I once ran through the Dark Forest naked and alone, in a nightmare, not to understand to where I ran, away from something I did not remember what it was. Even when I was rescued, there came rushes of fear like I’d never known, once, twice, to be assaulted by the unholy, to awaken to a calm voice like unto Carl Jung. So much fear. A cold flame of fear that sizzled through my soul.

I will begin at the end. We won. I pulled the trigger to shoot to break the last cord that held Satan in Heaven. And down he was cast, into the earth, by St. Michael, Mika-el the Archangel, who was my captain, my liege being one Jesus Christ, my Lord, my King. I was in the intel division, and I learned a human dialect of Angelic, angels who seem to communicate symbolically, not semantically. Don’t worry if you didn’t understand that: I can do it, not explain it.

And huge before my was the immense black mass of SATAN, speckled here and there with white spots, sky blue flecks, bits of yellow glitter. I do not know how long, exactly, that Mika-el had been grappling with him. I was full in focus, did commit a minor error, which the Archangel accounted for, and with steady hand, pulled that psychic trigger. I heard the emotion, “NOOOOOOOOO!” from the Evil One, and saw the Archangel dispatch him down.

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The Great Blasphemy