Read between July 02 - July 10, 2017
What would be the purpose of an all-powerful god if people got sick and died?
“Please, God,” Adam whispered out loud in his cell of unimaginable pain. “I’ve tried to be a good man. Have mercy on me.”
Surely this was a dream. It had all the dreamlike qualities—but isn’t that what the men he worked with said about their underworld? If you get caught in the kingdom of the underworld, if you are lucky, you can dream yourself back to safety. If you cannot do that, you will be lost forever.
What? Had he gone insane? He didn’t feel insane. And yet …
He would get out of this. Or he would wake up. Sometimes the best thing is just to wake up, and this could be one of those times.
It might be a stupid plan, but at least it was a plan.
This was a place that swallowed hope. This was a place that told the truth, revealed ugliness, celebrated all the wrong things. Chances are, he belonged here.
“I don’t understand the rules,” Adam said “None of us do,” Oliver replied.
He had to be smarter. He had to use the magic with a little wisdom, instead of haphazardly.
he contemplated his miniscule importance in the world, both above and below ground. He was inconsequential to everyone but himself.
The magic didn’t care.
And now, here he stood on the precipice. Again.
In a flash of understanding, he realized the magic had exacted its price: Self-revelation.