Authors: Heaven Liegh Eldeen
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Names, characters, place
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Copyright © 2014
by Heaven Liegh Eldeen
Cover art by
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Published by Heaven Liegh Eldeen
This novel is dedicated to my wonderful husband
and my son
Lil Man. You are the
keep my Demons at bay.
You’re my favorites!
And to my dear
cousin Corey “Corey-B
ird” Crawford, you went home before we were ready for you to leave. We love and miss
take comfort in knowing you’re guarding us
and we’ll see each
I’ll bring the
I’d like to take this time to thank you, the reader. If it weren’t for you, the voices in my head would have no one with an open
mind to share their stor
By Dan Dillard
Author of ‘What Tangled Webs’
Each evening I sit to relax with my meal,
I first check the contracts, pursuing each deal.
My menu for dining can differ you see,
on those who have sold unto me.
I find that the righteous are fatty and bitter,
much prefer ‘filet of casual sinner’.
The faithful are bland adding naught to the stew,
skin is much thicker, a challenge to chew.
The youthful are spicy; their flesh is quite tender,
quite a nice sauce from their kind in my blender.
I don’t like the taste of the squeaky or clean,
the naughty, till now, were far few and between.
I find as of late more and more my meals sate
the persons who feed me don’t trust much in fate.
They lie and they cheat which seasons their meat.
A quick char in hell’s flames makes my table complete.
I feel that this warning is needed for most
don’t want to end up with me as their host.
They laugh at morals and lessons they’re taught,
to places they’re told they should not.
Do not stray from your path to the church or the store,
mistake may be small, but will lead you to more.
Then lost and alone you may find out that
, wrapped up quite nicely and brought to my door.
I will not complain, as it would not be right.
To turn down the souls
which feed me at night.
a spiritual being superior to humans in power and intelligence; especially: one in the lowest rank in the celestial hierarchy b plural: an order of angels — see celestial hierarchy
an attendant spirit or guardian
a usually white-robed winged figure of human form in fine art
a person like an angel (as in looks or behavior)
Christian Science: inspiration from God
one (as a backer of a theatrical venture) who aids or supports with money or influence
The shattered skulls and cracked bones of the disobedient made up the structure of the desk in my office. Beautiful carvings of my greatest achievements in the silicate rock are obstructed by towers of forms, contracts, and requests, all awaiting either my signature or denial.
that I’m not sitting in some forgotten storage facility is a monolith statue of myself chiseled from the iron and magnesium structure of my palace.
iron waterfall pours from my ra
ging mouth, settling into a stream surrounding my desk, and then flows beneath my world to the Earth’s core below.
Having taken on so many different appearances to appease the superficial masses, the monumental icon serves as the only reminder of my actual appearance after I succeeded from the holy union above.
Once considered the most handsome and eligible bachelor in the Heavens, Father thought
stripping me of my
flawless skin, strong chin
cheek bones, straight
blue eyes, would teach me a lesson and have me crawling back
on my wounded ego. But my dry, scaled skin, long charcoal talons, serrated horns, agile spiked tail, and needlelike fangs made eviscerating any troop he sent demanding my servitude
to the Almighty
Once the bond between Father and
had been permanently severed, so were the restrictions on my abilities.
Father’s strict rules on illusions, flashing, morphing
s of battle
shattered with my ties to the world above.
God may have tak
en away my
never take away my cunning and my ability to persuade those I saw fit to see things my way, except for one.
The only one that mattered.
My better half.
Growing up around perfection
it hadn’t been hard to tell at a young age I
the same as
those around me. Despite being much shorter, leaner and more physically awkward than my peers, I had not been as carefree and wild as them. While the other children would run and play, I would read the rule books, strategy blue-prints, and war journals. While they went to cotillion
and festivals, I
home highlighting flaws and loopholes in those rule books, making improvements to the battle strategies, and taking notes from the war journals. As they worried over which color stola or chiton to wear, I toiled about what dangers might be lying in wait beyond and inside the gates and how to prepare our civilization for the unseen enemy’s eventual attack.
More often than not my odd interests and anxieties caused me to be at the butt end of teasing and bullying. But always there by my side, no matter
much she would rather go and play with the others
had been my sister
defending and standing up for me. She encouraged my
on that it bothered her
though I knew different. Not once did she complain about hearing the music and laughter coming from the Great Hall while she sat at home tending to my anti-social paranoia. Instead of fussing
wear to the next social event, when I grew too tired to read my books, she would read
to me. If my anxiety grew too large, she would hold me, promising should the gates fall she would lay down her life
protect me. Cradling my head in her bosom, she would caress my hair and
my worries away.
Though I grew into my lanky frame and filled out to be quite an attractive and eligible suitor, none of the females
ld my attention
. Our mother would try to play
, inviting the mating cream of the crop in hopes one would woo me into marital submission. But each one failed worse than the
As I tried to explain matters of the state, they dribbled on about pointless gossip and fashions, taking no stance on the issues that plagued our world.
No, the women of Heaven would rather spend their time pretending nothing
shake their world.
All the women, that is, except for Abihail.
Strong in her beliefs
though naive at times, she’
d argue politics and celestial events with the best of politicians and advocates.
on her for intelligent
conversation and support. Abihail was mine, and mine alone. That is until Rahovart took her from me.
Failing at finding a suitable match for me, mother turned her attention to Abihail. When the ‘noble’ Rahovart came calling for Abihail
day, I had no idea his brutish charm would rip away everything I held so dear.
Instead of staying home coddling my fears and worries, or read
the newest law book to me, Abihail allowed herself to be whisked under Rahovart’s arm to the next opulent dance or celebration.
in our afternoon sprawls in the grass, talking about ways to make our world a better place
for pining over Rahovart when he would be sent away on a mission. In his presence, Abihail went from strong, intelligent
sed to a puddle of utterly useless ramblings of love, weddings
and children. A flash of his flirtatious
would whirl Abihail into a fantasy world where nothing existed except fluffy white clouds, rainbows, stars, and her and Rahovart.
So when Father gave me the task of being a prosecutor
at the mighty Tribunals
, only her name
me to mind for my assistant. I hoped working with me in our legal system would bring her back from Rahovart’s spell to reality.
In the beginning it seemed to work. Abihail would cancel a picnic to stay with me and prepare the next day’s cases. Again, I found my head in her lap
as she read transcripts
of the previous day’s proceedings
. If a case seemed to particularly
me, she would once again caress my hair and tell me all the things I needed to hear
to strut into the courtroom the next day and demoli
y life had been perfect
but only for a short time
gain, Rahovart took it away when the Neanderthal proposed to Abihail.
Desperate to prevent her from making a mistake, I went to Father and demanded he not allow the union. When asked who a better mate for her would be, Father laughed when I named myself. Saying I had confused brotherly love with true love, he would not listen to another word about an incestuous union.
No matter my protests
or the obstacles I threw before them, Abihail married the dullard. That’s when I knew, the only way to change
, one where Abihail s
t by my side as my wife where she belonged. Once I had my plan, I ran to Abihail. I t
old her of the perfect world we’d
create and rule
. I would be
able to give her everything she’d
ever need and
want, including the children she
and Rahovart seemed to have trouble conceiving. In my mind I saw her throwing herself around me with grateful glee. However,
stared at me in horror, appalled I would ever suggest such things. Feeling a fool
for thinking my words
break past Rahovart’s brainwashing, I knew then I would have to take her against her will.
With her growing more distant by the m
inute, I had to implement my coup
sooner than I had anticipated. With numbers on my side, the plan had been going off without a hitch. I had Rahovart in my crosshair and Abihail within reach
until a fool
servant wounded her
to manifest itself upon me. I left that day without my trophy but with a promise that
I would not rest until Abihail
was mine for all time and
later, she fights what is meant to be
my wait will be over. Though my last attempt to claim her had been thwarted by none other than Rahovart and his posse of feeble-minded goons, failure would not be an option this time around. I simply had to wait.
In order to kill time, I shuffled through another stack of paperwork r
equired to obtain a fallen soul
distracted by the macabre trophies I
worked so hard to build and obtain. Each one representing an unanswered, forsaken prayer intended for my Father
granted by me.
I paid my spies well to ensure every prayer
up by the Big Man made its way to my attention. Every one giving me an opportunity to build my forces,
my enemies. But after centuries of wheeling and dealing, I found myself growing tired of reading the same wishes and empty promises over and over, day in and day out.
“Please don’t let me be pregnant
I swear I’ll go to church every day”, “Dear God, please let the Oakland Raiders make it to the play-offs”, “If I win the lottery, I’ll donate half to charity.”
My personal favorites are the empty requests and swears made on the toilet during a difficult bowel movement.
Mankind bombards celestial ears with menial, trivial wants
the Heavens when no reply
is given. But it is my job, no matter how ridiculous the request, to see to the unanswered and ensure they make good on their shallow promises. And to those who refuse…well, they make it to my trophy room.
Glancing down at the stack of papers teetering on my desk, I
released a disinterested sigh when I hear
the call I
waiting all night for