Somewhere on then edge of reality, in a place that lies on the edge of dreaming and wakefulness, there is a house.
It is not a house like anyone would expect though, this house, down to the very fibers in the wood and nails are completely made up of dreams. In fact, if one looks closely, studying the fine grains of the wood, they could most likely the place where the dreams connect onto one another.
The grassy hill the house sits on is entirely made of dreams as well. It is known that if one should pick one of the many blades of grass and places it under their pillow at night, the dreamer will experience the most beautiful and realistic dreams ever. The dreams happen to be so wonderful, that they tend to leave a lasting impression on the person, almost like falling in love for the first time or watching life begin anew. It haunts you until your last days.
However, it is not the hill of the house that has any significance what so ever, it is merely the setting of the extraordinary events that take place inside the walls that are important. Scholars that have gone ahead into the next world, bringing with them large volumes from the vast library of the realm of the dead sit in the one large, empty room the house is made of and ponder humanity. Sometimes there are tables in the house, sometimes it is an empty room, it depends on the spirit or spirits occupying it really.
This time there are two forms sitting t a table, they both sip tea from finely painted cups, that in the absence of a matching teapot, never seem to empty. The first form radiates a pleasantness that attracts people to him, while the other is the polar opposite, repelling everything and everyone with an aura that could wilt flowers.
This first person, being the one with the aura of pleasantness, is a thin character with slightly rosy cheeks and freckles that are dotted across his slightly upturned nose. He is dressed in the color of innocence (The only way one can see this color is by looking out the window as the sun rises over a fresh blanket of snow on Christmas morning.), from his back spring a pair of wings that have shinning white feathers made of the first giggles of babies. His hair is made from the golden rays of sun on summer days, and it falls gently his eyes that are made from the leftover materials from when god made the sky.
The other man wears the color of pain (The only way to see this color is by running full speed, head first into a brick wall. The purplish-black color you see before you die is the color of pain and the man’s clothes.), from his back grow wings with dull, tattered feathers made from ravens plucked from the sky by michevious boys with pellet guns. His hair, black as midnight in the dead of winter doesn’t fall into his leaf green eyes, as it is slightly singed from the fires that fuel bad deeds. His skin is slightly tanned and leathery, and looks borrowed as it hangs awkwardly on his skeletal frame.
They both sit back, enjoying their tea in the little room.
“Damn Mikey,” the darker man said in a voice in a voice reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard. “The past hundred years have been pretty good to you.”
“Michael, the angel corrected in a voice like sleighbells in snow. “And yes Azrael, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you however. The fall was less than kind for you.”
“How many times must I remind you, I didn’t fall, I strolled slightly downward. There was never any falling involved.” Azrael grinned and snickered at his little joke, but quickly found himself the only one in the room that saw the humor in his statement.
“Sorry, but I don’t find any humor in being cast out. If I were you, I would be trying to work off my punishment by undoing the wrong I did…. What did you do to get into so much trouble?”
“A couple of the others and me decided to play a joke on the humans. Nothing big.”
“What was the joke?” Michael asked taking a long sip of his tea and patting dry his rosebud lips with a napkin made of white rosepetals.
“We made the dinosaur fossils and waited for someone to find them. It was a great joke if you ask me, and you know me, I couldn’t resist.”
“Ah, so that’s where that nonsense with the dinosaurs started.”
“Yep, now wait until the archaeologists find the stone tablet we made explaining the joke to tem. To make the joke even better we signed ‘God’ to the end of it.” He said chuckling.
“You’re right, it is a pretty good joke, but don’t you think it will disappoint all the people studying those bones? I’d be pretty upset if I found out my life’s work was all a big joke.”
“OK, I se your point, but a guy has got to have some fun. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to stir up some trouble? Let you hair down, go wild.”
“Good heavens no,” Michael said looking shocked, shaking his head violently. The very thought of causing trouble made his wings tremble. “My days of wildness are long over, I have washed my hands of such things. I prefer to help people out more now.”
“Help people, that’s pretty boring if you ask me.”
“No, not at all. I have fun doing it really. Just the other day I fetched a little girls kitten from a tree for her and dried her tears away.”
“I made a pious woman doubt her faith by urging her into several acts of….”
“Don’t tell me, please,” Michael said raising his hand.
“OK, suit yourself, but it was pretty good. I don’t think she’ll forget that anytime soon. You’re just a wuss.”
“I cast you out of heaven, think about that before you call me names.”
“Oh yeah, my tailbone still hurts, thank you very much.”
“You shouldn’t have caused s much trouble, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m very sorry.” Michael said with a sigh.
“Is there something wrong, it wasn’t something I said.”
“No Azrael, it isn’t you. I’m just tired. It’s becoming harder and harder to find anymore good in the world.”
“What are you talking about man, you aren’t doubting your boss are you?”
“I’m afraid I am.”
Azrael was so shocked by Michael’s words that when he stood up his chair fell over, shattering into a thousand dream particles that reformed into the chair as quickly as it was shattered. He watched as the particles formed the outline of the object first, then filled it in giving it substance, and then finally became a solid chair again. He sat down on it, a look of total disbelief on his face.
“Don’t worry too much now,” Michael said after a long pause. “It isn’t his actions I doubt, it’s his intentions I wonder about sometimes. I know he means well, but I just refuse to believe that he would allow some of the things that are happening to happen.”
“If you’re worried about falling yourself, don’t. If all the angels that doubted God’s intentions were cast out, Heaven would be pretty empty right now.”
“No, I’m not worried about that. It’s just that I’ve become fond of people, and I can’t stand to see them suffer the way they do. I don’t think it’s right.” Michael said, looking out the window at the hill, and the grass.
“Don’t talk like that Michael, don’t go questioning him directly either. You are too good, you could never stand the fall, I of all people should know. It hurts.”
“It really hurts?”
“Yeah, it’s like when humans say: ‘Its like slamming your left ball in a door.’ It takes a thousand years to get used to the pain, five hundred before you learn how to drown out the screams, and another three hundred to gt used to the smell. Stay out of there if you can.”
‘Then why don’t you try to get back into god’s graces again?”
“It’s hard, believe me I’ve tried. Once you’ve tasted being bad it gets under your skin, you begin to like it. You have to cause trouble to feel good again.”
“I see, but I can’t help gut wonder of God has a plan for all the suffering people out there. If in fact, there will be some sort of grace for them in the end.”
Azrael allowed the angel’s word to wander through his head for a while before answering Michael. Suddenly he found himself wanting a beer, and with that wanting, the dream particles that formed the teacup scattered. Within a few seconds, new particles formed the outline of a beer bottle, and as with the tea, he would never run out of beer. Gratefully, he took a long drink from the bottle and belched loudly.
“You know Michael,” Azrael said finally. “You re a very beautiful man.” He said in a mock slurred voice.
“That wasn’t funny.” Michael said, shaking his head slightly.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist, the conversation was getting was to serious there. But, to answer your question, I really don’t know if there is any one grace for the suffering masses out there. Maybe there is maybe there isn’t. Does it matter?”
“I think it would matter very much to the people.”
“Then it does matter, as long as it matters to someone, it will always matter, and someone will find a way to heal the suffering.”
“Azrael, I’m shocked. That’s a rather optimistic outlook for a devil, I think you’re on your way back into his graces yet.”
“Contrary to popular belief, a devil can be positive, but if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it totally. I’ll claim that I just got drunk and told a bunch of dirty jokes.” He said with a broad smile. Michael laughed loudly at his comment, the sound of church bells carried on it.
“I have to wonder though, how do you keep our little meetings secret?” Azrael asked taking a long pull on his never emptying bottle of beer.
“From God?”
“No, form you ugly cousin, yeah God. Who else?”
“I think he knows, and he only allows them to continue in the hopes that I might be able to convince you to earn your way back into heaven”
“Not gonna happen,” Azrael smiled broadly. “I’m having way too much fun as it is. Besides, I get bored way too fast, I need excitement.”
“I think you are deeper than you let on, there’s hope for you yet.”
“Believe what you want, but there’s way much trouble making left in me yet.” Michael stretched and the table and its contents separated and formed into the walls of the house again. As they both stood the chairs followed the table and two doorways formed in the empty house.
“Well, I have really enjoyed our conversation today.” Michael said and made his way to the door of light.
“Ditto, we’ll have to do this again, a hundred years from now sound good to you?”
“Wonderful, I’ll see you then,” the angel said and stepped into the doorway. Silently it faded away, leaving the devil standing in the empty room save the doorway of fire and screams.
He stood for a moment in silent reflection, turning the conversation over in his head, and coming to the conclusion each time. Finally, after several moments he stepped into the doorway, which closed behind him leaving an empty room, the only room, in a house on a grassy hill, that still stands at the edge of reality. A house that patently waits for souls be them Angels or devils, to create new things to go in it that will fade after the occupant leaves.
It is a patient house, created entirely of dreams that will never fade with time. Even now, a wind created by dreams sweeps over the grass as soft footsteps are herd approaching on a path that just formed. Inside the house, changes are occurring to welcome this new occupant, a piano forms in the corner and the little girl enters. She sits down on the piano bench and begins to play the sweetest songs as birds created by the dreams, fly by the window in the perfect blue sky.
K. King 30, March 1999