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asimawv · 4 years ago

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I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.)

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style.

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

#darkest dungeon #playlist #song reccomendations #fic: the myth of sisyphus #give me that hozier baby

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justforbooks · 5 years ago

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Little Richard. Prime force of rock’n’roll who made an explosive impact with songs such as Tutti Frutti, Good Golly, Miss Molly, Lucille and Long Tall Sally

Little Richard, who has died aged 87, was the self-proclaimed king of rock’n’roll. Such was his explosive impact that many of the baby boom generation will vividly recall the moment when they first encountered his assault on melody.

Awopbopaloobop alopbamboom! That first hit, Tutti Frutti, released in October 1955, was wild, delicious gibberish from a human voice as no other, roaring and blathering above a band like a fire-engine run amok in the night. We glimpsed a new universe. The Sinatra-sophisticats were slain with a shout. Enter glorious barbarity, chaos and sex. With a few others – Fats Domino, Bill Haley, Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly – Little Richard laid down what rock’n’roll was to be like, and he was the loudest, hottest and most exhibitionist of them all.

Richard Wayne Penniman was born in Macon, Georgia, one of 12 children of Charles, a bricklayer, and his wife Leva Mae Stewart. His family were Seventh-day Adventists and Richard learned the piano and sang gospel in the local church choir, but was thrown out of the family home at 13. He performed in medicine shows - with “miracle cures” promoted between entertainment acts – before hitching to Atlanta, where he signed to RCA Records in 1951, using the name Little Richard.

He recorded several undistinguished singles for them, including Every Hour (1951), but none had much impact. His optimism undimmed but his style still unformed, he tried the independent Peacock label in Houston, recording sides on which he began to reveal a delicate, elaborately filigreed vocal style that would resurface years later on slow gospel numbers. This same style would sometimes ornament his rock sides too, as on She’s Got It (1957), where that “got” is twiddled into 10 syllables.

These Peacock sides brought no success, and at the beginning of 1955 – the year that was to end in triumph for him – he returned to Macon and to washing dishes. He sent a demo to another indie label, Specialty, whose owner, Art Rupe, soon became so sure that Little Richard defined the future that he rejected Sam Cooke as too pallid.

Brought to New Orleans in September and given almost the same band as Fats Domino, Penniman went into the studio with the producer Bumps Blackwell, and came out with Tutti Frutti. The single was a hit with black and white audiences and sold 500,000 copies – despite the popularity of Pat Boone’s cover version released shortly afterwards – and reached 17 in the US pop charts and No 2 on the R&B list.

A cascade of frantic but tight hits followed, establishing Little Richard as a prime force in rock’n’roll. His piano work, crucial to his sound, was limited to hammered chords and skitterish riffing (he did not even play it himself on Tutti Frutti) but with that megaphone voice, falsetto squeal, bursting energy and powerhouse band, his records became classics: songs every local group played every weekend for years to come; songs the other rock greats covered; songs that fired the ambition of those artists who would change the 1960s, the Beatles and Bob Dylan.

Long Tall Sally, Slippin’ and Slidin’, Rip It Up, Ready Teddy, She’s Got It and The Girl Can’t Help It were all released in 1956. The following year, Little Richard recorded Lucille, Send Me Some Lovin’, Jenny, Jenny, Miss Ann, and the awesome Keep A-Knockin’. And 1958 produced the last great batch: Good Golly Miss Molly, True Fine Mama and a glorious pillage of the music-hall oldie Baby Face.

It is obvious now from the titles alone that a formula soon set in with these records. Back then though, it was just how Little Richard was: an unstoppable force. Within the flailing combustion of True Fine Mama we now recognise a conventional 12-bar blues; at the time we heard formless galactic meltdown. Similarly, we now see that his presentation was partly “outrageous queen”, his catchphrase “Ooh ma soul” pure camp. But these were cliches from the future. When rock’n’roll and Little Richard were new, his preening, boasting and benign lasciviousness seemed highly individual.

He was an inspiration to younger black musicians with white audiences. The young guitarist Jimi Hendrix learned a lot from backing Little Richard on tour; and as Richard once observed of Prince, “the little moustache, the moves, the physicality – he’s a genius but he learnt it from me. I was wearing purple before he was born; I was wearing make-up before anyone else.”

His sexuality was no simple thing. As he revealed in his candid autobiography, The Life and Times of Little Richard (1984, as told to Charles White), he fancied men and women, but most of all he fancied himself.

However, touring Australia in 1957, he threw his rings off Sydney Harbour bridge, renouncing the devil’s music for God. The performer who had once said of gospel that “I knew there had to be something louder, and I found it was me” now divided his time between bible school in Alabama and the Seventh-day Adventist church in Times Square, New York. He met his wife, Ernestine Campbell, at an evangelical rally in October of that year. They married in 1959 but divorced four years later.

Specialty kept the hits coming until 1959, when the long line ended with a game By the Light of the Silvery Moon. An era was over. Elvis had been drafted, Holly was dead. With God on his side, and Quincy Jones producing, Little Richard made the religious album It’s Real, for Mercury Records, billing himself “king of the gospel singers”. A 1962 single, He Got What He Wanted (But He Lost What He Had), fused old and new, its parables sung in vintage style: a steaming, raging, funny tour de force to equal Long Tall Sally. It was a minor hit.

He returned to rock’n’roll and Specialty, recorded Bama Lama Bama Loo (1964), and played Britain with the Rolling Stones, Bo Diddley and the Everlys. As the rock critic Nik Cohn testified, “he cut them all to shreds”. While in the UK he also made a TV special with the Shirelles (It’s Little Richard, 1964) – one of the rare times when rock was truly exciting on television.

I saw him live in this period, backed by the instrumental group Sounds Incorporated. He never paid them a moment’s attention, and was magnificent. When he stood on top of the piano, took off a ring and threw it into the audience, even those of us at the back with no chance of getting within a 100ft dived forward, hypnotised by this consummate artist.

But while the debut record from the 60s soul king Otis Redding was titled Shout Bamalama, Little Richard himself slid through failed comebacks, vainglorious live theatrics and indifferent re-recordings.

Exceptions included fine versions of Lawdy Miss Clawdy (1964) and Bring It on Home to Me (1966), while 70s covers of the Beatles’ I Saw Her Standing There and the Stones’ Brown Sugar emphasised how much he had inspired those bands in the first place. Attempts to update himself brought small success and in 1976 he retreated back to religion. By the decade’s end he was a late but rapacious convert to drug abuse.

In the 80s, however, the world and Little Richard were ready for each other again, and in 1986 he appeared, smiling with Hollywood good health, in the hit film Down and Out in Beverly Hills. It says much for his unquenchable charm that so soon after his upfront autobiography he could remake himself as a Disney favourite, with an album of children’s songs and a TV series, on which a revisited Keep A-Knockin’ incorporated knock-knock jokes swapped with his new young audience.

In 1993, the 60-year-old gospeller had supposedly found Judaism but was also rock’n’rolling again. In 1996, wavy hair down his back, he was to be seen playing on a truck at the closing ceremony of the Atlanta Olympics, and, as gloriously incongruous as ever, in an episode of Baywatch, performing on the boardwalk, his eerily plastic-smooth face that of a 35-year-old.

Little Richard became embedded in showbiz, appearing frequently on American television, in roles and as himself, including as a judge on Simon Cowell’s Celebrity Duets in 2006. He voiced a Disney World pineapple, saw his hits recycled in ads and films, was the subject of a 2000 biopic, and recorded anew with partners from Bon Jovi to Elton John. As a preacher, he conducted weddings for celebrities including Bruce Willis and Demi Moore, and spoke at the funerals of Wilson Pickett and Ike Turner.

Gaining multiple awards for his pioneering early work, he was among the first to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in 1986, and received a lifetime achievement Grammy in 1993. Little Richard needed none of these awards or hall of fame citations to tell him who he was or what he had achieved. He knew that all along. He was one of the gods, and almost the last among them.

His health declined in the 2000s, and he had heart surgery in 2008, cancelling a planned European tour with Berry. In 2009 he had hip replacement surgery, after which he still performed, yet giving audiences the novelty of seeing him seated at the keyboards.

In 2013 he announced his retirement. His last appearance was while attending the ceremony at which he received the Distinguished Artist award at the 2019 Tennessee Governor’s Arts Awards in Nashville.

He is survived by a son, Danny.

• Little Richard (Richard Wayne Penniman), singer-songwriter, born 5 December 1932; died 9 May 2020

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Little Richard #Richard Wayne Penniman

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erikahenningsen · 5 years ago

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Underrated musicals and plays you should check out

Happy quarantine everyone! I’ve been thinking about making a post like this for a long time now and what better time to do it then when we’re all stuck inside.

INDECENT

Play or musical? Play.

What’s it about? Indecent is a play by Paula Vogel. It recounts the controversy surrounding the Yiddish play God of Vengeance by Sholem Asch, which was produced on Broadway in 1923, for which the cast of the original production was arrested on the grounds of obscenity. God of Vengeance was the first kiss between two women on Broadway.

Why should I check this out? The writing is beautiful and the structure is seamless, balancing emotion, comedy, music, and drama effortlessly. It’s one of the best-directed shows I’ve ever seen (the direction rightfully won a Tony Award). Each actor plays several characters (and several play their own instruments) brilliantly and distinctly. Jewish culture is front and center, and there there is a canon WLW couple in both Indecent and God of Vengeance. Indecent is hilarious one moment and devastating the next. You will not be able to stop thinking about this play after watching it.

How can I watch this show? Indecent has a proshot available on the PBS website, or you can ask me for a link to my copy of it.

Can I buy the text? Yes.

Is there a cast recording? Yes.

COME FROM AWAY

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? Come From Away is a musical by Irene Sankoff and David Hein. It is set in the week following the September 11 attacks and tells the true story of what transpired when 38 planes were ordered to land unexpectedly in the small town of Gander in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, as part of Operation Yellow Ribbon. The characters in the musical are based on (and in most cases share the names of) real Gander residents as well as some of the 7,000 stranded travelers they housed and fed.

Why should I check this out? Come From Away is one of the best-written musicals I’ve ever seen. The pacing is perfect and every person in the cast plays at least three different characters seamlessly. The music is incredibly unique, as it is heavily influenced by Newfoundland folk music. You will laugh. You will cry. You will have the music stuck in your head for two weeks. The only problem with watching Come From Away during quarantine is it will make you want to give the special people in your life a hug.

How can I watch this show? Come From Away is currently playing on Broadway, in the West End, on tour across the US, and in Toronto, Melbourne, and Sydney. There are several video bootlegs that aren’t hard to find.

Can I buy the text?��I don’t think so. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Is there a cast recording? Yes.

CHOIR BOY

Play or musical? Play.

What’s it about? Choir Boy is a play by Tarell Alvin McCraney, who is best known for co-writing the Oscar-winning screenplay of Moonlight, the movie based on his play, In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue. Choir Boy follows Pharus, a gay teenager at an all-black, all-boys boarding school. Pharus has just been elected the lead of his school choir, a very high honor. Though Pharus is lauded for his vocal talent, his classmates do not all respond well to his flamboyance and confidence. Choir Boy is a story centered on relationships that asks what it means to be a young, gay, black man in America.

Why should I check this out? One of the most devastatingly beautiful pieces of theatre I have ever seen, Choir Boy is overflowing with fantastic monologues, hilarious one-liners, and gorgeous a cappella songs with some really dope step choreography. Tarell McCraney is the master of writing heartfelt, realistic romantic and platonic love between men of color.

How can I watch this show? Choir Boy is gaining popularity as a regional show. Unfortunately there is no video bootleg in circulation, and although I am absolutely positive MTC has one, there is no proshot. There are a lot of official clips on YouTube and if you message me privately I can give you an audio recording of the show.

Can I buy the text? You can buy the pre-Broadway version of the play. We have not been successful in finding a Broadway copy of the text, although I do have one I got at flea that was part of a Tony voters package.

Is there a cast recording? No, and I’m mad about it.

THE WRONG MAN

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? The Wrong Man started as a concept album by Ross Golan, and he expanded on it to create a 90-minute musical. Duran, a man down on his luck in Reno, Nevada, meets Mariana at a bar one night. They become romantically involved and make plans to leave Reno together. However, Mariana's violent ex-husband has just been released from prison, and when he finds out about their relationship, he frames Duran for murder.

Why should I check this out? The Wrong Man is completely sung-through and it is bops on bops on bops. There is not a dull song in this show and the orchestrations (by Alex Lacamoire of Hamilton fame) are gorgeous. The choreography (by Travis Wall) is my favorite I have ever seen. Joshua Henry, Ciara Renée, and Ryan Vasquez can sing literally anything. This show also did something really unique where they had Ryan Vasquez play the role of Duran once or twice a week.

How can I watch this show? There is a video bootleg that is NFT until July 15th, but I can give you the master’s information if you’d like to purchase it now. Message me privately for audio.

Can I buy the text? No.

Is there a cast recording? Not yet. We’ve gotten some hints that there may be one coming soon. You can listen to the concept album, but it’s quite different from the show and I’d recommend listening to the audio first.

THE SCOTTSBORO BOYS

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? The Scottsboro Boys is a musical with a book by David Thompson, music by John Kander and lyrics by Fred Ebb, based on the Scottsboro Boys trial.

Why should I check this out? The Scottsboro Boys is one of those shows that sounds like it wouldn’t work at all (and I think that unfortunately is most of the reason why it did so poorly on Broadway) but is actually brilliant. It is one of the sharpest, most poignant pieces of satire I’ve ever seen. The balance of comedy and the heartbreaking subject matter creates an incredibly powerful pieces of art. I saw a small regional production in a black box theater and it’s still one of my favorite things I’ve ever seen.

How can I watch this show? You may be able to catch this show at a regional theater. I think there may possibly be a bootleg, but I’m not sure if this is in circulation in any digital form. I don’t personally have audio of the show, but I’m sure it’s out there. There are some official clips on YouTube.

Can I buy the text? I don’t think so.

Is there a cast recording? There is an Off-Broadway cast recording and a London cast recording

ANGELS IN AMERICA: A GAY FANTASIA ON NATIONAL THEMES

Play or musical? Play.

What’s it about? I know it is a bit crazy to be calling Angels in America underrated as it has been around forever and literally won the Tony, Drama Desk, and Pulitzer and the revival won the Tony, but I feel that it’s underrated on tumblr and among young people. Angels in America is a two-part play (individually titled Millennium Approaches and Perestroika) by Tony Kushner. It a complex, often metaphorical, and at times symbolic examination of AIDS and homosexuality in America in the 1980s. Certain major and minor characters are supernatural beings (angels) or deceased persons (ghosts). The play contains multiple roles for several of the actors. Initially and primarily focusing on a gay couple in Manhattan, the play also has several other storylines, some of which occasionally intersect.

Why should I check this out? The camp! The drama! The comedy! The devastation! The OG comedy featuring Mormons. Iconic monologues and dialogue. The entire play is about eight hours long, and I would have happily sat through it with no breaks. Nobody will ever write a more epic play.

How can I watch this show? The most recent revival was filmed by the National Theatre when it was in London. I’m not sure if there’s a way to stream it online but I have a copy I can link you to. There’s also a Broadway revival bootleg.

Can I buy the text? Yes.

Is there a cast recording? N/A

A STRANGE LOOP

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? A Strange Loop is about an usher at The Lion King on Broadway who is also named Usher, who is writing a self-referential musical called A Strange Loop. Usher is an overweight, overwhelmed “ball of black confusion” trying to navigate without a compass the hierarchical white, black and gay worlds; his family’s religion, which condemns him for his sexuality; and an entertainment industry that isn’t interested in what he has to say. He’s also having an existential crisis as he deals with questions of reality, illusions, perceptions and identity. His biggest fear is that he’s stuck in an endless cycle of hopelessness where change is not possible.

Why should I check this out? It’s hard to talk about A Strange Loop with people who haven’t seen it because it is truly unlike any other show I have ever seen. It starts out seeming like a musical comedy about identity, but it gets more intense as the show goes on until you’re crying next to a stranger and wondering how the hell you even got there. It’s brilliant.

How can I watch this show? Unfortunately there is no video bootleg, but you can ask me for an audio. Some clips are available on YouTube.

Can I buy the text? No.

Is there a cast recording? Yes. I recommend reading this as you go along so the songs make more sense because they’re pretty wild out of context (they’re pretty equally as wild in context).

SCHOOL GIRLS; OR, THE AFRICAN MEAN GIRLS PLAY

Play or musical? Play.

What’s it about? Paulina, the reigning queen bee at Ghana’s most exclusive boarding school, has her sights set on the Miss Global Universe pageant. But the arrival of Ericka, a new student with undeniable talent and beauty, captures the attention of the pageant recruiter—and Paulina’s hive-minded friends.

Why should I check this out? School Girls is one of the funniest plays I have ever seen. The writing is so smart, and the show deals with racism (both on an interpersonal and worldwide level), colorism, body image, sex and gender, class, and inequality.

How can I watch this show? PBS recently released the proshot on their website. I don’t have a ripped copy yet, so if anyone does have one please send it my way. Regional theaters have been doing this show as well.

Can I buy the text? Yes.

Is there a cast recording? N/A

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? Following a move from New York City to small-town Indiana, young Evan Goldman grapples with his parents' divorce, prepares for his impending Bar Mitzvah, and navigates the complicated social circles of a new school.

Why should I check this out? It’s Jason Robert Brown, so the music slaps. It’s the only Broadway musical ever with a cast and band entirely made of teenagers. Plus it has baby Ariana Grande and Liz Gillies in their Broadway debuts. 13 walked so so many other musicals about teens could run.

How can I watch this show? There is a video bootleg that’s not hard to find. I’m sure there’s audio in circulation as well.

Can I buy the text? Yes.

Is there a cast recording? There is an Broadway cast recording and a West End cast recording

THE SECRET LIFE OF BEES

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? Secret Life of Bees is a musical by Duncan Sheik and Lynn Nottage based on the novel of the same name. Haunted by memories of her late mother and abused by her father, 14-year-old Lily Owens runs away with her friend and caregiver Rosaleen to the South Carolina town that holds the key to her mother's past. There, Lily meets the Boatwright sisters, who take her in and teach her about beekeeping, honey, and the Black Madonna. Lily also discovers that the truth about her mother is closer than she thinks.

Why should I check this out? The music is so gorgeous. It’s one of my favorite Duncan Sheik scores. LaChanze is amazing at everything she does, and Elizabeth Teeter and Brett Gray are stars you need to be looking out for.

How can I watch this show? There is no video bootleg. You can message me privately for an audio.

Can I buy the text? No.

Is there a cast recording? No, but I really wish there was.

AMERICAN PSYCHO

Play or musical? Musical.

What’s it about? American Psycho is based on the 1991 novel of the same name and written by Duncan Sheik and Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa. In New York City in 1987, a handsome, young urban professional, Patrick Bateman, lives a second life as a gruesome serial killer by night. The cast is filled by the detective, the fiancée, the mistress, the coworker (Jared Leto), and the secretary. This is a biting, wry comedy examining the elements that make a man a monster.

Why should I check this out? Listen, I won’t lie to you. There is a reason this musical is underrated, and that reason is because it is not good. But I love it. The fun comes from the knowledge that this campy, ridiculous, obscenely bloody show was on Broadway (briefly). Duncan Sheik went off the rails and wrote a techno musical! How can you not love that! Benjamin Walker gives the performance of his career and he did it mostly in his underwear! Heléne Yorke creates a character so grating you find yourself begging Patrick to kill her! They somehow got Alice Ripley AND Jenn Damiano to do this shitshow! I will maintain until the day I die that nobody can top American Psycho’s act one closer.

How can I watch this show? There are a couple of video bootlegs of the Broadway production, as well as some official clips on YouTube. I have an audio of the West End production that I can share.

Can I buy the text? No.

Is there a cast recording? There is tragically no Broadway cast recording, but there is a London cast recording.

#why did this take me two hours to write #i'm gwen and i approve this message

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beckmessering · 4 years ago

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scrambled review no.8

götterdämmerung / bayreuth 1980 / directed by patrice chéreau

Characters

Siegfried (Manfred Jung) – has acquired an audible vocal maturity along with his character’s maturity. Sounds fuller and steelier compared to his beginnings in Siegfried, and changes his voice into a pressed, lower tone when kidnapping Brünnhilde. He’s cornered by the choir of Gibichung men in the wedding scene and exposed to mounting pressure to rid himself of the accusation of deeds he can’t remember, and finally swears his false oath with skyrocketing panic channelled into his voice instead of overblown self-confidence and adds an element of insecurity to the fatally confident hero.

Brünnhilde (Gwyneth Jones) – is fatally lovelorn until betrayed, after which she never once breaks the intensity of her gaze, her rage oscillating between cold and barely controlled after being defensive and almost cold to her sister Waltraute. With the betrayal, she turns vocally indestructible until she jumps into the flames and her “Ruhe, du Gott” during the immolation has all the weary heaviness that comes with the inevitability of the end of the world.

Hagen (Fritz Hübner) – took his line “frühalt, fahl und bleich” very seriously and looks exactly as prematurely aged, pale, and grey as the libretto demands. Seems tired of everything, including being angry and despising Siegfried even before they meet. The strength of his lower register disappears a bit during his “Hoiho!”, but is capable of confronting his father. He’s effective, but I have yet to find a Hagen who brings the full amount of possible loneliness and tragedy to the role.

Alberich (Hermann Becht) – could pressure his son a bit more strongly, also acting-wise. I really like Alberich’s single scene in Götterdämmerung, but it doesn’t quite deliver here, mainly because it’s sung too loudly. Personal preference, but I find that when it’s sung quietly, it delivers a hallucinatory quality from the realm between sleep and waking that perfectly suits Alberich’s nightmarish visit to his son that this version lacked.

Gunther (Franz Mazura) – an increasingly insecure, stiff-looking man who doesn’t understand what he’s gotten into until realisation dawns intensely and far too late. Looks delightfully uncomfortable with a red drink spilled on his hands, and vocally he holds his own against Hagen and Siegfried.

Waltraute (Gwendolyn Killebrew) – may wear the same dress as her sister, but she noticeably comes from a different world. There is a divide between the sisters – their relationship seems to come together only when they reminisce in memories of Wotan, but even then, they do so separately. Basically renders her delicately sung warning futile from the beginning and thus takes away some suspense from it, but adds tragedy in hindsight.

Production

The Gibichungs are a part of the capitalist world that Wotan advocates for as well, profiteers of this system that try to expand their influence by any means necessary. Unfortunately for them, Siegfried wears the clothes of a mythical hero that don’t belong between suits and black marble pillars. He doesn’t fit from the beginning; his world and that of the Gibichungs are both imperfect and can’t coexist and both burn at the end. Deciding moments of the story are excellently choreographed, such as the wedding scene, in which the chorus encircles Siegfried until he swears his oath.

Conducting

Boulez’ ebbing and flowing style suits Götterdämmerung very well. He still adds staccato very selectively, but the Valkyrie motif when Waltraute approaches sounds unusually metallic, perhaps indicative of the emotional distance between the sisters. The Hagen-Alberich dialogue is rushed (I swear this is the last time I complain about this scene. I just love it, okay) but the murder trio, excuse me, the Act II finale allows the distinct voices to ring out clearly instead of sounding soupy. The conducting in this Ring felt stylistically continuous throughout, evolving here and there, and most of all, it had a decidedly distinct sound.

Bottom line

A highly convincing end of the world – especially Brünnhilde brought with her just the right amounts of grit, strength and frailty to the story. Now I’m quite sad that it’s over and feeling a bit nostalgic, and I think that’s a very good sign.

#scrambled review #richard wagner #opera #classical music #music review #music rant #ring cycle #Götterdämmerung #patrice chéreau

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flipsideds · 5 years ago

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“ oh, haha... ” a default response to a very non-default situation –– a little post-show, barside rendez-vous with an older man who insists nour has been singing to directly to him the entire night. “ flirting ? i... ”

gentle eyes gloss over the banquet hall’s dimmed lights, bright smiles, flickering electric candles... “ . . . what’s that ? ” and then he’s off, gin and tonic in hand. three strides and it’s already half-drained. yikes.

or, alternatively : greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so graceful, ever so unintentionally magnetic nour al-busiri! below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down. i am so excited to plot & write with all of you !!

( i’m scheduled for a tonsillectomy tomorrow so i’m gonna be so grateful for the distraction, y’all have no idea. )

if you want some great mood-setters for this beb’s backstory / insight into his soul, slap on some jacob collier, kevin garrett, or charlie burg ‘n let’s get cookin’ !

so this is all copy-pasted from a discord chat with devon bc i improvised nour’s entire life story over a span of... 10 minutes ?? bahaha pls enjoy i apologize in advance. ( i also put this in normal text size bc it is v long and i don’t want anyone hurting their eyes !! protect dem beautiful retinas <3 )

h i s t o r y .

his parents met in grade school in egypt, but then didn't reconnect until their masters studies crossed paths in london... immediately fell head over heels again ( had they been searching for one another in crowds since being 6-7 years old?? maybe... ). graduated top of their class, accepted job offers in london in the biopharmaceutical realm. but then. when nour was 3...

they were involved in a freak monorail accident on their way back from a science conference in amsterdam. the babysitter paid 80 quid to watch the kids for two nights became their sole protector in this world. british authorities had trouble contacting other kin, but managed to reach mr. al-busiri's mother, rashida, who was still living in dahab with her second husband, zaim.

the al-busiri's came from old money. so off nour goes ( and potentially his older bro if i decide he exists... potential wc with a rami malek fc tbh ) to live in the city which, unbeknownst to him, sparked his parents' storybook love.

so nour grows up in this like... picturesque seaside childhood. collects shells. bonds with his grandmother and her husband. they encourage him with school, etc. but he quickly shows that he excels at maths and... music? wow. that's unexpected. gets his first piano at 5. first guitar at 6. by 8 1/2, he's managed to hodge-podge together a little recording studio for himself in his bedroom, and he's constantly serenading his friends at school.

( death tw / illness tw ) then comes zaim's stroke. he lives for four months after, but he loses his ability to speak. his motor skills deteriorate. nour and his grandmother do their best to tend to him –– she's already about 40% down the macular degeneration path, but hasn't told him yet that her vision's going. so 10 y/o nour does what he does best: unconditional love and support, delivered through the gift of song. zaim dies after requesting his favorite song: 'blackbird' by the beatles, sung in verses alternating from english to arabic.

after, it's just nour and rashida against the world ( maybe his brother too bergorghre if i decide he's a thing ) . rashida's forced to come clean about her vision the day she can't for the life of her find the bloody pen she just put down so she can finish signing off on nour's choir trip permission slip. ( it's right next to her, to her left, just out of her closing field of vision. ) things progress more rapidly after that. by the time nour's 16, his grandmother is legally blind. it's not an uncommon sight to see him at the markets or strolling along the beach with her on his arm. she refuses canes as long as nour's around. ( “ don't rob me of my youth, nuri-nuri [ my light ] ” )

despite her growing dependency on him, she encourages him to apply to unis all over the globe. by the time college apps roll around, nour is somewhat of a local household name: he plays summer concerts, coffee shops, and is even asked to play at his teacher's wedding ceremony –– and his neighbor's cat funeral.

acceptances roll in. julliard. berkeley. chicago school of music. he chooses chicago, because there's someone there. someone he connected with online a few years back, a friend, but... could turn into something more. this hopeless romantic heedlessly ventures off to find out if this boy in chicago might... be someone. something more.

spoiler alert: he gets to chicago, starts music school. and each meet-up they set? gets pushed. sometimes it's traffic. a cold. transit trouble. can't get work off, sorry. things with ma are really tough. the excuses kept coming but... nour's naive. he believes every word. but in his second year of uni, things....... start getting suspicious. by chance, he spots this man in the window of a coffee shop downtown. overjoyed, he texts as much. but ... messages go read and unanswered. phone calls dwindle.

his music suffers. so does his muse. so much so that he's tempted to drop out, to throw in the towel, to just...... go back home. he speaks with his grandmother each day on the phone. she's doing well, stop worrying, nuri-nuri, your uncle is taking good care of me. nour goes on dates. thinks about chicago boy. thinks about him a lot.

he's 20 when it happens. sat on a stage in a little dive bar, tuning his acoustic guitar for an opening number, and there. those eyes. he knows them.

they talk after the show, in the alley. share a cigarette. and it's almost like... maybe things are finally clicking. maybe this is finally their shot.

except chicago boy ( neil ) says they have to stop talking. that he had to just... see nour for himself. see that he's real. hear him sing, and... move on. nour doesn't buy it. pushes back. asks why the hell neil'd come out now only to slink back to the shadows. things get heated. neil yells. and the men... the men who hear and come running ? they think nour is the cause of it all.

( hate crime tw, violence tw ) how many kicks does it take to break to the center of a broken heart ? twelve. how many broken ribs does it take to immobilize a probably terrorist, dude ? four. shattered wrist. snapped ankle. broken arm. cracked skull. and neil scuttles off like nour's bad meat. bad blood. like he asked for this.

chicago school of music receives a call from weiss memorial three days later.

nour never gets his degree. he breaks his apartment lease. flies home after he heals, spends a year with his grandmother and uncle. just... creating. writing, playing, trying to fill that void with something. but then things with his uncle get heated. he wants to put his own mother in a home, sell the estate, pocket the cash. nour fights it, but he's got no legal bearing.

the nursing home concept never takes hold, though, because his grandmother's still sharp as shit and refuses to sign anything nour doesn't read first. eventually the uncle grows tired of fighting and stops trying, just... slinks back to his husband and keeps his mouth shut. nour's grandmother pressures him to go back to chicago, make that city wish he never left. take back his own story. together they work to find a live-in aide they trust. freshly 22, nour ventures back to the city that broke him.

he finds cheap housing, a gig. the malnati, seems legit. good money. good exposure. and then he meets @ryderxmms –– they form one night stand. when not scheduled for malnati banquets, you can find nour providing vocals ( and occasional keys ) in the dive bars / parties the band lands gigs at.

g e n e r a l .

nour creates like food and drink don’t exist, sunlight is an illusion, and all the human body needs for sustenance is sound. he can find his way around just about any instrument under the sun, but his main poisons are piano, acoustic guitar, and digital recording tools –– think jacob collier and you’re right on the money.

actually, i’m stealing a lot of jacob collier discography and pegging it as his creations. this kid’s got an experimental sound and loves it.

he grew up speaking english and arabic equally, but because he learned english in london and then continued in egypt, he does have a mild brit-arab accent. it’s v cute, i promise.

looks like he’d be a total lothario, yeah ?? but. he’s so shy ? so sweet ? get him on a stage and he’s shameless but plop him in a bar and eye him up and he’ll honestly just smile nervously and pretend you’re looking at someone else.

love languages : singing to his succulents and plants before his 5am morning runs. facetime calls at times least convenient for him, but most convenient for you. little notes written on napkins, smiley face doodles included. candy bars. lingering a little longer in doorways after saying hello, just to see you smile.

he’s got major water sign vibes. birthday comin’ up in march, woot woot !!

he often wears very simple statement pieces. he likes rings, crystal pendants, leather bracelets. soft tees layered with embroidered jackets, metallic blazers. somehow he pulls off mixed media and crazy prints that should never go together ? he just... is so easy breezy.

he often wears his hair wild ‘n curly, unless the gig he’s got mandates a more streamlined look.

falls in love.... 14 times a day ?? really.

has a scar across his left temple from the incident with neil. will probably write it off as a bike riding accident. ( he doesn’t know how to ride a bike. )

don’t let him cook ever, okay ?? unless you want him to literally do this.

pls come at me for all the plots ? i’m so open for all the things !!! y’all got me on discord, so feel free to slide on into my dms. i promise i will be so thrilled <3

#intro.#☼ –– gimme that afterglow ! inspo.

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kathyprior4200 · 5 years ago

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Falling From Grace, Landing In Love (AU)

Vaggie has to make a choice to decide her fate for her afterlife. She is trained to become an Exterminator due to her personality and expertise with weapons. She is sent with the other Angels of Death to purge the citizens of Hell once every year to reduce overpopulation and induce fear in the sinners. Along the way, she meets Charlie, the princess of Hell and falls in love.

Unable to kill her or any other demons, Vaggie chooses to be with Charlie and disobeys the others. She falls from grace and lands in Hell in her current moth demon form. She is left with a harpoon weapon to defend herself and a mission. Her mission is now to spy on (mostly) Charlie and the other demons to try and get them to redeem themselves. (and also to ensure that the citizens don’t pose a threat to Heaven, God and the angels). Only when she is able to redeem herself, her girlfriend Charlie and other demons can she ascend to Heaven (or an alternate realm).

Ascension (Vaggie)

“Vagatha…”

The sound of her name mingled with the chorus of a choir. A black void was all she could see…if she actually had vision. Floating in the darkness, no physical feeling…she didn’t appear to have a body at all.

For a moment, she just…was.

“Vagatha…”

The vocalizations appeared to be coming from above. Faint rays of white light appeared, slowly reaching out. Though bright, it’s wasn’t blinding…it was light at the end of a tunnel of space and time.

The light radiated closer, and as it did, her senses sharpened.

Wait…wasn’t she…dead? Why could she perceive this event in the first place? Death meant a change into energy, a merging with the universe…at least that’s what many spiritualists believed.

Had the choir not sung out her name, she may have forgotten who she is…or was.

Vagatha was apparently her name…she knew it sounded familiar, but also wasn’t quite right. Too formal and too long.

A shorter, better-suited version would be…

Vaggie.

She felt every inch of her ethereal being yell out her name, but no sound came out. It was similar to a person declaring something in their sleep, or speeches inside the mind. Repeating it, holding onto the word that could somehow connect her to what was before…and what was to come.

The darkness was soon dispelled by the light and the whiteness around her gained the form of large puffy clouds.

Moving forward until an unseen force froze her in her tracks, the deceased soul saw a unique sight. A slightly rusted golden gate blocked her path. A silver sign next to it read “Low Level of Heaven.”

Heaven?

An angel appeared next to the gate, clothed in white dress pants, a white shirt with a golden bow-tie and a pair of white feathering wings folded behind his back. Strangely enough, his face was completely white, with red blushes off to the sides on either cheek. His hair was bronze gold and short, looking white. If he hadn’t looked so serene and regal, she would’ve considered him a clown.

He stared at her and spoke wordlessly with his golden eyes. “What’s your name?”

She knew what to say. “I am Vaggie.”

“Vagatha Gonzales,” the angel stated, looking at a holographic list that appeared in front of him. “Formerly of Earth. El Salvadorian ancestry, born to Jeffery and Margaret on May 10th, 1992…”

The angel’s words faded in and out in a haze. She was on the brink between matter and ether. Until something snapped her into focus.

“…died in 2014 of stab wounds and homicide.”

Brief traumatic-inducing images flashed in front of her, but she couldn’t quite piece them together.

The angel then went on naming all the good and bad deeds that Vaggie had supposedly done in her previous human life. He started off with the good:

“A hard-working individual, devoted to her values/faith. Protective of children, animals, and flying creatures: Moths in particular…”

How in Heaven and Hell could he see through her?

And then the so-called sins…

“…harmed and maimed various racist men in the name of your family and Hispanic women…displayed lustful feelings toward other females…”

A boiling feeling of rage filled her body-less form. Her previous memories started to rush back to her. “Love, not lust! It’s who I was. Who decides what’s good and what’s bad?”

“God, the Heavenly Father,” the angel answered.

“Read my mind again. I dare you!”

“You don’t technically have one as of yet.”

“Then where’s yours? Did you lose it?”

The angel sighed. “Let’s just get through this interrogation process smoothly. I have eternity to reside here, but I’d prefer to not waste much of it on arguments.”

Vaggie fell silent. “Anything neutral about me?”

“You liked punk rock music, 80’s music, and Latino music.”

“O…kay? When I get into this place, can I listen to them?”

“If you truly get in,” the angel added. “All souls begin with an evaluation and judgement. The majority are neutral, like yourself. The evil and unfaithful get sent down to Hell. Only the heroic and legendary can reach the highest levels of Heaven and find fulfillment with God.”

Vaggie was silent again.

The angel turned red in the face and summoned a piece of paper in his hand, glancing down at it. “Or Nirvana. Or Akasha. Or becoming one with the Universe and the Higher Self,” he read. The list of other faiths went on, though Satanism and certain Pagan faiths were not included. “Man, diverse times in the mortal realm call for more accommodations around here…”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“To answer your current question,” the angel added, unfazed, “My name is Puriel. I am an examiner of souls brought to Heaven. Each soul gets one chance in Heaven at the lowest level. Those who can prove their worth can ascend to higher planes. It is a starting point for the majority of souls. Sadly, there are more that end up going to Hell, which poses a big problem.”

Puriel continued.

“But more on that, later. And yes…other realms do exist…Enlightenment, Avalon, Summerland, the Void, etc. The lower level of Heaven is a basic starting point for the afterlife, mostly because it’s been woven into mortals’ minds for centuries. Souls are given one chance, though there are, of course, exceptions.”

Vaggie could already feel Puriel’s eyes judging her.

Puriel waved his hand and spoke an ancient incantation. Vaggie somehow understood it: “Breath is lost, a new life found, Temporary form to this soul be bound.”

Vaggie’s new form very much resembled her previous human form…thought it was also very different. As a human, she had thick dark hair, light brown skin, and a thin but strong physique. She had gotten her muscular tone from martial arts and hard work. She frequently wore gothic outfits of black, gray and pastel pink.

Her skin was now slightly light gray, her hair long and white with faint bands of red along the tips. A pink bow was perched on her head, like the one she enjoyed wearing as a human. Her eyes were large and the sclera orange. She wore stockings over her legs, the right one navy blue, the left one with pink stripes on it. Her white mini dress with two xs over her breasts covered the top half of her legs and exposed her light gray shoulders. She wore a blue undershirt and a tight collar around her neck. A large pink X appeared over her left eye, the same eye that had been damaged in her previous life. Vaggie’s most stunning feature was a pair of white feathery wings that materialized from golden light and emerged from her back. Her wings also had thin red bands along near the tips.

“This is the form that appeared in your mind, so at your request, this is your usual form for the afterlife,” said Puriel. “Your redeemed form will be the one you possessed as a human.”

“Thank you,” she replied, staring at herself. She would have to get used to her alternate form, but already it seemed fitting for her.

Puriel spoke another incantation and several portals opened up in a row above the gate. The faces that appeared in the holes were the faces of other angels: Michael, Raphael, Haniel, Gabriel, and even some Angels of Death: Dumah, Azrael, etc.

In the very center, another portal opened, revealing six winged seraphim angels guarding a hovering throne. God Himself, appearing as an elderly man with a great white beard, gazed upon his subjects and attendants. He began to talk with the council of angels residing in different spheres of Heaven.

Vaggie couldn’t make out the words, as they were speaking in a divine language only few had the privilege to learn.

After what felt like an eternity, God left and one by one, the angels and the portals vanished.

Puriel turned to Vaggie.

“Your misdeeds by themselves would originally send you right to Hell, but you also have a chance to repent based on your values of justice and wisdom.”

“You have several choices. First, you can return back to the void of nonexistence. No feeling, no memory, nothing…thus bringing balance to the universe. For what emerges from the ether must eventually return. Those who die a second time in Hell, Heaven, or any realm, will cease to exist again.”

“Just stop with the philosophical bullshit.” Vaggie clenched her fists, eager to get past this unbearable lecture.

“Second, you can travel to other realms and see if they’ll let you pass…though it may take a while and it’s not guaranteed. Third, you could go straight to Hell and become a demon…though it’s not recommended.”

“…Or, if you choose to stay here…you are to become a member of our Exterminator Angels of Death. This is determined based on both your proficiency in fighting and weaponry…but also on your neutral nature overall. Though your past human actions would be considered malicious, your overall intentions were pure. Once initiated into the soldier ranks, you will need to prove yourself in order to potentially ascend to higher levels of Heaven. What say you?”

Vaggie thought for a moment. “I want to stay in Heaven and see my family.”

“Do you solemnly swear to serve in the name of Christ the Lord and embrace His ways and the ways of the citizens of Heaven?”

“I accept.” A flaming white halo with little spikes through the brim appeared above Vaggie’s head. A small white arrow with the shape of a French emblem appeared in the center of the halo.

“Close your eyes and focus,” said Puriel. “Say, ‘Saint Samael, I’m ready for duty.’”

Vaggie did so, and she instantly transformed.

A harpoon weapon appeared in her right hand and an LED mask in her left. Dark curved horns arched slightly past her head, her white hair vanishing under a dark hood. Her wings now sprouted black feathers which were both strong as steel and lightweight for graceful movement. In replacement of her normal outfit, she now wore a kind of black body suit with feathered gauntlets over her arms and lower legs, all black. She stared at the LED mask which displayed a glowing white eye to the left, an x in place of an eye on the right and a large glowing white grin. There appeared to be faint red stains off to the sides. Vaggie almost recoiled at the grotesque item. Hesitantly, she put on the mask and was still able to see clearly.

“Archangel Vagatha,” Puriel said, declaring her new title. “Your fate has been decided. Your mission is to purge the demonic citizens of Hell once a year to reduce overpopulation to a set quantity. Any relationships and fraternization with the citizens of Hell is forbidden. Your training begins at twilight.”

The gates finally opened soundlessly and Vaggie flew through. She was amazed at how she quickly got used to her wings, like they were a second pair of strong arms. Her harpoon somehow felt natural in her hands. She was half tempted to throw it at Puriel, but she knew that the mostly immortal being would not be happy.

Was he immortal? Was she immortal, even in this peculiar plane of existence?

“And Vagatha,” warned Puriel as she briefly glanced back at his row of strangely sharp white teeth, “Break the rules of God, and you’ll fall from grace. Your halo will vanish and your wings will burn off. You will become nothing else but a demon of Hell forever.”

Preparation (Charlie)

“Charlotte, it’s almost time for the show to begin. Hurry on down!”

A young teen demon was sitting in front of a mirror decorated with yellow eyes with black pupils along the elegant rim. She put on a dash of red lipstick while her two goat dolls, Razzle and Dazzle fixed her hair.

“Dad!” called the blond-haired princess from inside her room, “I told you to call me Charlie! Charlotte sounds too…strange.”

“Well that’s your name, you should be used to it by now.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and stared at her reflection: golden yellow eyes, a ghost white face with red blushes off to the side of her cheeks, razor sharp fangs when she smiled. She was so excited, she could barely sit still.

When her attendants were done, she stood up to admire herself and her outfit. A candy red pinstriped dress nearly touched the floor and felt slightly tight around her waist. An enchanted light purple snake was wrapped around her waistline, both serving as decoration and self-defense in case of grabby onlookers. It was very similar to the snake that her father Lucifer kept around his white top hat (though both were protective of their owners thanks to Lucifer’s magic). Spider web leggings covered her pale legs and on her feet were black tap-dancing shoes. One of her feet was already moving up and down slightly. Finally, Charlie wore a black spiked crown with a red apple gem in the center.

“My 150th birthday!” she exclaimed, doing several happy jumps. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while.”

Indeed, it had been 150 years since she had been born in Hell to the king and queen. Unlike humans, the demons hardly aged at all, or if they did, it was a very slow process. (Then again, they were already dead, so it didn’t really matter.)

But Charlie had heard of the interesting human tradition they called “birthdays” on Earth. She insisted to her parents they had to celebrate hers once a year.

While Lucifer had been reluctant, Lilith agreed.

“We can’t participate in that foolish human tradition,” Lucifer argued. “Especially since we aren’t alive and our people are supposed to be suffering twenty four, seven.”

“If it makes our daughter happy, then so be it,” she said. “Besides, no one else has to know. It’ll be one of our traditions.”

“Very well,” he said. “But since Charlie gets a special day of her own, why don’t we make some days special for us…if you know what I mean.”

He gave her a devilish wink and she grinned in return. “A special day for domination…I’m up for that.”

Charlie had then entered the room, asking “What’re you talking about?” and the topic was changed.

“So, about that meeting with the other overlords?” Lilith asked her husband.

“As usual, I warned them they needed to know their place.”

Rolling her eyes, Charlie had left to play the grand piano.

“Are you coming or not?” Lucifer asked, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m ready!” she called, opening the door.

There was her father in front of her, smiling his nearly ever-present grin. Like her, he had (much shorter) blond hair, a white face, blushes on his cheeks, and yellow eyes. He wore his usual white and candy red suit, with his white top hap with a snake along the rim. A black staff appeared in his hand with the Forbidden Fruit on the top: a red apple. Lilith walked over to stand beside him, wearing an elegant red dress and her usual black crown between her red horns on her head. She had blond hair even longer than Charlie’s and was taller than Lucifer.

“Oh Charlie,” exclaimed her mother in a soft voice, “You look so beautiful! You remind me of me when I was your age.”

Charlie embraced her mother in a happy hug. “Come on, now,” Lilith said, letting go and beckoning her to come forward. “Our guests are waiting.”

The “guests” were actually some of Lucifer’s snakes which he reluctantly enchanted to take on the appearances of…

“Disney Princesses and Harry Potter wizards,” Lucifer muttered in disgust. “It could’ve been wounded demons sprawling in pain on the ground like in the past…”

Charlie walked down the curving staircase down to the lobby of her family’s mansion. The “princesses” smiled and waved at her and some threw flower petals to her (which were actually dried scales dyed pink.)

“You know how much she doesn’t like that,” Lilith mentioned. Charlie took the stage and began to sing.

“But those enchantments aren’t even real,” he said. “It’s one of the ways to prepare her for her future duties as Hell’s princess.”

“And what’s the other way?”

Lucifer whispered into his wife’s ear and her eyes widened in both delight and hesitation.

“Oh that’s right. Today is also that day.”

“Surely she will enjoy getting a glimpse of what happens out in the world,” Lucifer smiled.

“But…what if it’s too much for her?”

“Too, much?” Lucifer asked. “She’s 150 now. She has to be ready. It’s a growing up right of passage that cannot wait any longer.”

They watched Charlie take a bow as her doll demons clapped.

“Trust me,” said Lucifer. “She’ll be delighted to witness her first…”

“Cake!” Charlie squealed. “Oh my Satan, that’s amazing!”

A devil’s food cake was rolled and set on a table in front of her. It had chocolate frosting (per her request), spidery snakes on the top and a fat red apple candle.

After singing to her in their deep hellish voices saved for certain occasions, Charlie pointed her clawed finger at the candle and the flame shot into the air, bursting into red apple fireworks. The noise spooked the apparitions and the regular snakes appeared once more.

For the first half of the private party, Charlie entertained her parents by demonstrating her dancing skills up on stage. For Charlie, dancing wasn’t just a hobby: it was a way of life and a method to express her deepest feelings that she couldn’t put into words. Razzle played the grand piano and Dazzle played a violin as Charlie sang.

As the day neared its end, the clock outside rang out twelve times. In the past years, Charlie would head upstairs to her room to watch musicals while her parents went outside for some “entertainment.” Now this time, Charlie would get a chance to be with her parents.

“It’s a special surprise, sweetie,” said Lucifer. “Since it’s a big day for you, I’d like you to follow us.”

He said it as if it were an order. Feeling bewildered, but still very excited, Charlie let her parents led her up the elevator and toward the uppermost balcony. Razzle and Dazzle followed close behind.

Soon, the group walked onto the balcony that overlooked the crimson sky and dark clouds of hell.

Charlie stared out into the distance as the clock tower rang one last time.

“I don’t see anything,” she said. “Are we waiting for fireworks? Or a rainbow?”

“Silly Charlotte,” said her mother with a smile. “You’re about to witness something even better than those things.”

“A spectacle that you’ll gladly remember for years into your rule,” her father added.

Charlie smiled wide, until seeing a speck of something in the distance. It looked like a circle of white light that slowly grew larger into the shape of a portal.

“Huh?” she asked.

Lucifer smiled. “Charlotte, welcome to your first Extermination.”

Then…a swarm of dark flying creatures burst out of the portal. The shadowy figures rained down on the city below. Charlie looked closer and could see they had black feathery wings, dark curved horns and glowing white halos on their heads. Each one carried variations of spears, harpoons and other weapons in their hands.

“What are those things?” she asked.

“They’re angels,” said her mother.

“Angels?” she asked. “You mean like the ones in human myths?”

“No, dear,” said Lucifer, his grin wide. “These are no myths.”

All of a sudden, one flew close by and Charlie reeled back in fright. The angel that glided past had an LED mask on with a large sinister grin and an x over its right eye. The angel threw the spear in his hand, and the weapon struck a large parrot-like demon in the heart. The bird let out a shrill squawk as it plummeted to the ground.

Charlie glanced down at the streets and let out a sharp gasp.

Down below, demons of all shapes and sizes scattered from the onslaught of angels descending on them like hungry vultures. A demon with three heads was unfortunate enough to have a harpoon struck through all his heads, causing the creature to collapse. Two other angels were choking a red dragon demon, the creature’s eye bulging. Two hellhounds whined in pain as electricity from another spear struck them both in the backs. The bipedal canines crashed to the ground and did not move again.

Nothing but screams, robotic laughter, and carnage. The longer she watched, the more frightened Charlie became. Soon, the rotten stench of death filled her nostrils.

She glanced back at her parents casually watching the show from their chairs like it was a musical.

Tears sprang from Charlie’s eyes.

“What is all this?! Why are you showing me this?”

“It’s a yearly extermination to reduce the population of sinners once a year,” explained Lilith. It was like she was talking about the weather.

“Those are our people!” she cried. “And you’re just letting this happen?!”

“There’s no need to act so brash,” Lucifer scolded. “It’s just a natural way of ensuring that evil gets a through cleansing.”

“Cleansing? This is murder!”

“Sadly, it’s a necessary act,” Lilith added.

“As you know, I was once an angel,” said Lucifer. “I was banished down here and nearly killed myself. But then God, the angels and myself came to an agreement. The Exterminators could kill citizens in Hell once every year, while we, the royal family, would be left alone. It does make sense, considering we are the most powerful individuals here.”

Charlie took several ragged breaths. “What’s so special about us? What about them?!” She pointed down toward the fleeing demons rushing into cars, stores, and even dumpsters to try and get away. Down over at the poor section of Imp City, the imps were even less lucky. The one ones who could escape were ones with enough proficiency to create small portals or to shapeshift into Exterminators to trick them.

“This is Hell, Charlotte,” Lucifer said, eyes narrowing in frustration. “Suffering is what those lowlife scum deserve to experience. Just be lucky that we don’t have to deal with that.”

“Vaggie,” Charlie breathed almost in a whisper, already concerned about her friend.

“Now stop fooling around and embrace this momentous occasion,” said Lucifer.

“No,” Charlie said.

“Excuse me?” asked Lucifer, eyebrows raised.

“NO!” she cried, tears running down her face. Her eyes turned red and her long horns emerged from her head. “I’m not gonna sit here and let more of my people die. I can’t believe you hid this from me all these years!”

Charlie summoned Razzle and Dazzle and the two goats lifted her up and carried her down to the streets.

“GET BACK HERE AT ONCE!” Lucifer bellowed.

Ignoring her father, Charlie landed down on the cracked asphalt, nearly stepping on a severed horned demon head. Razzle and Dazzle hovered nearby.

She saw three angels corner a frightened cat demon with a spotted brown face who held her paws up. Spears pointed toward her head and heart, the feline gave one last sorrowful meow.

“HEY!” Charlie bellowed in her demonic voice. She was seeing red. Her black shoes clacked against the pavement. “STAY AWAY FROM MY PEOPLE!”

The three angels turned at the same time, their eyes glowing red and teeth spread out when spotting her. The cat demon scurried up the wall with her claws and leaped from roof to roof out of sight.

Flames receding from her body, horns shrinking back, Charlie backed up in fear and gulped as the angels advanced, their weapons at the ready. Razzle and Dazzle shuddered and held on tightly to Charlie’s hands. Just as the angels threw the spears and Charlie closed her eyes…

She heard a sickening thud.

The spears had struck a pair of black fiery wings. The spears vanished in flames before flaming swords materialized out of thin air. The angels were struck by the swords, causing them to back up.

Lucifer’s eyes were red, his temporary black wings made from his enchanted snakes merged together.

“LEAVE.”

His demonic voice could stop the heartbeats of an entire group.

Charlie slowly stood up once the angels had retreated and stared into Lucifer’s glowing red eyes. He slowly turned his head toward her. Though he was furious with her, she could see a small tear roll down his cheek before being evaporated by the heat.

“IF YOU EVER DO SOMETHING FOOLISH LIKE THAT AGAIN, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER LEAVE OUR MANSION. YOU WILL BE GROUNDED UNTIL THIS PLACE FREEZES OVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Charlie nodded with a whimper.

“YOU WILL ACCEPT YOUR ROLE WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.”

Charlie glanced over toward a group of demons and gasped. As her father raised his hand toward her, something inside Charlie stirred. A peculiar feeling in her temple, just between her eyes began to tingle with warmth. It was almost as if time stood still.

When Charlie stared hard at the three homeless demons from a distance, she could almost see their faces briefly morph into their formerly human ones from their past lives: a white skinned bearded man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, a mother with a cut-up face in torn prostitute clothing, a sobbing blonde boy in the mother’s lap just learning how to use a gun…

Before Charlie could say anything, a glowing magenta pentagram surrounded her and she was transported back to her room with Razzle and Dazzle.

Progression (Vaggie)

Vaggie couldn’t believe her eyes. Being so overwhelmed the day before with dying and becoming an Exterminator, she hardly had time to admire the shimmering city in the clouds.

But now, as she made her way to the armory for her training session, she couldn’t help but stare in wonder.

The architecture of the buildings ranged from Victorian mansions, to modern tech buildings made of glass and metal, to grand temples made of gold and silver, devoted to various gods, but mostly to Jesus. The streets were spotless and the roads were made of polished obsidian that was always smooth. Solar panels lay on every roof, powered by the sun. In the center of Holy City stood a mighty cathedral made of marble, reminiscent of Notre Dame. Several roman-style fountains were scattered around the city. One was a statue of Mary and Jesus as a little boy.

Looming like Mount Olympus stood God’s palace, made of gold and precious stones, the gates made of indestructible diamond. A nearby garden connected to the palace housed the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, guarded by several angels and a golden dragon.

What was perhaps more intriguing were the citizens themselves. Some of them resembled typical white-winged angels: blonde or light colored hair, pale white faces with red blushes on their cheeks and yellow soulful eyes. Ironically, many of them had razor sharp teeth. The clothing they wore varied just as much as the outfits in Hell, coming from many periods throughout time. She noticed a dozen different ones: Roman tunics, medieval dresses and suits of armor, Egyptian clothing made of silk, top hats and suits from the 1900s. Some of the more casual people even wore modern jeans and t-shirts.

Like in Hell, other angels had characteristics of animals and items. Vaggie spotted men with dove wings, women with white swan feathers for hair, and dozens of bipedal cats and dogs getting along just fine. A few other angels had heads of flowers and some had the heads of lyres, trumpets, and other musical instruments. None of them had to worry about falling; they could either fly or walk on air. There were several mythical creatures as well, including dragons, a few unicorns, fairies, and Thunderbirds.

Several angels were in a circle in the sky, dancing the kumbaya and singing prayers while holding hands. Vaggie felt some nostalgia, remembering when she would wear brightly colored festival dresses for Cumbia dances and family events. She remembered dancing with her parents and extended family as upbeat Hispanic music played. How she longed for the taste of steamy quesadillas and juicy fresh fruit.

Just where were her parents? And how safe could she really feel, even in paradise? The last thing Vaggie needed was to be gang-raped and murdered a second time by a bunch of beastly homophobic men.

In the city around her, angels worked in ordinary jobs, especially in churches. There were also a few mosques, Buddhist temples and synagogues, but paled in comparison to the number of Christian places of worship. Volunteers and charity workers labored by the dozens, sending out food, blessings and miracles to the homeless and those residing in the lower levels of Heaven.

Already, Vaggie was feeling like some sort of outsider.

A small portal opened up to another heaven next door. Vaggie could see a glass building with bluish stained glass windows and classic art inside. A large sign on the roof read “Haven Hotel.” A bunch of angels were lining up and receiving white-winged keys in their hands. The portal closed before Vaggie could observe further.

Soon, Vaggie reached the armory, a building shaped like a small white fortress. She stood at attention next to several angels, already fitted in their black Exterminator uniforms, black wings and LED masks. Vaggie looked and saw two muscular angels carry out a brown chest with planetary symbols on it. They opened it up and there lay dozens of sharpened harpoons, spears, and swords in neat rows. They were new weapons to be used for the time after the Purge in the next year. After a brief prayer, the recruits were called up in alphabetical order by a slender angel with long blonde hair and a light blue suit to retrieve a weapon of their choice. Gabriel stood next to Samael, the leader of the Archangels. He had red/brown curly hair and pulled out the flaming sword weapon he already had. Michael, another Archangel Leader, held a sword of his own: Excalibur, the weapon that defeated Lucifer. Raphael, the healer angel with long brown hair stood in the distance to watch.

Samael called out the names of both new and old warriors one by one.

“Azrael.”

Azrael was the first angel. He strode up and picked out a scythe, then pulled a hood over his head of long dark hair.

“Camael. Cassiel. Dumah. Haniel. Hafineal. Israfil. Jegudiel. Jerahmael. Japhiel.”

Vaggie yawned.

“Kepherel. Munkar and Nakir. Metatron. Raguel. Ramiel. Raziel. Sandalphon. Sarathiel. Selaphiel.”

The list went on and on.

“Uriel. Uziel. Zachariel. Zadkiel. Zaphael. Zephaiel.”

Finally Samael said “Vagathaiel…um, Vagatha? Is that right?”

Vaggie looked up. “It’s Vaggie.”

“Right. Come on up.”

Vaggie strode forward, ignoring the murmurs and whispers of her colleagues. It was embarrassing enough to be the last one chosen on accident, not to mention the only female angel in the group.

Vaggie picked up the only weapon left in the chest, a harpoon spear. It felt good in her hands…like she was meant to wield it. Vaggie walked back to stand next to an angel with blonde unruly short hair, dressed in white.

“I’m Sam,” said the angel. “Many people call me Samael, but the real one is up there.”

He mentioned to the lead Angel of Death: Samael. He had long flaming red hair, a white face, and crimson eyes. A scar ran along his neck. He enjoyed tormenting sinners more than anyone. He morphed into Exterminator form.

“Welcome to training session and orientation. After our recent successful Extermination, it is now time to review what went well and discuss methods to increase efficiency.”

Vaggie and the others flew thirty laps around a group of clouds then sat down for a lecture. The lecture covered Heaven’s history, Exterminator origins and the fall of Lucifer.

For the next half, Vaggie practiced on using her weapon. She threw her harpoon at a demon training dummy at various distances. She worked on blocking, stances, aim, and flying patterns. At other times, she worked with other angels in a group.

“Strike the head, between the eyes, the chest, abdomen and back,” Samael advised as he walked, observing the practicing soldiers. “Never get too close to some demons: their bites are venomous.” To others: “Swipe your weapon at the legs to trip your enemy. Keep a firm grip on your weapon. Follow orders and stick with at least two other angels during a raid.”

He continued: “If not enough demons are exterminated, then you all will have to repent for your failure of duty for three to seven days. Excitement of Ten Commandments, community service, fasting etc. Yes, I know we are all dead, but that doesn’t matter to the All Mighty Yahweh. Serve Him and happiness will serve you.” Samael showed a row of sharp teeth and a few angels flinched. “If you kill too many and linger too long and the portals will close and you’ll be trapped in Hell for a year. Either way, the demons must know their place, least they feel the need to bring war to Heaven.”

He glared and stopped where Vaggie was.

“Vagatha, your stance is way off. You need to spin faster when attacking multiple demons at once. Let your instincts move your body. And show less mercy to them or you’ll be begging for some during flogging, flying laps and scrubbing!”

Vaggie worked harder, feeling the pressures of this strange Heaven boot camp that felt like a living Hell.

After the intense training, they reviewed the Nine Circles of Hell, the seven sins and the seven virtues.

Vaggie was glad when the session was over at the start of twilight. Fortunately, she only had to attend six long days every other week (Sunday was rest day), as soldiers went on shifts. Walking into her designated home, Vaggie took off her uniform and tossed the mask aside, the creepy grin face staring at the ceiling. She concentrated, clearing her mind and the uniform appeared back on. Focusing again, the uniform came off next to her. She placed her weapon against the wall, not too far from reach. She lay down on a comfortable bed in a small house, which looked like the place she lived in when she was a human. In fact, other angels were living in different spots, in places that resembled their environment in their past lives. Colorful dresses and gothic outfits were neatly folded in nearby drawers. Punk rock posters from 90s bands were already hung up in her room. All of her favorites: Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Green Day, Blink 182. A nearby iPod had those songs along with Cumbia, Salsa, Reggae and other music from her parent’s home country.

Vaggie was starting to feel creeped out. Everything seemed…too perfect. The room was mocking her, displaying her favorite things from her past…even an exact replica of a portrait of her and her parents! Her mother and father, both with dark hair, wearing practical clothing. Her as a little girl with light brown skin, long black hair, and both of her brown eyes. Her birth certificate was even in another drawer: “Vagatha Gonzales, New Mexico, May 10 1992 to September 11 2014. Age 22.”

She sobbed.

She screamed.

She ripped out chunks of her long white hair.

“My life…or death is not the same anyone! I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it is. Fuck you!” she yelled to no one in particular.

Vaggie sighed in exhaustion. She wasn’t sure what would happen next. She missed her parents and her previous girlfriend. She missed music and soccer and martial arts. If only she could go back to worrying about jobs and kicking douchebag boys in the nuts. She never asked to be an Angel of Death with a possibility of going to Hell.

She buried her face in her hands. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Contemplation (Charlie)

The young demon princess lay down on her queen-size bed, complete with an apple-shaped headboard, velvet red sheets and matching curtains. Her room was a blend of a vampire’s room and a little girl’s room: among the spider webs and skulls along a dresser were drawings of unicorns and bottles of makeup. Drawings of demons holding hands hung from old branches sticking out from inside the wall. One drawing showed a smiling Charlie and Vaggie in between her parents. Scattered among the dark red walls were rainbow paint splotches and a painted sketch of a flower. A typed motto of “Don’t worry, be happy” was taped to the side of a mirror.

But on this particular day, the usually happy-go-lucky girl found it hard to be positive.

“He…called me a failure,” she said softly. Razzle and Dazzle nudged her head affectionately, their faces full of concern.

“Just before sending me here,” Charlie said. She stared at a crumpled piece of paper with her drawing of a hotel on it. The sign read “Happy Hotel” but the page was ripped thanks to Lucifer’s accusing claw tearing through it.

He had paced back and forth, clearly frustrated. “Ever since your foolish fiasco on your birthday last week, you’ve been…shall I say…frying my nerves with your random ideas.”

“What’s bad about a hotel that redeems sinners?” Charlie had asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s bad about it…everything! First, there is no hope for those low-class demon trash. They were sent down here for a reason; because there’s no chance for them to ever change their ways.”

“Dad, that’s not true…”

“Second,” he interrupted, “You’re supposed to keep up an important reputation as heir to the throne. No one will take you seriously again if you blab on and on about some fantasy you insist upon.”

“It can be true, though!” Charlie replied. “I’ve seen what those demons are like. Sure, they did bad things, but everyone deserves a second chance.”

“There are some people who don’t get second chances,” Lucifer answered, with a faraway look in his eyes. “And that also applies to those people out there. It’s just the way afterlife works, Charlotte.”

“What if, it doesn’t have to always be that way? There is a more humane way of reducing overpopulation without all the senseless slaughtering…”

“There is no other way!” Lucifer said, raising his voice. Charlie flinched back a bit. “If hell becomes overcrowded, then God and the Angels will not hesitate to eliminate the threat: us.”

He paused. The king hadn’t considered the possibility of a second death before…the final journey to the void.

“Dad, listen, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I’m confident that my idea will work. I just need to spread the word about the Happy Hotel.”

“And embarrass yourself and our legacy? Along with putting yourself in danger?!”

“I can defend myself, easily!”

“You may be powerful, but this place crawls with overlords and who knows what else that will kill you.”

“But we’re already dead.”

“No. I was born an angel, near immortal. You were born here in Hell. If you want to be able to have a stable future here, you will stop with your nonsense.”

“I’m not going to give up. I know there’s a rainbow inside every demonic soul. I’ve seen…”

She hesitated, debating on whether to tell him about the anguished human faces she had seen during the last purge.

“…humanity,” she finished.

As if reading her mind, Lucifer leaned in close, flames in his yellow eyes. “Do not think like an inferior human mortal. Humans are nothing but temporary bland prototypes to demons. All arrogant, not worthy of divine respect.”

“Have you even met a human?”

“I’ve learned enough about them to stick to my conclusion.”

“Many humans are good, just like other demons can be. Demons, after all, used to be human! Maybe they can become human again. Redeemed souls will be sent to Heaven and everybody wins! No more killings, no more sorrow. Enough with the “us versus them” speech. You will join me in paradise, Dad, then you’ll see.”

Lucifer growled, and flicked his daughter backward across the hall with his power. She landed on her butt and back with a surprised yelp of pain, as Razzle and Dazzle lifted her up off the floor.

“THERE IS NO PARIDISE FOR ME,” he boomed in his deep demonic voice, eyes red. It sent chills up Charlie’s spine. “NO HAPPY ENDING FOR ANYONE.” He sighed heavily. “The sooner you realize that, the better. You and the other demons will never leave Hell, I’ll make sure of it.”

Charlie’s mind began to whirl. What did he mean by that?

Charlie began to speak but her father held up a hand. “Not another word. One thing is for certain: based on your actions thus far, you are nothing but a failure.”

Tears pooled in Charlie’s eyes. “You…you don’t mean that, do you?”

Lucifer pointed toward Charlie’s room and then looked away. “Get…get out of my sight.”

Charlie could only stand frozen in disbelief and sadness as her father departed down the hall, staff in hand.

After tossing the worn paper aside, Charlie turned around and sobbed into her pillow. Later on, she sang a lament while walking to her balcony outside. Razzle and Dazzle even howled mournfully with her as she sang. It was the only way for her to truly express herself and let out her emotions.

“Why am I such a failure?

It always seems to be

Destined for the throne, yet I feel so alone

What is truly best for me?”

“Happiness lies at the end of the rainbow

Feeling like that’s the place to go

An endless distance, out of reach here

Lost in emptiness, foreshadowing fear”

“Inside of every demon is a soul (is a soul)

Trapped by events beyond their control (their control)

I try to help and brighten their day (to find their way)

But my hopes and dreams fade far away”

“Seeing the light in the darkness

In this world I’m blind

I wonder why I cling to hope

For those cruel and unkind”

“Goodness beneath the surface

Redemption beyond the mask

What is my role, my purpose?

How can I complete my task?”

“Peace, love, is all I ask

(Oooh, oooh, oooh)

Peace and love, is all I ask

(Oooh, oooh, oooh)

All I ask…”

“Inside of every demon is a soul (is a soul)

Trapped by events beyond their control (their control)

I try to help and brighten their day (to find their way)

But my hopes and dreams fade far away”

Extermination (Vaggie)

It was now time for Vaggie to put her skills she had learned to the test. One year had passed and the time for the Purge was upon her. Despite being a newbie in comparison with everyone else, Vaggie had become one of the best fighters among the Exterminators. The fateful day soon came, and Vaggie lined up in position with the other Archangels. All dressed in black. Vaggie’s harpoon was in her right hand. She had requested that her wings stay white, with the red line through them like her hair. Although she didn’t like to think of herself as a murderer, she told herself that it was for the greater good. Sinners would get what they deserved and balance and cleansing would be brought to Hell.

The angels all saluted when Samael strutted over. He had a black scythe in his hand, black flames rising from the blade. His red hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, his dark uniform, horns and mask ready for use. He walked over to Vaggie, approval in his eyes. “Your dedication to the Lord has been commendable. You’ve adapted well from your previous novice status. As such, I now assign you with an additional task.”

He continued, “You are to spy on Hell’s princess Charlotte, find her, and make her surrender to us. Be wary of her pyro kinetic powers. If she does not comply, you are to kill her on sight before the days end.”

Vaggie silently gulped as she saluted.

“But,” Samael added. “Don’t forget about the other demons. And…do not try to reason with Lucifer. The traitor and his promiscuous queen sealed their fates long ago.”

“Yes sir,” said Vaggie.

Samael nodded and walked toward the front to address the winged assassins.

“Remember to aim for the head, chest, groin and pressure points. Show no mercy to anyone or anything. May the Lord bless you and all your endeavors. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit will reside in our souls always. May He deliver us from all evil. Amen.”

“Amen!” the angels repeated.

Michael waved Excalibur and a round portal to Hell appeared against the white clouds. Samael led the way and the angels filed through, Vaggie following close behind.

Vaggie descended into the crimson chaotic world. The Big Ben-like clock tower rang twelve times, the *BONG* *BONG* rings echoing like hell’s bells of doom. The citizens screamed and scattered and scurried in the streets below. The angels were black vultures, circling around their prey. The thrust their spears forward. One angel managed to stab through two chubby orange demons like a gruesome shish kabab. Another demon in a black and white stripped outfit fired a gun at an angel to no effect. The demon teased the angel by appearing and disappearing around him. The trickster’s antics were cut short by a well-fired bolt of electricity through the demon. Two spears crisscrossed through the paralyzed frazzled demon, finishing him off for good.

Vaggie flew down and landed on the ground, stomping after other demons. One demon climbed up a tree, Vaggie followed it, lifting herself up, spear in her mouth and swinging up the branches. She sliced off the demon’s blue head then landed gracefully on the ground on one knee. Standing up, she spotted a red vampire with black wings. She threw her spear and the creature was struck down in a splash of blood. Retrieving her spear, she attacked other demons that got too close…or ones who ran in her line of sight.

“CLEANSE! CLEANSE! CLEANSE!” The chants rang out like a constant war cry. A demon held a sign that read “Fuck you, Heaven!” in large red letters. Nearby, demons with six arms held up protest signs which displayed hellish slogans on them: “God spelled backwards is Dog!” “Hail Lord Lucifer, our true savior!” “Salvation, Sex, Substances, and Slaying.” “Asshole Archangels Suck Dick!” “Go Home Jesus, We’re Drunk As Shit!”

Vaggie quickly made short gory work of them.

Then, Vaggie saw some things that made her freeze. A green frog demon was nursing a wounded doll child back to health. A long dark green snake demon hung motionless from a streetlight, looking like a piece of thick string in the shadows. Whining could be heard from a gray teenage hellhound wearing a black tank top in the middle of a road. She was kneeling next to the furry corpse of her hellhound boyfriend. She lifted up her head and howled in sorrow. Small mouse demons scampered away in fright when they saw Vaggie.

Vaggie stared at her bloodstained hands. “Have I truly become a remorseless monster?”

“CLEANSE! CLEANSE! CLEANSE!” The shouts pounded through the dark among the sounds of breaking glass, screeching cars, demonic laugher and the flickering of flames.

Vaggie’s gut clenched. There was no way she could kill these souls. They did bad things, yes…but surely there was still some light in them. “I never fully believed all they taught me,” she thought. Heaven isn’t perfect at all. It’s ignorant and exclusionary! How could I have followed through with that for so long?”

Around midway through the Purge, Vaggie finally spotted the person she was looking for. The demon princess with her long curly blond hair and pal face was looking forlornly from a balcony. She was wearing a red Victorian style dress with apple designs along the ends of the long dress.

Clearing her throat, Vaggie flapped over to her, spear at the ready. The girl’s eyes grew wide as she approached. Vaggie’s outfit morphed from plain black to an elongated version of her usual stripped leggings and white tank top with Xs over her breasts. Still, she kept her mask on, her horns extended in slight curves. The girl turned to run, but Vaggie waved her hand and the doors locked. She spoke in an emotionless voice, “Princess Charlotte.”

“W-what do you want?” Charlie asked, her voice tremoring in fear.

“I have arrived here on behalf of my leaders and the word of God. You are to surrender yourself peacefully and come with me. You are now an official prisoner of Heaven.”

Tears welled up in Charlie’s yellow eyes. “N-no! I can’t leave Hell and my people. I can’t leave my family!”

“I will resort to physical force if necessary.”

Flames erupted around Charlie and her straight black horns protruded from her head. No other words were needed to get the intention across.

Vaggie raised her spear. “If you won’t come with me…then perish!”

Charlie flinched back. “Leave me alone and hear me out!”

Vaggie stared longer at Charlie. She lowered her weapon. She wasn’t allowed to feel emotion for any demon, let alone the princess of Hell.

But this…peculiar feeling of warmth…was something new. Like a trace of her humanity was rising to the surface.

Charlie stood up, breathing a small sigh of relief.

“I don’t want my people to be slaughtered every year. It truly breaks my heart. I know there’s good in everyone…including you.”

Vaggie lowered her head.

Charlie continued. “I am proposing a way to redeem sinners by introducing a new hotel to help them reform.”

She mentioned to the building she was in, the one with the sign that read “Happy Hotel” in large pink lit up letters on the roof.

“I’ve tried for months but no one listens to me. It’s like I don’t really belong here. If you believe that there’s a soul in everyone…if you have a heart…”

Vaggie stood, conflicted. She had been taught to ignore pleas and cries of mercy. But this was different. It appeared that Charlie felt like an outcast as well…

…and the rare humanity that she showed, despite her status as the daughter of Satan himself.

“I…I…can’t do it!”

She dropped her spear and collapsed to her knees.

Transformation (Charlie)

Charlie did all she could to promote her hotel. Nobody would listen. No matter how many songs she sung, art she created or speeches she made, she’d always be ignored, taunted, ridiculed or even threatened. Food would be thrown at her as demons booed. Her rival Hesla called her a crazed Barbie bitch. Aaron von Eldritch, her former tall green boyfriend, son of Helsa, told her to get a grip and to “start being the pretty, polite, and passive princess she was before.” Out of a new desire to be with a caring woman partner, Charlie broke up with him. Her parents were not pleased.

Lucifer was vivid when he heard the news. “You’ve just severed a valuable alliance with the Eldriches. Now they’re our rivals. We can’t afford to have more competition against us than we already have. A family like theirs could easily turn the tides against us when they badmouth us to our citizens!”

Lilith was disappointed as well and a little surprised with her daughter. “You want to date girls now?” she asked. “How will you raise your heir in the next two centuries?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. “I love both men and women. I don’t see what the problem is.”

The only one who’s the problem is you,” Lucifer seethed. “You’ve never done anything right for so long and, frankly, I’m getting tired of your teenage nonsense. Break away from your petty fantasies, stop tainting our legacy…” his eyes turned red, voice lowered… “And… Grow. The. Fuck. Up.”

Charlie raced into her room, crying fresh tears as she wondered over to the balcony. Lilith was chiding her husband in a harsh voice over how hard he was on her. Charlie looked away when she heard the clock ring out.

Now here she was, with an Exterminator angel sobbing at her feet.

Charlie stared as the angel slowly stood up, picked up her spear, and then removed her mask. A beautiful angelic face appeared, light gray skin, long white hair, a yellow eye, and white shimmering wings. “I am Vaggie, but people call me Vagatha.”

“I am Charlie, but people call me Charlotte.”

“It sounds too formal,” they both said at the same time.

They looked at each other some more, surprised to find they had so much in common on their first meeting day.

Vaggie spoke up. “I was sent here to restrain you or kill you so you wouldn’t be a threat to Heaven. But now…that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“So…you’re not going to kill me?” Charlie asked.

Just then, Samael spoke telepathically to Vaggie. “Based on my observations, the princess cannot be reckoned with. Exterminate her and return to the portal. Over.”

Vaggie gulped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Charlie.

Vaggie looked around frantically. A few other angels stood in mid- air, watching her and waiting to see what she would do next.

“I really can’t do it…” Vaggie said, her body shaking. Charlie comforted her with an embrace. Vaggie stood, stunned, but briefly returned it. Both of them were bonding…and gradually falling in love.

Samael’s voice rang through her mind, making her flinch back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, VAGATHA?! FINISH HER OFF AND RECONVENE WITH YOUR ASSOCIATES AT ONCE!”

Vaggie put her mask back on and stepped back. “I promise, Charlie, I will do whatever I can to help you out. Everyone deserves second chances.” She flew off.

Damnation (Vaggie)

Vaggie flew toward the open portal. The angels turned their heads and their eyes glowed red. Samael pulled out his black scythe. Vaggie stood in front of him.

Samael pointed behind her. “Get back down there if you know what’s good for you. Kill her, or I’ll do it myself.”

“No,” said Vaggie.

Vaggie couldn’t believe the word flew out of her mouth. Her thoughts were faster than common sense. Vaggie could no longer hide behind the metaphorical mask of indifference, nor her physical mask over her face. Vaggie took off the black abomination and tossed it to the ground far below.

Samael’s eyes gleamed dangerously red. “What did you just say?”

Vaggie pushed down her fear. “I said, NO!”

Samael growled, showing sharp teeth. “You dare disobey a direct order given to you?”

Vaggie pointed down to Charlie on the balcony. “Charlie wants to rehabilitate sinners and bring them to Heaven! Why should I stop her from pursuing such a merciful goal?”

Samael leaned in. “You should know that we do not accept any sinners. They are inferior to us, plotting our destruction at every moment. Even God has limits on who He can let in.”

Vaggie clenched her fists. “But that’s not just! Slaughtering people without giving them a second chance. I’ve seen bad demons, yes, but others are just innocent families that are poor shadows of who they once were on Earth. Whatever happened to “love thy neighbor?” “Love thine enemy?” Why would God just turn people away?”

“Because,” Samael stated, “They’re monstrous scum. Filthy bugs and maggots who need to be eliminated. They’ll kill us all if their numbers are too great.”

Vaggie shook her head. “Charlie has shown more humanity in her soul than anyone I’ve met. And I’ve only just met her today!” Vaggie stood, defiant and filled with a new purpose. “I refuse to continue with my mission.” But her confidence wavered as more red eyed, angels closed in on her. “Blasphemy…mutiny…” they muttered, emotionless behind creepy grinning masks. One by one, they pointed their weapons at her.

If you won’t obey the will of Christ and God…” Samael held out his hand…”then you’ll burn in Hell just like the rest!”

From down below, Charlie gasped in terror. Vaggie screamed in agony as her gray skin peeled away in chunks. Her spiked white halo broke in little pieces above her head. Her horns and dark uniform vanished. Worst of all, her beautiful white wings rapidly caught fire, burning off feathers that flew to the ground, some stained with blood. Soon her wings were completely burned away, the remains turning into streams of multicolored light that vanished.

Vaggie plummeted to the ground with loud screams, spear still clutched in her hand.

“Vaggie!” Charlie cried.

Samael rushed at Charlie at lightning speed, weapon raised, but someone else was faster.

Lucifer landed a punch that sent Samael flying backwards in an arch. He flew after the angel with six black wings that materialized from his body. His eyes glowed demonic red. He spoke in a deep voice that shook the ground and seeded sheer terror to anyone who heard it.

“NO ONE TOUCHES MY DEAR DAUGHTER! RUN YOU COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT, OR I’LL DESTROY YOU WITH A FLICK OF MY FINGERS!”

Samael and the angels retreated into the portal and it soon closed.

“This isn’t over, Lucifer!” came Michael’s voice before the portal completely snapped shut.

Charlie jumped off the balcony, her body surrounded by flames. She caught Vaggie before she hit the ground.

Vaggie opened her eyes, now in base demon form, a large pink X over her left eye. White tank top and leggings, back to regular size. She gave Charlie a sad smile before passing out.

Restoration (Charlie)

Vaggie woke up in a comfortable bed in the Happy Hotel. She opened her eyes and saw Charlie standing nearby. Her back and hands were bandaged up, her hair spread apart like resting moth wings.

“Charlie?” she grumbled.

“Yes, I’m here,” said Charlie sounding relieved.

“Thank you for saving me like that,” Vaggie said. “But…why would you do that? I’m your enemy.”

“Not any more. You’re my new friend,” Charlie mentioned. “I don’t want anyone to suffer, not even one of the Exterminators.”

Vaggie sighed, feeling her back. It felt naked and vulnerable without her wings.

“Well, I’m not anymore.” She glanced at her spear, leaning against the wall. “But at least I still have my spear. I think they let me keep it in the hopes I would repent and kill more demons. Which won’t happen,” she added. “But make no mistake. I will strike anyone down who lays a harmful hand on you. You’re too good for this world. Me though…I’ll never be redeemed.”

Charlie smiled and placed a small kiss on Vaggie’s head. She picked up a discarded pink bow and put it on Vaggie’s head of white hair. “You can redeem yourself,” Charlie said. “By helping others redeem themselves. Help me with this hotel. This is your new destiny. Our new destiny. We can live a new afterlife together, and we can get through whatever comes at us.”

Vaggie believed her words with all her soul. Then she glanced down, sadly.

“What is it?” Charlie asked.

“I didn’t get to see my family in Heaven.”

“I’m sorry,” said Charlie. “You must miss them. You were human once, right?”

Vaggie nodded.

“I was born here in Hell, but I can understand how you must feel. I promise we can make things right for both worlds. I’ve seen for myself that humanity can exist even in the blackest hearts.”

Vaggie sighed. “Not sure if I can agree with that part, but let’s see how it goes. You’ll need me to keep you grounded.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me, I’m still grounded by my parents. I broke up with this guy and challenged my parents’ opinions.”

“Do you feel guilty about it?” Vaggie asked.

“Sometimes I do,” Charlie admitted.

Then she squeezed Vaggie’s hand affectionately. Vaggie squeezed back. “But for now, I wouldn’t have this moment any other way.”

Vaggie laughed. “What do you see in the future, crazy girl?”

Charlie just smiled. “Rainbows inside every demon.”

#archangelvaggie #alternateuniverse #hazbin hotel theory

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oregun · 5 years ago

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The regulations of the modern world are written in blood. Although it seems more efficient to preemptively ensure the livelihood of all for the purposes of equity and safety, it is unfortunately not the case. In regards to marginalized communities, it is often the case that awareness of prejudice seems to only occur after heinous targeted violence in greater society. One of these instances of retroactive compassion is the international reaction to the brutal beating and subsequent death of Matthew Shepard.

Matthew Shepard was a young man born in Caspar, Wyoming on December 1st, 1976. He was a political science major at the University of Wyoming by the time he was twenty-one, and an active member in multiple extra curricular activities. In October of 1998, after a meeting for the university’s LGBT Association and getting coffee with friends, Matthew was offered a ride home by two men and accepted (I have decided to leave them unnamed). He was then severely beaten, tied to a fence in a rural area, and left to die in the freezing temperatures of Wyoming autumn. After days of being on life support following the discovery of his body, Shepard died as a result of his internal wounds. Candle light vigils were held internationally in his honor after the news of the hate crime reached the media, and in response, the Westboro Baptist Church and other organizations picketed his funeral because of his sexuality. His death is one of the most infamous gay hate crimes in United States history because of it’s atrocious nature and the ensuing controversy.

Nearly eighteen years later, composer Craig Hella Johnson premiered his oratorio Considering Matthew Shepard, a passion about what was essentially a crucifixion of a young gay man. It was written for multiple vocal soloists in various styles as well as choir and orchestra. The passion personifies different elements of the circumstances surrounding his death, like the fence he was tied to, a doe that lay by his side when he was found by the police, his parents, the protestors, and even Matthew himself. Through this device, Johnson thoroughly contextualizes and humanizes the life Shepard led before his death and the effect of the crime on the community. He also contextualizes the piece as a passion (and embeds Shephard into a broader historical context) by using excerpts from pieces by multiple composers such as J.S. Bach and Benjamin Britten.

It is through death we are reminded of the inherent transience of life, and it is further explored in the piece through the line of text that begins and ends the piece as sung in a mid-western cowboy style:

Yoodle—ooh, yoodle-ooh-hoo, so sings a lone cowboy, Who with the wild roses wants you to be free.

We are also reminded about the importance of freedom through the final phrase of the line and it being narrated by a cowboy, a symbol of midwest ideation because of its expansive plains and boundless opportunity. It is only through compassion and empathy that we can ensure that all people feel the true potential of freedom.

I also think it’s worth noting that while this piece portrays the humanity of a victim with the utmost respect and attention to detail, it is ultimately about a middle-class midwestern and conventionally attractive white man. This is also a main reason that the story gained so much international attention. His homosexuality was not hidden from the media and was in fact encouraged to be remarked upon by his mother, who wanted to emphasize both his humanity and his queer identity as one composite and complex person. His white and cisgender male identity is more widely consumable by the greater public than perhaps the horrific death of transgender people or people of color. Of course, his position of privilege did not make his death less painful, but as one of the first mass reported gay hate crimes, one must consider why exactly this victim was the recipient of such broad attention (beyond the noteworthy cause of death and terrifying details of the murder).

Considering Matthew Shepard examines his life unlike any piece of media that had come before it not only because it is a large musical work, but because it emphasizes a different message than other pieces of media that cover the loss of life, which is the importance of love over all things. So many pieces of media that cover tragic stories of members of the LGBTQ+ community fail to promote healing after painful loss; For example, another popular LGBTQ+ story that takes place in Wyoming is the 2005 film Brokeback Mountain, which illustrates a secret romantic relationship between two men that eventually leads to suffering because of one of the partners being savagely beaten. I don’t mean to say that every piece of queer media should promote healing in some way because I understand that the healing process is not necessarily always going to be the thesis of the work. However, the idea of love that overcomes is universally applicable regardless of sexuality and spiritual beliefs. That’s the reason I believe Considering Matthew Shepard to be such a good example of a piece of art that both shows the heart wrenching realities of prejudice and how we can move forward together, and perhaps what peoples said moving forward should include.

#considering matthew shepard #craig hella johnson #choir #music #orchestra #lgbtq #lgbtqia #oratorio #brokeback mountain

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eturni · 5 years ago

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Day 8: Choir

Day 8 of @drawlight‘s advent calendar challenge. https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/189391982184/drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale-crowley-for Today is choir in which I muse (likely incorrectly) about how choirs of angels work and there are scenes in both Bethlehem and 2023 London.

Also I... may have got carried away and this one is a little longer than usual.

The thing about angels was that all of them could sing. To one end or another. It was why the idea of heavenly choirs was so deep in many humans’ psyches.

The thing about angelic choirs was that angel song was not like human song. The passed missives across the heavens, they called love and war and creation and destruction. Most importantly they conveyed emotions and intentions to humans who could not understand the grand depth of knowledge that their words alone held. Fear not. Gloria in excelsis deo et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. Hallelujah, the smoke from her burning is a pillar to heaven.

The point is, of course, that all angels were part of a choir or another and all angels could sing but that the song was the intent. The song was the feeling.

The demon Crowley had not sung in almost four millennia. There had been halting, scratching wails when the demons first fell that were almost singing but for the cloying ruin of boiling sulphur against their vocal cords. Many demons gave up there and then.

The demon Crowley was a well-known glutton for punishment when it came to pushing against the bounds of what he was told he could do. He had not stopped singing there and had instead worked his throat into shape even as the denizens of the new-formed hell scrabbled for power and influence and built up the form of what would be. Every one of his songs had been a dark, jagged thing: railing at being forced out for thinking for himself or rebelling still against the boxes he’d been put into as both an angel and a demon.

Read on A03 (likely the safer option for this one) https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/51813601 or:

And then there had been the apple. Crowley found the tree of knowledge and had enough inkling of what it would mean. Naturally their Mother would punish humans for the sin of Knowing. For wanting to be more than placid innocent dolls. He sang then; not with the power of a choir but with a soft, coaxing sweetness that imparted enough of his own Knowledge that Even could choose if further knowledge would be worth their punishment.

And then there had been a wall and an angel atop it and a wing to protecting against the first rain.

Crowley had watched after Aziraphale, leaving his spot on the wall towards where the first true death had happened at the end of his own heavenly-issued sword. He had watched this very strange angel and he sang.

It was love, of a sound he had never made in heaven. It was no love of their Eternal Parent, it was not the love of his purpose or of humanity or his brothers and sisters. It was a sound that was small and uncertain but grew into the space around him and permeated the garden he had yet to leave. It was a sound that almost filled out the hollow space in him but left the corners that it missed stark and barren in contrast.

Crowley stopped singing soon after that, especially when he was too near to Aziraphale. Being close happened a lot in the early days, of course, when there were so few humans to tempt and protect. Every time he was close enough to feel the angel the new song bubbled up in his chest; slowly changing and filling more of the emptiness and in direct contravention to everything he was and everything Aziraphale called him.

It became second nature to not sing. To push it down. To close his throat against lyrics and chords and eventually the words, the terrible human words, that he found very nearly matched to what his song wanted to impart.

It was a terrible thing to bear, a song that no heavenly or demonic choir could ever join to. The feeling his alone in a way that a non-human’s voice should never sing alone.

His few attempts at singing did set him in better stead for when the first Christ was born (not the one that set the whole Armageddon in motion – heaven’s one). Midwinter may be a bit of an odd time for there to be young lambs but there were shepherds on the hillside regardless and there was a heavenly choir and the whole of Bethlehem was so crawling with angelic auras that Crowley couldn’t make out where Aziraphale might be.

He had been about to duck out of the city altogether and give up his tempting of the wise men as a lost cause when he’d all but tripped over the poor young lass chosen to give birth to the man of the hour.

He ducked into a stable as his ears rung with the praises to heaven and stumbled into a young woman giving birth with no more support than a lone carpenter and a couple of very confused animals.

She’d been bearing up surprisingly well as such a young woman in her first labour but had taken one look at his serpentine eyes, dark clothes and taken a breath to obviously start screaming.

“Glory be to God for the birth of your wondrous child.” The song leapt from his lips as an imperfect echo to the choirs outside. It was discordant and it tasted foul like blood scratching up Crowley’s throat but Mary relaxed regardless. Then further with the next word out of his mouth. “Midwife?”

The birth itself went miraculously well for one literally conducted in a stable and mum and dad had been so relieved that they let Crowley hide out in the corner as the presences around them slowly started to diminish. He was so on edge that he completely forgot that he was supposed to derail the sages from getting there until they were already in the blessed stable.

At that point he gave it up for a bad job and spent his time teaching Mary how to get the kid to latch on properly and making sure she got herself fed. They needed an adversary for their adversary so it wasn’t exactly <i>undemonic</i> after all.

- - - - – -

It was years later (millennia) that Aziraphale sat with Crowley in the back room of the bookshop a handful of years after the failed apocalypse and sat staring into his glass of mulled wine thoughtfully. By this time there were a few more windows in the bookshop that were topped with an array of plants; most of which currently wore little santa hats. There had been nothing Crowley’s cleaning habits could do about the chaos of the shop because it put off customers but they’d done a decent job by now of turning each of their own spaces into something a little more shared.

“You know, Crowley,” the demon perked up immediately at Aziraphale starting a conversation with his name and that lilt to his voice “I never had much to do with Christ himself. The birth was such a pantomime and those much higher up than me got all the significant jobs to do. They tended to just say that I’d get in the way, especially after the apple fiasco. Longest agent on earth and they sent me off to make sure that the star would stay in the right place. As though it were just going to disappear.” He shook his head and took a few fortifying gulps of wine.

Crowley pulled a face but knew by now that it was easier just to let his angel ramble and get there in his own time unless they were on a deadline. “Yeah but they were always like that. Never knew what they had in you.” He smirks a little at the unspoken unlike me.

Aziraphale tutted and shook his head. “No that’s not- I mean that’s very kind of you but that’s not my point. The point is… Yes, the point is that there were a few accounts that never made it into the bible. About the birth itself. Well, of course you know about the extra gospels yourself so it’s not all the birth, but you understand my meaning.” Crowley nodded, though he really did not understand the meaning at all. He was hoping Aziraphale would get to it still. “There was one from Mary herself, you know. Almost entirely ruined with age and poor preservation but nothing that a few years of some very careful miracles couldn’t help to restore. You know she mentioned an angel who actually helped with the birth. And one who seemed ‘much reduced in the ostentation of their song’.”

Crowley stilled and very carefully nodded. “You got there after all then?” He hedged, despite the knowing smile that was growing on Aziraphale’s face. “You always were better at speaking with humans. Not that you’re good at it, mind. Just better than angels that have never met a human.”

“Well, quite. I’m certain that this being was a lot more informal than even I could be. And well versed with human needs.”

“Hng. Any idea who might actually be better with humans than you?”

“Oh, Crowley, do give over. My point is that I was wondering if you really do sing my dear.” Aziraphale absently looked over to the tree stuffed in the corner and wondered if he should be darkening the wings of the angel on top. He was sure it would give Crowley some kind of kick at least.

Crowley sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, his head and his spine until he was laid out across the comfortable couch with a dramatic air that the Georgians would envy. “Not really. Had to get out of a tough spot.”

“Oh but you, can. I always thought it was something that was lost in… and I just… well it’s always a tough subject to broach, you understand.”

Crowley huffed and beckoned Aziraphale over with a crook of his head. The other came and Crowley revelled, just a little, in the simple pleasure of placing his legs over the other’s lap and knowing that he wouldn’t be denied. “I can sing but I don’t. There was- I don’t sing the same any more and I wasn’t certain about it. The things that come out… I’m still not sure about them so it’s better to not. I mean, it’s supposed to be sending messages from Her anyway, right? That’s not my job any more.”

He hedged, just enough explanation that he hoped Aziraphale would drop it without leaving him so intrigued that he absolutely had to follow up with questions. Unfortunately he was watching his angel and could see that glint in his eyes and the slightest shift to pleading that told him he needed to run now or be prepared for the angel to ask him something he could never be prepared for.

“Oh my dear, I’m certain that whatever you have to impart is much more significant than any other angel or demon They aren’t on our side after all.”

Crowley felt his ornamental heart stutter for a stop at the moment. They’d had some time, of course, but it still did things he couldn’t express to hear Aziraphale so freely and enthusiastically claim his side as their own.

It was enough to make something like anxiety settle in his stomach and send his heart at double the pace when it finally remembered how to beat because he’s was suddenly actually considering this. If they did truly have their own side he had to wonder if this was safe. If he could do this and dare to hope that he wouldn’t be pushed back, that it wouldn’t be too fast.

Then Aziraphale’s hand was on his knee, calm and steadying and a touch too hot when he was already just this side of flustered. “You don’t have to my dear. I just wondered but I wouldn’t want to push this.” The smile he gave Crowley was pure angel. Kind and understanding.

Crowley gulped and shook his head. Then nodded. Then realised that he wasn’t certain what either response really meant. He licked his too dry lips and opened his mouth.

In the place of words there was song.

The song wasn’t any human language and was not even enochian in such a sense. It was a different beast altogether; as much it’s own harmony as any tune and as much a feeling as any words.

It lasted perhaps six seconds before the demon couldn’t stand it any longer. He was about to close his mouth when Aziraphale’s hand squeezed his knee convulsively and another voice joined Crowley’s.

It was perfectly in balance. A celestial harmony against his demonic tone that balanced into something purely…

Purely theirs.

Almost human and not.

The only other being who ever stood a chance to understand the six millennia of feeling in Crowley’s spirit and he did. It mirrored it almost perfectly.

He finally dared to look over (he didn’t have much of a choice as his eyes had snapped to the other without checking with his brain first) and found Aziraphale all but glowing, in that way that only he could, and with everything Crowley had not dared dream of open in his eyes and his voice.

They formed a choir of just two and the song of it reached out through Soho and into London and lit the hearts of the people it found with something that they couldn’t comprehend; only feel.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #Ineffable Husbands #fic #honest to god this chapter isn't even a mini fic at this point

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wiinscme · 5 years ago

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*•.¸☾―《 luca hollestelle, cisfemale, queer 》elizabeth “ellie” kane is a 24 year old who works at the hotel as a lounge singer. she is described as social but also manipulative. it is known that they enjoy rough sex & anal, but they do not enjoy scat & vore.

little ellie kane. what a muffin. but here’s the thing about ellie, despite how audacious she is, nothing seems to really go her way. here’s the low down.

⋙ born in pittsburgh, pa, ellie had a relatively normal life. she has an older brother who she thinks hung the moon. he’s only older by a few years, so she was very close. they didn’t fight like you’d think siblings would, but rather helped each other through life with only minimal squabbles.

⋙ their lives were relatively provincial. they lived in middle class america with their mother as a third grade teacher and their father as an engineer. nothing special.

⋙ and that was the problem. “nothing special.” ellie always thought she was special. she wanted to be special. she began singing at an early age as a grab at garnering attention but showed actual promise. after much begging, her parents scrounged up enough money to get ellie singing lessons.

⋙ she did community theater, sung in choirs, and as soon as she could, started singing in coffee shops. (voice claim, for those interested, is k-flay.)

⋙ when it ellie was old enough, she started to pursue other avenues to get music. although she went to college for vocal performance, she knew she didn’t want to do plays. she wanted to record an album. she wanted to be famous.

⋙ so she started to manipulate men. as many as she could. she joined a website, became a sugar baby, and won over as many men as she could who tossed money at her career. when she got a job at aftershock and could actually make money singing, she felt like it was almost too good to be true.

⋙ but ellie was waiting for her big break, and it hasn’t come yet.

⋙ when she found richard, he was too good to be true, too. she doesn’t ask about the details of his job. plausible deniability. but she knows that he gives her everything she needs, he’s sponsored her recording a few singles (that have, thus far, not gone anywhere), and whatever she wants or needs, he’s there to provide.

⋙ she definitely has no feelings whatsoever for him and he is just another guy that she’s manipulating. no. feelings. what. so. ever.

⋙ lulz.

⋙ she manipulates men, but generally, she loves women. girls must stick together, yah?

⋙ so for connections, i’m looking for just about anything else! men she’s manipulated in the past, people who have heard her sing, competition (she gets jealous easily), pals, and pals with benefits. i’d love to also see her butt heads with another lounge singer. so let me know if you want plots with her! i think she’s going to be a lot of fun to play.

#ashqintro #& - about: ellie

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jbaiata · 5 years ago

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The making of “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

Stephen Hawking once famously observed that even those who believe everything in life is predestined look both ways before crossing the street. And while I don’t believe the arc of our lives is entirely predetermined, I do think it is contingent on us to be open enough to recognize seemingly chance encounters for what they are: opportunities. Or, as Jackson Browne more eloquently puts it: “Pay attention to the open sky/you never know what will be coming down.”

In April of 2016 I was presented with an amazing opportunity: to give voice to a story that was just begging to be told. Each year I volunteer for a fundraiser in Ridgewood, NJ - Saylestock, to benefit The Matt Sayles Foundation for Salivary Gland Cancer. It’s an inspiring day - an all day music and arts festival that inevitably creates some magic moments for organizers and attendees alike. Toward the end of the day I was approached by a town resident and asked about the origins of the fundraiser. I told her how Dave and Kathy Sayles had turned the most convulsive, painful event of their lives - the death of their young son to a rare cancer - into an urgent, vital cause. That resident, Lisa Paterson, could unfortunately relate. We fell into an hour long conversation, and Lisa bared her soul to someone who had been a complete stranger to her moments before.

Widowed on 9/11 when her husband Steven was among those murdered by the terrorists, Lisa was left to raise her twin four year-old’s, Lucy and Wyatt, alone. And to work through her own searing grief while trying to ensure her children did not become collateral damage to the worst terrorist attack in our country’s history. She endured a Sisyphean, near decade-long struggle to get Wyatt, who is developmentally disabled, to accept that his father was gone. I was incredibly moved, and determined that the story needed to reach a much wider audience.

While driving down to Philadelphia the next morning, I was fixated on two things. The first was the conversation with Lisa, and replaying in my mind something she had recounted about Wyatt’s finally turning the corner. She’d found a working farm the then teenaged Wyatt had really taken to, and when asked why he liked it so much, he’d replied “Daddy’s in the sky there.” The second was how much I’d thoroughly enjoyed one band in particular - a self-described “funk, soul, jazz and rock fusion” outfit that I wanted to see again. What the hell was their name? I had thrown one of the Saylestock handout brochures into my work bag, and quickly pulled it out. Ho-lee shit. “SkyDaddy.” The name of the freaking band was SkyDaddy!

Photo: Lisa Paterson (second from left) poses with the band SkyDaddy and a friend. Credit: John Baiata

In that moment, chance encounter begat providence. Lisa and I began a long series of spoken and written conversations that, half a year later, culminated in this story, and a second on “NBC Nightly News.” Lisa was a completely open book, confiding her private pain and doubts, and granting me access to those who knew her best. She invited me out to Wyatt’s farm to spend the day there. I interviewed Wyatt’s longtime doctor. I interviewed Lisa’s therapist. But it was a conversation with Lisa’s exceptional daughter, Lucy, that would eventually birth “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace.”

Lisa had shared with me the extraordinary, lifelong bond Lucy and Wyatt had developed, and even credited Wyatt with saving Lucy’s life as an infant. Lucy was failing to thrive, in trouble, and nothing the doctors had tried was working. It was only after Wyatt was laid beside his sister in the NICU that Lucy began to respond. Still, speaking at length with Lucy directly was revelatory. I came away with a much clearer understanding of the “two unique souls united by birth” dynamic associated with twins in general, with an even deeper appreciation of the lifelong, unbreakable bond Lucy and Wyatt has forged - and with the inspiration for a song.

Photo: An infant and endangered Lucy Paterson . Credit: Paterson family.

I’ve been writing song lyrics since I was a teenager. To see the vast majority of them is to understand just how difficult good songwriting is. In each case, I set out to write about a specific subject. I wrote the lyrics. This will inevitably sound cliche` but I can think of no other way to describe it: for the first time, with “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace,” the lyrics wrote me. They started coming to me in the days after that phone interview with Lucy, and kept up a steady patter in my brain until I finally reached for a notebook beside my bed, and began to capture the voices in my head.

Wyatt and Lucy became Charlie and Grace. I cribbed Charlie’s name from Charlie Greene, an outstanding young man who had also lost his father in the 9/11 attacks. I’d gotten the chance to work with Charlie in the summer of 2011, and had recently introduced him to Lucy. I cribbed Grace’s name from John Newton, the poet and clergyman who wrote “Amazing Grace” a hundred and forty years ago. In all, the lyrics contain references to fifteen other songs, and eight bible verses. (If you’d like to see how many you recognize or are just a glutton for punishment, they are all annotated at the end of this blog.) Once finished, I had a thought I’d never conjured before about lyrics I’d written: “These don’t suck.”

I shared the lyrics initially only with Lisa, a fellow music nut like me, and with my wife Anna. Encouraged by their enthusiastic responses, I made my best decision yet, and shared them with my cousin Flynn - along with the story I’d written about Lisa, Lucy and Wyatt for context.

Photo: Wyatt and Lucy Paterson today. Credit: Paterson family.

My wife Anna has long pondered how to leverage all the music trivia in my brain for financial gain, and I consider myself pretty knowledgeable about music in general. But Flynn (That’s his full, legal name) is an actual musician, and someone whom I’ve always looked up to. Music has long been the common thread between us. As teenagers I was enthralled listening to his takes on local rock heroes the Stray Cats, and many others. As adults he would often invite me on Friday nights to come sing and play a little percussion with a small group of his musician friends. Nothing serious - “basement band” stuff. But it meant a lot that a group of musicians whose talent level far exceeded my own would include me. Since moving to southern Florida, Flynn has played extensively and cultivated an impressive network of musician friends in the area. He plays guitar beautifully, writes and records, and has notebooks filled with original lyrics of his own. And so when he got back to me, I was not quite prepared for his reaction.

It was beyond encouraging. He was effusive in his praise, and inspired by the story behind the lyrics. Flynn became the driving force behind the project. It took more than two years to bring to fruition, and in all that time his north star for it was clear-eyed. He wanted to give the lyrics a musical home to be proud of, for sure, but more than anything he was driven by his heart, and by doing something special for the Paterson family. Without his recruiting and wrangling of musical contributors, his booking of studio times and overseeing sessions, the steady stream of ideas and feedback he ran by me, this song would not exist. I am grateful beyond words.

In February of 2018 Flynn and I went into Rain Cat Recordings in Jensen Beach, Florida to lay down the first and most important building block of the song, a gorgeous guitar track that he had written to accompany the lyrics. We had home field advantage. The wizards behind Rain Cat, Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar, were well acquainted with Flynn. Having been briefed on the project’s origins in advance, they were happy to get involved.

Photo: Flynn working the guitar track at Rain Cat Recordings

Flynn had recorded a scratch vocal track that day as well, but it was a placeholder until we could identify a vocalist. He offered up a wide array of vocalists he knew and could approach - men and women. I felt strongly that it should be a woman, as the chorus is sung from Grace’s first person point of view. In the end we decided to try and recruit Summer Gill for the project. I confided in Flynn that I’d kept a running list in my head for years of my own “heavenly choir,” the voices I would choose to sing me home when my time came: Mavis Staples, Emmy Lou Harris, Aretha Franklin, Linda Ronstadt and Alicia Keys. Summer’s voice moved me in the same way those others did, wringing emotion from every verse. I had my doubts that we could get her onboard. She was gigging constantly in support of her latest EP, working on songs for her next one, and our little song seemed a trifle by comparison. And so we were both thrilled when Flynn reported back that she’d readily agreed to work with us - and all the more so upon hearing her evocative vocal.

Photo: Summer Gill during one of our sessions at Rain Cat Recordings

Along the way there were plenty of setbacks. While at Rain Cat with Summer during the first session to record the vocal track, Flynn got word that his Mom had passed. Another session was scuttled last minute after Summer was involved in a car accident. Some musicians proved more difficult to schedule than others, and a good chunk of time was lost trying to schedule one in particular.

That disappointment was more than made up for by the contributions of Adam Emanuel, a multi-talented musician who, in Flynn’s words, was “all in from the beginning.” From Adam we got a vital piano track; one he tinkered with and improved over several sessions. Adam also gave life to Flynn’s vision for a “sweetener” track. After considering a couple of other paths - a pedal steel guitar? Nah. Flute? Nope - Adam came up with the synth strings that really enhanced the song’s emotional resonance.

Photo: Adam Emanuel laying down the piano track at Rain Cat Recordings

And then there’s the guys behind Rain Cat, Jeff and Bryan. It’s no given that artists who are really good at making music are experts at mixing it, and these guys are both. They also support their artists out in the community, and have developed a fiercely loyal client base because of it. It’s got to be all kinds of cool to be in the business of bringing others’ musical visions to life. Serious respect for these guys.

Photo: Jeff Coulter and Bryan Lamar. Courtesy: Rain Cat Recordings

Throughout the process, Flynn and I engaged in a grand jury level of secrecy, so as not to spoil the eventual reveal to Lisa and Wyatt. Lucy, however, was conscripted as a necessary co-conspirator. Her first reaction to the lyrics she helped inspire was moving and heartfelt:

“I had to take a step back from the computer in order to compose myself... Thank you so very much for depicting my family’s story, specifically mine, in such a poetic and gorgeously bittersweet way.”

Her words also further incentivized us to finish. Lucy was responsible for gathering the bulk of the family photos that helped imbue the lyrics video with the personalized look her family’s remarkable story deserves. Finally, a big shout out to my daughter Alexa for her time and help editing the video.

The song is available on Apple Music, Google Play & Youtube Music, Amazon, Pandora, Tidal, Napster, iHeart Radio, etc Any proceeds from the song are going to help support Wyatt’s farm. You can also make a direct donation.

Thanks for reading this far, but I am reminded that where words fail, music speaks. I hope “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace” speaks to you. Click here for a listen.

“The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”

One mother, two cords, one shared space

Brother and sister, Charlie and Grace

Grace soon fell ill, her parents dismayed

But grew strong once Charlie’s sweet head was laid

Beside her own on the pillowcase

The first time he started

amazing Grace

“The boy’s not right,” they said. “His mind’s addled.”

Grace took up armor, prepared for battle

Be not afraid, her flag unfurled

Then had a thought that could change the world

In Charlie, redemption she could see and taste

And he’d only begun

amazing Grace

(spoken) And she sang:

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The life in the day, the call in the breeze

Lucy in the sky, the magic in believe

Far too young when their daddy was taken

Charlie sat and wailed, “Why have you forsaken me?”

Grace took up his battle cry

While Charlie paid attention to the open sky

And blessings from space

And he carried on

amazing Grace

Charlie grew up to work the land

Planting seed written in the palm of his hands

And Charlie taught Grace to sow some seeds of her own

How some will grow, some you just call a loan

To tend to your gardens where the land is laid waste

And he never failed at

amazing Grace

He showed me the roll in the hills, a bird on the wing

A little bit of beauty in everything

The spirit in the sky, sorrow in the fountain

Smoke on the water, and fire on the mountain

Charlie grew frail, his head a crown of splendor

Grace held firm; a loss she thought might end her

But Charlie’s voice rose in song she could believe

How sweet the sound, her fears relieved

And even as the light fell from his face

He never once stopped

amazing Grace

He just might have saved her from going under

Charlie boy, the boy wonder

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.

Source material/references for “The Ballad of Charlie and Grace”:

“Amazing Grace,” John Newton

“For a Dancer,” Jackson Browne

“Fountain of Sorrow,” Jackson Browne

“Call it a Loan,” Jackson Browne

“Grace,” U2

“Fire on the Mountain,” The Grateful Dead

“Spirit in the Sky,” Norman Greenbaum

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” The Beatles

“A Day in the Life,” The Beatles

“Call Me the Breeze,” Lynard Skynard

“Do You Believe in Magic?” The Lovin’ Spoonful

“A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young,” Eric Church

“Me and Charlie Talking,” Miranda Lambert

“Away in a Manger” Charles Gabriel

Psalm 40/U2’s “40” “He set my feet upon a rock, and held my footsteps firm.”

Isaiah 41:10 “Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will hold you with my righteous right hand.”

Matthew 27:46 “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Ephesians 6:13 “Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.”

Proverbs 16:31 Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness

Isaiah 49:16 ”See, I have written your name in the palm of my hands.”

Psalm 34:8 “Taste and see the Lord is good, blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Ezekial 36:35 “They will say ‘This land that was laid waste has become like the garden of Eden; the cities that were lying in ruins, desolate and destroyed, are now fortified and inhabited.”

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