Everything Is Wonderful Now: The Requiem Series, #1

By Shane Blackheart

When Dark is good and Light is evil...

Ten-year-old Sera is isolated and depressed; bullied at school and at home by her father. Her mind gives her no respite, suffering from a panic disorder and a second voice in her head that forces violent, intrusive thoughts.

She meets the fallen angel Byleth one night while wanting to end her life. He isn't a fan of kids and intends to leave immediately, but Sera's aura catches his eye. It's dark, and it isn't from her trauma that pulls at his heartstrings. It's also attracted a corrupt angel who wants to rid the world of another Hellspawn child.

Sera has a lot on her plate, but as she ages and transitions to Sean, a disabled trans man with C-PTSD, he not only meets more spirit guides from Hell, he realizes that his biggest threat has always been the 'other' that dwells in his own head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shane Blackheart
• Release date: Oct 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215298299

Shane Blackheart

Shane is a disabled nonbinary, trans masc author of dark queer fiction. They have been writing since they were seven years old, and they haven't stopped since. Writing quickly became a way to escape from reality while dealing with early trauma, and it has helped them understand and cope with several mental illnesses they were diagnosed with throughout life. They've since used their writing to help raise awareness for misunderstood and stigmatized mental illnesses, but they also enjoy writing stories that make people think differently about societal norms we're often raised with, such as gender, sexuality, and spirituality. They want to spread the message that it's okay to be different.

Book preview

Everything Is

Wonderful Now

Black and white drawing of a hand with an eye in the middle.

The Requiem Series: Book One

Shane Blackheart

Copyright © 2022-2023 Shane Blackheart

2nd edition

Author’s website: https://shaneblackheart.com

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or redistributed in any form without written permission from the author, except for short excerpts necessary for promotion, reviews, quotes, or articles. For permissions contact: [e-mail]

Editor: Garrett Cook

Cover design: Rue Sparks

Formatting: L.B. Shimaira

This story is based on the author’s life, but it has been heavily fictionalized.

Author’s Note

This story contains sensitive subject matter mentioning suicidal thoughts, religious trauma, mentions of past animal abuse, self-harm, an eating disorder, alcoholism, bullying, domestic abuse (with a mention of past sexual abuse), and child abuse.

This book is dedicated to those who have felt alone in their darkness and who have suffered, and to anyone who has felt like an outcast. You deserve to be safe and loved.

To Mrs. Lovelace as well, who cheered me on many years ago and asked to be remembered when I got published. I’ve never forgotten.

Part One

Sacrifice is nothing other than the production of sacred things.

—Georges Bataille

A black and white drawing of a hand with an eye and fingers.

Chapter One

Black and white drawing of upside down angel wings.

The angel stretched his wings as he sat atop the church. The humans filing in at the break of dawn were none the wiser, regardless of how much they liked to think they understood. The small family, especially, that crossed the threshold last was particularly ignorant.

The angel Umabel paused. He’d nearly overlooked it, but such a small human was usually no more than an ant to his kind. He appeared among them with curly blond hair glistening in the sunlight, and his blue eyes expanded as he followed the trio into the old building. It stunk of moldy wood and sin, and he could feel the hypocrisy dripping off of the man who called himself a prophet — a pastor — that joined the family in question. He was tall and handsome in a brown suit, and his wife stood obediently at his side in a skirt and sweater. They all seemed to know each other. The pastor smiled at the child and Umabel zeroed in.

I’m so happy to see you with us this morning, the pastor said as he held out a hand. The child shook it loosely. Will you be joining us for service after Sunday School?

The girl nodded and held up what appeared to be a quilted purse, but it opened to reveal a small book with tissue-thin gilded pages. I brought my Bible.

And did you do your homework? the pastor’s wife asked, knowing all too well the answer.

The girl smiled shyly.

The mother spoke up. No, she didn’t. Getting this child to do homework is like pulling teeth.

Umabel cringed. Humans were peculiar creatures, but even more so was this child. He cloaked his presence and drifted around her. There was a darkness seeping from her that was very telling, and he knew instantly the stench that surrounded her.

Hellish darkness. She’d been claimed by them and she went willingly. For one so young this was surprising, but Umabel dug deeper. As the humans chattered like birds chirping in a tree, he sank to his knees before the girl and stared into her dark brown eyes. When the angel found what he was searching for, rage bubbled up inside him. Of course.

Heaven was a mere blink away as Umabel retracted his wings — all four of them. He marched across the white marble floor, his white dress shoes clacking loudly as the other angels stood aside. They knew not to try Umabel’s temper.

Gabriel! Umabel boomed as he entered the library. He scowled as the equivalent of a Golden Retriever in angel form smiled back at him.

Umabel, hello! Gabriel’s light voice was filled with joy as he stood to greet his brother. To what do I owe your presence?

Byleth. Umabel’s aura darkened and he clenched a fist. He’s claimed a child. Apparently, he’s doing just fine for himself down there.

Oh, wonderful! Gabriel clasped his hands together. I was curious about how he was doing. I’ve heard the fall can be very painful.

Umabel backed Gabriel against a wall and slammed his palms against the white and gold marble. This silenced the jovial angel and he stared at his brother with wide eyes that were nearly white. Umabel held no signs of compassion for him or his former relationship.

A child, Gabriel. Byleth has claimed a child and is walking among them. You know as well as anyone that we’re not to meddle with humans, let alone their offspring. What is he planning? Why is God allowing him to walk on the earth unchecked? Upon Gabriel’s intimidated silence, Umabel shouted, Tell me! You’re God’s messenger. You work directly with Metatron. What has Father to say about this?

If I may, Gabriel said and slipped free from the angel’s arms. Metatron hasn’t exactly been himself lately. I can’t get much more from him than the old Enochian language he reads from the prophet Solomon’s books when he’s irritated—

Solomon was a tool, Umabel sneered. We tried to use him as an ambassador between Heaven and earth, but the lunatic just lost his mind.

Umabel paused and reflected.

Although upon further thought, humans weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed during that era, he continued.

To be fair, Gabriel said with caution. Father didn’t allow humans much in the way of scientific knowledge.

My point, brother, was that Byleth is breaking a fundamental rule here. Umabel fell into thought before continuing. Unless that child is some kind of Antichrist…

The Antichrist is a silly myth among humans, Umabel, Gabriel chuckled.

Regardless, Umabel snapped. Denizens of Heaven and Hell are not to meddle in the affairs of humans. God has made that clear.

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. He’d thought his brother would have been aware of recent developments concerning God, but Umabel was quite distracted most of the time overseeing order within the Heavens. If anyone was to be ratted out for going against God, they did well to avoid Umabel’s ever watchful eye — the one that existed in the angel’s forehead that could see all, even an angel’s innermost secrets.

Gabriel took a deep breath. Speaking of Father… He paused. He’s stepped out. For a bit.

Stepped out? Umabel quirked a brow. God doesn’t just ‘step out.’ The stern angel backtracked as soon as he’d spoken, and for the first time in a while, his demeanor shifted to one of defeat. Wait, are the rumors true?

Gabriel nodded with his eyes on the ground. His blond fauxhawk, a fashion statement he’d grown fond of from the humans, drooped and tickled his forehead. I’m afraid so, he said solemnly. He’s been gone for a short time now, although no one knows where he’s gone. Gabriel finally looked up at his brother who had gone paler, if that was even possible. He left no message. Metatron has been searching for clues through all of Father’s old books he’d dictated.

Then Heaven will go into chaos. Umabel ran a hand through his hair. No, no matter. I will have to take things into my own hands.

To find Father? Gabriel asked.

No, you idiot. Byleth! Umabel turned and his four wings flicked out sharply. I’m sick of that ex-angel thinking he can get away with anything. Father showed him mercy after kicking him from Heaven, which he didn’t deserve. And now he’s recruiting children!

Perhaps Byleth is lonely. Gabriel shrugged. He did have a soft spot for humans more so than any of us.

No one cares about your love for Byleth that you still hold, Gabriel. I know that’s why you’re being sympathetic. Umabel ignored Gabriel’s blush and waved a hand in the air.

The earth greeted him once more, and he approached a moderate home in a developing city. The family of three had become four with a teenage boy who hadn’t attended church with them that morning, but the boy wasn’t of use. The angel crept into the living room where the parents sat with their daughter while watching an animated film. He smiled.

Probing their minds was child’s play he didn’t even need his third eye for. It was obvious that the child’s path had been predetermined by a twist of fate, but now that God was missing, it would be much easier to interfere.

Chapter Two

Black and white drawing of upside down angel wings.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

The young girl stared at the floor with long blond hair falling in her face. She couldn’t look at her mom, but she didn’t know why. Her dad always said she should try harder to overcome what was bothering her inside, but she couldn’t conquer something she knew nothing about. She wasn’t sick. Her mom, Kate, made absolutely sure her doctor told her that, even if he seemed concerned when he did.

What do you mean, sweetie? Kate finally focused on her daughter. She’d been engrossed in Jerry Springer — a rare chance since her husband was on the road for another few weeks.

The young girl shrugged and sighed. I don’t know. I just don’t want to be here. She glanced at her mom to see that look. The look she hated more than anything because it put her on the spot, and her cheeks burned hot with shame.

Kate smiled affectionately and patted the green sofa beside her. Come here. You want to watch a movie? Princess Goblin? That’s your favorite, isn’t it?

Sera fell onto the couch and stared at the floor. She didn’t want to watch cartoons or go through the usual routine. It was the best way her mom knew to distract her from panic attacks, but tonight Sera was calm. The serenity she’d found frightened her in some ways, but she couldn’t piece together an explanation that would make sense. All she knew was that she wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.

Sera mumbled as her mom brushed some of her hair aside, The Princess and the Goblin.

Alright. Sit still. Kate stood to open the VHS cabinet while Sera stared listlessly across the room.

Their dog, Bear, a Chow, came shuffling in with her purple tongue hanging out, and her perky ears and soft fluff brought Sera a sign of comfort. Bear stole Kate’s spot and the young girl laid her head against a sandy-colored warmth. The familiar sound of the VCR accepting the tape resounded in the quiet room, save for the clock that struck midnight.

Hey, mom? Sera slid off the sofa as Kate returned with a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

What’s wrong, sweetie?

Can I just go to bed?

Concern washed over Kate’s features. You don’t want to watch your favorite movie?

Sera shook her head and made her way toward the dark hallway. Memories resurfaced of the last time she’d sleepwalked down it. Dream visions of a beautiful field of flowers beneath a blue sky comforted her before she regained consciousness. Her hands were outstretched to touch the slatted white doors of the hall closet, and she fell to the floor. Out cold.

The girl shivered as a familiar panic threatened to shake her. She didn’t like uncomfortable memories because they only brought the possibility of them happening again, which wasn’t an option. She hurried the rest of the way to her small bedroom and closed the door behind her. She waited to see if her mom had followed, but it seemed she was finally alone. Which is the way it needed to be.

A large double speaker tape deck powered to life. Sera carefully selected one of her favorite cassette tapes — Beautiful Garbage by Garbage — and dropped onto her metal frame twin bed. She closed her eyes and waited for the woeful tones of Shirley Manson to lull her to sleep, but no such sleep came. The day had worn her down so much that she was too tired to sleep. Silly.

A slight breeze rustled her collection of Spice Girls dolls. Sera sat up from where she’d been contemplating the best way to stop seeing anything at all, and she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe the wall shelves had come loose.

Another cold breeze. It was obvious that time.

The girl dived under her comforter and pulled it up to her nose. If she was certain of anything right then, it was that monsters did not dare to harm someone beneath the safety of their blanket. The closet door she made certain to always close creaked before a feeling of being watched alarmed her. Sera swallowed hard when the sensation of a hand brushing over the comforter triggered trembling. Her blanket was yanked to the bottom of the bed and she was left vulnerable — out in the open for the monsters to consume.

You’re pretty young, you know that? A deep voice with a sarcastic lilt invaded the dark silence. When Sera sought out the source, a passing car’s headlights illuminated a reflective pair of golden horns.

Mom! The metallic bed frame rattled with the floral bulbs around the bars. Surely, that would’ve caused enough noise for Kate to come running, but it all came to a stop as the visitor leaned over Sera’s bed. His clawed hand wrapped around the metal frame to cease its rattling.

You don’t really want her to come in here right now, do you? he said. I mean, the whole reason you’re here is to be left alone.

Sera squeezed her eyes shut as the shaking caused her teeth to chatter. She couldn’t get a single word out to save her life, which was ironic considering her whole reason for seeking out a forever sleep.

I’m not going to hurt you, chill, the tall figure said. He stepped back into the shadows to observe the shivering child. He hardly considered himself frightening, although to most humans, the sight of horns and red eyes in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly comforting. He was hardly the angel he once existed as, but he still possessed his shoulder-length blond hair and unearthly beauty. That didn’t matter to a kid though, and that was why he never dealt with children. He should’ve never answered the call. Alright, whatever. I’m not going to eat you, so go back to your self-destructive thoughts alone.

As the being raised his fingers to snap, Sera found her courage. Wait! What are you?

He twisted his hand in midair, and Shirley Manson’s angst fell to a tolerable volume. Aren’t you a bit young to be listening to that shit?

Sera’s shivering slowed to a tremble as the sense of danger receded. Surely, he would have harmed her by now if he’d meant to. I like it, she mumbled.

The figure spun back around to face the child who’d curled up with her knees to her chest. Her eyes were wide and her mind buzzed at impossible speeds. There were so many thoughts turning into a cacophony that threatened to drive the being mad, and it was another reason children were low on his list of humans to entertain. Their minds were chaotic and they were too curious about everything. Okay, whatever, he sighed. Anyway, what’s your deal?

The girl furrowed her brow. What?

What… The being sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Why do you want to sleep forever?

Oh, that. Sera picked at her shirt. I want to just go to sleep and live in my dreams.

The visitor quirked a brow. Something else had surfaced in that tiny, underdeveloped brain. It intrigued him. You know that isn’t possible, he said.

Sera took a deep breath and stared at her knees, her fingers squeezing light denim. Since I can walk while I’m sleeping and still be in a dream, why can’t I just have that happen all the time? There’s a way to do that, right?

Understanding dawned on the visitor and he sobered. The red in his eyes ceased glowing and he sank down onto the girl’s bed with his legs crossed. Her expression told of her confusion when she laid eyes upon him. He looked like a very tall man adorned in a white button-up shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans. If it weren’t for his horns and strange eyes, she’d think him nothing more than an average person.

When their eyes met, he was unwavering in his attention. You want to die. Why?

The word hadn’t crossed her mind. She knew death meant to stop existing, but was that how people went away to live in their dreams? She’d never known anyone who’d died, but surely, the dead must have had dreams like she did. I think so, at least.

Why? the figure pressed. You’re ten years old and barely out of the womb. What reason could you have to want to die? He huffed. You haven’t even suffered through puberty yet.

Sera’s face scrunched in confusion. Puberty?

Oh, hell, he groaned. Listen, you’re way too young to be feeling whatever you’re feeling right now. I doubt you have a reason that’ll convince me you actually want to die.

Sera reached for the remote to the small TV on her nightstand and switched it on, and The Munsters drifted over the now barely audible Shirley Manson. Sorry, it’s too dark and I’m scared.

The figure squinted as his eyes were invaded with light and snapped to turn off the stereo, the loop of the child’s thoughts combined with all the artificial noise too much for his short temper. You didn’t answer me. Why do you want to die?

Sera grew shy and pulled her comforter up to her chin. She grabbed the small security blanket she’d had since she was an infant and chewed on the silk edge. I don’t know. I just feel really bad.

The figure’s stare intensified. Yes, you do know. Why won’t you tell anyone the truth?

The girl finally looked at the figure, and his eyes brought back the fears she often had of monsters. Maybe he was one after all. Because no one will believe me. I told the principal at school that I was bullied, but I got blamed for it. I’m the one who got in trouble — like always.

The figure’s patience wore thin. What did you get in trouble for? What happened to make you want to call it quits?

Sera dropped the blanket and grew somber as the memories returned, and it was clear in the way her eyes glazed over. At lunchtime yesterday, the boy I had a crush on found out I liked him because my friend told him. I was really happy at first because I thought we could be friends, but he told me I was gross. Everyone started laughing at me and I got really sad and started crying.

The figure’s attention turned to the hard floor that was covered by a decorative fuzzy carpet. And then what? he asked.

Then I went to the principal’s office with my friend. Sera’s feet fidgeted under the blanket as she grew more uncomfortable. The memories weren’t anything she liked recalling, and she’d rather just forget about it all. Talking never resulted in any solutions. I just wanted to go home, but the principal put me in a room alone with some tissues. She said if I cried I’d feel better.

Human empathy at its finest, the visitor droned. What did you get in trouble for?

This girl in my class, and some boys, beat me up at recess, Sera continued. She bullies me all the time. My friend told the principal I started it and everyone lied and got me in trouble. So I got blamed even though I didn’t do anything. They believed my friends.

Those aren’t friends, the figure said.

He stood to approach a white dresser with a large mirror. Beneath it was a row of small troll figures with gems in their belly buttons, their hair wild and in numerous colors. A clawed hand grabbed a green one that was supposed to be a costumed version of Frankenstein’s monster. The child certainly had an interesting mind full of strange curiosities from what he could catch, but there was a pain there as well that was underlying. It was more than a human of that age should be expected to carry, and there was much more to the story than just being bullied at school and then victim-blamed.

There were flashes of memories with a man’s face and a belt in his hands. Blackouts and irrational fears and illnesses — of the mind and body — and days spent in the hospital. He feared a different kind of hospital visit was looming, but he couldn’t be sure.

He froze as he caught himself worrying over it all and dropped the troll doll. This wasn’t his problem. He had been curious and only meant to lurk because of the child’s call and her strange dark aura, but it hadn’t been so superficial. Her concerning wishes were real and she meant it with all of her little human heart that hadn’t stopped booming in his ears.

The figure turned to face the girl who’d gone silent, and he leaned back on his hands against the dresser. I don’t expect you to understand, but hear me out.

Sera nodded and stared at the being with rapt attention and wonder.

The figure couldn’t hide a smile. It was endearing how she’d seemingly accepted him without much of an argument. He continued, I’m not a dream or a nightmare, or a bogeyman. I’m a fallen angel. Judging by your Bible on the desk, you already know a little bit about that, but I assure you, it’s all bullshit.

The girl’s eyes widened. You’re a demon?

No. The figure cut her off before she could continue. A fallen angel is not a demon. We just hang with them because we don’t have a choice. I am a king of Hell, but I’m far beyond even that. The figure’s ego shined brighter than the headlights blinding the room once more. "My name is Byleth. I can teach you more about me, Hell, and everything else, but you can tell no one I’m around. Byleth was sure to emphasize the seriousness of the matter. If the adults find out about me, judging by their spiritual alignment, they’ll try to cut me off."

But mom knows what’s good and what isn’t— Sera started.

"No,