January 29, 2015

Animal Farm ~ A Book Review

Animal Farm
Book By George Orwell
Review by Janelle A. Spiers
January 29, 2015


"All that year the animals worked like slaves. But they were happy in their work; they grudged no effort or sacrifice, well aware that everything they did was for the benefit of themselves and those of their kind who would come after them, and not for a pack of idle, thieving human beings." ~ Chapter 6

WARNING:  Please be aware that if you continue reading this Book Review, you may be subject to reading spoilers and or secrets of the original book.  However, all attempts shall be made to hide the crucial points, in the event that this review encourages you to read this book.  Any information divulged will be deemed by the author of this review necessary to the review, or, not capable of ruining any major surprise. 

            Animal Farm, by George Orwell, is one of the most famous Orwell novels and for good reason.  The stamp of genius, literary satire, and political fiction wrapped into his short story has left the world with something to mull over and remember.  Though it may be less culturally relevant today, the “Fairy Story” that Orwell wrote is worth the read.
The themes streaked throughout the story of Animal Farm are mainly political.  Orwell was illustrating a satire on communism in Soviet Russia and her rulers.  Politics built the basis of the story and woven between the lines were the problems of an uneducated populace and government taking advantage of the illiterate citizens.  Another, slightly more positive theme was that of loyalty, extreme faithfulness to one’s own countrymen.
Animal Farm is a classic dystopian novel set on the farm of Mr. Jones, a drunken farmer, whose violent tyranny begins to anger the animals on his farm.  Old Major, a large pig who had lived a long, fruitful life, gathered the animals about him to speak of rebellion.  After impressing the animals, Old Major died, but not without leaving the beasts dreams of a future free from humans.  They began to hatch plans of revolting and throwing off the chains of Mr. Jones’s oppression. 
            The animals on the farm succeed in their attempts to uproot Mr. Jones from the farm and so the animal-governed farm was founded.  Right away, a series of seven commandments were founded in hopes they could establish peace and community on the farm. The rules were as follows: “Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. No animal shall wear clothes. No animal shall sleep in a bed. No animal shall drink alcohol. No animal shall kill any other animal. All animals are equal.”  Unfortunately, by the conclusion of the short story all of the commandments had been broken by the uprising, tyrannical pigs…
            Even though Animal Farm is not terribly character driven, there are several notable characters Orwell included into his tale.  Boxer, the tall, powerful horse on the farm, is one of much brawn and little brain.  In loyalty to the Rebellion and the prosperity of the farm he adopted the ideology of, ‘I will work harder.’  To the end of his days he worked as hard as he could but was rewarded with a sad fate, when the oppressive pig, Napoleon, sold him to a knacker instead of sending him to a veterinarian. He represents the working class, dutiful and loyal to the system of Soviet Russia, but in the end, betrayed by its government.
            The two, key characters in Animal Farm are Napoleon and Snowball, intelligent pigs in power over the other animals on the farm.  Napoleon is the allegorical interpretation of Joseph Stalin, the leader of Soviet Russia, who put communism into practice.  Napoleon took horrible advantage over the desperate peoples of Animal Farm and placed himself above the rest of the animals with the help of nine vicious puppies.  Snowball was the representation of Leon Trotsky, a man kicked out of the Russian Government by Stalin.  Snowball had disappeared without a trace from Animal Farm and any time an accident or misfortune fell upon the animals after that time, they claimed it was Snowball’s fault; such accusations were inspired by Napoleon.
            The writing style of Animal Farm is simple and easy to understand as a story in itself, but the political jabs that Orwell makes can be hard to interpret, especially for those who are unfamiliar with Soviet Russia.  Animal Farm received no awards, but along with 1984, George Orwell’s other dystopian novel, he has become famous in an exclusive branch of literature.                                  
            George Orwell was the pen name of a man named Eric Blair.  He was born in 1903 and died forty-six years later in the year 1950, witnessing both World Wars and the aftermath of each.   He was wounded in the Spanish Civil War and was found unfit for later combat, so as others fought WWII, Orwell was left behind to write.  He was very strong in his political mindset, and when he first tried to publish Animal Farm many publishers rejected the manuscript.  They were afraid of insulting their Russian allies who were helping to win the war against the Axis powers.  He finally published the book in 1945, at roughly 80 pages long.
            Aside from having the extreme political themes, Animal Farm is an ordinary short story.  There is no swearing or crass language in the book, nor are there any romantic elements.  The pigs on Animal Farm do break the “No animal shall drink alcohol” rule and after the first attempt to drink whiskey, Napoleon is so hung-over that he is feared to be dying.  Eventually, the pigs begin to brew their own whiskey, but none of the other animals on the farm are allowed to drink any. 
            The description is hardly graphic, but there are a handful of scenes in which death occurs, and it can be rather gruesome.  Napoleon’s trained dogs maul several creatures, rip out the throats of others, and also shred the beasts.  For sensitive readers, the deaths can be violent, and the selling of Boxer to the knacker is a sad scene, though death is not shown.  Other mature elements include heavy, albeit allegorical, politics and major governmental lying and deception.  One of the pigs also urinates on blueprints for a windmill because he is disgusted with the inventor.
            The characters of Animal Farm are well rounded and properly developed for the short amount of storyline.  The plot is consistent, and each changing commandment lends itself to the progression of the plot.  The story does end rather abruptly and on an unhappy note, leaving the readers with nothing more than the sick tyranny of the pigs to remember, which may or may not have been Orwell’s intention. 
            Overall, Animal Farm is a fantastically written story, delving into a rare genre of political literature.  Criticizing his public enemies, Orwell was able to leave the world a short, but memorable story of personified animals that illustrate the cruelty and oppressive nature of Soviet Russia.  Animal Farm has left its sharp jab in the side of Stalin and Trotsky through their interpreted characters, and Napoleon’s wickedness and Snowball’s craftiness will not soon be forgotten.

(Based on a rating system entirely made up of pros and cons, I judge by different categories to ensure that the reader of this review can aptly choose if this book is an appropriate for themselves or others.)

Theme ~ Negative! (For difficult and political themes)
Plot Line ~ Positive! (Original and unique in animal personification)
Characters ~ Positive! (Very memorable and extremely consistent)
Writing Quality ~ Positive! (For thoroughness and well executed work)
Mature Content ~ Negative! (Some topics may be unsuitable for a young or sensitive audience.)
Congruency ~ Positive! (For extreme consistency in plot, characters, and quality)

The total score for Animal Farm by George Orwell is 4 out of a possible 6 positive points.

January 27, 2015

A Ship

A Ship
Original Poem by Janelle Spiers

A ship is a rollicking, wild phantom,
Soaring across the waving seas.
A ship is a wild, flying bird
To take us where we please.

The ship is a carpet of fairy dust,
Magic and wholly untrue.
Sweet ships are a kiss upon the lips
As they bring me home to you.

Where are the sails and briny oars?
Show me the rigging and sandy shores --
Dip me a flagon of ocean chill
And the rolling waves that can't keep still.
Hand me adventure and splintered wood
And all that's wet, and salty, and good.

A ship is a conquistador of old,
Driving heavily through the rain.
A ship is a princess who catches my eye
And carries away all of my pain.

The ship is a secret treasure,
Buried beneath the yards of sail.
The ship is Lord of the Sea,
King of fish and mighty whale.

Where is the creak of rolling madness?
Show me the sails of departing sadness --
Dip me a flagon of salty sea,
And the rolling waves that call to me.
Hand me freedom and coiled ropes
And all that's bright with salty hopes.

January 22, 2015

Triumph Over Evil ~ Part II

...“You have no place here,” I said addressing their leader.
“Why can we not dwell where we choose?”  He asked saucily.  Silfun had been a messenger angel and I knew how he worked.  He was bluffing, stalling for time.  I had no time to loose, I wasn’t sure how long their Carrier had been at work, and so I cut right to the point.
“You cannot dwell where you choose, because you have no authority over the Lord.”
The demon paled, as did the others with him.  Without losing a beat, I motioned for Phineas to take out the
Carrier.  Joran and Marcus moved closer to me.  Rolf and Wes moved into a defensive crouch, never once releasing the tension on their bowstrings.  The showdown was about to begin.... ~ Triumph Over Evil Part I

Triumph Over Evil ~ Part II
The Man
I closed my eyes and put my hands to my head.  The voice I argued with was smooth like a polished kitchen counter, and gentle.  I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, but I didn’t really want it to go away.  It had a soothing affect.
So, what will you do?  Will you give up the chance to eat and likely be beaten again, all for the sake of a dead man?
It was getting harder to fight back and even harder to want to.  Jesus… isn’t… dead.
Really, then why hasn’t He come for you?  Why hasn’t He delivered you from this trial?  Eat the food.  What harm would it bring?
I opened my eyes and picked up the plastic fork next to my plate.  What harm would it bring?  I thought hungrily.  I could see the Afghans grinning and rubbing their hands in pleasure.
Before I could scoop up a bite of steaming rice, a second voice broke through my thoughts.  The voice was strong and powerful, but not as calming as the first.  Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.  And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.  To him be the power forever and ever.  Amen.
Stand firm against, what?  The first voice hissed.  Suffering?  Pain?  What is the point?
The first voice did not answer the questions, but continued to address me.  Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong!
I will.  I will!  I thought.
NO!  There is no point!  Eat the food.  Stand up after you have had a chance to rest!
The first voice was sounding desperate, but I was feeling encouraged.  NO” is right! I will not rest until my work is done!  I am a soldier of Jesus.
You are no soldier of Jesus.  You thought things that Jesus would not approve of.  He will hate you!  The first voice was beginning to sound more like a shriek.
He is right, I acknowledged soberly.
Yes, the first voice said soothingly, I am.  Come, you are hungry.  You cannot think well on an empty stomach.  Your reasoning is disjointed.  Eat.
I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
The second voice spoke with such authority I could almost feel the first voice cringe.  The second voice wasn’t finished.  Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.  Submit yourselves, then, to God.  Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.  Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Be strong and courageous!  With those words in mind, I knew what I had to do, and without giving any more thought to the matter I threw the fork onto the floor. “I will never eat your food if I have to deny Jesus to do so.”
The Being
“NOOOO!” The demon Carrier shrieked in horror.  I smiled with satisfaction, knowing that Kasil probably won that battle.  The cry was cut short as the demon crumpled to the ground.  Phineas had tapped him a little too hard over the head with his hammer.  Enraged, the demons retaliated, immediately engaging Joran and Marcus in combat.
Silfun pulled a black, double-sided ax carelessly from his belt.  As he moved forward, a bloodthirsty gleam entered his eyes.  Instead of lashing out at me as I anticipated, he swung towards Rolf.  Rolf ducked and fumbled with his bow, but Silfun swatted it away.  His blade lacerated Rolf’s arm, leaving a deep gash.  Rolf fell to the ground with a cry, cradling his arm.
The demon drew back his arm to finish Rolf off, but before I could block him, Wes shot an arrow straight into the demon’s eye.  Silfun howled in pain and ripped the arrow from his skull.  Wes moved to comfort his brother.
Silfun threw the arrow at me.  I gingerly avoided it.  I moved towards the unprotected Kasil, who seemed undisturbed by the pandemonium around him.  Silfun’s face was streaming with blood and he had an empty socket where his eye had been.  He raised his ax and brought it down with a tremendous thud, right where my shoulder would have been had I not moved in time.  I thrust my blade into the monster’s unguarded rib cage.  Infuriated and wounded, he roared, swinging his ax at my mid-section.  I plunged my sword into his thigh and he screamed.
Pulling the sword out of his leg, he flung it to the ground and backed up weakly.  He glared furiously at me, then flew away on his bloodstained wings.  The other demons retreated too, taking their unconscious Carrier with them. “You can’t win every time!” Silfun screamed over his shoulder.
“NO, but God can!” I shouted back.
The Man
The three men stopped smiling.  As they looked from the fallen fork to me, then back to the fork, I could tell that these guys weren’t happy, and I figured I wouldn’t be either when they were done with me. Shorty was the first to break out of his trance.  He bent over and picked up the fork, nearly stabbing me in the eye with it.
“Won’t eat? Still love Jesus?” he spat.
“Yes.  I still love Jesus,” I replied, knowing I had made the right choice.
But when the Cheshire Cat Man drew a gun and pointed it at my chest, I wasn’t quite so sure.
“Deny Jesus, or he shoot you,” Tall Guy threatened.
“I won’t deny Jesus.” I said strongly and soberly.  I had just resigned to die, but I didn’t feel afraid.
Cheshire Cat Man started his obnoxious grinning again as he came closer and closer to me, changing the aim of the gun to my face.  He kept coming until he was inches from me.  I looked into the barrel of the gun, and closed my eyes.
The Being
Joran and Marcus both had minor scratches from their skirmish.  Phineas was unscathed, so he carried Rolf.  Wes wouldn’t leave his side.  Rolf’s arm was severely wounded, but he would survive.  Kasil had his arms folded across his chest again.  I didn’t understand how he could always stay so calm.
Suddenly, a loud popping noise shattered the silence.  The Veil burst and we were suddenly standing outside John Morton’s door.
“Captain, what happened?” Joran asked.
I didn’t really know, but I stated the obvious, just to sound smart. “Something broke the Veil.”
“How?” Wes queried, without looking away from his brother.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“Look.” Kasil said softly.  His voice had changed, but it was still full of authority.  We all turned to see where Kasil was pointing.
The door that led to John Morton’s Veil was gone.  In its place was a purple cross.

Lord God, why did you let John die? I prayed in horror as I flew down the corridor. I was commissioned to help him, but I failed.  All I accomplished was getting my men wounded. Please give me a glimpse of your will!
I was silent.  The Lord answered in His own timing, so I waited.  It wasn’t long before I heard the voice of my Maker, my King.  His voice made me feel small, yet at the same time, great, because I had the ability to speak with the King of the Universe with an intimacy that startled most humans.
Daric, you did not fail.  You did exactly what I intended.
But how, Lord?
My way is the best way.  John was being tested.  I wanted him to make his own decision, as I want for all of my people.  Had you not done as I wished, John would have suffered.
Did he make the right choice?
Daric, what did you see on the wall in place of the door?
A cross, my King.
John Morton died for my sake.  So, did he make the right choice?
Anything done for your sake is the best choice anyone can make.
You are correct, Daric.  Remember, all things work together for good for those who love me. Nothing I am a part of happens in vain.  Do you believe this?
I do, Lord.
When I was finished, I felt better.  I no longer felt tired from my fight, and I was filled with a sense of peace and contentment.  I kept that feeling all the way back to heaven, even when I went through the portal.  I no longer felt frustrated that I had wasted my time when the Lord already knew John was going to die anyway.  I felt glad that I had gone.  If we hadn’t, John Morton might still have been alive, but he would have rejected the Lord to do so.  I was glad I could be part of such a life-changing moment. 
The Man
I had heard the gun go off, and everything around me went black.  I could hear the men talking in Arabic, but it soon grew muddled and a single Voice rang out above the din.
Well done, good and faithful servant.  Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven!
A pinpoint of light shattered the darkness.  It was small, but it gradually became bigger as it came towards me.  No, I realized, I am going towards it.

Home is where the heart is, people always said.  Well, my heart belonged to Jesus, and as the light shone brighter, I knew that I was going home.
"Well done, good and faithful servant..."

January 20, 2015

Triumph Over Evil ~ Part I

I wrote this story back in 2012.  It was supposed to be a supernatural genre with a theme.  It was one of the best stories I had written and I read it to a lot of people.  I forgot about this tale, and on re-reading, I found it worthy of sharing with very minor edits.  So this is the first part of my angels versus demons story. 

Let me know what you think.  Comment below and start the discussion.  Do you believe that Angels and Demons can affect the way we think?  Do you believe that God lets bad things happen to good people?  What other questions do you have?  I'd love to hear from you.

Triumph Over Evil
Theme: The Darkness will not overcome the Light

The Being
“Captain Darick, Sir?”
“What is it, Rogan?” I asked.
“You have orders to help John Morton, Sir.”
I glanced up at the angel in the doorway. “Send word that I will need six men.”
“Yes, Sir!” Rogan flew off, his wings carrying him faster than the speed of light.  I instantly grabbed a heavy, leather-bound book from my desk, and began leafing through the pages.
“Where is it?” I asked no one in particular.  Finally, I found what I was looking for, John Morton. I looked at the page summarizing the life of John Morton and found that he was a missionary in Afghanistan.  He’ll need all the help we can give, I thought.
I closed the book tenderly, returned it to my desk, and grabbed my belt from its hook on the wall.  I fastened my belt around my waist as I flew through the hallway leading to the portal.  My belt had everything I needed to fight the enemy, and without it, I would be in big trouble.
The Man
            I rolled over and groaned.  My body ached and my eyes felt like lead.  I worked hard to get them open; I couldn’t see anything when I did.  Slowly, I shifted into a sitting position while my eyes tried to adjust.  Nothing happened. I was surrounded by darkness, without one ray of light.
            I was hungry.  I hadn’t eaten for a long time, and my body knew it.  It felt like the stomach acid was eating away at my insides, since it had nothing else to digest.  I opened my mouth slowly, trying to massage my sore jaw.
            I leaned my head back against the cold stone wall.  I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.  The darkness, a suffocating blanket, completely consumed me, and I was terrified.  I was engulfed in nothingness.
            I remembered why I was here.  I had been preaching the gospel to friends in Afghanistan.  Well, perhaps they weren’t my friends; they had double-crossed me.  I had been betrayed and handed over to a group of men known as “The Watch.”
            The Watch hated Christians, or anyone having anything to do with Christianity.  They had blindfolded me and driven me to an abandoned hospital, where they made their headquarters.  They had questioned me, asking me things that I had no idea about.  I think they finally believed me, because they brought me here.
            I didn’t know how long I had been in here.  I no longer had my wristwatch; they had taken everything I owned, except my clothing, so I had no clue as to what time it was.  I wondered if anybody knew where I was, or if anyone even cared.
The Being
            The portal room was a massive maze of colorful doorways, each leading to a different country.  Fortunately for me, they were in alphabetical order so I didn’t have too far to go.  I was already late.
Joran, Phineas, Marcus, Rolf, Wes, and Kasil were waiting next to the Afghanistan portal.  Joran, a battle-scarred warrior with thick, dark sideburns, had fought more battles than I could imagine.  The huge muscular being towering over me was Phineas.  He had smashed many demons with his fists alone.  Marcus was a quick, flexible angel; his reflexes were faster than lightning.  The brown-headed twins, Rolf and Wes, were two angels who did almost everything identically.  The angel with his arms crossed over his chest was Kasil, the Carrier.  He was one of the most vital ranks in our forces.  Everyone, except Kasil, wore a belt matching to mine.
“Alright, let’s go.” I opened the door.  The lighting was different in that room.  It was darker and more muted.  I took a deep breath and walked through the blue haze covering the wall.

The Man
I woke up again.  The stiffness in my body seemed to intensify every time I woke up and I still couldn’t see.  It scared me every time.  I had never been scared of the dark, but the feeling of being engulfed in pitch-blackness was a bit frightening.
Suddenly, a dim light flooded the room.  My eyes watered as I looked toward the light.  Through my tearing eyes I could make out three figures entering a door in the opposite wall.  As my eyes cleared, I could see where I had been kept for what seemed like forever.  I was in a cell, with rusty, iron bars barricading my way to freedom.  On the other side of the bars, I could see a folding table and a wall full of cabinets.
I struggled to my feet as the men came closer to me.  I nearly fell down again when I saw the malicious gleam in their dark eyes.  The men looked at me and smiled, treacherously.
The Being
The thrill of being shot through a portal was exhilarating.  All the breath seemed sucked out of me and I couldn’t clearly see.  The world whizzing by was blurry and out of focus.  I loved that feeling, but what I didn’t love, was coming out of the portal.  I couldn’t bear to be out of the warm, bright presence of the Lord, and being in the cold, dark world that the Enemy had claimed as its own.
            I stepped out of the portal and into another network of doorways.  These doorways opened up into more portals that, this time, led to people who were in Afghanistan.  Whenever someone left the country so did his or her door. The sporadic blinking of the doors, the shifting of doors taking another’s place, the hissing sound of their movement, it was all mesmerizing, but I had an impending mission, and couldn’t afford distraction. 
I flew down the hallway to the “M” section and quickly located the green door with John Morton printed above it.  Green has always been the color of life, even for humans.  Green was on very few doors I passed, and it grieved me.  Most of the doors were covered in black, the color of death.  Those who had a blood red color around their doors were inhabited by demons, and there were way too many of those.  I would have liked to enter any of these doors and fight the sin and darkness away, but they were locked to me unless my Maker called me to open one.
I took a deep breath as I stood in front of the one green door in sight.  If it was cold and dark in that room, entering a Veil was even more so.  The Veil was like a bubble, surrounding a human.  From inside, we could ward off demons, deliver messages, protect the human, etc. but we could not enter the minds or hearts of the human.  The Veil was invisible to humans, unless by our King’s will, He chose to make us visible.
I opened a pocket on my belt and withdrew a long, slender sword.  I waved it in the air as I waited for my comrades to join me.  We had work to do.
The Man
“You love man named Jesus?” One of the men said, in halting English.
I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to speak about how strongly I loved him, but I was forgetful of my aching jaw.  The pain shot through my ears and into my skull.  I groaned and nodded my head, yes, instead.
The men laughed at me and I felt foolish.  I wished I could say something intelligent, possibly persuasive.  My eyes were beginning to make out the details of my captors.  They were all wearing the same colored clothing, black.  The one who spoke to me was tall, taller than my cousin, a professional basketball player.  The man pulling items out of the cabinets was of medium height, closer to my size.  And the man coming towards me with a ring of keys in his hands was short, very short.
He wasn’t intimidating while he unlocked my cell, and he wasn’t intimidating while I stepped out.  But the second I was outside the cell, he kicked the back of my knee, and sent me sprawling to the stone floor.  Very intimidated now, I stayed on the floor.  Blood was pooling on my lip and I could almost feel the goose egg growing on my forehead.
Suddenly, Shorty’s face was level with mine and he gruffly asked, in barely comprehensible English, “Still love Jesus?”
The Being
With my sword in hand, I reached for the handle of the door.  Thick smoke surged through the doorway.  The black cloud undulated in a serpentine motion towards me with alarming speed.  I swung my sword through the haze and it quickly dissipated, turning into dust.
My men rounded the corner.  Joran and Marcus drew swords from their belts.  Rolf and Wes produced quivers of arrows and long bows.  Phineas had a great hammer, which he swung uncomfortably close to my head.
Kasil did not have a weapon.  The title of Carrier seemed like an oxymoron to me, since Kasil carried nothing visible.  He merely folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently for us to move through the doorway.
Reluctantly, I moved forward.  The oppressive smoke made it painfully obvious that demons had entered the Veil.  We shone brightly as we pushed through the darkness.  We could see where we were going, but there was no hope for a surprise ambush.  The demons could also see where we were going.
 “Kasil,” I called as loudly as I dared. “It is time.”
Rolf and Wes sprang into action.  The twins nocked arrows to their bowstrings and drew them back.  Kasil silently stepped between them.  Joran and Marcus joined me at my sides, and I could feel Phineas’ breath behind me.  We were ready.
The Man
 “Yes,” I said slowly and weakly, forcing my puffy lip and obstinate jaw to move. “I love Jesus.” Every word seemed easier as I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees.
The dwarf-man kicked me in the stomach and my arms gave way, sending me back to the floor.  I felt my body being lifted from the floor and Tall Guy placed me in a folding chair next to the table.  The medium-sized man put a plate of food in front of me.  I was wary of him, especially because of the way he smiled at me, like the Cheshire cat in Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland.
“If you don’t love Jesus, you eat all food you want,” Shorty said.  I knew exactly what he meant.  I had to deny Jesus to eat this food.  I didn’t look at the plate, but the smell of it made my mouth water.  My stomach rumbled and I wanted to eat.
You could say that you don’t love him and get to eat, but still love him, right?  A voice seemed to ask me.
NO! What am I thinking? I can’t do that to Jesus.  I thought.
But why not?  You are hungry.  Doesn’t Jesus want what is best for you?  Does He want you to starve?  The voice asked.
I… I can’t betray Jesus; just look how much He suffered for me.
Yeah, well where is He now?  Why hasn’t He come to rescue you?
Where was Jesus now?  The unknown voice inside my head had a point.  Where was Jesus now?
Is Jesus worth the pain you are suffering?

YES, no, well, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know.
The Being
 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Kasil said.  His voice rang out through the Veil.  The way he spoke gave me the chills.  His resonant, reverberating voice, spoke words from the Lord Himself.  Carriers were mouthpieces of the King.  The black smoke began to evaporate from bottom to top.
Humans have always demons portrayed as monsters, red creatures with pitchforks and horns; but I knew otherwise.  Little did the Lord’s sheep know that these fallen angels were as beautiful as the angels who had not sinned.  Some were even more so, to make their deceptions more attractive.
The smoke cleared.   The absence of the dark cloud enabled us to see everything, including the demons.  I was unnerved by how close they were without our knowing.  Three beings stood before us. Nearly everything about them was the same as us, except the robes they wore were blood red, as apposed to our green, and they were smiling.  It sickened me to know the names of one of the demons; he used to be my friend.
Behind them, I could see another fallen angel, a Carrier.  His arms were outstretched; his golden hair covered his handsome face.  His mouth moved, but no words came out.  With a quick glance to my right, I noticed that Kasil too, had his arms extended and his head bowed.
“You have no place here,” I said addressing their leader.
“Why can we not dwell where we choose?”  He asked saucily.  Silfun had been a messenger angel and I knew how he worked.  He was bluffing, stalling for time.  I had no time to loose, I wasn’t sure how long their Carrier had been at work, and so I cut right to the point.
“You cannot dwell where you choose, because you have no authority over the Lord.”
The demon paled, as did the others with him.  Without losing a beat, I motioned for Phineas to take out the Carrier.  Joran and Marcus moved closer to me.  Rolf and Wes moved into a defensive crouch, never once releasing the tension on their bowstrings.  The showdown was about to begin...