Colored Glass

By V. Cooper

This book is a mosaic of short stories told from many points of view that weave a larger tale about the fundamental connection between good and evil. The stories account the brotherly comradeship of Michael the Archangel and Lucifer prior to and despite Lucifers demise from the most perfect good to the most perfect evil. Once evil takes residence, the once creative rivalry between the two diverges into their covert use of human beings to harvest the souls of Earth. Since in this complex stealthy war there are multiple sides to every story, each chapter houses accounts from the supernatural point of view and the day-in-the-life point of view of human beings. Anyone that faces the trials and tribulations of todays world understands how quickly good can bleed into evil or evil into good. This is a story about how we as human beings can be manipulated between the two by unseen forces.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465346575

V. Cooper

V. Cooper is a fourth generation artist, photographer, musician, and writer. She grew up in the family photography studio in a world rich with photography and art, and a family whose musicians loved to jam together whenever the whim hit them. An avid writer, she wrote her first stories, Charlene Clooney Mystery Stories, at the age of 9. She has a Bachelors of Liberal Arts in History with a minor in Political Science and a Masters in Computer Information Systems. Currently she continues her family’s artistic heritage in conjunction with a career in higher education student systems deployment, employed as a senior consultant for a Miami, Florida IT consulting firm.

Book preview

Chapter 1 Hope.jpg

CHAPTER 1

Hope

THE GLOW OF the rising sun was outlining Red Mountain with a surrealistic brilliance, quieting the visibility of the nightly dance of the curtains of red and green auroras. A few clouds drifted leisurely across the radiant reds and oranges of the desert sky, and the chilly quiet of the awakening desert made this typical winter morning in the Valley of the Sun perfect. Normally, Father Michael Tyr found Phoenix weather such as this exhilarating, perfect for one of his early morning five-mile runs. Today, however, he was settling for a trudge around I’itoi, the Salt River Indian Reservation’s newly built five-thousand-seat amphitheatre.

I’m going to take a quick walk while you finish setting up, okay? asked Father Mike.

Sure, said Alex.

No problem, said Stephan. Anything special you want us to do with the setup?

Just the usual, said Father Mike.

You got it, said Stephan. Enjoy your walk.

Thanks, said Father Mike.

Father Mike wound down the stone steps from the stage and briskly moved up the tiers to the top level of the amphitheatre. He put his long dark hair behind his ears and sank down into the soft grass that carpeted the seating area. His sparkling gray eyes had sunken deep into his ruddy checks from lack of sleep, and he had grown noticeably thinner. He pressed his bottle of cold water to his forehead and shut his eyes.

What’s Father Mike doin’ up there anyway? asked Alex.

Dunno, said Stephan.

Bet he has one of his headaches, said Alex.

Obviously, said Stephan.

That’s not good, said Alex. Something bad always happens when he gets one.

You’re crazy, said Stephan.

Think we should . . . , said Alex.

Yeah, go check on him, said Stephan.

Alex trotted down the stage’s runway to the center platform.

Hey, Father Mike! yelled Alex. You okay?

Father Mike lowered the water bottle from his forehead and gingerly peaked over the top of his sunglasses. Fine! he yelled, grimacing at the brightness of the sun. He closed his eyes and quickly returned his sunglasses to their original position.

Oh, yeah? yelled Alex. I could see the look on your face from down here!

Do you guys need help? asked Father Mike.

No, we got it! yelled Alex. Want some coffee?

Maybe later! Thanks! yelled Father Mike.

Alex turned to Stephan and shrugged his shoulders. Stephan returned the shrug, and Alex trotted back up the runway to the main stage.

Stephan Grayson was part owner of an event management company, and his brother Alex did sound for the company and freelanced on the club circuit. The brothers had bonded with Father Mike soon after he became the priest at St. Mary’s and were always available to work with Father Mike on any of St. Mary’s events or Masses.

Although Stephan was three years older and slightly taller than Alex, they could almost pass for twins. Each of them had the same fair-skinned, square-jawed face accentuated with a Roman nose and wide-set piercing brown eyes. They were both muscular and in top shape, thanks to Stephan’s gym and their nightly load-ins and load-outs of musical equipment, and both had long wavy black hair.

Typical brothers, they very rarely agreed on anything. This made gigs difficult for the other band members, especially when an immediate decision was needed for the evening’s event. After years of frustration, their band mates finally became quite adept at bringing the brothers to a mutual decision by disagreeing with one of them. Of course, Alex and Stephan were privy to the game and thoroughly enjoyed playing into the drama, uniting against a common foe. They had become the entertainment before the event at most rock bars and venues.

The just shy of three hours’ sleep Alex and Stephan had managed to work in after the previous night’s gig had left them a bit disoriented, to say the least. They probably would have gotten more sleep had they not become so engaged in the philosophical discussion with the rest of the band and the bartender after the bar closed. Naturally, Stephan and Alex attributed these regular after-gig sessions to their belief that artists on the whole, especially musicians, have a greater than normal level of intelligence and can, therefore, come up with all sorts of solutions for a wide variety of societal ills. Couple that intelligence with extreme imaginations, and viola, you have multiple reincarnations of Einstein and Da Vinci in deep, endless, wild, and crazy discussions that sometimes last until sunrise. Naturally, bleary-eyed, early morning discussions following these after-gig sessions are quite, shall we say, interesting and insightful. Most importantly, they keep tired muscles moving and encourage brain functionality.

Good, said Stephan. Father Mike is moving closer to the stage.

Yeah, said Alex. Maybe his headache is getting better.

I don’t think so. He’s moving awfully slow, said Stephan.

Did you notice the guy with all the tattoos last night? asked Alex.

Sure. I saw you and about twenty other guys with lots of tattoos, said Stephan.

I’m talking about the one that was preaching about the end of the world, said Alex.

Oh, that guy, said Stephan. The one outside the bar with the horns implanted in his head.

Are you serious? asked Alex.

Yeah, said Stephan. Don’t tell me you missed that.

Guess I was too busy looking at all his weird tattoos, said Alex.

And yours aren’t weird? asked Stephan.

Not compared to his, said Alex. His were so out there.

To each his own, said Stephan.

So, do ya really think the world is gonna end? asked Alex.

Huh? asked Stephan.

You heard me, said Alex. Well?

Were you drinkin’ Black Jack again last night? asked Stephan.

Nope, said Alex. I was . . .

So you believe some whacko? asked Stephan.

No, I . . . , said Alex.

Good. Just so we’re straight here. You don’t think the world is ending then, said Stephan.

Well, maybe it is. The news says so, said Alex.

I’m impressed. Since when do you watch the news? asked Stephan.

Well, actually, I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up, the news was already on, said Alex. Wish I would have never seen it.

Wow, first a whacko, then the news, said Stephan. That’s some combination you’re drawing from.

So you’re the one with the degree. What’s your opinion? asked Alex.

"My opinion? What makes you think the world is ending? asked Stephan. It’s not your style to believe everything you hear, especially from two sources such as these."

I dunno. Things are just out there right now, said Alex. It’s like we have a new war in a different country every day. So?

So, my opinion is none of this is new, said Stephan. There’s always been war, sometimes much worse than the ones now. If there’s not war, there’s plenty of conflicts on every level of government and in our own personal lives to take up the slack.

True, said Alex. But what about all these earthquakes and all this crazy weather?

What about it? asked Stephan. Can we please talk about something else?

Nope, said Alex. Whatdaya think?

Stephan sighed. Well, I think all of this has occurred before, anyway, said Stephan. Maybe some of it hasn’t happened that recently, but definitely at some point in our planet’s history.

Well, if we can invent nuclear bombs, you’d think we could figure out a way to harness all this weather or at least better predict where and when it’s going to happen, said Alex.

Alex, you know as well as I that man is not really all that. We just think we are, said Stephan. The truth is we can’t change the fact that this planet is alive and incessantly growing and changing. If it ever stopped, that would be a huge disaster.

When you say this planet, you sound really weird, said Alex.

Sorry, said Stephan.

You wanna a doughnut? asked Alex opening the box of doughnuts next to the thermos of coffee.

From Dad’s? asked Stephan.

The one and only, said Alex.

You’re the best! exclaimed Stephan. I’m starving!

Stephan grinned and peered eagerly into the box Alex offered him. He was a doughnut connoisseur, and his favorite doughnut was a chocolate iced long john from Dad’s Bakery. There were three of them in the box, still warm and fresh. He gingerly picked the longest, fattest one of the three and closed his eyes in sheer contentment as he bit into the warm chocolate iced morsel. He savored the taste, chewing slowly and deliberately, in apparent heaven.

Suddenly, Stephan’s expression changed, and he stopped in mid chew. Hmmm, he said as he resumed his chewing, What’s up?

Whadaya mean what’s up? asked Alex.

You’re not yourself, said Stephan, washing the first bite down with hot black coffee.

What makes you say that? asked Alex.

It’s not your style to buy doughnuts in the morning, said Stephan. You’re strictly a Bloody Mary kinda guy.

Thanks a lot, said Alex. Didn’t you notice last night? I quit.

Again? asked Stephan.

You sound like Beth, said Alex. Yes, I’m serious this time.

Right, said Stephan. So what made you quit this time?

A lot of stuff, said Alex.

What kinda stuff? asked Stephan.

Well, just think about it. What if that super volcano in Yellowstone erupts? We’d be toasted, said Alex, or if one of those rifts opens up and swallows everything around it, and . . . , said Alex.

Whoa, there little brother. Are you serious? asked Stephan.

So it could happen? asked Alex.

Well, yeah, said Stephan. Of course, it already has, said Stephan.

Yellowstone erupted? asked Alex.

Well, yeah, just not recently, said Stephan. I doubt we’d be standing right here if that had happened within the last few days.

So you think all this is going to get worse? asked Alex.

It could, but I doubt the worst is gonna happen in our lifetime, said Stephan.

But it could, said Alex.

Well, yeah, said Stephan.

But we’re prepared in case it does, said Alex. Right?

Depends on how bad it is, said Stephan.

Huh? asked Alex.

Face it, Alex, said Stephan, any type of mega disaster like you’re talking about is difficult to deal with period, even if the country impacted is prepared for such a thing. That’s a proven fact.

Great, said Alex. Well, this latest natural earthly crap changed the tilt of the Earth. Shouldn’t we be worried about that?

Wow, you said crap instead of shit. Amazing, said Stephan. And?

Well, what does that mean? asked Alex.

Nobody knows, said Stephan. Maybe the change in the tilt is the cause of this latest increase of weird weather. Maybe it’s just a normal cycle of weather and natural changes in our planet. Who knows? We just have to trust that everything will work out or not.

Well, that’s encouraging, said Alex. I should have said shit.

So you’re worried that maybe you need to make some changes in your life, like spending more days sober than drunk? asked Stephan.

Well, yeah, and treating Beth with more respect and being a better father to Tim, said Alex.

Wow. Are you really serious this time? asked Stephan.

I think so, said Alex.

Scared straight? asked Stephan.

No, said Alex.

Well, chew on this one. You were complaining about your cell phone cutting out yesterday, right? asked Stephan.

Yeah, that really sucked, said Alex.

That was caused by solar storms, said Stephan.

I know, said Alex.

You do? Huh. Well, think it through, if our satellites and cell phones aren’t working and something large scale, as in really ugly, happens, we’re SOL, said Stephan.

Don’t even say that, said Alex.

But solar storms aren’t a new phenomena, Alex. They happen off and on all the time. They just get a little worse every eleven years, said Stephan.

I don’t remember this happening eleven years ago, said Alex.

I’d be surprised if you remembered a year ago, said Stephan.

Thanks a lot, said Alex. Can we be serious now?

I am serious, said Stephan.

Stephan could tell by the expression on Alex’s face he was getting angry, and he loved to punch Alex’s buttons. But he could also tell Alex was genuinely worried about something other than himself for a change. Stephan slapped Alex on the shoulder.

Sorry, said Stephan. Look, everything in our universe, especially our Earth, is a living thing, always changing. All these changes come and go over the course of billions of years. We’re nothing to all of this; just along for the wild ride. Things are just a little crazier than normal for us right now and a little stranger because the poles are changing as well.

I thought they were just melting, said Alex.

Just melting? asked Stephan.

Well, Alaska and a lot of the area around the north pole used to be a tropical forest. It could happen again, said Alex.

And sink half the known world in the process, said Stephan. History channel?

Nope. Overheard Tim and his friend talking about a project they’re working on for science class, said Alex.

In the seventh grade? asked Stephan. It’s a good thing he took after Beth and not you.

Want some more coffee? asked Alex.

Nope, said Stephan.

Uh, oh! You’ve got that look. You’re thinking about the end now, said Alex.

Nope, said Stephan. Actually I was thinking that if it wasn’t for our crazy poles, we wouldn’t be seeing the auroras all over the world like we are now, and that, my brother, is a once in a many lifetime thing.

That’s crazy, isn’t it? All those green and red ghost snakes dancing in the sky every night? asked Alex.

Ghost snakes? Never thought of them that way, said Stephan. Did you know they’re actually space tornadoes?

I don’t wanna hear it, said Alex.

Funny how something like that can bring a world together, said Stephan.

Funny how disasters seem to bring people together, said Alex.

We better get with it here, said Stephan.

The amphitheatre was constructed of natural red rock and soft carpets of grass. The main stage was positioned at the entry to the labyrinth of seats and a runway from the stage extended to a center circular raised platform. The comfortable grassy seating levels provided a magical view of the stage, and despite the fact, it was an outdoor venue, the acoustics were amazing.

The area surrounding the amphitheatre provided unlimited parking and security configurations. As a result, the amphitheatre, created first and foremost for tribal events, had become a sought-after facility on the national and international music and lecture circuits.

The date of the Midnight Mass had materialized unexpectedly, and Father Mike had struggled finding a venue that was right for the event. Luckily, the Graysons’ event management company had already booked the evening in question at the amphitheatre. Stephan, well known for his power of persuasion, convinced the scheduled bands to donate the venue and provide acoustic music for the evening.

The musical element of Father Mike’s Midnight Mass grew into an event of its own. As the date approached, additional musicians and musical groups asked to provide music. When all was said and done, the final product was an unending jam, featuring artists of multiple genres of music, playing all sorts of standards and current popular releases together from early in the afternoon until the Mass began. It didn’t matter if I’itoi was empty or full, if the musician was a professional or a novice, or if the musician could stay all day or for an hour or less. It was the power of the jam that pervaded.

Stephan and Alex walked to center stage and surveyed the setup possibilities. Just inside the facility walls, a fortress of mesquite trees surrounded the upper level of the amphitheater. There were two primary technical control booths, one on stage left and one positioned in the center of the upper tier directly aligned with center stage. The tiered seating levels fell in equal intervals ending at the large grassy area in front of the stage and along the runway.

We’re still in agreement that I’m doing the video feed and you’re doing sound, right? asked Stephan.

Sure. Beth is going to take care of the screen monitors and the lights. Tim will be here with us, too, said Alex.

KEKQ should be here around noon for initial setup, said Stephan.

Cool, said Alex. So move the podium first, piano second?

Podium’s already out here, said Stephan. Father Mike brought it earlier, remember?

Really? asked Alex. Hey, you’ve got chocolate icing above your lip there.

Stephan gave Alex a weird look and rolled his eyes.

What! exclaimed Alex.

Nothin,’ I guess. said Stephan. Where is . . . oh, never mind. Did I get it?

Yeah, said Alex.

So quit leaning on the podium, and help me move the piano, said Stephan.

Alex’s mouth dropped. What the heck? How’d I miss this? I’ve been leaning on the podium this whole time? asked Alex.

Come on, bro, he said. I know it’s early. The two returned to the backstage area and unfastened the protective covering around the piano.

I dread this, said Alex. These squeaky wheels make my teeth hurt.

Shut up and push, said Stephan.

They positioned the piano center front, next to the podium.

Father Mike! yelled Stephan.

Stephan! yelled Father Mike.

We’re going back for the second load! yelled Stephan.

Need help? asked Father Mike.

We got it! yelled Stephan.

Father Mike gave the brothers a thumbs up.

Alex and Stephan left the stage and jumped into the truck with a resounding slam of the truck doors. Father Mike winced. The truck was behind the stage on the loading dock, but that didn’t prevent the resounding collision of the metal on metal from echoing through the empty stage and inflicting a momentary stab of pain into his already throbbing head. The smooth purring of the truck motor was a bit easier for Father Mike to handle, and he was relieved to see the truck pull from behind the building. He watched as the truck rounded the corner, turned, and disappeared from sight into the street. Peace at last, he thought to himself.

Father Mike slowly meandered down the stone steps and ventured on stage. He was a great pretender, especially when it came to playing air guitar with the Grateful Dead. In this case, he only had a piano, but that was quite enough. He bowed to the empty rows of seats and sat down on the piano bench.

Father Mike placed his left elbow in the bass keys with a resounding chaos of bass notes and leaned into his left hand. There’s middle C, he thought and then started playing the same sequence of notes over and over, C, C#, D, D#, E, F, F#, G, G#, A, A#, B, then when the frequency doubled at C, he started back down the scale. This definitely wasn’t an accompaniment to one of the Grateful Dead’s songs, but it was important. He was supposed to remember something. What it was, he didn’t have a clue.

The man was already on stage when Father Mike noticed him. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere but then headaches can cause some interesting anomalies. He was a rather thin yet muscular grandfather type, and his long white hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He resembled a flower child who had grown older but never lost his innocence. His kind gray eyes glistened in his chiseled but lined face as he approached, and they seemed to look straight through Father Mike. Funny thing was, the man reminded Father Mike of himself except that he was much older.

May I help you? asked Father Mike.

Not really, said the man. Just keep playing.

I’m not really playing anything, said Father Mike. I’m just . . .

I know, said the man, but continue. It’s okay.

That’s strange, thought Father Mike as he resumed his playing, but, anyway, I have to remember whatever it is I’m supposed to remember and if it doesn’t bother him, well, fine.

The man brushed off the edge of the stage with his long fingered, artistic hands and sat down, his feet dangling over the edge. He took off his backpack and pulled a small brown bag from one of the side pockets.

Suddenly, Father Mike stopped playing and rose to his feet. Wow! exclaimed Father Mike. This is amazing!

You mean all the birds? asked the man.

Yes, said Father Mike. There must be hundreds of them!

Father Mike quickly walked to the edge of the stage. Is that for the birds? he asked.

Unless you’d like some, said the man.

I’ll pass, chuckled Father Mike.

Wanna help? asked the man.

Sure, thanks, said Father Mike, if there’s enough. That’s a really small bag of food you have there.

But it’s bottomless, said the man.

Sure it is, said Father Mike.

The man reached in with first his right hand, then his left, grabbing huge handfuls of breadcrumbs and sunflower seeds and throwing them into the midst of the sea of birds.

Here, grab a handful, said the man. Loud, aren’t they?

Did you see that? asked Father Mike.

What? asked the man.

The birds. They changed into, uh. They changed into . . . , stuttered Father Mike.

Are you okay? asked the man.

But did you see that? asked Father Mike. Those birds . . . each one that ate your food turned into a person.

Really. Then where are all these people now? asked the man.

I don’t know. They disappeared, said Father Mike. Look! Didn’t you see that?

The man just smiled and kept feeding the birds.

Do I know you? asked Father Mike.

Do you feel like you know me? asked the man.

Let’s start over, said Father Mike. I’m Father Mike, and you are?

For now, just call me Grandfather, said the man.

Okay, Grandfather it is. Nice to meet you, said Father Mike. Look! It happened again! Didn’t you see that?

Grandfather looked at Father Mike and knitted his brow. Then he resumed feeding the birds.

Okay, am I dreaming or something? asked Father Mike.

Are you? asked Grandfather.

I’m asking you. Am I? asked Father Mike. He paused for a moment, then pushed his index finger hard into Grandfather’s upper arm.

Ouch! exclaimed Grandfather.

Sorry, said Father Mike. Just checking.

You’re in worse condition than we expected, said Grandfather.

Really. Who’s we that’s saying this? asked Father Mike.

Friends of yours, said Grandfather.

Close friends? asked Father Mike.

Really close friends, said Grandfather.

Father Mike was startled by the chaos on stage. Alex and Stephan had returned from the Parish and had resumed setting up the stage in preparation for the evening’s events.

Hey, you guys! yelled Father Mike. Move that podium down center and a little to the left, would you, please? Hey, Stephan! Stephan! Alex?

They can’t hear you, said Grandfather.

Huh? said Father Mike.

You heard me, said Grandfather.

Why not? asked Father Mike.

Long story, said Grandfather.

Great. Well, can they at least see me? asked Father Mike.

Sorta, but not those crazy waving gyrations of yours, said Grandfather.

Well, can everyone see you? asked Father Mike.

Are you kidding me? said Grandfather. I’m invisible to everyone, but you.

Great, said Father Mike. So I must look like some really out there person sitting here talking to myself, or wait a minute. If they didn’t hear me and they didn’t see me waving at them, then they must not see me here period. So it doesn’t matter. Right?

No, actually, you’re still up there boring everyone with that monotonous piano forte of yours, said Grandfather.

Sure I am. Well, been nice talking to you. I think I need to get back to business here now, said Father Mike.

No, you don’t, said Grandfather.

It’s getting late, said Father Mike. We have to prepare for Mass tonight.

No, it’s not getting late. We are under no time constraints here, said Grandfather. Ha! There is no such thing as time here!

Sure, said Father Mike.

Now be patient and sit back down, said Grandfather.

I didn’t know I stood up, said Father Mike.

Well, sit back down, anyway, said Grandfather. How’s your headache, by the way?

It’s gone, said Father Mike.

Enjoy it while you can, said Grandfather. It’ll be back with a vengeance when you return to your true dimension.

My what? Dimension? Not to be rude, but, well, um . . . . said Father Mike.

Yes? asked Grandfather.

I know a perfect place where you can get just the help you need, said Father Mike. Matter of fact, I have a card right here in my wallet. Just talk to . . . .

Excuse me? Don’t you dare look at me that way, said Grandfather

But . . . , said Father Mike.

Come on, Michael, put the card back in your wallet, said Grandfather. I can’t believe you’ve degenerated this far.

Degenerated? Are you kidding me?asked Father Mike.

No, I’m not. I never thought this would happen to us, said Grandfather. It just shows his strength.

Whose strength? asked Father Mike.

An old adversary of ours, said Grandfather. Just what exactly do you remember, Michael?

Something about frequencies, said Father Mike. I kept trying to find one specific one, but I couldn’t find it no matter how many times I played those notes over and over again. Do you know what I’m talking about?

I’m afraid I do, said Grandfather. Unfortunately, that would be your soul frequency. Wow. Body vessels are so confining. This couldn’t just be a simple case of amnesia.

I take it this is really a bad thing, said Father Mike.

It’s horrific, said Grandfather, especially with the war escalating as it is.

The war? asked Father Mike.

Listen, Michael, said Grandfather, it’s really important that you concentrate on all this. We need to find the point where your soul was veiled. Get serious, okay?

Sure, said Father Mike. I get it, strange as it is.

It’s about to become even stranger, said Grandfather.

Why? asked Father Mike.

Because, said Grandfather. He placed his hand over Father Mike’s face and gave his face a slight nudge backward. Father Mike slumped onto the stage in a deep sleep.

Vision 1 Alpha.jpg

VISION 1

Alpha

UNBRIDLED FREEDOM RIPPED through Father Mike’s veins, liberating him from the confines of his body. He was elated beyond any human experience, his emotions soaring and peaking in unbelievable waves of ecstasy. He basked in the unbelievable liberty momentarily, and then just as suddenly as he found himself in this extraordinary cosmos, he began moving, gradually gaining speed until he was traveling faster than the speed of light and exploded through the veil into Chamahua.

Father Mike could feel himself drifting. He felt warm and comfortable—fully at peace. He slowly opened his eyes. To his surprise, there was nothing. No darkness, no light. He had no physical body. Weird, he thought to himself. I have no eyes. How can I possibly know there is nothing here? How can I feel this force if I have nothing for the force to touch?

Is anyone there? he yelled.

No one answered, but then how could they? He had no voice. He hadn’t literally spoken anything, but his thoughts were clear. How can that be? he thought to himself. "I have no brain. How am I experiencing this with no body?" Panic was setting in. I’ve gotta wake up! he thought, gasping for air. But then he realized he didn’t need to breathe. There was no air.

As the initial shock wore off, he started to calm and enjoy the invisible force that surrounded him. Well, at least the force is with me, he thought.

At that moment, the force began to intensify. Had he annoyed whatever this force is with his inane thought? Oh whatever, thought Father Mike. This has to be just some kind of a crazy dream, anyway. With that thought, his body suddenly appeared. Hmmm, he thought. Did I think my body into appearing or did it just take it that long to catch up with the rest of me? He was really starting to have some fun with this experience, that is, until the force intensified so much that it exploded and propelled him into a void of total darkness. The resulting shockwave ruptured the darkness into a Sea of swirling energies. As he joined with the swirling energies, he realized that the invisible force that had comforted him was now a tiny black dot from which the swirling energies were manifesting.

Father Mike’s breathing grew shallow as the Sea’s blinding yet comforting light pulsated around him, with him, and through him, engulfing him in the formless, living energy that exists beyond time and material consciousness—before and beyond the time of darkness and the veil. He felt at home.

Father Mike swam through the brilliance, revitalized by the waves of energy that washed him toward the sparkling darkness within the void. He rose from the Sea’s energies, standing on shore amid the brilliance, smiling at the feeling of the warm sparkling black sandy substance squishing between his toes.

He knelt down and scooped up some of the glittering substance and molded it into a tiny ball. He rolled the ball around and around in the palms of his hands, enjoying its warmth, until he rested it between his left forefinger and thumb. He examined it carefully, enthralled with its beauty. Such magic! he thought to himself.

He looked closer and smiled. The tiny ball was responding to his touch, pulsating and growing brighter. The brighter it glowed, the hotter it became until it was white-hot and so bright that it lit up all that was around him. Father Mike burst into joyous laughter and threw the tiny ball high above him. The tiny ball came alive. It took control of its initial momentum, flying higher and faster, its energy buzzing in delight, moving far out of Father Mike’s sight.

Then just as suddenly as it disappeared, a whooshing sound broke the silence, and the tiny ball flew back at Father Mike. He ducked just in time, hearing the buzz of the energy as it flew past his left ear and exploded into the Sea of Energy. The Sea burst into brilliant light. The light grew in power as it consumed everything in its path. Jagged bolts of lightning sputtered into the darkness until there was nothing but light, radiant, all-consuming white light. We were back, back to the beginning.

The Sea began surging and pulsating, the light ever building with intensity and passion. Tongues of fire raged deep within it, permeating the light with a power beyond imagination. Chaotic yet controlled, unruly yet ordered, the dominating energies swirled and swelled ever growing more powerful until they could no longer be contained and exploded into a blinding brilliance, transmitting light in all directions with the force of a giant strobe.

And from this powerful brilliance, the Sea birthed the Numberless and released them into the depths of its fire, willing them into their predetermined existences. The Numberless were absolutely pure, spawned with varying degrees of enlightenment, yet each one was graced with free will. Father Mike was there with them, all of them, deep within the fire, the absolute energy of the Sea.

The waves ebbed and flowed around and through the Numberless, gently rescuing them from the depths of the fire, until at last they were delivered. They rose from the waves, translucent, savoring the energy that was within and around them, moving inward toward the warm, sparkling black substance of creation. As each of the Numberless swirled into the sandy blackness, glittering crystals formed within the blackness as it heated and began to vibrate with the varying frequencies of each new creation. The collective creative paths of the Numberless had been set in motion.

The swirling of the Sea again began to intensify, its currents surging and pulsating deep within, causing the sands of Ohr Ein Sof to quake. Twelve giant crystal obelisks burst from within the black sands, forming a perfect circle around the Numberless. As the obelisks rose to their ultimate stature, the Sea’s energies roared and crashed waves of energies throughout the island of creation. A thirteenth obelisk answered the energies and burst from the center of the circle, rising into mists slightly above the glistening black sands.

Giant waves of energy consumed the central obelisk, raising its vibrations until jets of energy shot from it into the other twelve. The exchange of energies continued until with a deafening thunder, each of the twelve obelisks came alive. The twelve obelisks began to rise in power, creating a force of brilliance that shot in a continuous clockwise motion from one to the other.

The Sea of Energy again began to churn and roar. Waves of energy crashed through the Numberless repeatedly binding them into one macrocosm with its energies and the sparkling vibrating blackness.

The tiny crystals within the black sands responded to the Numberless, aligning into a full spectrum of varying frequencies that created shimmering ley lines within the black sands. The molten energies continued to surge and flare incessantly, sending waves of energy into the blackness and continuing to elevate the initial spectrum of frequencies. Each storm of energies increased the pooled creative power until it shot a final blazing surge of energy into the vibrating crystals, elevating them collectively to one commanding frequency. The black sands liquefied and were consumed by the thirteen obelisks, and the twelve obelisks in turn were liquefied and were consumed by the thirteenth obelisk, leaving the Numberless floating above the energies of the swirling Sea.

The obelisk began to spin, gaining speed with each spin until it shot into the darkness high above Ohr Ein Sof creating a single, almost invisible vortex connected to a giant ring of swirling energy, gases, and frequencies. This substance of creation fashioned giant webs of ley lines and propelled them throughout the endless assumed darkness of nothing, which is truly the brilliance of everything.

The Numberless rose through the vortex into the flaming ring of swirling energies attracted to glittering ley lines that mirrored the frequencies of each. And then as quickly as it had been created, the brilliance discharged, leaving the tiny cone of blackness that would forever connect the ever-expanding, dynamic energies and frequencies of creation to the force of Ohr Ein Sof.

The Numberless rode each ebb and flow of energy across the ley lines as the waves surged incessantly through the darkness into the forming creations. Each wave unleashed and combined the collective creative forces, building them in intensity until the rush of the most intense wave showered the dark fabric of ley lines with orbs of fire. The orbs spun throughout the fabric, following the ley lines and joining with the crystalline black matter. The new creations were of varying display, separate yet connected, bonded yet self-nourished, filled with varying frequencies and energies.

Father Mike’s body disappeared. Freed, he followed the energies and the Numberless into the swirling vortex. The energies hurled him through the vortex and into the region beyond, and Father Mike recognized himself as an orb of fire with a clear frequency all his own.

At first, he saw the network of the ley lines immersed in the paleness of the light around him and the filaments that existed throughout. He watched intently as the filaments braided together into various designs and felt the frequency of each. He was awed by the experience, but so awed that he began to see the tangible again. Unfortunately his consciousness was returning.

His attempts to control his essence in order to remain in the fire of energies were futile. He fought to remain at least here in this semiconscious state, but as his body grew more tangible, the filaments and the ley lines grew darker until they faded from his sight.

As his physical body gradually took shape, he found himself free of the orb of fire that had transported him to this realm and noticed multiple single orbs of fire that graduated into visions of pure light. He recognized the Elohim even without physical form. Then in the center of one of the forms of brilliance, Father Mike mentally traced the outline of the infamous