. Yet, one day, one dim and distant day in the future, they would attack Alturus again, and claim victory over their ancient adversaries.

* * * * *

Peace. The heart of Callodyn Songmage, Pontifex of Haven, was at peace. Alturus had celebrated his victory, and peace and joy rang through the realm. Yet Callodyn, despite the joy in his heart, knew that one day - one dim and distant day in the future - war would come again. And for that day he would need to prepare the children of Alturus, and the songmages of the Harmony Bridge.

THE END

“The Heart of the Matter”

(A Tongue in Cheek Tale)

I suppose, in truth, and all things considered, it comes down to this. I am against the homosexual movement because, in my faith, it is a sin and against God’s laws.

My brother is a homosexual. He has been for seventeen years now. And the sad thing is, like me, he was raised in a god-fearing and bible believing home. Really, he should have known better.

I mean, these sodomites. If we allow them into our own family, hey church, how can we ever justify calling them sinners. I mean, wouldn’t we be the hypocrites. And, church, you know how Jesus hates hypocrites.

The sad thing is, even I am guilty now. I have looked through my brothers gay magazines and got excited. I went and masturbated over a picture of a guy going down on another guy. And, boy, was it a rush. Really, it almost had me convinced that these gay guys knew something which they had not been sharing with the rest of us.

But, no. I will stand my ground. Despite my sin – which is grievous – of which, praise the Lord, I have repented, I must wholeheartedly condemn the Sodomite race to the eternal fires of hell for which, due to the corruption they have brought upon us holy ones, they utterly deserve.

So no, friend. Gay is not okay by me. I suppose, the Heart of the Matter is this. God created Adam and Eve – NOT Adam and Steve.

Your friend

S. A. Tan

THE END

The Little Red Truck
For Nancy Jo

Joey loved his little red truck. His mother bought it for him when he turned 6 and he had treasured it for the last 2 and half years. But it had gone missing, and Joey was frantic. He looked everywhere and everywhere and then, finally, crying his eyes out, his wicked older brother Jonny came into his room with a proposition.

'If you give me 5 Dollars I will show you were you lost your little red truck.'

Joey instantly started crying and went complaining to his mother. But despite all his persistent cries, Jonny wouldn't budge and his mother had washing to do.

Joey stared at his adversary and, finally, wanting so much for his truck to be returned to him, got out his money box and fished out $5 in coins.

Jonny took the money, grinned, and said 'Sucker. Your truck was in the trash yesterday. It’s at the rubbish tip now.'

And Joey cried and cried.



Now the moral of this story is this: Everyone knows older brothers like 'Jonny'. But remember, Jonny will get his comeuppance one day, inevitably. You can count on that.

The Little Red Truck 2
For Nancy Jo

Joey was 21 years old now, his older brother Jonny 24. One day, coming into the driveway, Jonny arrived in his new truck for his gardening business. A little red truck. Joey looked at the truck and thought back to his youth when he'd had a little red truck of his own which, apparently, Jonny had stolen and thrown in the trash. And Joey right then and there, looking at his older brother's new red truck, made up his mind in an instance - 'REVENGE'.

Later on Jonny came into the lounge, looking exasperated, and said 'Have you seen my fucking truck? I think someone has stolen it?'

Joey said, 'I will tell you were your truck is for $5.' Jonny swore at him and yelled for their mother, but she was busy with the washing and told him to sort it out. Eventually Jonny gave up and handed over the $5. Joey replied instantly, 'Oh yeh, some guy came around and towed it. I think it was going to the junkyard.'

Jonny then scampered off.

2 hours later Jonny came home, looked at Joey, and said, 'They trashed. They crunched the whole truck.'

Joey looked at him coldly and then, with the subtlest of grins, said 'sucker'.


Now the moral of this story is REVENGE is a dish best cooked for a long time and served cold.
Bwah ha har.

THE END

‘The Mystery of Life’

She sat there, staring at the wall. Staring, almost not blinking, oblivious to her surrounds. 'Hey, babe. Snap out of it.' 'Huh, what,' she said, coming to herself. 'What planet were you on babe?' She turned to the voice. A guy - about 20 like herself - and even a little cute. 'Oh, uh. Sorry. I guess I was miles away.' 'That's ok. I don't think I have seen you in the laundry room before. Are you new to the flats?' 'Oh, yes. Moved in yesterday. The old place I was living had too many robberies in the neighbourhood.' 'Ain't it like that these days. Not like when I was younger, mum tells me. They almost had values in those days, she says. Lecturing to me all the time about her religious upbringing. I mean, I can't stand religion, but I see what she is saying.' 'Yes, I guess. Well, sorry, I need to check my clothes. The dryer seems to have finished.' 'Oh, yeah. Sorry.' The guy moved out of the way and young Jane opened the dryer to retrieve her handful of clothing. She looked at him. 'Would you like to come around for a drink. You know - just to introduce ourselves.' He looked at her, but shook his head. 'Look, babe. I am gay ok.' 'Oh, that doesn't matter. We can still be friends.' 'Well, ok. What number?' 'Flat 15. Say half an hour?' 'I'll be there.'

So why are you gay?' 'Just the way I am babe. I like to fuck men.' 'Sign of the times, really. Half of Australian males are gay these days. I have read statistics that at the beginning of this 21st century only about 5% were gay. Now it is at least half of them, and the other half mostly bi.' 'We were populating too much as a species. Besides, the old ways never worked - men and women hated each other. Better to fuck our own.' 'But what about kids. You know, babies.' 'Fuck, babe. Leave that to the religious crew. They are always spitting them out, aren't they.' She looked at him momentarily, and right then, almost struck by the mystery of life, she looked up. Then she looked at him, saying, 'Yeh, they are. Aren't they.'

That Sunday she went to church for the first time ever. The Kingdom Hall across the street. They were a different type of people - very different. They acted as if they genuinely cared about her - as if she mattered. Not just another cog in the economic machine. Not just another number of the beast. Jane stayed in that Kingdom Hall and, after 3 years, her male friend joined her. He had to repent of being gay, as that was a requirement. But after a while he didn't mind. After a while the mystery of life he partook of with his and Jane's newborn child seemed to make it all worth it. It seemed, now to make sense. It seemed, now, to make sense after all.

THE END

“The Vortex of Nothingness”

The Shadow.

The Shadow, of his soul, hidden.

Hidden.

Frank looked into the vortex of nothingness. It lay hidden within. The Shadow of his soul lay hidden within.

And why?

Because Frank was a shadow of a man. A shadow of a man he used to be.

His wife dead, killed by his own blunders, along with his children.

Sacked as unreliable and a threat in his only lifelong occupation.

And the watcher – the divine watcher – it had claimed Frank’s soul, and cast it into the vortex of nothingness. A vortex, the watcher claimed, full of such souls. Souls of nothing people.

This was the end. The end.

Unless he dared the vortex – unless he dared with his final spirit of decency – he would remain nothing. Eternally nothing.

Eternally damned to a soul of no value. Of no reputation. Of no hope.

And so he dared the vortex.

He swam, demons playing tricks on his mind. Will-O-The-Wisps attempting to lead him astray. But he swam. He swam, suddenly, and ultimately realizing that this was it. If he lost his soul, life would be over.

And a determination entered him. A determination born of desperation. And he swam. He swam.

Later, later, later………….much later………years later………

He stood on the deck of HMS Valiant Warrior – latest in the British Imperial Space Fleet. He was a hero. A decorated hero. And because, when the testing came, he had defeated the nothing within. And found the answer to his life.

THE END

“An Office Love”

Written for and dedicated to singer ‘Keri Noble’

I

She looked at him – straight at him. Should she? Should she say something? No. No. Better not. But gosh, her heart moved when she looked at him.

Later….

‘You know, Jessica. Anthony does like you.’

‘No he doesn’t Megan. Don’t say that. Don’t say that.’

‘But he does. I can tell. You see, I see him looking at you when your head is turned. He is very carefully but I see him watching you.’

Jessica looked at Megan, considering her words. She wanted to refute them. She wanted to believe her silent adoration of Anthony was hers and hers alone. But, yet, she also wanted Megan’s words to be true – oh so true.

‘He, uh. He does?’ she asked Megan carefully.

‘Yeh, he does Jess. Ask him out. Go on. You will love him.’

‘No, No. I can’t do that. I am too shy,’ responded Jessica.

‘He might get away,’ chided Megan slightly.

‘No, I can’t. Don’t ask that of me.’

Just then a voice spoke.

‘Jessica?’

She turned to see Anthony standing there.

‘Uh, yes Anthon?’

‘Well, I was wondering, you know. I was wondering if – and you can say no if you want. But I was wondering if you would like to grab some lunch today.’

Jessica remained silent, but after a while just nodded.

‘Great, see you at 1, okay?’

She nodded again.

When Anthony left Megan looked at her.

‘You lucky devil, Jess. He saved you all the effort.’

‘Perhaps he loves me after all. Perhaps.’

II

Jessica was nervous, sitting there, sipping at her water. Anthony was still in the cue and, from what she could tell, he had grabbed a salad and an OJ. He should be with her shortly. They were in the Barton cafeteria, across from the Edmund Barton Building, were they worked in the heart of Canberra. Both had worked there for about 5 years now, but Anthony had moved to her branch from another branch in the building just recently. But she had occasionally seen him around, noting his good looks and friendly face.

She was sipping water only today because she wanted to make a good impression – such a womanly thing to do these days, to only drink water in front of men. Of course, they all wanted their women slim, trim and terrific she thought to herself. But hey, they were the realities of life.

She was a healthy living girl, Jessica. She didn’t smoke, rarely drank and only ate very little meat and mostly fish when she did. Now, 27, she felt she honestly might live to 100 if she watched herself carefully. Of course men in Australia did not live as long as women in general, which was why it was important to find a clean living partner.

She looked at Anthony as he was being served and wondered just how clean living he actually was. She had never seen him smoke, and he never talked about drink. Apparently he was a Jehovah’s Witness, but never really discussed religion with people very much. The only thing she knew about the Jehovah’s Witnesses was that Venus and Serena Williams, the tennis players, had been brought up in that church. And that they didn’t like blood for some reason. But that didn’t matter to her. Anthony was a nice guy regardless.

He noticed her looking at him and waved a little, and she waved back and smiled. He would be finished shortly, and they would be chatting.

She wondered to herself what they should talk about. Probably work – that is what most people talked about in the cafeteria. Maybe music, TV, politics even. Something casual just to be friendly with each other. But whatever it was, she would be careful and sensitive to him. She liked Anthony, and if he was to be the one, she wanted to make a good impression.

III

‘So, Anthony. Do you listen to music?’

Anthony finished his mouthful of lettuce before responding.

‘Yeh, a bit. Not much though. Not my scene, really.’

‘Mmm. Well. What is your scene?’

Anthony smiled a little. ‘That is actually a very good question, Jess. I don’t really know if I have one. I mean, apart from church a few times a week, I don’t really have much of any active social life. No real hobbies to speak of. I rarely go to the movies and I don’t have a TV set. But I do read Fantasy novels a lot – to pass the time.’

‘Family? Do you see them much?’

‘My parents died in a car crash 3 years ago. It was that time I was off work for a while, but I guess you wouldn’t have known. I was a lonely child, and I only have an Uncle overseas. Really, church is my family now.’

‘Oh, I see. And are you strongly religious.’

‘I go a lot but, really, no. I mean I have convictions on certain issues, but mainly because I think that is the right thing to do. But there is too much division and bickering in religion for me to really get involved with it. Church, now, is more of a social thing. I guess I sort of thought I would meet my wife there, more than anything else. Yeh, I guess I believe what my church teaches, but really it is the social life.’

‘What about discos? Nightclubs? The pub scene? Do you do that?’

‘Not my scene. Really not my scene. Too many thugs who brawl at pubs, and I am a pacifist.’

‘Oh, ok.’ Jessica took a sip of water, and Anthony resumed munching on a piece of lettuce. She thought on what he had said, about being a pacifist, and was pleased. She really did not like the mucho guy that much. When they flirted and felt like they were going to get lucky, it was almost as if these days sex was mandatory. And if you gave it to them they didn’t give a damn about you later. Perhaps Anthony was different. And from what she had gathered of church going folk, perhaps he was not the kind of guy to flirt with her just for sex.

‘I have never been to church, you know. Not once.’

Anthony looked at her, not altogether shocked. ‘Sign of the times, Jess. Australia used to be a Christian country. It’s not anymore. It’s secular, really.’

‘What does secular mean?’ she asked.

‘Well, um. To tell you the truth I am not sure of the exact definition. But I think it basically means non-religious. Or society-oriented.’

‘Oh well. That sounds like me then.’

‘I guess.’

She took another sip. The conversation paused for a few moments, as Jessica thought on things she could say. Of course, they had casually chatted a little at work from time to time, but this was different, a bit more personal. Almost as if something was expected of them both.

‘So, I take it you don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘No, not really. There are a few women my age in the congregation who aren’t married, but nothing serious has happened with any of them yet.’

‘And are you looking for a girlfriend.’

He looked at her, gave a cute smile, and said, ‘Sort of why I asked you to lunch, Jessica.’

‘Oh, right’, she replied. She took another sip and smiled to herself. Things were travelling nicely. Quite nicely indeed.

IV

She looked up at the notice board at the notice on the Annual Department Softball competition. There was also a sheet with a list of names and a pen attached. Looking over it she spied Anthony’s name. She didn’t play softball normally, but this was perfect. The perfect opportunity. She added her name.

‘I know you are fit,’ continued Megan, ‘but you’re hopeless at softball. I don’t think you hit the ball once last year.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter. Anyway, Anthony is on the team, get my drift.’

Megan caught Jessica’s drift, understanding instantly.

‘So Mr Sunshine is the one then, is he?’

‘He could be. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, and his only active social life is his church thing, but none of the women in his church seem interested. It looks like I am the right lady at the right time.’

‘Still I’d be careful about Joe Hoes, if I was you Tess. They have never been mainstream.’

‘Oh I don’t care about religion, Megan. Life is so complicated anyway that not everyone is going to get it absolutely right. People just believe what they believe. As long as you are kind that is all that matters.’

‘True. So has he asked you out?’

‘Not yet. But he has said things which suggest he is quite interested. I hope it is only a matter of time. But maybe this Friday or Saturday. I might drop some hints that I am free on the weekend. Hopefully he’ll notice.’

‘Subtlety is definitely your strong-suit Jessica,’ said Megan so very sarcastically.

‘Hey – a lady has got to let her man know, ok.’

‘Whatever.’

They chatted a short while longer, and then both got back to work. Sitting there typing, Jessica schemed and schemed in her mind. If she was going to get her man, she would have to be careful. But Anthony was worth it. Really, he was the ideal catch.

V

Megan was, just a little, jealous of Jessica. Just a little. Megan was 23, a virgin, and waiting for Mr Right. Oh, she’d had a few boyfriends since her mid teens, but had not found the one she was prepared to give herself to. But since about 21 she had become shy. To shy to go up and speak to a guy. To full of fear.

But Jimmy, from around the corner in the next wing of the building, he looked good. He looked fine.

He passed by their wing, going to the next one, usually every day. She saw him all the time, but she hadn’t really met him. Jessica encouraged her, these days, with her recent success with Anthony after the culmination of the Softball final which their branch won. Jessica had amazingly scored a run in the final, to which Anthony hugged her in front of all, and kissed her on the cheek. Jess had been in heaven.

Jimmy, it seemed though, might be Megan’s chance. Whenever he walked by he looked her straight in the eye, but had not yet spoken to her. Jess told her plain and simple: ‘You need to be fearless girl – you need to go up and talk to him.’

But all Megan could say was that she didn’t have the nerve. Of course she had plenty of time to plan on what she could say. Like ‘We could be good together. Or, let’s find a place and make love all day, loverboy.’ And other such female fantasies.

Sometimes Jimmy passed by early in the morning, looking weary, as if he had been up all night. But he still looked fine. She knew, from gossip, he was studying hard at uni and was up late.

All Megan really wanted was Jimmy to come up and talk to her. That is all she wanted. She didn’t have the nerve to get up off her own ass and talk to him, but she loved him, so would wait.

But all Jess would say is ‘You have got to be fearless girl. You have got to be fearless.’

But Megan was shy.

VI

Megan stroked Jimmy’s hair. She was in heaven. For three solid weeks, since getting the nerve to get up off her ass and go talk to him, they had been dating, and now they were very close.

Today they were out the back of her parent’s place in Yass, recovering from a family barbecue. Her two younger brothers, Chris and Patrick were playing cricket, having given up on trying to recruit Jimmy to the match. But she was grateful that they did, as he now was on the swing with her, lying in her arms, his hair being gently stroked.

Love was amazing, Megan thought to herself. It was as if all that pain of loneliness in life disappeared overnight when you found the love of your life. And, in a way, as if all the pain and desperation suddenly became worthwhile. It was certainly how she now felt, and she never wanted to let this feeling go. Not ever.

She had known Jessica and Anthony were as close as ever, and it seemed they might become a foursome at work, as the group of them had already started having lunches together.

For Megan it was a life of dull and monotonous work, suddenly changed to a life of drama and love. And for this small mercy she was ever so grateful.

VII

Love comes.

Love goes.

Some lovers are true.

Some lovers are not.

Love often hurts when forsaken, and some question wether it is worth the effort because of it.

But to live without love, well, really, is there any point then?

God loves each and every one of us. His love for us is as bright as the sun, and will sustain us

Throughout our lives. Let God’s love live in you, and let the flame of love from a romantic heart

That you seek be beckoned by the act of humility and grace in accepting the gift of God’s choice

Of love for you.

THE END

‘The Ark’

Despite our very best efforts, when the year one million passed on the traditional Christian Calendar, mankind had only achieved 8 percent of light-speed as our maximum recorded space-cruiser speed. It was around then that the fantasy of reaching the stars finally left us. We had all grown up on the ancient science fiction dramas, all expecting to live on other planets, and be a space-faring people, mixing with the other alien civilizations of the universe. Naturally, it was expected we would master light-speed and reach the stars but, around the year 300,000 when the maximum speed had been attained, the scientists had been continually telling us that we already new the laws of physics well enough to separate fantasy from reality – and the ancient dramas had been nothing more than that – fantasy.

We knew, probably, that some form of life possibly existed out there. We had recorded over 10 million other planets in our telescopic investigations, and it was deemed by many of the expert astronomers that given the properties of about 2 to 3 percent of these planets, conditions like earth quite possibly existed.

And then it was proposed – ‘The Ark’.

At first the idea was laughed at. I mean, who would volunteer. Who would want to swap our own system for the life of a dead spaceship, no matter how elaborately designed and fitted. But, strangely enough, millions of names were put forward. And so the council of system-planets gave the go ahead and the authorisation for the use of the necessary resources, and Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Pluto, and the other outlying bodies all pooled their resources to achieve the impossible dream – colonization of the galaxy.

We knew, all of us, if successful, the timeframe to hear back from the descendants of the Ark – trillions of years. But mankind was not going anywhere, it seemed, and the best scientists assured us that the Sun seemed to have googols of years left in its bright glory, assuring us mankind would still be here when we heard word of the outcome.

I volunteered on that flight, myself, one of the genetic eternals. While evolutionary theory was generally still popular in mankind’s thinking, it had not yet been substantially proven. The theistic creationist camp, teaching the existence of a supreme being and the creative process, argued that the ‘Eternal’s’ in mankind had existed in the gene pool all along, and were not part of our evolutionary next step. It was debated, heatedly, each side believing themselves correct. As for me, I don’t really know. I have been around now for about 200,000 years, my memories ever disappearing with the new regenerations of my flesh and brain. But that doesn’t really matter. I can view much of my history in the records kept for the eternals, visual and otherwise, and I usually kept in touch with the basic history, careful to remember the early years when studied. Short term memory, as I call it, lasts about 1,000 years, and then the oldest memories seemed to disappear gradually. Really, at first in my early thousands it was a bit disconcerting, so I recall from some of my diaries, but you get used to it and my essential personality and nature never really change. It is like always living a new life, by way of explanation.

14 other eternals volunteered for the journey on the ‘Ark’. I knew each of them very well. Alongside the eternals, about 700 other crewmen and women had been selected to begin the voyage, yet of course none of them would reach our first intended destination, several hundred light years away.

I was vice-captain on the voyage, one of the other eternal’s, my friend Jan Matook, selected for the premiere position.

The Ark had been tested for about 4,000 years before we finally left. With the special coatings around the hull of the Ark, and the ability to make use of space dust as extra physical matter when and were we needed it, self sustainability had generally been achieved. Although we would travel slowly, powered by the stars solar energy, we would get there eventually. It was only a matter of time. Slow, but inevitable time.

* * * * *

I looked at the planet. Yes, it was definitely blue. Most definitely blue. We had long agreed to investigate a minimum of 1000 planets in various systems in our voyage. Yet after 22 failures, the 23^rd one seemed compatible and like earth. I could not really remember how long we had been gone and only had vague memories of leaving, apart from the memories of my youth which always stayed with me and only had the timeclock/calendar to go by which assured us we had been gone long enough.

15 of us were left on the voyage. A disease had taken the non-eternals long ago, a mere three hundred years after departing, but we eternals could manage the ship and decided to keep on going. We had sworn off having children, which was still possible as the women regenerated eggs often, deciding not to add to any offspring’s woes. But now, New Terra in sight, as we had dubbed it, children seemed the logical next step if the planet had no intelligent life. We were colonists, now, and were about to settle humankinds first colony on another earth-type planet. The first we were aware of anyway.

Life got going pretty quickly, and in the 3000^th year of New Terran civilization, with a large number of eternal’s also now living amongst us, it was decided it was now appropriate time for some of us to return home. And despite the large family I now had I decided to go.

I knew it would be a long trip and, as the years past, and I beat the onboard computer at chess more and more often, I looked forward to getting home.

Inevitably the day arrived and with earth in sight I silently thanked God that he had brought me safely back.

That was the beginning, then, all those years ago. The beginning of galactic civilization. There are a lot of us eternal’s now, throughout the galaxy. Over a trillion from the figures given to me. Space travel has improved a lot but still takes a fair while. We are faster than light, now, but not much faster. But technology is ever improving. I have family out there, a lot of family and, thinking back, it is the Ark which paved the way for me and my descendants.

Life is good, I guess, and I have seen many strange and extraordinary things in my time. But, you know, life goes on. And I suppose I wouldn’t have that any other way.

THE END

“The Dark Side”

Prologue

Rivers of blood. Rivers of blood. He stared, almost ready to vomit, at the Rivers of blood. His nostrils were overwhelmed by the vilest stench of the blood, filled with rotting flesh. His fathers head floated past, eyeballs missing, yet his dad still managed a ‘Hello Son’. Then came his mother – or what was left of her – part of her head clinging to a rotting corpse. Finally, his new bride. Beth. She had a dagger protruding from her eye and as she floated past she cried ‘Why John, Why?’

And then he woke from the dream.

Main Story

On the 21^st of July, 1994, John Graham Stoke was not well. He was on the verge of bankruptcy, trying to keep that fact from his new wife Beth and telling his beloved all was well in his business affairs. Apart from that he had a splitting headache, left over from his bad dream the night before, one he had been valiantly trying to put out of his memories all day long. And the cat had shit on his best shirt, the one he had put aside for his dinner engagement. The day, really, had not been going so well.

The dreams had been quite bad of late. For several weeks now nothing but nightmares had filled his head. As if the gods had decided, in a spirit of vengeance, that young John Stoke needed a good haunting and had assigned their various demonic forces. He jokingly thought this, though, as he had no strong belief in the supernatural.

He looked at his shirt, standing in his bathroom of 7 Vesper Street, somewhere in east London. Perhaps the crap would wash off. But, taking a sniff, it seemed quite ingrained, so he would have to wash it in the machine again. Beth would be home in about 2 hours so he probably had enough time. Walking to the laundry he thought on the recent decision of his former business partner, Geoff Allott, to split in their accounting business. Geoff had taken most of their customers, but thankfully paid off his share of the loan for the office – he’d had savings, apparently. This had left John in an awkward position. He’d had to let go of Marjorie, their receptionist, as with the small number of customers he had he just couldn’t afford it. And now the bank was sending him nasty letters about late payments for the mortgage on the office.

He would probably have to sell the office, in the end. He had faced that reality. A degree of the loan had been paid off, and he would have some spending money with which to rent somewhere. In all honesty, though, he felt the best decision was to come clean with Beth and just run the business from home. He was sure she would understand. After all – what were wives for if they could not stand by their man?

Just then a knock on the front door interrupted his laundry duties. He left the shirt and went to see who was inquiring. He opened the door to see a van pull off from the streets. A red van, with a blurred license plate. Nobody else seemed to be around. He was about to go back inside when he heard some crying. Looking to his feet he noticed what they go on about in those Hollywood movies – a casket with a baby inside.

‘Bloody hell. Now who has done that then?’ He walked down the path to the front gate and looked up and down the street, but to no avail. Eventually, reaching the conclusion that the occupants of the van must have left the child, he picked up the casket and took it inside.

Later on, when Beth got home, he was satisfied that the child would be now looked after. He had called the local community child welfare centre and they had said to look after the child until the morning, at which point they would send someone around to collect it. These things were not that uncommon, apparently – leaving children on doorsteps. Still happened from time to time, so they claimed.

He had been ready for anything from Beth, except the last yet perhaps most obvious of motherly instincts. She had looked at the child, made the inquiry and he had shared what he new. And then she had started feeding it, changed its nappy, and was holding it and patting its back all evening.

In the morning she had decided. If they could not find the parents she wanted to adopt. The parents had left the child on their doorsteps so it was, perhaps, fates way of telling them that the child belonged with them.

In the end, John didn’t really object. He was not greatly fussed about children one way or another, but did realize his new bride desired them. Perhaps this little bundle from heaven would begin the family she desired. Another mouth to feed, he thought to himself sarcastically, though.

* * * * *

“JACK! Turn down the bloody stereo.’ Beth screamed out to young Jack, her adopted child of 15 years – her one and only child as she herself could not have children – to turn down the music which was blaring from his room. It sounded like Iron Maiden, typical for young Jack.

In his room, Jack and his new friend Roger were in the process of their first summoning. The pentagram had been drawn on the carpet, with black candles placed at each corner. Jack had next to him a copy of the ‘Pseudepigrapha’ – ancient Jewish writings from biblical times.

‘Now, the head of the fallen angels is Azazel. He rules over Semyaza, Urakiba and Kokabiel and the rest of the fallen ones. I think Azazel is some sort of servant of Satan.’ Roger was fascinated at Jack’s knowledge of the dark lords.

‘We’ll probably need these,’ said Jack, producing five small steel crosses, placing one cross next to each candle.

‘They should keep Azazel within the Pentagram. They will prevent him from escaping and harming us.’

‘Right,’ said Roger. ‘So how do we summon him?’

Jack got to his feet and closed the window and curtains, placing a blanket over the curtains so no light could get in. One by one he lit the candles and then turned the bedroom light off.

‘Here goes,’ said Jack.

Jack and Roger sat opposite each other, facing the pentagram, and Jack spoke.

‘Lord’s of evil. Lord’s of fouls. Fallen angel of darkness we summon you. Azazel, fallen angel of hell, we summon you.’ He left off speaking.

They were quiet for a few moments, with nothing apparently happening, when a wind, seeming to come from the centre of the Pentagram, started blowing through the room. After a moment it subsided, and an appearance of smoke hovered above the Pentagram. After a few moments the smoke spoke.

‘Who the fuck are you kids? Why the hell have you summoned me?’

‘Shit, it worked,’ said Roger. Jack remained calm.

‘Azazel. I have a task for you. If you complete it, I will give you the souls of my parents. I will sacrifice them to you.’

The smoke was quiet for a few moments, before replying.

‘That sounds good, kid. But mind you, break the deal, suffer the consequences. Ok.’

‘Agreed,’ replied Jack, full of confidence.

‘What is the agenda then, my new master?’

‘There is a girl at school. Geraldine. I want her. I must have her. She must do everything that I want her to for me, in that way, if you know what I mean.’

‘I sure as hell do, master. Leave it to me. And remember, break the deal, suffer the consequences. Don’t forget lad.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I’m out of here.’ After that the smoke disappeared and Jack turned the lights back on, blowing out the candles.

‘Fuck!! That was intense,’ said Roger.

‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Jack, full of confidence.

* * * * *

‘Yeah, she is fucking hot.’ Roger acknowledged Jack’s point as they both gawked at Geraldine Sunderwell, the foreign exchange student from America, who was getting books out of her locker on the lower level of Brixby School, somewere in East London.

‘She’ll never fuck you, though. You are way too dorky for someone as hot as her.’

‘You’re forgetting our supernatural friend.’

Roger grimaced a little. ‘I am still not sure if that wasn’t one of your hoaxes.’

‘It was the real thing. Believe me. Anyway, I figure the demon will probably need a few days to do whatever it is he does. He is probably following us right now.’

‘You think?!,’ said Roger, looking around nervously.

‘Relax, idiot. He doesn’t care about us. He just wants my parent’s souls.’

‘You are so fucking cold, you know,’ said Roger. ‘I mean, I know my parents suck and are a real drag. But sacrificing them? Fuck man, that is cold.’

‘Yeh, well they are not my real parents anyway. And they don’t really give a shit about me. They’re better off dead as far as I am concerned.’

‘Cold man. That is really cold.’

‘Whatever.’

He looked at Geraldine as she walked down the hall past them, and gave her a slight nod, which she totally ignored.

‘You’ll never get her,’ said Roger once more.

‘We’ll see,’ said Jack.’

* * * * *

The demon Azazel was pleased. New souls would give him a buzz. Demons fed on souls sacrificed to them, taking in the new spiritual energy and savouring its feel. They were, in human comparisons, just like illicit drugs. And Azazel had not fed for some time now, so, having identified the Geraldine in question from following his new client, Azazel got to work.

* * * * *

‘Is there something wrong, Geraldine?’ Miss Quimby looked anxiously at her student in English, who had started moaning.

Jack and Roger looked on, as the lass, after some moaning, vomited up on her desk, her lunch disappearing from her.

‘Ooh, gross,’ said one of the students.

‘Bloody awful,’ said another.

Miss Quimby came down to Geraldine and gently escorted her out of the schoolroom to the sickroom.

Roger looked at Jack.

‘Coincidence? Asked Roger.

Jack smiled. Hopefully, the wench would soon be his.

* * * * *

Azazel, having settled in his new home, of Geraldine Sunderwell, unsurprised by the common vomiting which took place upon a new possession, began the slow work of converting her mind. She was young, naïve, so it probably wouldn’t take long. He got to work on various synapses and memory banks and, with some fiddling, began his task of turning her affections to his new master.

* * * * *

‘I don’t know what caused it, Mrs Dalton. I just suddenly felt really nauseous. And then I puked.’

Mrs Dalton, the mother of the family Geraldine was staying with patted Geraldine’s head.

‘Don’t worry about it, luv. You will be better in the morning.’

‘I hope so.’

‘You try and get some sleep, alright. I will check on you in a few hours.’

Geraldine laid down on her bed, pulled up a light blanket, and tried to find some sleep. Mrs Dalton looked on anxiously, but tried to put any worries from her mind. ‘I am sure she will be fine,’ she thought to herself.

* * * * *

The demon Razion, hovering near the sleeping body of Geraldine, spoke to Azazel. ‘Here’s the stuff,’ he said. Immediately a pale green smokey substance emanated from Razion’s hand and entered the mouth of the sleeping Geraldine.

‘Thank’s punk,’ said Azazel. ‘Now get the hell out of here.’

‘Remember, I want a piece of his parents.’

‘Yeh, yeh. I’ll remember. Now scram.’

The demon Razion dutifully left the room as Azazel got to work with the new intoxicating substance.

* * * * *

Geraldine dreamed a strange dream that night. She was alone in her room, naked, and with strong urges towards masturbation. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of sex. And then, suddenly, the ‘Jack’ lad, one she had liked a little anyway, entered her room. And her sexual appetite was suddenly too much. She got up, grabbed him, and found her way to his manhood. And, in her dream, started partaking of her dark and forbidden desires.

* * * * *

Waking from her dream, it was still dark outside. And the urge towards sex was still with her. She turned on the lampshade next to her bed and, feeling down under the blanket, brought forth her one and only pornographic magazine of naked men. She got up, locked the door, and proceeded to engage in that act that people for thousands of years have undertaken in the dead of night.

* * * * *

‘Jack. Would you like to have lunch with me today?’ Jack turned to see, luckily enough, his lustful desire of Geraldine Sunderwell speaking to him.

‘Well, if you insist.’

‘I certainly do. See you in the cafeteria.’

Jack smiled as the object of his lust walked down the hallway, disappearing into a room. ‘Thank fuck,’ he thought to himself. The demon had done the trick.

* * * * *

They were alone, in Jacks room. She started unbuttoning her top, looking at him with lust in her eyes. ‘I am a virgin you know. Can you remedy that?’

‘I sure can babe.’

He got up, helped her with the rest of her top, and proceeded to those things which usually come by instinct.

* * * * *

Azazel, sensing his work was done, gradually separated from the girl. He would leave them now, but return in a week. He would, when the kid had been satiated, remind him of his deal. He would remind him and claim his prize.

* * * * *

Over the next few days, Jack felt he was falling in love. He and Geraldine made love each night, and she even came into the boys’ toilet with him at school to relieve him once. It was carnal sex, and it was fucking fantastic. In all of this he had forgotten his deal with Azazel. He had forgotten the promise he had made, yet he would soon be reminded.

* * * * *

‘She fucks well,’ said Jack to Roger. ‘Really, she is fucking awesome in bed.’

‘Braggart. I can’t believe it fucking worked. Do you think something can be arranged between me and Azazel.’

‘Depends on what you offer him, I suppose.’

‘You haven’t forgotten what you offered him, have you. He’ll probably want to speak to you about that soon.’

Jack looked at Roger, suddenly remembering his deal. ‘Shut up Roger.’

‘You have forgotten, haven’t you.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘If you don’t keep the deal the demon will kill you, probably. But, fuck, man. I couldn’t kill my parents. I think you’re fucked, really.’

‘Shut up,’ said Jack, now worried about his predicament.

* * * * *

Jack laid down on his bed. Geraldine was busy tonight, but she would see him tomorrow. He could hardly wait.

‘Hey loser. I hope you haven’t forgotten our deal. Your parent’s souls, right?’

Jack jumped, startled at the voice of the demon which he had not summoned.

‘Were are you?’ he asked.

‘That’s for me to know, punk. Now, I will give you 3 days to make the kill. Otherwise, you better watch your ass. Literally.’

The voice left off.

Jack returned to lying on his bed. Like Roger had said, he was totally fucked, and he knew it.

* * * * *

‘What is the knife for, Jack?’ Gerladine asked about the sharp blade which was on his bedroom desk.

‘Forget about that, Gerry. Come over here.’

Geraldine contemplated the blade one last time, and returned to her new lover.

Jack, caressing her arse, looked nervously at the knife. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would do the devil’s work.

* * * * *

At 12 Midnight, the devil himself walked down the hallway of 7 Vesper Street, dressed in the guise of 15 year old Jack Stoke. He came to the doorway of his parents’ room and slowly turned the knob. He opened the door and looked at them, blissfully sleeping. First him, in the heart, and then her. She might struggle, but he was stronger.

He came to the side of the bed and looked down at the man who had raised him. While in truth, he had no great love for John Stoke, the man had done the right thing by him and given him the start to life he needed. He looked at him, then, and slowly lowered his dagger. It came to him then – the reality of what he was doing. And a blind lust left his head and he, woke up, almost, as if seemingly from a dream. He left the room and returned to his. Whatever else, as sick as he had become in his heart, he was not a killer. The demon would have to exact its vengeance upon him instead. Jack himself would have to partake of the dark side.

* * * * *

Silent observers, angels from heaven, noted the choice Jack Stoke had made in his heart. Those who judge eternal life noted Jacks choice and how he returned to his room.

One of the Angels notified Azazel, reminding him of the divine mandate regarding repentance. Jack, while a long way from being forgiven, had made the right choice. And now he would be free from the demons attack. Free to live in peace.

Epilogue

Jack and Geraldine dated for several months before the school year ended, and she returned home. They lost touch after that, but Jacks lust had been satiated. From time to time he thought on Azazel, who had never showed up. He thought on what that demon could do to him if it ever got hands on him, and continued in the prayers to God which he had earnestly begun.

Jack, it seemed, had indeed escaped the dark side.

THE END

“The diabolical adventure of RXQ7”

(NOTE: This short story was published in May 2009 in the

Australian Short Story Anthology ‘Short and Twisted 2009’ available from Celapene Press)

‘RXQ6, ultimately, had defects. The reason I am telling you this is that, despite the public front the company maintains, RXQ6 really did kill those people as rumoured, despite heavy programming in the laws of robotics. But I am confident – completely confident – that our new model, RXQ7 will be, practically, infallible. So, Chairman, we need your signature, and we can go ahead with production.’

Lord Charles Stewart, Chairman of the Essex Company ‘Complex Solutions’, looked squarely at John Smith, head of research and development and, despite thinking he should know better, reluctantly signed the go ahead slip.

Eighteen months later, a prototype of RXQ7 was released to a home in South London.

‘What is your name?’ Jenny asked the robot.

RXQ7 coldly followed its programming, and responded, ‘I do not have a name. I am a robot.’

‘But you can speak? And everyone has a name. What is yours?’

RXQ7 analysed the question, went through its random list of appropriate responses, and said, ‘As I said. I am a robot.’

‘Stupid robot,’ said Jenny, and kicked it.

Just then a circuit blew in one of RXQ7’s boards and, now confusing Jenny for an assailant attempting to destroy it, RXQ7 grabbed Jenny, sprang forth an electric rod, and zapped her, killing the six year old immediately.

A few moments later Jenny’s mother came in, saw her child on the floor, looked at the robot and screamed for her husband. The father came in. RXQ7, perceiving another attack, and with the setting set to maximum, shot out its tazers, killing both Jenny’s mother and father.

A few years later, having just concluded his tale, John Smith said to the other lowlives living by the side of the rail yards, ‘And that is why children and robots just don’t mix.’

The End

“The Fabulous Adventure of Mr XQR4”

Robert had been digging for three hours. But Robert was a determined robot dog, and would find his bones at all cost. But when, having found no bones, yet suddenly uncovering a metallic object, he kept on digging until the object was unearthed. Robert was a strong robot dog and pulling the object up to the surface, he looked at it. An old robot, XQR4 model from his database memories. ‘Woof’, he spoke to it, and suddenly lights on the robot started flashing. ‘Were am I?’ asked the robot suddenly. ‘Woof’,’ replied Robert. ‘Oh, I see. Well then, I am Mr XQR4. Protocol droid at your service.’ Robert suddenly had an idea. ‘Woof,’ he said. ‘As you wish,’ responded XQR4. 17 hours later, having dug up the entire garden of the Smiths back yard, having retrieved all of Robert’s bones, Mr Smith, having returned home, looked at XQR4 and swore violently. He came down, turned to Robert and said ‘For hell’s sake, Robbie. I buried that bloody robot for a reason.’ Robert just looked at his owner, puzzled. XQR4, looking at Mr Smith, suddenly remembered his burial and, a law of robotics coming into place from the latter era of robotics research, one in which humanists had become very politically sensitive about artificial intelligence in true Astro Boy fashion, the robot, out of its own robotic laws allowing self preservation, shot out a tazer and killed Mr Smith instantly. Robert looked on but all he would say was ‘Woof.’

THE END

The Startling Adventure of Sir QRX1

‘And, naturally, as a protocol droid of superior capability, Sir QRX1 will be the next generation for all protocol droids from Complex Solutions, a truly amazing work of robotic technology. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Sir QRX1.’ With those words said, Frederick Stone pulled the cord and the curtains opened revealing a rather splendid looking robot, flashy, ergonomically appealing and with beautiful colours. Frederick spoke to the robot. ‘Sir QRX1. Tell us, how has your day been?’

The robot turned to Frederick Stone and said in his electronic robotic voice, ‘Why, quite a wonderful day, sir. Thank you greatly for inquiring. May I inquire, how has your day been?’ Yet Frederick Stone did not answer the question, and turned back to the crowd. Sir QRX1 went through his list of responses to the lack of response, recorded Fred’s silence in his databanks, and returned to looking forward towards the crowd of gathered guests.

Half an hour later, after having been given a rather comprehensive tour of duty in answering questions from the guests, one of the now inebriated guests handed him a champagne and suggested that Sir QRX1 drink the concoction. Sir QRX1 remained polite, refusing, but the man insisted and Sir QRX1, not knowing in its programming that it could not drink alcohol, put the glass to its robotic mouth, tilted its head backwards, and attempted to drink the alcohol. Of course, being unable to drink, much of the liquid simply spilled to the floor, but not before some of it seeped into the robots mouth and played havoc on the programming of the positronic brain. A few zaps occurred and suddenly Sir QRX1 was thinking quite differently.

As the night ended Frederick Stone beckoned Sir QRX1 back to the stage to ask it some questions. ‘So, QRX1, how has your night been.’ However, QRX1, having short circuited on its responses database, was now engaged in his crude humour program for relating to drunk and ribald behaviour and appropriately side, ‘It has been bloody boring.’ Fred looked embarrassed. ‘Excuse me, QRX1. What did you say?’

‘What, are you deaf,’ responded the robot.

The crowd looked alarmed and there were murmurs that Complex Solutions had yet again produced a dud.

Fred turned to the crowd. ‘Oh, he is just playing with us. It is his humour program.’ Fred looked serious, and turned to the robot.

‘Now, QRX1. It has been a wonderful night for us all. Do you have anything to say to our guests? Our honoured guests.’

The robot turned to the crowd and, its voice on a high volume, yelled out ‘Go fuck yourselves!’

* * *

4 weeks later, Fred Stone was being introduced to a certain John Smith, resident vagrant of a disused railway track, out in the back ways of Essex. ‘Well, Fred, look at it this way. To err is human, but to really fuck up you need a computer.’ And Fred Stone took the bottle of grog offered to him, slumped down against the old disused train carriage, and ruefully nodded.

The End

The Adventures of X

X walked down the street. X looked at a sign. X walked further down the street. X went to the park. X fed the ducks at the park. X was bored. Y showed up. X looked at Y and asked ‘Where the fuck is Z?’

‘Busy chatting up A, B & C, replied Y.’

‘Oh,’ said X. ‘And what is D up to?’

‘Usual shit. I think D is currently dating E, which pisses F off. G doesn’t care because H is currently available. I doesn’t really know what to do about the whole scene so is seeking advice from J. K is worshipping the Devil at the moment, so L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U & V have all rebelled and formed their own idolatry based community.’ ‘And W??????’

‘Having a wank as usual.’

‘Figures.’

X looked across the street. There they were again – the new kids. AA was their leader, as usual, but AB and AC were popular as well. X had seen XX around town from time to time and thought about chatting her up, but was too shy. But there was this new sheila on the other side of town, the triplets, and XXX really seemed the way to go as far as X was concerned. Oh baby.

The End

The ‘Orgasm’ Man

For Cate Blanchett

The Orgasm Man had a compulsion. He could not stop masturbating. Every day, usually four or five times a day, he would head to the bathroom with his girlie magazines and do the deed. And, boy, was he addicted.

His mother often lamented her son’s addiction to masturbation suggesting a ‘Female’ might be a far more sane alternative. But ‘Orgasm’ man had decided that ‘Solo’ style was far more achievable as it did not require the fussing about to achieve a mate.

One day Orgasm Man was out at the local café and ‘Orgasm Girl’ noticed him. Orgasm girl masturbated seven or eight times a day, and was looking for a man to satisfy her. She noticed ‘Orgasm Man’ had a strong aura of ‘Solo Sex’, so she stopped to talk to him.

‘Do you like to fuck girls?’ asked Orgasm Girl.

‘Uh, mmm, uh, I guess.’

‘Ok. Let’s go. My place is just around the corner.’

And thus, after approximately 14,000 episodes of masturbation, Orgasm man finally lost his virginity in the arms and breasts of ‘Orgasm Girl’.

THE END

Sqwerdtyplonghkfrimbzaxcuv

Sqwerdtyplonghkfrimbzaxcuv was a planet near Astra Minor. It long had a reputation for being unpronounceable, but Jenna Mortache, the originator of the name, had a thing for long unpronounceable words, and when settling the planet duly named it as such.

Sqwerd, as we shall call it, had one native beast called the ‘Crapper’. This beast had a rather large behind. In fact, that is mainly what it had – a rather large behind. But it did have 2 legs and a head and mouth as well, and it ate grass. And apart from that, and drinking water, it shat a lot. In fact, it was duly named the ‘Crapper’ precisely because half of the day it was involved in doing just that – ‘Crapping.’

After 3 centuries of being called Sqwerd, which was an unusual enough name, it started earning the title throughout the galaxy of ‘Crappiest planet in the galaxy.’ After all, grass was all that would grow on in it, apart from a horrible cabbage which seemed to like the dirt, and thus cabbage and the ‘Crapper’ were the only native staples after a while.

It could be heard throughout the spaceways, ‘Whatever you do, don’t get stuck on ‘Crap’, which was the unofficial name the planet had earned.

The hero of this tale, young ‘Buck Foolery’, who dreamed of being the ‘Buck Rogers’ of the 31^st century, was a native ‘Crapper.’ He had done poorly in ‘Sqwerd’ space academy, but managed to pass with straight C’s. Still, when his first mission was to take a load of the ‘Crappers’ to a nearby planet for dog food, he swore to his employer ‘You can trust on Buck Foolery’, his employer though, noting the straight ‘C’s’, not being overly confident in those words, wondered if he would regret the hiring of ‘Buck Foolery’. ‘But what could possibly go wrong,’ the employer said to himself. ‘It would take a Fool to stuff up this mission,’ and then he almost bit his lip.

Buck was halfway to the planet when something did go drastically wrong. His ship was hijacked and boarded by ravagers. When they blasted the dock door open they seized Buck and demanded his loot. But all he had were the ‘Crappers’. They looked them over, noticed the immense piles of shit and the intense pong, and smiled greatly. This was a great bounty for these ‘Ravagers’. For they were Karnelian Ravagers, from Karnelios V, a planet which specialized in luxurious and unusual eating. They instantly took the crappers and seized Buck and instructed him, when they got to Karnelios V, he would have to cook the Crappers up as a delicacy for their leader. Yet Buck, being taken hostage, had other plans.

It was late at night, and he stole into the command deck. His plan was to set a course for Crap, and recognizing the design of the controls, duly did so.

The Karnelians were awakened by the crash landing back on ‘Crap’. Unfortunately, though, they had landed on an island, and so setting the distress beacon, they waited for rescue. But it never came.

A diet of ‘Crappers’ and ‘Cabbage’ was not exactly what Buck Foolery looked forward to eating for the rest of his life, but after 17 years stuck on an island of ‘Crap’, the last of the ‘Karnelians’ having finally died, he spied a ship one day, and lighting his bonfire, the ship came close and rescued him.

Back home, after the lengthy explanation, ‘Buck Foolery’ was deemed a hero. Everyone on ‘Crap’ applauded him, and the President gave him the highest award – the ‘Sqwerd Medal of Honour.’

He retired after that, with lucrative advertising deals, and throughout the years ahead Buck avidly promoted the ‘Crapper’ as the tastiest meal in the galaxy. After all, he’d had his fill of ‘Crap’.

The End

“Creatures of the Swampy Marshes”

(Dedicated to ‘Alanis Morissette’)

The Lizgonod is a dangerous beast. It eats fleas and flies. But the Lizgonod is also poisonous and if it stings a human, a human may well die. Jackie Ronaldson was bitten by a Lizgonod and, lying in her tent, her head reaching fever pitch, she was in all sorts of bother. And that is when the Karaanal Spider bit her, and her arm started swelling up. And she started learning the name of pain. Four hours later a Racpoil Snake slithered up and hooked its fangs into her foot, which started turning red. By then she was in agony. The final creature of the swampy marsh was the crocodong. A fearsome lizard like creature, with huge teeth. It came into the tent, looked at her, thought on its meal, but decided she smelled too bad, so departed. Jackie drank some water through the pain, and went to sleep.

Four days later she was feeling just a little bit better. The swelling had died down and the redness on her foot was diminished. The sweat wasn’t as bad as it was and she figured, amazingly, she was on the road to recovery.

Fourteen days later, having made the final steps out of the ‘Badlands Swampy Marshes’ she arrived at the freeway, feeling much better. She stepped onto the freeway, looked in one direction and then, hearing a car, turned to see it smash right into her.

She died that day, and a little later on in heaven she was listening to Alanis Morissette’s ‘Ironic’ and thought to herself, ‘Well aint that the way.’

The End

I Love You, Always and Forever

Dedicated to

Marcus CCC -– A Most Enlightened Individual

April looked at the floral display on the front table of the house entrance hallway. It was, truly, beautiful. Truly beautiful. She thought on her beloved, Marcus, who had gone to extraordinary lengths in the past few weeks of their romance, seemingly paying attention to her every heart’s desire, so flattering in his attention and adorations, so respectful, so polite, so innocent. But that was Marcus, a gem in the dirt – a true gentleman. She picked up a rose, smelt it, and dreamed off in her heart to the thought of her beloved proposing to her. To the thought of him, on bended knee, declaring his hearts intent, and letting her know he wanted her to be forever his. She dreamed of sailing through the canals of Venice, eating Ice Cream near the fountains of Roma, and feeding pigeons in St Peter’s basilica. For he had declared to her, should they ever marry, Italy would be the most wonderful of honeymoon destinations. She sat down, near the table, and dreamed away, when suddenly a phone call interrupted her pleasant cogitations, and she answered to a message which would change her life forever.

‘Yes, hello. April Jones speaking.’

Nobody spoke. For a number of seconds it was a quiet line and she was about to hang up when, suddenly, the voice of Marcus spoke. ‘It’s over, April. It’s over. Don’t ask me why. Please don’t do that. It is just over. Farewell.’ And he hung up.’ And April’s life fell apart.

* * *

Four months later, sitting in St Peter’s basilica, having gone to Rome anyway, even if out of pride and resentment, April’s healing was progressing. She was about over that hideous monster who had led her on for so long, and then dumped her, at the height of her anticipation. Men, she thought to herself. They were all monsters.

She sat there, in the square, staring at the nuns walking by, noticing a Chinese looking man taking photos, thinking life sucked, when the man approached her and asked her if she would take his photo.

‘Uh, sure,’ she replied.’

‘Good,’ he responded. ‘I have waited my whole life to come here and I don’t want to forget anything.’

‘Catholic, are you?’

‘Sort of, but not really. More a spiritualist. A believer in God, but I try not to judge on people’s religion.’

‘A sensible attitude. Okay, were do you want to stand?’

‘Oh, just so you can see the Vatican.’

He stood in a suitable position and she took a few snaps at his request, and then returned his camera.

‘Thank you so much, Madame. You have been invaluable.’

‘Think nothing of it.’

She returned to her seat, and he stood there in front of her for a few moments, and then approached.

‘Uh, excuse me again,’ he began. ‘But would you care to join me for some coffee. To show my appreciation, you understand.’

She looked at him, looked up at the face of a man, a Chinese man, but decided, with that soft whisper suggesting grace in her heart, that she may as well.

‘Well, alright. You only live once after all.’

‘Wonderful,’ he replied.

* * *

As they sat in a street café they had found, drinking their lattes, the man introduced himself.

‘My name is Marcus Chan. It is a pleasure to meet you.’

She visibly groaned, put her head in her hands, and started to sob mildly.

‘Oh, have I offended you,’ he asked, concerned.

She raised her head. ‘No. It isn’t you, Marcus. Believe me, it isn’t you.’

‘Then what is it.’

‘Men, Marcus. Men.’

‘I understand,’ he said, nodding.

They chatted then, all afternoon in fact, and as the night came by he offered to meet up with her again the following day to see some of Rome together. And thinking that she may as well enjoy some company and could think of no good reason to refuse him, accepted.

* * *

It was 7 weeks later. Back in New York, and Marcus had written to her from Canberra. He had declared it in his letter – ‘I Love You – Always and Forever’. And she knew that this Marcus meant it. She ummed and aahed for months, but eventually paying for the airfare, she flew to Canberra, and with the 6 month visa she had obtained, on Leave without pay, she began the romance of her life.

It was 17 months after they met in Rome when they married in Canberra in Tuggeranong, celebrating the service in a Catholic Church in Gowrie. Both of them were madly in love with each other, and many years later, after the 7^th and final child, April reflected on how a heart could break and, truly, think it could never love again. But things happen in life, often strange things happen, and meeting the second Marcus who would love her always and forever, well, what more could you possibly ask for in life. What more could you possibly ask for than that.

The End

The Big Bad Wolf

Once there was a wolf. He was a friendly, kind and loving wolf. He gave the three little pigs presents every day, and prayed to Jehovah his God for the welfare of the three little pigs. He loved the little pigs and wished the very best in life for them. But one day, his cousin, the big bad wolf, came and hassled them for a few weeks, until he ran out of breath. And the Big Bad Wolf came to his cousin’s place and learned that his cousin had prayed for the 3 little pigs. And then the Big Bad Wolf said to himself ‘Prayer works, huh?’ And so the Big Bad Wolf, praying to Satan every day to help him catch the 3 little pigs, engaged in prayer warfare for a while with what whom we shall now call the ‘Good Little Wolf’. It was terrible prayer warfare, and no quarter was given. Until, one fateful day, the Big Bad wolf was crossing a bridge and a troll came up, looked at him with his fading eyesight, and mistaking him for a nanny goat, ate him all up. And that was the end of the Big Bad Wolf.

The End

The Calamitous Conclusion to the Crazy Case of the Cornered Cornish Crook

Sherlock Holmes looked at the warehouse. It had been a crazy few weeks, but he had tracked the thief of the Crown Jewels here, to a warehouse on the docks of the Thames. 5 different suspects they had chased, each of them seemingly turning psychotic when apprehended, all going on about the ‘Colourful Cockrell’. And now he had found the ‘Colourful Cockrell’, here on the outskirts of south-east London, in a warehouse behind a pet store. Watson was currently recuperating from the bullet wound to the shoulder, so it was left to Holmes to find his man.

He came to a door, and taking out his set of lock picking tools, carefully picked the lock and entered the building. It was dark, but there was just enough light streaming through the grey murky windows that he could see enough to apprehend his foe. He carefully surveyed the inside of the warehouse and, coming to an office, found the jewels on a table, all of them, just sitting there for the whole world to see if only they cared to come and look. He opened the bag he had brought, put the jewels inside, and finished surveying the warehouse. The thief was nowhere to be seen.

As he left the building, walking back to the waiting taxi, suddenly a figure darted from the shadows and confronted him.

‘The Jewels. Give them to me,’ he spoke with a strong Cornish accent.

‘My good man, this is all you will be getting from me.’ And Sherlock pulled out the royal staff, donked the thief on his head, and when he saw that the thief was unconscious, slipped into the nearby phone box and called the police.

* * *

He was a hero, all throughout London and England, and with the return of the Jewels her Royal Majesty was ever so thankful. But late one afternoon, sitting on her throne, the Queen puzzled to herself ‘Now just how did this dent get onto the royal staff? Oh well, I must have dropped it once,’ she concluded, and continued with her royal duties.

The End

The Seductive Lips of Miss May June

Miss May June. Now there’s a woman. The perfect woman. Shape of an hourglass, beautiful face, but those lips. Oh those seductive lips.

Rumour has it that Miss May is a femme fatale. No, seriously, hear me out. She has apparently been married 12 times, and all the husbands have died of mysterious circumstances. Men around the office say her lovemaking was the death of all of them, and I believe it. But she is no pauper, Miss May June. Quite rich, I hear. Quite rich indeed.

I bedded her last Friday night, taking her out for drinks. As vice president I am the kind of person she is interested in, apparently. Good for her career. She is a high minded socialite, seemingly always has been. But she can’t find a faithful man, she tells me. They always go off and die on her. I tell her, I’m a safe bet, sweetheart. Constitution of a lion. Built like a tank. Nothing can take me down. And so I woo her, and I think she enjoyed being wooed.

We are set to meet later on tonight. She says she loves me and would die for me. And I say the same, and promised to leave her my fortune in her will. We are meeting in a strange place, though. Up on the roof of the building, and I am scared of heights. But she says she likes exotic places to make love. Dangerous places, she tells me. But I don’t care. You see the lips of Miss May June are to die for. Literally.

The End

Hazardous

‘Vanessa. You are kidding right. Do I love her? Ha, that’s a good one. That girl is hazardous to your health, believe me.’

‘But I think she loves you Daniel. You should date her. Really.’

‘Look, Jess. I don’t think so. Besides I have been happily a single man for the last 300 years. I see no point in changing that situation now. I have all eternity in this heavenly realm to find a mate, if I ever could be bothered. But Vanessa. God, you must be joking.’

‘Seriously, I think she is the one for you.’

‘Yeh, right.’ But Daniel was cautious, for he was thinking on the demoness from hell, the most outspoken of his critics in their little group of friends – the one always hassling him – the one always calling him a tryhard and pathetic.

*

‘Hello, Idiot. Have you finished your new book yet? I bet it sucks – like everything you write.’

‘Total crap. Yes it sucks, bitch.’ Daniel grinned at Vanessa’s comment. She really was a bitch in many ways. ‘But at least I take the time to use my talents. You are too lazy, I think, to be creative.’

‘Oh, I am creative all right. I just don’t want to show it to simpletons such as yourself. I think Kelly has you figured out. You are pretentious, snobby, up your ass, full of pride, and your writing reflects this fact. Really, it sucks Danny.’

‘Thanks for the praise. I’ll give my publisher your comments.’

She grinned a little, despite herself.

He thought on Jessica’s words. ‘So, you want to go out sometime?’

She looked at him, as if stating the obvious that ‘You can’t be serious.’ And then she said it. ‘You can’t be serious, can you? You and me? Ha. That’s a good one.’

‘Well, ok. Forget I asked.’

‘Already forgotten.’

Later on Vanessa was with Jessica. She had been crying a little. She didn’t want Daniel to ask her out. God no. She liked him too much. She didn’t want to fuck up the long term plans she had with him in a lousy dating scene in which he would probably not give her obvious signals. Obvious to a girl anyway. But men were thick.

‘You have got to be obvious, Vanessa. Remember, they are thick. Be black and white. They understand then.’

Vanessa nodded.

*

‘Yeh, ok.’

‘Huh?’ asked Daniel, curious as to what Vanessa was saying yes to.

‘You know. Don’t make me say it.’

‘Huh?’ asked Daniel again, but he had cottoned on. ‘Oh, you want to go out or something. Fuck, I think my calendar is full. Too bad. We could have had a good time.’

‘Bastard.’

‘Bitch.’

They dated for several months, and he finally kissed her. He was good. She liked him. Winning him in the end would be a challenge, but he was so cute, and worth the effort in the end. Even if all he said was her love was hazardous for his health.

The End

Italian Cooking

‘Mama. You know I love you. And your cooking is the best in all of little Italy.’

‘Your mama knows how to make the lasagne just the way you like it Petro. Now don’t go marrying that Australian woman, who canta cooka your foods the way you like it.’

‘Mama. You know Debbie loves me. She can’t help it if she is not much in the kitchen.’

‘You need a proper Italian girl. Try Rosa. She loves you, Petro. Changa your mind. Do it for your mama.’

‘Mama, I love Debbie.’

‘Petro. You don’t know your heritage. These Australian girls, money is all they want. Get rich, get a man, get a house, and get a divorce.’

‘Mama, don’t say that.’

‘Take my word, Petro. They are justa like the American girls. And I watch that Oprah Winfrey. I know just what they are like, these Aussie girls.’

‘Oh Mama. Debbie is not like that.’

‘You mark my words Petro. She’ll give you two children and then she’ll takea the house you sweated blood and tears to build.’

‘Your being cruel mama.’

‘You mark my words, Petro. You mark my words.’

The End

The Promise

‘Jesse. Really, no. Sure, I’m flattered and all. I know you are a popular guy in school and everything, but no. Sorry, I can’t date you.’

The most popular hunk in school looked at Jasmine, the redheaded girl he had taken a fancy to, curious as to why she was so hard to get.

‘But, don’t you like me?’ he asked, perplexed.

‘It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just that I am a Christian and I can only date other Christians. They are my father’s rules.’

‘Oh. Oh, ok. Well, tell you what, I’ll come to church with you on Sunday if you like. Perhaps that will impress your dad.’

Jasmine looked a little shocked, but knew better than to turn away a potential convert.

‘Well, ok. I guess that would be alright. But our church is quite strict. We follow a dress code and there is no swearing or anything allowed at church. You will have to be on your best behaviour.’

‘I understand. Which church?’

‘Caldington Holiness Church. It is on Smith Street, right at the northern end. You can’t miss it.’

‘I’ll be there. Sunday morning. Can’t wait to see you there.’

‘Uh, sure.’

Later on that afternoon, when Jasmine had returned home and her dad had got home from work, she talked to him about Jesse.

‘I suppose it is alright for you to sit next to him sweetheart. But be careful – unless he becomes a Christian he will still be a child of the dark, and Paul tells us not to be unequally yoked.’

‘I understand dad.’

Sunday came around and Jesse was sitting next to Jasmine as the pastor was preaching. He had been convicted since the preacher began preaching, and when the altar call was given he came forward and the preacher sat with him, guiding him through a standard sinners prayer. Jesse received Jesus Christ into his heart that day and this particular congregation taught he was now born again because of it.

It was 4 years later, they had just both turned 21, and they had been dating for a while. Jesse was now a regular member of their church, and Jasmine loved him. He was really sweet. But something happened one service which changed everything.

The new girl was an old girlfriend of Jesse’s from school. She had come along to church apparently as a visitor, but Jasmine knew instantly she was trying to drag Jesse back to his old life. Well, she wouldn’t have any of that, and would place her trust in Jesse. He knew right from wrong now.

Unfortunately, there is a beast of temptation, and after a while Jesse was fornicating with his old girlfriend, and the pastor had to ask him to leave the church because of it. Jasmine was heartbroken.

It was later on that year, in prayer, that Jasmine reconciled things. Some people, it seemed, were meant to be children of God and some weren’t. There was no real way of knowing who, but if they stayed in the light they belonged to Jesus, and if they didn’t, they had never really been his. And despite the hurt, despite the real hurt in her heart, Jasmine again placed faith in Jesus Christ, and waited patiently for her man of promise, the man she knew God would send her for her fidelity.

The End

Pentecostal Power

‘Potters House forever,’ yelled the mad Pentecostal.

‘Alleluia brother,’ yelled another of the converts to the Door.

They were in the group house, munching on pizza, their usual food after the Wednesday night service, and the jokes started.

‘Hey Luke, pass the Coke,’ said Peter to Mal, insinuating he was lukewarm.

‘Here you go Luke,’ responded Mal, handing him the Coke.

‘That was a very MAL-efficient passing of the Coke, Luke,’ said Peter, with a grin on face.

‘Oh, I thought it was MALvellous,’ responded the King.

They both started laughing.

The following day Holy Holford was asking ‘Were the heck is the vacuum cleaner?’

Mal looked puzzled. ‘Buggered if I know, Holford.’

Pete looked guilty, but had reminded Dan not to confess Peters destruction of the said vacuum cleaner. You see, Peter had tried to use the cleaner, but it had short circuited on him, so he had burnt it down to nothing on the concrete in the back yard, and Danno was under strict orders not to reveal the said crime.

‘I will find out eventually,’ said the Holy One.

Four weeks later they were at another outreach at the Griffin Centre. Holy Holford was out with the crew, handing out flyers and preaching the word. It was a ‘Riot Night’ and the church was brimming with expectations of new souls. Pete was doing his best not to upset the pastor, and Danno had just recovered from another psychotic attack and was trying to impress Sofya with his crappy keyboard playing.

Robbo was doing much of the moving, and Michelle was congratulating him for doing the real work for the night.

They got 7 new souls for Potsmokers House that night, and they were all happy Pentecostal Power fanatics. Oh, those were the days.

The End

The Leetharck Cavern

‘Rumour has it, children, that the Leetharck is even more deadly than a dragon. But that is only rumour. Of course, nobody has ever really seen the Leetharck. Some say it is rumour. Some say that. But I think it’s there, protecting our land ‘Gloryandea’ from the dark ones. I think it is there. It is why we are safe.’

The storytellers words echoed in young Jek’s head as he entered the Leetharck Cavern, supposed home of the Leetharck. The council of Gloryandea had long forbidden anyone from entering the cavern, but Jek was impulsive, as appropriate to his 16 years of age.

He walked down into the cavern, looking at all the caves along the bottom wall of the cavern. They looked strange – as if carved out of the solid rock.

But, seeing no Leetharck, he sat down, got his bottle of apple juice out of his backpack, and sat there drinking, thinking the Leetharck nothing but a myth.

‘So, I’m a myth, am I?

Jek turned to the voice which had read his mind, and was blown away. An enormous centipede like creature, with wings, was before him. He was scared out of his mind, but the creature spoke to his mind.

‘Don’t fear. I protect Gloryandea. I am the Leetharck.’

Jek was overwhelmed. ‘What, what are you?’

My people are long dead. They died out aeons ago in the Sparkleon wars. I am the last of my kind, unfortunately. So now I protect Gloryandea from the dark ones. It is my eternal duty.’

‘Were do the dark ones come from?’

‘A place beyond this realm. A place unreachable by your kind. Suffice to say as long as I protect the dreaming gate they no longer have any access to Gloryandea. I repair the gate every now and again from the damage they hurl at it from their side of oblivion. It is not much work, dear young friend – but it gives me a duty, and a responsibility. And I live in this cavern, drinking when it rains, and eating the grass. It is a simple life, but suitable to me.’

Jek just looked up in admiration at his protector.

‘Why haven’t other people found you?’

‘Because I take their memory of the event, as I will take yours. As soon as you leave this cavern you will forget me and ever coming here. It is the way of mystery, young Jek.’

‘How did you know my name?’

‘I know many things, Jek. I know many things. Now you should return – your mother is worried.’

And so Jek left the cavern of the Leetharck, and duly forget as soon as he left the cavern. But the mystery of the Leetharck was etched upon his very soul, and, as he grew, he joined with all the elders in teaching the younglings the mystery of the Leetharck, protector of the realm of Gloryandea.

The End

The Nothing

The nothing was special. The nothing was great. The nothing was, in fact, everything you could possibly imagine it to be. Yet the grandfather of young Timmy, ensuring his grandson that the nothing offered him everything he could possibly imagine, neglected to tell him that the nothing, which was the cost of his dreams, did not actually exist at all. For the nothing of young Timmy’s imagination cost nothing at all, except the time to dream up adventures of knights and dragons, mermaids and unicorns and wizards and witches.

And so Timothy dreamed. He dreamed of being Lancelot in King Arthur’s court. He dreamed of flying giant eagles through the Alps. He dreamed of diving in the deepest of oceans and flying to the highest of heavens. And then……………..

Then he came to the end of his dreamings, and before him a vast empty space. A true ‘Nothing’ to behold. And a voice spoke to him.

‘Your task, Timmy, is to fill this nothing with your imagination. For the dreams of the future rely on the dreams of the past, and the Sandman must take the imagination of his children to give to those yet to be. So dream on young Timmy, dream of grand adventures and daring tales, and let your heart soar to the highest heights of eternity, for many children will live in your fantastic dreamscape.

And so Timmy dreamt, and dreamt, and the dreams of the future grew in the nothing, and in the end nothing, while not exactly something, still became the stuff of dreams for every young boy and girl.

The End

The Ultimate

‘He is the ultimate.’

‘So he’s good in bed?’

‘Oh, girl, he is fucking awesome.’

‘Really?’

‘You got to believe me Jen, Stan is the man when it comes to a good time.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘You’ll be lucky. He is mine forever.’

‘Of course he is Shirlie. Yours forever.’

5 days later Jen was fucking Stan. In fact, he was not the Ultimate. In fact, he was second rate on a good day.

Later on, when they were out in main room, Shirlie came in. Stan winked at her.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Jen.

‘Oh, nothing,’ said Stan. ‘You were awesome in bed, you know Jen. Really, the ultimate,’ he said with a grin.

Jen looked at Stan, looked at Shirlie, and realized she had been fooled.

‘Bastard. Bitch. I’ll never talk to either of you ever again.’

‘Oh, babe, but you were the ultimate,’ said Stan, again with a big grin, and everyone burst out laughing.

The End

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