Christmas Bells, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The Carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said;
‘For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!’

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
‘God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!’

Nackles

Did God create Men, or does Man create gods? I don’t know, and if it hadn’t been for my rotten brother-in-law the questions would never have come up.  My late brother-in-law? Nackles knows.

The rest of the story (which you owe it to yourself to read if you have never yet done so) is available here:

http://www.nackles.com

(no subject)

A bit of a story that started forming in my head earlier tonight, and insisted upon being written. Any similarities to Crowley and Aziriphale are of questionably deliberate nature. I hope you enjoy.

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There was a demon. There was an angel.

They'd known each other for a very long time - longer than time had existed as a human concept, what with the whole "predating the existence of the Universe" thing and all. But I digress. Demon and Angel. So, anyway.

Each had been assigned to duties for his respective side on Earth, once the immediate aftermath of the Rebellion had been sorted out. And like many agents of hostile superpowers are wont, when assigned to a relatively backward foreign territory, they'd struck up - not a friendship as such, for that would have been Seriously Frowned Upon by their superiors - but rather, a comfortable acquaintance. The fact that they'd been friends before all the unpleasantness helped, at least in offsetting the fact that the Angel had been the one to toss the Demon out of Heaven way back when.

Somewhere along the way, they'd made a standing appointment to meet each other at a Christmas celebration each year. The terms were as follows: The Angel would pick where and when they would celebrate one year, and the Demon would the next, and so on, and each year had to be something different from the one immediately preceding it. Whichever of the two of them was choosing the celebration that year would give the other an address and a time, nothing more, just to add a bit of surprise into the mix. The one that hadn't chosen this year's place and time was finding the surprise to amount to more than just a bit.

"Let me get this straight. We're at a pagan celebration," he asked his fellow, "One of those neo-pagan groups ... that's where you chose?"

"Yes. What, does it offend your sense of propriety?"

"Not as such," answered the Demon, "I just suppose that I'm more of a traditionalist about holidays. Didn't I go to all the trouble of finding us that nice Midnight Mass last year?"

"Yes," sighed the Angel, "And it was as lively as a prostate exam. There's a reason we worked so hard to get the Church to stop saying everything in Latin, you know."

"I thought we were the ones behind that. All the strife, plus it makes the incantations at the Church of Satan sound cooler."

"You keep right on thinking that."

The pair fell silent as one of the organizers of this year's occasion walked up, handed each a candle, and guided them into the circle the various participants were forming themselves into.

"Besides," the Angel whispered, "This is the bit I wanted you to see. It's dead interesting."

"What, they're going to start talking Latin at us?"

The Angel rolled his eyes. "Philistine. Hush and watch."

When the lights in the meeting hall were turned out, the Demon gave the Angel a Look, but whatever he was about to say was brought up short by the shushing noise to his right. Shortly thereafter, on the opposite side of the circle, a flash of light heralded the lighting of one candle. The tiny point of light hung there, then moved to either side as its holder helped the person on either side of her light the ones they were holding. Each helped the next person light theirs, until the Demon and Angel turned toward each other with lit candle at the ready, each realised that his companion was already taken care of in the "lighting" department, and each gave the other an embarassed smile before turning his attention to what would happen next.

When it was all over, the two of them retired to a corner close enough to the snack table that coffee refills wouldn't be too great an inconvenience.

"So," the Angel asked the Demon, "do you get the point of me asking you to this one now?"

"I think so," the Demon said after a few moments' thought, "it was the bit with the candles, right?"

"Exactly. Each of them was just a small, weak light. But when they worked together, their combined light was glorious in its way, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," the Demon nodded, removing his candle from his jacket pocket and giving its burnt wick a thoughtful look, "I remember when a time like that, way back when..."

"Yeah," the Angel said, looking away, "sometimes it's just terrible rather than glorious. But it never hurts to get a reminder of what can be done together, right?"

"True," said the Demon with the hint of a smile, "Merry Christmas."

"And to you."