Excerpt: Reality's a Bitch

The One's voice seemed to speak through every atom of our being as we were all prostrate before the throne. I heard His voice, with such compassion tell us to place our hands on Mick's injuries. Mick was trembling, and I could hear his breath shudder in and out. I remembered the first time I was drug into the Throne room of the One, and how it felt like I was dying, but yet I continued to live. I could sympathize. Even after all these years, I still wonder at how the feeling of not breathing doesn't stop your heart from beating, or the fear from rising. Not because you fear for your life, but because you realize just how insignificant you really are, and how much His love is all that stands between you and total annihilation.

Nick crawled over and put both hands on Mick's broken leg. I placed my hands on his torn shoulder. Neither of us tried to stand. Our finite bodies were not able to stand up in all that power and purity. We didn't even try.

'Now speak my word, and he will be healed' the One's voice was warm like a mother's arms around a newborn.

'Sangre!' I breathed, hearing Nick whisper his power word. Suddenly, the light became even more blinding, and it was as though heat and light and space compressed into one huge jolt, searing us all to our very core. Before we could even be afraid of dying we were all lying on Nick's living room floor, gasping and shaking. Mick was moaning, and Nick as usual didn't say anything.

'Holy Shit!' I swore, and tried to sit up, pushing my black locks out of my face, noticing streaks of white in the red strip on the right. Damn. I was going to have to dye it again.

Mick sat up carefully, and shrugged his wounded shoulder. His golden eyes were watery, and I tried to give him a minute to compose himself. But he just kept patting his arm and leg with such a look of awe and puzzlement.

'Reggie, my leg's not broke. My arm's not torn!'

'That's the idea.'