Every New Beginning

It takes me two weeks to die, locked in my own dungeon.

It was eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning when the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptations walked into a quaint cafe on the north end of Church Street.

"Locked in darkness that surrounded me like a coffin, I had nothing to distract me from my memories."

"So far, magic school was total rubbish."

They say you can spot a true shénnóng-shī by their hands- palms colored by the stain of the earth, fingertips scarred from thorns, a permanent crust of soil and blood darkening the crescents of their nails.

"Statistics show that most mortals sell their souls for five reasons: sex, money, power, revenge, and love. In that order."

"I sat at a table in my shadowy kitchen, staring down a bottle of Boone's Farm Hard Lemonade, when a magic fluctuation hit."

"My philosophy is pretty simple -- any day nobody's trying to kill me is a good day in my book."

"I decided that Orion needed to die after the second time he saved my life."

"Dear You, The body you are wearing used to be mine."

"This was perhaps one of the most beautiful places in the world for an ancient, evil body to be buried."

"People think selling one's soul for music is as simple as "Sign this contract and --poof-- you're a genius!" Were it that easy, the world would be awash in transcendent song. Obviously, this is not so. Souls are cheap.     The trick is finding the right soul."

"She returned home two hundred and seventeen days after burying her husband while his pregnant mistress sobbed so hard that she made herself sick."

"You can't kill me," I said. "You don't have the strength."

I get about as far as "Dear Millie Price, we are delighted to inform you" before I emotionally black out like I've just been whiplashed by a rainbow and drop-kicked into a river of glitter.