Short Story Collection

(a continuing work in progress)

By Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

© 2009 Noahide Books

http://noahidebooks.angelfire.com

CONTENTS:

FLASH FICTION

(Note: Flash Fiction is very short fiction (ie 100 to 500 words in length) aimed at being short, quick and very entertaining.)

µ A Day in the Life of the Justice League International (Fanfiction)

µ A Train

µ Dare the Devil

µ Darkness be my friend

µ Elam and Asshur’s Lesson

µ Flowers for a Dead Man

µ If I was Smart

µ Jenny’s Choice

µ Quantum Mechanics

µ Red Rubies (Note: This short story has been published in ‘Lovely Dreams Within’, an anthology of poetry and stories from WIT (Writers in Tuggeranong), published by Tuggeranong Mental Health daycare programs)

µ The Creep

µ The Diabolical Adventure of RXQ7 (NOTE: This short story has been published in the Australian Short Story & Poetry Anthology ‘Short and Twisted 2009’ available from Celapene Press (www.celapenepress.com.au : Also available in the ‘Lovely Dreams Within’ anthology from WIT (Writers in Tuggeranong), published by Tuggeranong Mental Health daycare programs)

µ The Harmony Bridge (Note: This short story has been published in ‘Lovely Dreams Within’, an anthology of poetry and stories from WIT (Writers in Tuggeranong), published by Tuggeranong Mental Health daycare programs)

µ The Heart of the Matter

µ The Little Red Truck

µ The Little Red Truck 2

µ The Mystery of Life

µ The Raven and the Dove

µ The Rings of Saturn

µ The Vortex of Nothingness

REGULAR LENGTH SHORT STORIES

(Note: ie longer than Flash Fiction, but shorter than a novella (novellas are 20,000 to 50,000 words in length))

µ An Office Love

µ The Ark

µ The Dark Side

µ The Nixian Agenda

FLASH FICTION SECTION

“A Day in the Life of the

Justice League International”

(This is fanfiction of the late 1980s early 1990s

Justice League International Comic from DC Comics.

They wrote in a similar style to this – very funny.)

‘I’ve been wondering. What is an antihero?’ said Blue Beetle.

‘Shut up Ted,’ said Black Canary.

‘No, seriously, go with me on this. What is an anti-hero?’

Miracle, sitting at the control panel, finally took an interest in the inane conversation going on between Canary and the Beetle.

‘A bad guy, bluey.’ Said Miracle, confidently.

‘But is it more than that, Mr Mr?’ asked BB in return.

Guy, sitting over next to Ice, trying one of his latest pickup lines, said,

‘Hey – I’m an antihero.’

‘Shut up Guy,’ said Canary.

‘No, seriously guys. It is what I do best. Sort out the wannabes. The commies from the rest of us.’

‘You and your bloody commies’s,’ said Canary. ‘Always with the Commies.’

‘There is always a red under the bed, Canary. But Guy Gardner sorts them out.’

BB continued unperturbed. ‘Lobo. Now he is an antihero.’

‘Lobo!,’ screeched Canary. ‘He is plain evil.’

‘Nah. He has a soft side,’ continued BB.

‘Yeh. As soft as your brain more like it,’ replied Canary.

‘I guess that is an antihero. He, or she, is a hero, in the end. They have a tough time getting there. But they make it.’

Canary looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps,’ she said after a while

Underneath the sewers of the Justice League Headquarters, Lord Slime was considering his next move. Which sewer to choose? He thought to himself. ‘What the hey, this one will do,’ he said, sliding into one of the pipes heading upwards.

‘Of course, they make heaps of mistakes. But they learn. Even the Fabulous Blue Beetle has made mistakes from time to time, dare I say it.’

‘From time to time?’ Asked Canary?

‘Yeh. Well ok. Lots of little times. But hey, who’s counting?’

Miracle, snidely from the corner of his mouth whispered. ‘492 and counting.’ Canary grinned a little, and Bluey blushed.

Lord Slime emerged into a kitchen. Coming into his form he looked around? Nobody present. He would look around then.

‘And they suffer the taunts of the elite so often. As if they had worked it out instantly. I mean, hey, it takes time to be a hero.’

‘Whatever,’ said Canary, playing with a Rubik’s cube. ‘Ooh. I got a side,’ she said, ever so pleased.

‘Yet, in the end, they get the glory as well. Everything, as Big Blue would say, usually works out.’

Just then Lord Slime appeared in the room. ‘Grrrr. He said.’ Everyone looked at him for a moment, and then ignored him, BB returning to his conversation.

‘Yes, life is good for the Antihero in the end.’

Lord Slime looked concerned. What was their problem? He would try again? ‘Grrrrr. Grrrrr,’ he repeated. Again they gave him a cursory look, but returned to what each was focused on.

Bluey spoke. ‘Take Lord Slime over their, for instance. He is probably just an anti-hero in training. Looks like he would be suited to Justice League Antarctica.’ Canary looked at Lord Slime and said, ‘Yeh, I guess.’ Miracle looked at him. ‘Probably feel right at home?’

Lord Slime looked a them and, finally, giving up, walked over and sat down on the table. ‘Got any Oreos?’ He asked, to which Bluey handed him a chockie bikkie, which Lord Slime, finally finding a home, dutifully munched on.

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

“Dare the Devil”

(Note: Fanfiction of DC Comics ‘The Demon’ and ‘Lucifer’ Series, with my own twist)

'Go on.  I dare you.'

Lucifer looked at the minor demon from the 7th cohort, raised his eyebrow at the
impudence yet, despite thinking in his ageless wisdom that he should really know
better, decided to respond to this pup's challenge.
'Now Etrigan, I will be dealing with you later - personally myself.  But, yes, I will
challenge Duriel for the seat of 'Purgatory'.  That half-angel half-demon has ruled
purgatory for far too long.  It is about time another demon ruled that realm to show
the souls who are suffering to get into heaven, just how much they have done wrong
and must suffer first.

Lucifer saddled up, and departed from the centre of Hell, headed for the gates to the
nether limbo, and from there to 'Purgatory'.

'So do you accept the challenge?  If we can make this great pope blaspheme almighty
God in front of the whole St Peters Basilica crowd, you will allow my rightful claim to
the throne of purgatory.'

'And if not I rule hell for a Millennia?''

'Done Duriel.  I will be seeing you shortly.'

*********

Pope Peter the Second surveyed the crowd.  The voices had been incessant.  Constantly
demanding his ultimate act of blasphemy as the wickedness in his heart perhaps secretly
desired.  But no - despite his flaws - despite his weakness - despite his very carnal human
nature - Pope Peter the Second would keep the Faith.  And at the end of the Mass, when
the demons had finally parted from him, Peter the Second breathed a sigh of relief.

*********

With Duriel set to take charge of Hell at the end of the day, Lucifer had one last act of business
to take care of.

He found Etrigan hiding, at 1 minute to 6, amidst the 'Pain Cellars' were other lost souls were
being tormented eternally.  Lucifer grabbed him, spat in his face, and said 'And now, you shall
fear.'  And reaching his dreadful hand forward, the clock tower struck its first gong, signalling
6 o'clock and the new rulership of Hell had come.

Lucifer put down Etrigan, patted Etrigan's coat to wipe off the muck and said 'Sorry about that
old chap.  These things happen.'  And he turned to walk away.

But just before leaving the cellars of pain, Lucifer turned to Etrigan and said in the most evil of
voices imaginable, 'But I'll see you in a millennia.  Hah Hah Harrr'

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

“Elam and Asshur’s Lesson”

(A Very Short Noahide Story)

Grandpa Noah was in the vineyard one fine day, picking grapes. Young Elam and Asshur, his grandsons through Shem, were also busy picking some grapes. Just then, Elam yelled out. ‘Grandpa Noah! Quick! There is a Lion,’ said Elam, pointing to a lion which was approaching them. Noah told Elam and Asshur to stand behind him, and he reached for his spear. The Lion came closer and closer. The situation was tense. And, suddenly, it sprang at Noah. Yet, brave Grandpa Noah, spear in hand, pierced the Lion in the heart, and it died, slowly bleeding to death.

Elam looked at the dying Lion. ‘It might make good food, Grandpa. What do you think?’ Noah looked down at the dying Lion. ‘Lion’s are unclean animals, young Elam. The covenant our great God has made with us does permit us to eat unclean animals, yet I feel it is perhaps not always for the best. And, of course, we may never eat the blood of any animal.’ Asshur looked at his Grandpa. ‘Why can’t we eat the blood?’ Noah came over to Asshur, scruffed him on the head, and replied. ‘The life is in the blood young Asshur. It is what sustains and gives us life. God has forbidden us eating it because of that reason.’ ‘I see,’ replied Asshur.

They dragged the Lion to the edge of the Vineyard and placed stones over the body to hide it from vultures.

‘What was it like before the flood?’ Elam asked his grandfather. Noah, wiping the sweat from his brow, looked down at his young grandson. ‘They were violent times, young Elam. Violent times. People hated each other. They stole from each other rampantly – nobody’s possessions were ever safe. And even some of the wicked men worshipped carved idols made of animals and sea creatures, even the stars and moon. They worshipped these idols and mistakenly believed that these were the spirits of life who ruled the world. Often, such men insulted those of the LORD who tried to teach them the right way, even insulting the glory of the LORD. They blasphemed his holy name and despised our ancient traditions. Men would sleep with other Men’s wives, and even with each other which the LORD hates. It was, young Elam, in truth the most immoral of times in our history. And because of this – because the wickedness was so great – God judged the world and sent the great flood.’ Elam nodded, soberly taking in that information.

‘Grandpa,’ began Asshur. ‘What can we do to make sure the world never becomes like that again?’ Noah looked at him firmly. ‘The LORD commands us to make Law Courts. To have judges who judge our communities to ensure that we obey God and live in peace with each other. My child, we must have mercy and patience with those who transgress God’s holy laws, as he is merciful and patient with us. But, if they continue to disobey, we must punish them to preserve the law, order and peace in the world. By doing such we bring happiness to the world – we continue to make it a better place – returning it to the glory of Eden. Dear Grand-children. Every time you look at the Rainbow, think on these laws, and with your children and your children’s children, teach them, everlastingly so, to be faithful to God and the laws of holiness.’ Elam and Asshur looked up at their wise grandfather, smiled, and returned to picking grapes. And another day passed in the life of Noah and those who God had redeemed from the rest of mankind.

THE END

“Flowers for a Dead Man”

Miriam looked over the river Ehle. It was here, the last place his cremated remains had been scattered. It was here she would let go forever.

She thought back all those years earlier to the horror of that afternoon. The cold and bitter afternoon. She had been used to going to assembly, but just before the afternoon assembly was called a soldier had taken her aside. He had taken her aside, grasped at her breasts and tried to rape her practically. But she was still only 14 and did not know how to resist. Something, though, the soldier had said had bothered her. ‘Fraulein, your parents won’t bewail your virginity now.’ And then, later on, as she returned to her quarters, her virginity fortunately still intact, she knew what the soldier of spoken of. They had finally gone to the chamber. Her mother, father and three brothers. And by some miracle of God she had escaped the sentence that day. Some miracle of God in the form of a lecherous Nazi soldier.

All that winter she had feared the day. And then it had come and was past her before she could even say a word. And they had not taken her life, in the end. They had spared her, it seemed. And a few short years later, when the war was over, and she was wandering around the streets of the nearby town of the camp, wondering just what her future held, she thought on the mercy of God that day. The mercy he had graced her with.

She looked out upon the river, thinking on that word – mercy. King David often spoke in the psalms about the mercy the LORD had shown him. David was, in so many ways, the heart of her people. The one who epitomised the human struggle and desire for its maker. The one who clove to God through good times and bad, and the one who always claimed the mercy of God was everlasting.

She thought on that word – mercy. It, too, had been shown her when the soldier had taken her aside, played with her somewhat, but thrown her out before getting too serious. And it had again been shown her when month after month of missing out on the calls to the ‘Showers’ the end had finally come and she had survived. And it had again been shown in her in the way her Lord had blessed her with many children, grand-children and now great-grand-children. Yes, the mercy of the Lord was great indeed.

So if the Lord could show such great mercy, how could she not also. How could she not now forgive the one in her youth who had caused her so much shame and sorrow.

And so, tossing the flowers into the ‘Ehle’ river, were the final cremated remains of a dictator had been tossed, Miriam said, ‘I forgive you, Adolph. I forgive you.’

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..........

“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 diabolical adventure of RXQ7”

(NOTE: This short story is set to be published in May 2009 in the

Australian Short Story Anthology ‘Short and Twisted 2009’)

‘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 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 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 Raven and the Dove”

The Raven sat on the branch, contemplating the scene below. Three tireless workers, and the older father figure, toiling away, working on the big boat. The raven heard the term, often, 'Ark of Salvation', which it seemed to understand as referring to the Ark but, as Raven's were not as smart as humans, was not quite sure.

The Dove, sitting up the branch a little, also surveying the scene, turned to the Raven and asked. 'Why is the boat so big? Are they planning on travelling far, do you think?'

The Raven considered the question before responding 'God only knows.'

Months came and went, and the Raven and the Dove, having come aboard the Ark, were up near the side window, which the old man had opened that day, as it had finally stopped raining. 'Freaky,' said the Raven, looking out. 'There is water everywhere.'

'It is all the rain, dear Raven,' replied the Dove.
'You know, Dove, if this is the only boat and all the others have drowned, then I don't think I will ever leave the boat. It will probably end in no good, if you know what I mean. Leave this boat and who knows what trouble you could get in to.'
The dove considered the Raven's point, yet replied. 'I will take my chances. I mean, how possibly bad could it be? What, would they kill me or something?'
'Maybe,' said the Raven. 'But this God thing the old man speaks about, I think he sent all the rain. You better not be too cocky, or he will punish you as well.'
'Oh, I am not worried. There are plenty of doves here, and I think we will be fine.'
'Whatever,' said the Raven.

And time passed.

And the old man opened the window, and let the Raven go. The Raven flew out and looked all around, finding no safe land anywhere, so returned to the Ark. The old man took him back in, and petted his head lovingly. The Raven looked at the dove. 'I am never leaving, you know. Never leaving the old man. He has taken care of us when everything else was destroyed.' The dove nodded, starting to understand.

A little later on the Dove was released, found an olive leaf, but in considering the words of the Raven returned to be safe and sound.

Yet, in the testing of the dove, the dove was released again, and decided, because of the newness of the world - how it had been refreshed - that it would leave the man and take its chances. It would see just were its own freedom in life could take it.

Yet the Raven remained. And as years past, and as the communities of Ravens and Doves grew once more, the Raven kept in mind the lesson of the Ark and the Flood and, seeing the Old man's descendants sacrifice doves regularly, it wondered to itself just how long it would take before the Dove realized that, at the end, when the second and final punishment came, that there would be only one safe place then, and that was with the old man and the Ark.

THE END

“The Rings of Saturn”

It was later on, around the 4^th epoch of mankind, in which we had utilized most of the rings of Saturn. Water was needed, now. Greatly needed. Since the late 3^rd epoch more and more mining missions had returned from the outer edges of the system, bringing larger and larger hauls. And halfway through 4^th epoch, with the increased ability of our space-cruisers to tow large bodies, we had been bringing millions of asteroids as raw material back to System Alpha – our homeworld.

And then as the 5^th epoch dawned we had 3 more planets, manmade, 2 circling between earth and Venus and one circling between earth and Mars.

Tarsus was the largest of the new planets, slowly constructed from raw asteroid material. Tarsus saw the remainder of the water of the rings of Saturn poured onto it to establish as a new planet. This was no planet of God’s design, though. Mankind had made it itself.

The other two planets, Kara and Genniday, quickly boomed alongside Tarsus and soon the Stellar civilization had grown manifold. We were slowly filling up our system with planets and, despite being a system near the edge of the galaxy, we were the centre of our own universe.

It was later on in the 5^th epoch we noticed something – formative ice rings had begun forming around Saturn again. The theory was common that water floating through space gravitated to such planets and naturally formed such rings. We did not really know how much water was in space, exactly, or were it all came from, but as the 5^th epoch ended we were ready for about 3 more planets.

Some questioned, from time to time, would we go on like this forever? Forever building new planets from asteroids far out in space. We knew there were other planets around other star systems, but the distances were still too big for us to reach them within reasonable time periods. But the way we were going there was a plan. Eventually, perhaps around the 7^th epoch on current theories, we would have enough system resources to send out the long range ‘Arks’ – deep space vehicles sent on aeons long missions to explore the stars. We would eventually settle the galaxy – that much seemed true. And to think, it all came from that substance of life – water. And from the mystery of the rings of Saturn.

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

REGULAR LENGTH SHORT STORIES SECTION

“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 ‘Nixian’ Agenda”

‘Of course, everyone knows Hydran’s can’t be trusted. Those fowl snakes have always thought themselves superior to us, especially on the sporting field. But a day of Judgement has come, I tell you. We live in a new era, in this stellar civilization. The old ways time and time again have failed. Everyone knows that. Pluto and Charon never act in our best interests and rarely present our claims to the stellar council. So I urge you, fellow Nixians, join the revolution. Join the ‘Way of Darkness’ and we will ultimately conquer our foes. Remember, united we stand, divided we fall.’

The speaker, Roge Jembray, got down from his soapbox after another afternoon on his usual crusade and started handing out flyers to the crowd which had gathered. About 50 metres away a parked cruiser ignited its engine and took to the skies. As the cruiser headed back to its hotel destination, the two men on board in the back seat felt satisfied. They had seen enough. They had seen firsthand the growing revolutionary feeling on Nix, one of the moons of Pluto and Charon, and would take this news back to their Hydran politicians. Conflict was coming – that much was certain. And Nix and Hydra were about to face a most decisive of encounters.

***

‘So how did it go today, Roge?’

‘Oh, the usual turnout, Julessa. I did sign on 20 or so new recruits, which gives us the number we were looking for. We have 10,000 now. 10,000 souls willing to put their life on the line for the future of Nix and our place in the system.’

‘And if it leads to war, Roge? What then?’

‘Then some will live and some will die, Julessa. But freedom always has a price. Mankind has always known that truth.’ Julessa Jembray nodded at her husband’s words. They were in truth familiar.

‘Will you be at the meeting tonight, or have you changed your mind and agreed to spend the night with me and mother and father to celebrate their wedding anniversary?’

‘You know I would love to, J. But you know how important the meetings are. I can’t miss them. Not for anything.’

‘Yes, I know. I was only hoping.’

Roge, having been greeted by his wife after returning from his preaching, got up from the kitchen table and walked into the living room to turn on the holoviewer. He switched the channel to Nix’s main news channel. The usual mix of politics and other events. As he sat there, relaxing, he thought on his struggle – his struggle for the future of Nix, one of the furthest moons from old Earth, right out near the edge of the system. It was 400 years now since colonisation, and completely settled. Solar magnifiers gave them the heat and the electricity they needed and they had ample water taken from one of the ice rings of Saturn. Nix homed a billion people or thereabouts. The whole surface of the moon was covered and sublevels went down near to the moons core – it was its own new world. And now that it had a growing culture and identity it was proud of itself, and Nixians wanted more. Roge knew that. They wanted to impress themselves upon the system and, as far as Roge Jembray was concerned, in a way that would not be forgotten.

***

The man in black examined the picture. ‘So this is Jembray?’ The agent in front of him nodded. ‘Mmm. He doesn’t look that dangerous. But better to be safe than sorry. Agent 8X, you are authorised to use deadly force to deal with this radical. But please, obtain your weaponry on Nix. We want no leaks back to Hydra. Am I understood?’ Agent 8X coldly nodded. He understood, alright.

***

The meeting had gone well. Better than expected really, the latest in the long rally. They were ready now, the ‘Way of Darkness’, and the political stage was the next logical step. They had the 10,000 official members required for a political party and, despite Nix being long regarded as a left-wing haven, the radical right might just have a say in the affairs of Nix in the immediate future.

As he drove home that night in his cruiser Roge Jembray was excited. The party was to lodge its official application to become a political party tomorrow morning. It required the standard electronic application but new parties still had a degree of old fashioned paperwork to fill out as well as official hard copy documents needed to be sighted, which Roge had been working on for the last few weeks. He was the number two man in the ‘Way’, technically, but number one, old John Sinclair, was more of a figurehead from a ruling right wing party from earlier in the century. In all practical manners Roge ran the show. He was not sure just how far he would go, in the end, but he sensed a sentiment on Nix. People were fed up with the short straw this end of the system usually got in system resources. Nearly always the last on the handout cue. Of course, they were largely self-sufficient as a satellite body, but they still needed the rest of the system as no planet stood alone in the end. Roge had a plan. He wanted to ruffle Hydra’s feathers in some ways. Hydra was much like Nix, similar in size, the other major moon of Pluto/Charon. But Hydra had a long standing attitude of superiority against their Nixian neighbours, being older in settlement, and slightly larger in population. They were competitors on and off the field of sporting glory, but there was a growing feeling in Nix that if Nix could get one really good one up on Hydra, well the whole planet would feel better about itself. And that is the role Roge Jembray saw for himself. Being the right man at the right time for Nix, his beloved planet of birth.

Driving along he was oblivious to the cruiser which had just pulled up behind him. And as Roge Jembray neared his home agent 8X in the cruiser behind him readied himself for his assassination attempt.

The cruiser landed in the port of his home and he got out and stood looking at his house, a technical wonder in this era of Nixian history. He reached back down to the open cruiser door, picked up his GHT567 phaser which he carried for defensive reasons and heard a zapping sound just as he picked up the laser. Looking around he noticed a scorch mark on his house and turned quickly to see a figure in black hiding behind a cruiser just across the road, weapon pointed at him.

Roge reacted quickly. They had chosen the wrong guy to mess around with. He had served in Nixian security details and was an expert with his weapon. So much so that after an exchange of a dozen or so shots he landed the killing blow on his opponent.

Coming over he looked at the dead figure. All in black with and id badge reading 8X. That sounded familiar. Hydran special agents used that id system. He had read the action novels about them as a youngster. Hydra was after him now – that much was apparent. He would have to be even more cautious in the future. But this was a good thing. It meant he was being noticed. And if he was being noticed, it meant one other most important of things. He had power coming to him. And with that power he would change the history and future of Nix and the stellar system forever.

***

Gaining 14 seats out of the 5000 House of Representatives sitting members was a good start for Roge Jembray and the ‘Way of Darkness’. Both John Sinclair and himself were amongst the winning members and there was a sense in the party that this was just the beginning. Just the beginning. After he had survived the assassination attempt the news had been leaked that Hydra had been responsible and there was a growing undercurrent in Nix now, more so than ever. Nix wanted a piece of Hydra. They wanted to stand up to their older brother.

At the next election they increased to 158 seats and were officially a minor party in the House. They also gained 2 Senators. While previously they’d really only had voting power in the house of Reps, Senator’s carried a lot more weight. And Roge had foregone his seat in the house of Reps to take up one of the Senatorial positions for the party. Now he had a degree of power – real power. They were a far right party, but the right wing opposition occasionally had words with them and sought their support on voting issues from time to time. Roge now had some influence.

It was at this time Roge formed ‘Children of the Night’, a long planned part of his agenda. The ‘Children’ were special operatives of the party, which Roge worked hard to gain official power for, which had just been granted by a special sitting assembly. Even the left wing recognized some of the sentiments the ‘Way’ represented. The ‘Children’ were then given the resources to accomplish their objectives.

Nix had a long standing arrangement with Hydra on supply ships from the inner system, but when special operatives of the ‘Children’ amongst other key groups started abducting the robotic operated supply ships arriving from the inner system which were due for Hydra, Hydra eventually noticed. And hostilities began.

It started slow. Firstly official words from one President to another seeking clarification of the situation and the hope diplomacy would end the problem. But Nix remained insistent of their innocence, which both parties knew was not true. Nobody really expected war, in the end. Nix had a grudge, nothing more. And their agenda to gain revenge on their long rivals was seen just as that. And because of that, after the first official space conflict between Hydra and Nix in which a Hydran battle-cruiser was destroyed, the Hydran President decided that Hydran’s simply did not want war. They would wait this one out.

***

It was 4 years into the conflict that the inner system finally decided to act. A special council was convened on Earth, head planet of the stellar system. Representatives of Nix and Hydra were summoned and the Grand Chancellor spoke directly with Roge Jembray, Nix’s selected representative. It was an illuminating conversation and years later Roge Jembray had finally acknowledged the wisdom in the Chancellors words.

The Chancellor had said this to Roge, in private, at the seat of stellar harmony in New York. ‘Roge, we humans have a long history of conflict. Our history is rife with such a reality. Indeed, this represents human nature in so many ways. And while we often react to the oppression of others in hostility and hatred, as a civilization we have slowly learned the lessons that war and pride must give way to peace and forgiveness for the good of all of us. The ancient United Nations was a beacon in the early days of a united humanity, symbolizing the best in us to get along on a global scale. In those days there was so much racial and religious division that many despaired of ever finding universal peace. But we persevered as a people and, in the end, saw the light. Be it the creator’s grace, or just that funny thing called ‘love’ we eventually learned enough to know how to get along as a people and respect each other. And that, I think dear Roge, is what Nix and Hydra must learn. It is not unique, your situation. Civilizations have gone through such dilemmas many times before. So I urge you, dear Roge Jembray. Learn from them. Learn from their mistakes and successes and learn that getting along, being at peace, is always preferred to a life on the edge, in which safety has vanished. I am sure, in the end Roge Jembray, you will do the right thing.’

Later on that year the conflict between Nix and Hydra had largely died down. The council seemed to have resolved most of the issues that Nix in particular had. And Roge, as he continued in his political life, thought often on the wisdom of the Grand Chancellor and eventually nodded to himself that he had indeed spoken with a wise man. And, as the years past, and Nix and Hydra grew more into friends than rivals Roge Jembray acknowledged that there was wisdom in the way of peace. There was wisdom indeed.

THE END