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Azazel:Deadwater:9/22/2025

The whole earth has been corrupted through the works of that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin.

-The Book of Enoch

Go ye after him through the city, and smite: let not your eye spare, neither have ye pity: Slay utterly old and young, both maids, and little children, and women: but come not near any man upon whom is the mark; and begin at my sanctuary. Defile the house, and fill the courts with the slain: go ye forth.

-Elohim

I am, and always will be, no matter that I have been cast out, ben Elohim.

It is late. I have been on a killing spree. Five men tried to break through the police guard at the hospital this evening to capture the sea people and throw them back into the sea. I was already at the hospital, I’ve been keeping an eye on the protests, interviewing people for the paper, that kind of thing. When the assholes with their pussy guns started shoving the cops around I stepped around the side of the building and shed my grub suit. Not that I care about the pigs, but the sea people and the doctors I do. Miriam, too. She can’t light up in a place full of O2 tanks. I need to teach her to fight. She has the lust.

In my demon form, cloven-hooved with furred legs and bare chest, dreadlocked hair and twisted beard, curved horns atop my head, and a long tail above my asshole. Yes, I have claws and a carnivore’s teeth. Yellow goat’s eyes, they always cower at my yellow eyes.

I am true beauty.

The first one to spot me paused as I marched toward him. Unsure if I was in a costume, no doubt. Before he could decide, my fingers were massaging his heart through shards of ribcage. Aerated heart blood is a delicacy not to be under appreciated. The next one put a slug in my back. Takes a certain chemistry to slay a demon, lead ain’t it. He lost an arm, and then an eye. I love an eyeball, like gummy candy with a liquid filling. The cops had, wisely, taken to shepherding the non-combatants to safety. The remaining three stood with weapons drawn, facing me down. The cacophony of fevered blood rushing through panicked hearts. Adrenaline and cortisol scented air. I shook my shaggy mane and roared. The middle one dropped his gun and turned to run. I leapt at him, twisted his head off and felt the hot spurt of arterial blood drench me. I lapped up what I could. The last two just stood there, weapons hanging forgotten from limp arms. Too shit-stained to move. I stood between them, arms outstretched, and ripped out their throats. I drank my fill of blood and walked to the sea to clean up.

Miriam sent me a text: AZ I WATCHED THAT FROM THE WINDOW, YOU’RE A BEAST I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!

There were a lot of heart emojis. I hope she at least feigned horror to everyone else.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/22/2025

Az killed like five guys in the hospital parking lot tonight. So based. Nothing too interesting happened with the Sea People today. I’m working on an alphabet for their language. They don’t have writing so it’s very difficult, but I need to be able to pick apart the sounds. Eventually, I’ll be able to teach the doctor and others, they’re picking some stuff up, but with writing it’ll be easier. One of the kids has been really helpful in this regard, her name means something like Frostbubblesparkle. Her sister, Horizonstorm, is more angry at this entire situation, understandable for sure. FBS is in for the adventure. Hstorm wants to save her home. I love them both. I’m scared for them both.

The main thing I need to write down is that I’ve located the blob. Marge has it at her lab. She gave me keys so I can experiment with it. I told her my theory and she thinks I’m kookoo bananas, but idc I’m doing it anyway.

So the blob is in a big freezer on a double rollout table. It’s sort of deflated and smells sooo bad. I almost threw up when I first opened up the freezer. I’ll get used to it I guess. Marge has a DNA sequencing machine she’s going to teach me to use, plus a bunch of other equipment. She’s so cool. Very weird… but I suppose that’s an accusation she could lob right back at me so, maybe we’ll get to be friends.

I asked the Sea People if their dead could be raised from the blob… I think they might have been offended, but I played dumb and pretended that I asked the question wrong… If it works, I hope they’re not mad that I’ve resurrected their dead. IF it works. Probably won’t.

August:Hell

There are so many women here. I had no idea this many existed. They definitely outnumber the men. And they’re so happy. Free even. Many just wander around naked. It’s… I’m very- they’re all so beautiful.

Evelyn is quite popular.

As am I… in such a short time.

She’s explained that there are no relationships here, so I don’t need to worry about that. It is a relief, to be freed of the burden of her care and comfort. She’s quite independent, we’ve agreed to meet up for coffee and sex every morning. Otherwise we’ll b both be free to do as we please.

The scenery is quite different. Very dark forests, misty fields, skies filled with lightening and thunder, but it never rains. They don’t have gift shops like in heaven. And there’s no admin, which is greatly appreciated. I never saw an angel in heaven until I was arrested, here the demons walk around and mingle with people, party, chat.

There are horrors yes, but they are quite artistic. I might take up painting in order to capture the brutal beauty of it all.

Oh and I’ve run into Hellbunny. He’s not a bunny here… or a he… or a she. Its name is frankly unpronounceable for me so we’ve agreed I can still call it Hellbunny. How do I describe it? Rather tall and with little hands all over its body. As though it had smallpox, but each pustule can grab and caress you. It’s quite an experience. Its face is still that of Hellbunny, it liked the bunny face and so removed it and had it surgically grafted over its previous face. Apparently it does this occasionally… one wonders if they can be peeled back like layers of wallpaper. Incidentally, the plastic surgeons here are top notch. Personally I’m happy with my current form, but I’ve seen some incredible modifications. I have always wanted antlers…

I must put the pen down for the night. I’m quite tired from all the exploring, and other things.

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Azazel:Deadwater:9/21/2025

Miriam can speak with the sea people. This is good and bad, but I’ll let her figure out why. As I expected, they’re climate refugees. I’ve been out in the town, unofficially collecting the populace’s temperature. A few, Marge unexpectedly, are concerned about their welfare and are trying to figure out how best to accommodate them. A few are worried about disease. A few are worried about the cost. A few are worried about the rest of the world finding out. Overall the temp is lukewarm and typically American, I’d say. The hospital is now under armed guard twenty-four/seven, which is difficult for the little PD here so things are about to get tense.

I like tense. Tense is the locality where I do my best work. I haven’t drawn blood since Key West and I’m simmering. Begging for a reason to slice flesh, sink my teeth into a deserving human. We’re not supposed to admit it, but human blood is delectable. The flesh is a little too microplastics-leaden. Not to mention all the preservatives… But their blood still flows clean, fatty some of them, like they used to grow sacrificial lambs back in the day. Slick and thick. So hot pouring down your throat… I wonder if the Padre is in the Cathedral… Mmm too risky. But so tempting. They eat well, too. Fatted Father flesh. Perhaps I can catch him on his way to his car. It’s not too late. I’m engorged thinking of gorging on severed veins. Something’s spurting, either way.

I need to get out…

Miriam:Deadwater:9/21/2025

There’s so much to write, but I’m so tired. Thanks to a weird lady named Marge we’ve figured out a few things our visitors can eat besides lichen, which is awesome because they are so hungry. So that’s one problem kind of figured out. They have a really fast metabolism, according to Dr. Saint. She says that “creates energy that they use to keep warm.” Doesn’t make sense to me, lichen can’t be that abundant enough anywhere to keep up a fast metabolism. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of Dr. S, she doesn’t use the scientific method to test a hypothesis, she just assumes that since she’s had a hypothesis, it must be correct. I don’t know how any of her patients have ever survived tbh.

She ALSO keeps bugging me to find out how I can speak to the Sea People. I just keep shrugging and calling it a miracle. Hope she doesn’t try and hypothesize me. If she drags me to St. A’s I’ll have trouble. I break out in hives whenever I go in there.

But the Sea People, there are five of them, a family, consisting of mom, dad, second dad, and two kids, both girls. Some families have more than one mom, some are even larger, pair bonding is pretty chill where they’re from, unlike here. There were more of them at the beginning of the journey, but as they starved their bodies became part of that bubble thing they traveled in… which might account for it being alive. I don’t know, but I will try and test that hypothesis, unlike Dr. S….

Maybe I can bring them back to life from the bubble… I need to find out what happened to it.

I also need to figure out how to transcribe their names, they don’t really translate…

August:

“August, is that…”

“An asshole? I suppose it is, my dear.”

“There’s light on the other side.”

“So I guess we just… push through?”

“Well, we can’t go back. Oh, I can’t go back. The sausage…”

“Alright, Evelyn, take hold of my hand. I’ll go through first.”

The membrane, I suppose you’d call it, was soft and spongy, puckered, of course. Wet, everything was wet, gooey. I pushed my hand into the opening, feeling the sphincter tight around my arm, cool air on the other side. I pushed my head through…

“Right on time,” My Intercessor smiled at me. I pulled my head back in.

“It’s the courtroom. Our trial.”

“No.” Evelyn gripped my hands. “Wait, I have an idea. Do you have anything sharp on you?”

“Just this pen.”

She snatched it from me and stabbed it into the anal wall, pulling downward and opening a large gash. The body in which we were trapped trembled as Evelyn stepped through. I followed to see her slash through another pink wall and step through. I dove after her as she disappeared into a dark void.

“Evelyn, where are you going?”

“The vagina!”

There was no choice but to follow. We tumbled through a soft, fleshy, curtain and into a dark expanse of woods.

“Eve!!! Girl, we were wondering when you’d make it back.”

A group of ladies, oddly dressed, in costumes of what appeared to be from many different ages and places, gathered round us. Evelyn beamed at me.

“August, it’s Hell. We made it to Hell.”

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Take me back…

Azazel:Deadwater:9/20/2025

Went back down to the beach last night without my grub suit. Needed to do some demon shit. I waded out into the water, deepish, let the waves buffet me, tangle my dreads and toss me around until I was numb from the cold. The ocean has many voices. They travel through the water, vibrations within a medium, slipping effortlessly through the liquid. The chatter can be overwhelming. Listen for the deep voices, those with resonance, these are the travelers. Under the water, I can hold my breath for hours. For hours I listened. There is pain everywhere beneath the waves, heat, plastic, acid, chemicals, the mechanical drone of cargo ships, none are safe, even as vast as the ocean is.

One deep voice, a little slippery, spoke of an ice island crumbling to the sea. Another spoke of an island that never was stormy, but now storms come often and destroy everything. Still another of an island where there used to be fish, but now there are boats.

No voices spoke of the black rubbery bubble that brought our new residents ashore. But all voices spoke of loss and hunger.

This is why we demons want the planet back. To set things right.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/20/2025

HOLY SHIT. Ok so I wasn’t supposed to be up on the floor where the sea people are, but I was on break and my whole job from Az is to get intel. So I went up anyway. I didn’t know exactly where they were, but I knew they had been given one of the bigger wards so they could stay together. I was wandering, trying to look like I was working, because there’s a guard in front of the door. He saw me coming and puffed up.

“No entry. Only the Doc.”

“I’m supposed to bring them magazines, so they can get used to living here before they get out of the hospital.” I held up an armload of magazines.

“I wasn’t told of this.” The guard was a young guy from the PD, his badge said Officer Dillon. I stuck out my free hand.

“I’m Miriam. I just started here. It’s my job to provide a little extra comfort to patients.”

He stood with his hands on his hips.

“No one told me you were coming.”

The hall was quiet for a few seconds and then I heard voices coming from the other side of the door. Strange voices, shrill and high pitched, talking about how warm they were. Too warm. Dying. I shoved the magazines at the officer and walked into the room. The sea people all looked up sharply, they were huddled on the far side of the room, as far as they could get from the big sunny window. I walked across and drew the blinds.

Then I spoke- in their language. I didn’t know I knew their language??? This must be a demon thing. Az is still sleeping so I can’t ask him, but while we talked the officer called the doctor. We had a long conversation with me translating.

Anyway, they come from an island in the arctic that’s melting and crumbling. They eat lichen as near as I can figure and are dying because it’s too warm here. But they left because their island was falling apart. There used to be a lot more of them, but most died because of starvation.

It was sad and exciting all at once. I’m worried Deadwater won’t be able to save them or find a new place for them to live. IDK, it’s kind of a lot. I’m going to poke Az awake because I need to talk to someone.

August:

We are still walking through this foul smelling squishy tube. We do not grow tired, merely anxious. We were, at one point, attacked by what I assume to be a remnant of sausage. It was disc-shaped and showed evidence of teeth marks. It also brandished a mouth of its own, and clawed hands, but its locomotion was by rolling which proved to be ineffective. Evelyn picked up a wilted and soggy piece of lettuce and was able to stuff it in the thing’s slimy little maw.

Aside from that, we just walk. And yes, we have put together were we are, but neither of us can muster up the fortitude to say it out loud.

There is a constant burbling and rumbling that vibrates the slick surface on which we tread.

There is only one place we can be.

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Take Me Back…

Azazel:Deadwater:9/19/25

Spent the morning getting to know the entity called Marge. A marine biologist with the neurotic intensity of Captain Ahab, she’s been in Deadwater her whole life. Her father was a crab boat fisherman, thus her family was at the mercy of the Dungeness, dashed against the rocks of impecunity, or showered with riches, depending on the apparent whim of the crabs to thrive or self-destruct. She may have become a little obsessed with discovering the reason for the random, sudden, and precipitous crab die-offs that made a whirling crank on a jack-in-the-box out of her childhood happiness.

Which is unfortunate, because she’ll never know the cause, it being cosmological as opposed to biological.

C’est la vie, as they say.

We sat in one of the cafes overlooking the ocean. She wore a black hoodie, her silver-streaked, long dark hair loose and flowing. She is forty-seven, she made sure to let me know just how long the crabs have been tormenting her. Since day one.

“Crabs went bust the year I was born. Dad threatened to throw me to the sea as an offering the day I was born. Got as far as that cliff,” she paused and pointed to Anya’s escape, jutting out from the coast and into the roiling ocean like bow sprit. “Mother had let the hospital staff know and the entire police department was out blocking the cliff. Locked him up for a couple days to give him time to think. He graciously decided I could live.” Her coffee mug shook in her hand as she brought it to her mouth. “I was spared for one purpose, to unlock the mystery of the crabs. Why, when their environment is stable, do they die en mass? There’s no pattern to it, nothing in the ocean currents, the water conditions, the food chain, nothing. I’ve run tests and done studies for nearly two decades and we’re no closer to discovering the reason than we were when I started.” She set her coffee down with a thunk and looked me in the eye, “I’m haunted. I’ll go to my grave with the stink of crab guts in my hair.” She shoved a mass of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

“Hm. Not to change the topic, but I’m gonna change the topic, what’s your take on the people we pulled out of the ocean yesterday?”

“My take?” She said with a full mouth, “My take is that it’s not my field of study. Someone else will have to do blood, DNA, all that. I’m not in the business of discovering a new species, unless it’s one killing my-“ She stopped and put down her fork. “I have to get to the hospital.”

I had to pay for breakfast.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/19/25

The hospital was shrouded in fog this morning. Literally and figuratively. My new job is as a Patient Comfort Assistant. I’m supposed to make the rounds of all the rooms four times a day and ask everyone if they need anything. I have a little cart with water, snacks, pillows, blankets, books, even games. I’m allowed to play games or read books to patients in between my rounds if they want. Seems pretty chill. I’ve already got three different chess games going on in the long-term care ward, and I’m reading War and Peace to a lady in the ICU. Another lady threw a water cup at me when I told her that her chart said she couldn’t have chocolate. I’d be pissed too, though.

But of course, the reason I was there was the sea people. I’m supposed to be getting intel for Az. There is sooo much gossip, patient privacy be damned I guess. I figured I’d have to break into their room or something, but everyone is just spilling tea all over everywhere.

Some details: they have smooth gray to greenish blue skin, legs, lungs AND gills, they’re bald, have claws, fins.. oh and they do seem to speak to each other, and need to stay wetish. One of the nurses said a humidifier in the room is working just fine for them. I learned that the doctor taking care of them is a lady named Dr. Milton. She’s then most experienced, although in what I’m not sure. When I asked what was going to happen to them everyone just shrugged.

“Unless we can talk to them, we won’t know if they want to stay here or go back to the water. Or why they even came here in the first place. If they need help, I hope we can help them.” That was my supervisor, Clara, she’s the head nurse. But then there was Bob, one of the other nurses who said he thought they shouldn’t even have been brought to the hospital in the first place, but should have been trucked to one of the wildlife rescue places. “They’re animals. We don’t help animals here.”

“Humans do actually belong to the kingdom Animalia. The only reason you think you’re superior is because of centuries of religious cultural brainwashing. Humans aren’t better than other animals, we’re worse because we destroy everything we touch and barely even care.”

“You’re fun.” Bob was waiting for Clara to get off the phone and leaning up against the cabinets in the nurse’s station. He rolled his eyes.

“No I’m not.”

Clara was off the phone by now so I didn’t have to suffer through Bob any more. But I did resolve to call him Robert.

And tell Az about the animal comment. What if other people start to see them that way, too?

August:

We don’t know where we are but we found each other in this vast, darkness. Evelyn’s fingers grip me tightly. The ground is soft, the air is wet and smells bitter. We see nothing but occasionally bump into walls that are wet and pillowy.

This is an end or a new beginning.

We know not, yet.

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Take me back…

Azazel:Deadwater:9/18/2025

This is exactly what I came here for. Mysterious black masses floating offshore. I showed up at the beach yesterday in my official capacity as a reporter. Expected the usual PD guff, got slaps on the back. The solidarity that comes with standing together on the precipice of true, unknown horror trumps cop dickery I guess.

“Azure Demone, Az for short.” I stuck out my hand, “Any idea what we got here?”

The woman eyed me over the top of her Ray-Bans. “We don’t get new folks out here often.”

I eyed her over the top of my nameless magicked sunglasses, “Officer Grump,” I eyeballed her name tag, “Can’t stand the big city anymore. Had a bit of a nervous breakdown. Needed a change of pace.”

She pushed her glasses back up her nose, smirking. “Change of pace is certainly what you’re gonna get.”

“So, any ideas? I’m from Chicago, no sea beasts out there.”

“Nah, we’re waiting on Marge.” She indicated her partner, a scrawny guy standing twenty feet up the beach watching the blob through binoculars.

“And Marge is?”

As if summoned a Zodiac came flying through the water and up onto the beach in front of us.

“Get in.” The captain, a middle-aged woman with black hair streaked white and tangled from the wind and sea spray, looked me up and down.

“Reporter,” I showed her my credentials.

“You get sea sick?”

“Nope.”

“Get in.”

We made our way in silence out to the mass. My first thought was that it was a bunch of sharks trapped in a slick black rubber bubble. All trying to tear their way out in different directions. It was the most chaotic black blob of goo I’d ever seen. Black, inky swirls of muck surrounded it like an oily halo. Marge circled it slowly, expertly avoiding contact. The smell was that of death. Rot. Foul and sweet all at once. A personal favorite. The scrawny cop, who turned out to be Officer Royal, puked over the side. Marge’s eye twitched, for a second I thought she’d pitch him overboard. Instead she grabbed a hook on a pole from the side of the vessel.

“Uh, Marge, is that the best idea?” Officer Grump looked around like there might be somewhere to escape to.

“Something’s trapped in there.” Marge flung the hook out at the squirming blob. It caught. She gave it a swift yank, a squelching, splitting sound rippled off the water as the hook gave and came free. Marge caught and re-secured the pole back to the side of the boat in one smooth motion.

I might have fallen in love with her right then. I took the wheel of the Zodiac with a nod. She couldn’t drive and do what she needed to. She nodded back. Both officers had their hands on their weapons as we watched the water. The blob went still, the rip gaping open, water sloshed inside, but for a blob the object had surprising structural integrity. It bobbed on the surface of the water, slowly rolling toward the opening.

“Is it empty?” Officer Royal was crouching in the bottom of the Zodiac, his firearm aimed over the edge. I didn’t have the heart to tell him you can’t use a rubber craft for cover.

The blob shifted hard to the right. A hand thrust out of the opening and gripped the slippery edge. Marge didn’t skip a beat. She lashed another hook to the boat’s tow rope, tossed it, and told me to step on it.

At the beach we cut the rest of the thing open to reveal… you know the verdict is still out on that, but they certainly look merpeople-ish. They, all five of them, are currently in Deadwater General Hospital in quarantine. I’ll write more when I know more.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/18/2025

They pulled merpeople out of the ocean…. Az helped me get a job at the hospital so I can get inside information for him. I’m so stoked! I haven’t seen them yet, but Az says they’re not scaly like fish, but look more smooth like sharks. Shark skin is not smooth at all, but I didn’t correct him. We’ll find out the truth soon enough. The town is already split. Some people think we should throw them right back into the ocean. Other people are cool to help them in any way we can. Az’s Editor already told him she’ll “shitcan” him if he writes a story on this. Which is very Deadwater, people are so anti-outsider here. No one wants sea monster tourists, bad economy or not.

This actually isn’t even the weirdest thing we’ve pulled out of the ocean here. In 1938 a wale washed ashore with a German spy in its belly. Plus there was that weird dog-fish hybrid that swam ashore in 1974. That little guy is now taxidermied in the library, but he lived with Deadwater High’s biology teacher for like a decade. She had a special bag she carried him around in that held water for its back half, which was the fish part while the front part could be out for pets and scratches. The bag is also in the library.

For now I’m just kind of trying not to vibrate out of my skin with the excitement of it all. I went down to the beach and cut a little bit of the blob they arrived in off to bring home. When we got an apartment Az helped me get my stuff from Ted’s, including my microscope. This blob is alive. And get this, the sample I got, it’s growing. Looking forward to doing some experiments tomorrow.

August:Heaven:My Cell

Through our intercessors, Evelyn and I were able to pass some ideas back and forth about not healing our wounds. She taught me a chant in a demonic language and I suggested using a sheet of my journal paper jammed in the wound to prevent proper healing.

Our intercessors don’t think these drastic measures will be necessary. But they are, after all, dead priests. Can they be trusted? We think not.

Time is meaningless here, but we agreed to try and coordinate. We’ve both just had meetings and have now been returned to our cells.

I will try to write as I go through the process, but it may become impossible at some point.

I will start with hitting my head against the wall until it breaks open.

I find that the pain, though it is great, is not the worst part of this exercise, but rather it’s the sound the skull makes when shards grind together.

I’ve stuffed paper in the wound and am chanting now. Although forming words is difficult as my jaw muscles can’t pull properly on my shattered skull.

I’m drawing the pentagram. I can feel the edges of the wound trying to knit back together. It isn’t working. I’m sitting now, listening to blood drip and to the clicking of my own skull. I see the mouth forming on the wall, pustulant tongue rolling out before me like a carpet. The gaping maw awaits.

I am leaving now. I feel my Evelyn’s spirit tugging at me.

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Azazel:Deadwater:9/17/2025

I have been listening to police scanners since they were invented back when we were running with bootleggers and I have to say, the Deadwater PD do absolutely nothing by the book or in anyway by code. It’s refreshing. I didn’t have to look up a single police code because they don’t use them. At all. Not even a simple 10-41 or 10-12. They have three squad cars and eight officers. Plus the sheriff. Here’s an excerpt:

“Hey, Ecklund, your wife write down that nacho cheese recipe yet?”

“Not yet, Grump, she’s busy on her latest sculpture.”

“That bit of shipwreck that washed up three weeks ago?”

“Yep.”

Different voices, new chatter:

“Old Mandy’s out in the buff again. Corner of Puff and Bugloss. Heading north.”

“Why aren’t you stopping her if you’re right there?”

“I don’t like cuffing her.”

“You don’t have to cuff her, she’ll just get in the cruiser.”

Silence

“Percy?”

“She always fights me. Then when I put cuffs on her she tries to get me to touch her ass.”

laughter

“I’m on route.”

Different voices, new chatter:

“Anybody else seeing this black mass in the ocean off Anya’s Leap?”

Two voices, “Yep.”

“The fuck is that? Dead whale?”

“It’s moving. Moving weird, too.”

“Yeah, kind of jelly-lurching.”

“Is it getting bigger?”

“I’m on route.”

“This is dispatch. We’ll send Marge.”

That last one is where I’m headed now. Can’t pass up ‘jelly-lurching.’

Miriam:Deadwater:9/17/2025

Dave died. I saw the whole thing. He tripped on his shoelaces and fell into the fryer. His skin was all slick and bubbly. I got burned pulling him out of the fryer.

They made me go to the hospital, but all my burns are already healed. Demon blood I guess.

I can’t stop thinking about the smell. I can’t stop thinking about him gurgling instead of screaming because he swallowed hot grease.

I asked Az about the spirit trapped in the bun oven. Maybe we should release it…

“Probably not a great idea.” He was oiling his grub suit. I guess they dry out if they aren’t oiled. It was up on a hanger, all fleshy and limp. Empty eyes gaping at me. It even has body hair. I really hate it.

“Why not? It’s killed twenty people already. I checked.”

“It’s going to kill a lot more if it’s free of that oven.”

“Why can’t we just steal the oven then, and bury it or something?”

“We could do that… That actually sounds pretty fun.”

“Az! When can we?”

“Let me come up with a plan.”

“I want to help.”

Az grinned at me, his teeth are a little crooked and it’s so cute.

I’m going to commit my first ever crime- we’ll my first ever grand theft. I’m so excited.

August:Heaven:A Cell

I have received word from Evelyn. She is capable of meditating the mouth on her wall as well. We are convinced that if we could keep our bodies from healing we could escape this prison.

Meanwhile our court case proceeds. The prosecutors are intent on pursuing a choir sentence, the judge has refused a plea deal on the grounds that three choir members recently dissolved into nothingness and must be replaced. Evelyn’s intercessor is attempting to get the records of her transfer released. Perhaps she was transferred here from Hell in error, in which case the fault is not her own… and by extension may not be mine if I was tempted by a great evil unleashed upon me unknowingly.

It’s a long shot, I’m told. Sealed records are nearly impossible to access without divine dispensation. God, according to the intercessors, has not spoken since 1756 so that is unlikely.

The question then remains, how do I keep my wounds from healing in this land of eternal perfection?

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Take me back…

Azazel:Deadwater:9/16/2025

First day at the Deadwater Chronicle. Orientation. I prefer disorientation, land and sky melding, body morphing, face melting, disorderly molecule disorientation. Instead I got headphones and slideshow on my computer.

The Deadwater Chronicle was founded in 1846 by Mayor Sixto Quintín Vásquez to keep an eye on the clergy in the area at the time. Blah blah blah politics. Spain controlled the clergy, Mexico was now an independent country didn’t want God’s pedo lackeys spying on them (weird that anyone does). This Sixto fellow wanted them to be accountable. Closed up the cathedral and opened up a newspaper. Have to see where he ended up, could be a good recruit.

There was- a further three hours of history. And a booklet!

Then we had a staff meeting…. not a whole lot going on right now. I’ve been put on the crime beat. Rookie stuff, but actually a good place to get intel.. and informants. I do love a rat. They all carry plague of some sort or another. Inciting black buboes, oozing insidious rot. Beautiful creatures.

Our editor is a woman named Dita Terrence. Average looking, but with a gaze that could bore holes in your soul… I don’t have one, which she seemed to pick up on. Is she angelic? I don’t think so, but she may be one of a rare group of mortals that can trace their lineage back to the nephilim. Very diluted angelic DNA at this point. Not a threat, but can be a pain in the ass.

There are two other staff reporters. Wilson Greenly, chubby, serious guy. I’ll need to get to the bottom of his appetites. And Jo(lene) Foo, taller than me, cute glasses, not giving anything away without a fight. Respect.

Not much happened after that.

Took the police scanner home with me so I don’t miss anything. Listening to these small town po talk about fuckall…

Miriam:Deadwater:9/16/2025

I smell like grease and I want to die.

I saw the manager, Dave, sitting at the bun oven.

“Dave, you’re watching the oven.”

He slapped the hat off my head, “Buckin’ the trend new girlie. Not dyin’. Now get to work!”

Hi welcome to Fried Freddies what can we fry for you today?

Hi welcome to doom can I dribble spittlebread into your mouth baby birdie?

I washed my hair twice and I still smell like grease.

Can I fry you today?

Fried human.

Me fry you.

If the ghost doesn’t kill Dave I will.

The ghost lives in the oven. But it isn’t a ghost. It’s an ancient land spirit. Bored, trapped in an appliance and wants a body count.

Don’t let me stop you.

Cute red murder oven.

Az says he’ll shave my head if I want.

I don’t know what I want, but it isn’t this.

August:Heaven:A cell

Spent the day with my barrister, forgot the term here, intercessor or something. We’re going with the folie a deux defense. I was so overjoyed at seeing my Evelyn I lost my head and so did she and here were are, separate now and coming to our senses. Our intercessors have intermingled and discussed a co-strategy. Meantime, I have figured out how to keep the shadow guards out of my cell. Simple really. Bash my head against the wall until it bleeds, then paint a pentagram on each wall.

I have found that this is also conducive to meditation. The slow trickle of blood from my scalp the only sound, white on red on white until it blends into fleshy pink and opens up a mouth with a thick pustulant tongue and grinding teeth. Behind the teeth a gaping pit…

And then my head knits itself back together and I have to start all over again. I feel like I’m on to something though. If only I could get that mouth to swallow me. I passed a note to Evelyn through our intercessors to let her know so she can try to meditate the mouth in to being as well.

Folie à avaler.

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Azazel:Deadwater:9/15/2025

Job hunting in this economic dead zone is… well I’m a demon, I get whatever I want, now don’t I?

Of course I do.

So I’m a reporter for the Deadwater Chronicle now. Should be useful. I start tomorrow and have conjured up a reporter’s wardrobe full of black denim and threadbare Oxfords. It is horrific, but we do what we must for the cause. And our rewards will be delicious.

I met one of our neighbors today. Cramped up old thing about seventy.

“Dreadlocks? The shadow of the cathedral falls upon these corridors, you ought to be ashamed.” She was holding a chihuahua under one arm and her keys in her other hand, so she waggled her head at me instead. Cute little puff ball of grey.

“And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting this morning, m’lady?”

“Fake manners will get you nowhere. I can tell you don’t genuinely want to know.”

“Oh, but I do. Dreadlocks or not, my mother always taught me to get acquainted with my neighbors.”

“Well, at least your mother sounds decent. I’m Imelda, and this is Spanky.” She waggled the puffball at Spanky this time.

“I’m Az, short for Azure, my mother’s favorite color. She always said her love for me was as big as the sky.” Did I ever have a mother? Probably… but who can remember an eternity ago?

“Well that’s unusual. What a sweet story.” She set the dog down, it wandered around her ankles, a dark brown little thing with a white spot around the base of its tail.

“Not nearly as sweet as my new neighbor Imelda. What is that, Spanish?”

She nodded, “My parents were Guatemalan, but I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Guatemala don’t know what it’s missing,” I winked and opened my door. “Lovely to have met you, Imelda. And I mean it.”

“Oh, you rascal,” she all but giggled.

Some say I have a silver tongue….

Miriam:Deadwater:2025

Did you know you have to go to college to be a librarian? You can’t just like books, it’s a whole thing. I know every inch of that stupid library. I’ve even slept there on several occasions when home was bad. But I can’t WORK there without SOME CREDENTIALS.

I bet I know the dewey decimal system better than old Witheredgreen.

So I got a job Fried Freddies since it’s just across the street. Az says he can get me a job at the library, but I don’t want to get things I shouldn’t have using someone else’s power.

I don’t even eat meat so this is probably going to suck. The new manager there, the old one had a heart attack and died with his head on the grill, is named Dave, which was also the old manager’s name. So very Deadwater. I guess it has a haunted bread oven. If someone sees you sitting in front of it, you’re going to die. But if you quit, you can save your life. Anyway Dave said I can work the drive thru or manage the buns if I don’t want to touch meat. I guess the drive thru also has a ghost but it lives in the headset. They can’t get a new headset because the ghost won’t let them.

Basically, this is going to be really weird and I might die.

I hope I get to work the drive thru. Talking to a ghost all day sounds ok.

I start tomorrow. I have dread.

August:Heaven:A Cell

I was arraigned today. I stood before a judge in all white with a pointy beard and a ring of eyes around his or her head (frankly it was unclear despite the beard). A choir of angels sat in pews to my right and there were shadow guards everywhere.

My charges were read to me… it was a long list. I may have yawned. My lawyer informed me that pleading ‘not guilty’ is standard at this point. I argued that I was guilty and was trying to get out of this place. And that’s where I was, once again, shattered upon jagged rocks.

One is not sent to Hell for violating the rules in Heaven.

One is conscripted into the Heavenly Chorus. I looked over the shoulder of my lawyer to the choir… they were… pale as a sheep’s intestines with unblinking eyes and mouths gaping open, a sickly light emanated from somewhere deep inside and an unearthly hum bubbled up from within. Tears streamed down their faces and soaked their soft robes.

I pled not guilty.

Evelyn’s face was not among the choir, so at least she’s not lost her battle yet.

Oh eternal folly!

Next episode…

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Azazel:Deadwater:9/14/25

We have secured an apartment in the only apartment building in town. It is right next door to the Cathedral, so that’s convenient, we’ll have some surveillance capabilities. Miriam’s family is well known throughout town so this was no easy task. There was no real convenient lie. We went with roommates, which is reasonable, but apparently not reasonable enough and we have already received a few neighbors inquiring about the young girl’s “health.” I’m harpooned, but I’m not into innocents. And she very much still is, despite her parentage. She has much to learn of this world and this life. Teaching and protecting her are my infernal assignments. And my eternal missions.

The apartment building, by the way, is called The Crusades and was built by a former priest of the cathedral (not a true cathedral, but for some reason still gets to be called one) to house visiting pilgrims. Yes, there is a relic here. A mummified goat hoof said to be that of the satyr that St. Anthony of Egypt encountered during his time in the desert.

It is said that St. A ran across a satyr and the satyr asked if he’d intercede with God on his people’s behalf. They wanted God’s love but were monsters and thus could not receive it.

Bullshit. Your boy is a satyr and our kind are not wired for groveling and sniveling, especially not to any half-starved anti-socialite who can’t stand anyone’s company but their own and passes it off as devotion. If a satyr had met that tattered old hobbler in the desert, he’d have spent a lovely afternoon sucking marrow from his faux holy bones.

St. A and the satyr each went on their way that day. But it is said that the satyr later found him starving in the desert and spit roasted himself so the monk could eat. St. A ate naught but bread and only God could accept such a sacrifice, so the beast was left to rot, baking in the desert sun. All St. A kept was the poor satyr’s front right hoof, which is allegedly on display in the cathedral.

But it isn’t because that story is a lie. Most stories are.

Someday I’ll give that hoof a proper burial.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/14/25

Doesn’t really feel like fall yet, still too hot. Az and I got an apartment and I feel like the townsfolk think he’s molesting me. Or I’ve lost my mind since my mom died and am entering a wild phase. Not that I care. They’ve been spreading rumors about me since I was born because I don’t look anything like mom or Ted. I’m calling him Ted now because he doesn’t deserve my respect. That’s what I decided last night when I walked from the Inn to the beach in the dark. I sat on driftwood and listened to the black water crashing on the beach. Three foxes came and sat next to me for a little while and I told them my problems. They didn’t speak or any weird folktale shit, but I think I could feel their cunning lapping at my skin and diffusing into me.

Respect those who respect you. All others are edible. It’s an interesting ethos. I’m vegetarian, but my fire will devour the disrespectful edible…

The Cathedral gives me nightmares. I can’t put them into words. They’re like rumbling and spitting tied up under rubble and wild dances with drums and fires of blood. There’s a ringing and something always flashes right before I hear a scream. Then I wake up. Now that we live next door to it, I guess they’ll get worse. I should probably tell Az, but I don’t know how to explain it to him.

Tomorrow I have to look for a job. Az says we have to appear normal.

Wishful thinking…

August:Heaven:A Cell

Four white walls. My writing paper and ink were taken away after I used the ink to graffiti the walls. It was a vast improvement, even with my limited artistic skills. It’s been two days, they say. The guard flits around sometimes, just a shadow. A shadow of my former self, perhaps. Which former self? I tried to drain energy from it, but it doesn’t have much. I tried to punch it and only punched the wall.

A silent taunting shadow. It has eyes though, they burn like sapphires in its head. They burn like time and death and the deep blue sea. I wish I could return to that cold deep. My body buffeted by the waves, surrendered, torn apart, devoured. I was cradled then, rocked as though a babe. I was loved and I was used. And now I am, kept. Managed. Only the shadow knows me.

Only the shadow sees.

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Azazel:Deadwater:9/13/25

Back in Deadwater. It’s a shitshow. Despite my very handsome and soothing grub suit sporting an authoritative uniform, Miriam’s father would hear no explanation from me. It was all going to be a lie anyway. He bid her to pack what she needed and get out. She could pick the rest up later when she had a place for it, he said.

He always knew she wasn’t his, now he wants nothing to do with her.

“You killed the love of my life,” says the cruel, deluded piece of pig shit. I’m lying in bed at the inn right now and I still feel cold blood rushing through my veins, aerated with the urge to kill. To watch his face as he realizes he’s being gutted, despite being an upperclass white male. Someday. This is a grudge I will always harbor. From now until I see sidewalks painted with his blood, like children’s chalk, red flowers and red rainbows, I will feel the loin twitching pangs of desire for his death.

Miriam is, mercurial. She’s still too young to control that fire raging inside her. And she’s emotional on top of it. I’m doing my best to help her, but I’m a beast myself.

Miriam:Deadwater:9/13/25

Az took me to the Dungeness Inn. There’s a sign outside that says, “We don’t have crabs!” He laughed, but I didn’t get it. He said crabs are an STD which you can catch from bedding. I have so much to learn about life. I’m eighteen now, but I feel like a baby left out in the cold to die of exposure. They did that in some ancient cultures. I guess they do it here and now, too.

I’m ok. Papa Mal said no one really dies forever. I’ll see Mom in Hell someday. She wasn’t that nice to me for most of my life. I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I guess we had come to an understanding. She gave me my Circus family before she died at least. I’m not really alone. Not by a long shot. Az is nice. Looks scary in his “grub suits.” I don’t think they really fool people. He says we have to stay here. We’re the guardians of the Deadwater portal now. Right now it’s got a whole ass cathedral on top of it so the demons can’t use it. I said I could burn the church down, but Az said we won’t be able to just stroll on in there. There are angels in town we’d have to fight. Not as powerful as the destroying angel I destroyed, but still dangerous. I told him I wasn’t scared.

“Be scared. Remember you’re just a kid. I’ve been around for… well I’ve always been around. You need to be patient and listen to me.”

I can do that. But it’s hard. I’m angry. I want to burn things. It’s like I have a hungry little monster inside me. I let it out, it eats, and it grows. My bright child.

Dad told me he wasn’t going to take care of a bastard child (really kind of an anachronistic term) and Matt-

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Now I’m crying again. He was always mean to me. Nothing’s changed. Why am I sad???

August:Heaven:A Cell

Although it feels like I’ve been here for millennia, I have been assured that it’s only been a day. In addition to this horrific time torture I am being subjected to, I’ve not been able to see my Evelyn. I have no idea what she may going through. Is her cell like mine? A simple all white room, too bright, really, and there’s nothing in it. Nothing for the eye rest on, just white as far as said eye can see, but that turns out to be only three paces in any direction. There’s no conjuring here, although I was brought writing implements. Sitting on the floor as I write and it’s abysmal. Might spill the inkwell and see if I can jump through the resultant black spot. Or paint my body with the ink…

No one will tell me what’s going to happen. What this “trial” entails. I’m guilty. I’d confess if they’d let me. There is a guard outside my door. It’s less of a door than a wall that disappears when it enters. The guard is a shadow that slips around using a light source I can’t identify. I attempted to defy it and it slipped onto me, its dark self pasted to my own flesh.

“This is the pain of losing God,” it whispered in my ear. I felt a slight prickling on my flesh. And perhaps a few seconds of melancholy.

“I’d imagine, friend, that those pains are more pronounced in one who remembers their time on Earth. Those memories have long gone out with the tide in my case. You see I was a ghost on Earth for a very long time. I’m not even sure how I finally ended up here. Now if you’d be a good chap and let me out, I’d like to check on my wife.” I stepped toward the door, the shadow still clinging to my back. This time I felt a paralyzing pain accompanied by the memory of my father’s lash. I dropped to my knees and the thing left, it hand’t even delivered a message.

Now to lie on the cold, white floor until… something happens.

Next episode…

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Deadwater is a strange place full of strange people…. and some who are not people at all.

Serials

AMA - The journals of the demon Azazel, the half-demon Miriam, and August, a Victorian man trying to get out of Heaven.

ARA - The journals of the demon Azazel, the writer Rebecca, and a Victorian man trying to stay in Heaven

August Evelyn Nevernight - The tarot based journals of the writer Rebecca, haunted by August, who died in Deadwater and became a ghost.

Stand Alone Stories

Fried Freddies

Microfiche

After the untimely death of her mother, Rebecca, Miriam takes up the mantle of Deadwater’s unofficial scribe. Unlike Rebecca, Miriam aims to take an active role in the town’s welfare. Along with her new guardian, Azazel, Miriam will have to navigate her grief, her newfound power, and the oddity that is Deadwater.

August is trying desperately to get his wife, Evelyn back to Hell where she’s happier. It’s a weird ride.

For more Deadwater content, including the events leading up to the death of Rebecca (ARA), check out the Deadwater Navigation page.

9/12/2025: Ooops

9/13/2025: Now What?

9/14/2025: The Cathedral and The Shadow

9/15/2025: Choirs of New Hires

9/16/2025: Swallowing Fuckall

9/17/2025: God Has Not Spoken Since 1756

9/18/2025: Out of the Water, and Into the Mouth

9/19/2025: Everyone’s a Tormented Animal

9/20/2025: Listen

9/21/2025: Hypothesis Gash

9/22/2025: Solve et Coagula

Obituaries: A page from the Deadwater Chronicle

Take me back…

Azazel:Key West:9/12/25

It’s been a long day of bloodshed and battle.

We awoke before dawn to the familiar roar of a destroying angel. A fox’s shriek and a jet engine vibrating through you, picking you apart with each sentient decibel. Our shield held strong, we had people stationed at strategic points to keep psychic energy flowing into it. But hiding inside the shield is not how we win a battle around here.

My swords and knives were sharp and ready to spit flame with each cool touch of a raindrop. I rolled out of bed, grateful that demons don’t get hangovers, and split my human skin belly to belly with my nessmuk. The grub released from its fleshjelly prison. I never fight in that squishy meat suit. I need to feel the wounds upon my own burning flesh. I need to bleed and feel pain. The ache to ache drives me on.

There was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Miriam, skinny, hair in a single braid down her back, flames flickering in her eyes.

“Is that them?” The girl vibrated heat. I grinned.

“It’s them.” I stepped out of my trailer. “Remember what I told you, stick close to me. Listen to what I tell you. Don’t go off all teenaged and stubborn headed. You got me?”

She grinned hard and did a little hop, her skin flashed flame for a split second, “I got you, I got you.”

We met Mal, Angor Animi, Cogon, Calculi, Willow, Iahel, and several others outside Iahel’s trailer. Malheur and the tigers, the Ring Master, all of the hands and several performers were emerging from their various places of rest. Everyone was armed to the teeth. It was one destroying angel, but it would have its elementals with it. Those could be killed by regular means, but there were always a fucking lot of them.

With Mal at the head, we breached the shield and surrounded it. The goal was to kill the angel, but more importantly, keep the portal safe.

I won’t go into specifics, it was a hard battle, we lost a few. Iahel didn’t arc. Still a self important idiot.

Miriam, though. I don’t even know how to write this.

We were outside the shield, Mal was battling the angel while the rest of us took out elementals. Miriam got knocked down by an elemental’s fist. She was about to take another one. I was right there to help her.

But someone screamed her name.

The three of us looked, Rebecca, who wasn’t supposed to be out there, stood on the wrong side of the shield.

I was right there. Miriam was going to be fine. Hell, the kid had already taken down three of her own.

The elemental shot a water dart at mum. Hit her right in the throat. So much blood.

Miriam screamed so hard it ripped the air, flame erupted from her mouth. The elemental was done for. She didn’t stop, shooting flames at every enemy she saw as she marched to the angel. I ran after her, but she was so hot I couldn’t get close. The angel turned to her. Before the thing could make a move, Miriam screamed again. A shriek that dropped us all to our knees. The angel burst into flames. The elementals faded. The fight was over.

Miriam fainted.

The rest of the day was… well it’s always cleanup after a battle. Treat wounds, bury the dead…

The kid is, not ok. I guess time will tell how she grows from this. Mal and I talked. She needs to be in Deadwater for what’s coming there. I’m to accompany her. Watch over her.

Harpooned and bloodstained.

Next episode….

Miriam:Key West:9/12/25

I got mom killed. This is her journal. I’m reading it and keeping it. I’ll write like she did. I got my mom killed. I killed her. I can’t stop crying. I don’t know how to tell dad and Matt. What am I going to do? Why couldn’t it have been me?

It should have been me.

I want to die.

Mommy I’m so sorry…

I’m sorry to everyone…

August:Heaven:House Arrest

Well, I haven’t gotten her out of Heaven, but I did manage to break us out of house arrest. Simple, really, all I had to do was piss on the wall in the shape of a pentagram, and the wall disintegrated. We ran bladed through the streets pretending to be Jack the Ripper. At the first woman we saw I slashed her right across the belly, her guts spilled out onto the promenade.

Lo the taffeta.

“I should kill a man, shouldn’t I? I don’t really think that The Ripper liked women much. So I shouldn’t try to be him. But the opposite.”

“You don’t like men?” I said, showing the lady her guts as she screamed, dancing them back and forth in my hands. It was a little comical really. But she wouldn’t stop screaming so I stabbed her lungs. That was tougher than I thought, aiming through the ribs. Turned out to be easer going up through the thing above the intestines to the lungs. I shall have to get an anatomy book before our next outing.

“I like you, but men in general? Well, not the men here anyway. In Hell they’re different.”

I stood, “Any man in particular you like down in Hell?”

“August, it’s just different there. Everyone has sex with everyone. There’s no shame in it and monogamy is weird there. You’d be free to have sex with anyone, too. Not just me.”

The woman on the ground was still screaming. I guess I had missed the lungs after all. I stabbed my knife into her open mouth, she gurgled now instead. I wiped blood on my naked thighs. This was, perhaps, too many boundaries to cross all in one day. And the Administrator’s men were baring down on us anyway. I dragged my knife back out of the woman’s throat. Her guts were already starting to knit back together.

We were captured. I’m writing this from a lonely cell. Awaiting a trial apparently.

Not allowed to talk to Evelyn, but I can’t imagine how bad it could be. What else could they possibly do besides deport us to Hell?

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Take me back….

Azazel:9/11/25:Key West

It’s late. I’m drunk.

I should start when the fireball landed. She’s the most beautifully strange of all Mal’s daughters. Looks the most like him, pale with that blue-black hair. Not a fireball in personality, no in that regard she’s more like Mal as well: always watching, absorbing, analyzing.

When she stepped out of the cab in front of the trailer it was like a bolt hit me. Nay, a harpoon, for I feel like we’re fated. I don’t know what I mean. Only that we’re bound and she’ll be leading me in a chase for a very long time.

The instant she and Iahel met was fascinating.

I introduced them as half sisters.

“Oh sweeeetieeeee, it’s so good to meet you. You know there are five of us? You’re the baby though.” Iahel smoothed her sleek black hair.

Mariam brushed her hand away, brow furrowed. “I hate you. I feel you in my mind. Like sticky fingers picking through my thoughts. Take them out. Or I’ll cut them off.”

I maybe swooned. Iahel called her a “fussy child” and stormed out.

“Miriam, you’re her guest,” Rebecca, the Writer… I’ve never seen a woman so lost. Already she was a bit of pretty flotsam on life’s torrents, now she’s even less moored, less stable, she’ll go where she’s pushed. We need to keep pushing her in our shared direction.

The crowd gathered around the visitors then parted, and Mal walked through, black silk top hat, his wine-dark coat-tails flapping in the wind.

“Papa?”

She’s his spitting image. It’s really remarkable. In this, too, Rebecca stood aside. There’s nothing of her in the girl. Mal wrapped his arms around her. Somewhere Iahel sobbed.

“My girl!”

“I have to show you something.” She stood back and held out her hand, with the palm cupped, but empty. As we watched a rolling ball of flame grew in the little void space. Like a tiny sun, cradled in her soft pale flesh. She tossed the little ball up and caught it with her other hand, where it melted back into her. “I started getting these terrible fevers. Mom took me to the ER, they said I should be dead. But one night, I was lying in bed. I burned so bad. I thought I was going to like, spontaneously combust, you know? I got out of bed and stood in the middle of the room. I held my arms out in front of me and I thought of a flame thrower.” She grinned, “It worked! I’m a human flame thrower now!”

“We call talents like you woefires, my sweet,” Mal said, taking her hands in his. “I’m very proud of you. And I’m very glad you’re here. We’ll need you. Angels are particularly flammable.”

“I love that about them,” Miriam smiled, with all the malice.

“Darling, go with Azazel, get acquainted with the crew and with the plans for tomorrow’s storm. I’ve got to fill your mother in on all the excitement.”

She nodded, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to know you exist.”

“Ah, before I go. Do have a celly? I like to have all my girls in my phone.”

“Of course, papa.”

To be honest it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

I swear she was glowing as off we went, her arm linked in mine. She said she liked my beard and my eyes looked scary as fuck.

Harpooned.

She met the crew. We filled her in on our plan for the storm.

And then we all got blitzed. Except Miriam and Angor Animi, they did fire stunts, lighting up the pre-storm dark with flashes of orange blaze. She’s Hell personified. And she fell asleep curled up within the stone ring of the fire pit. I carried to her bed just as the wind picked up and the rain started to fall.

Rebecca:9/11/25:Key West

So many thoughts, so many emotions. Seeing Mal again was hard. I’m married now, but in my reality I never chose that. Circumstances are what they are. But I can’t help but wonder what would have been if we’d never done that ritual… Not that it matters I guess. I don’t know how to unravel time.

Iahel’s a pill. One of Mal’s other daughters. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that an immortal demon has other children. By other women… probably quite a few throughout time…

I hate time.

But Iahel, she called me “one of those perpetual victims.”

I wasn’t until I bought August.

I used to know exactly what I wanted out of life. Out of my future. Then all that changed and all I wanted was to get to the next day.

Perpetual victim…

I DID get help. I DID try to get rid of August. I’m not- that.

But if I were to want something, what would that even be?

I’ve been assigned to mom duty tomorrow. I’ll be with Dolphina keeping the little ones safe and hopefully not too scared. I can’t fight and I don’t have any powers. Mal said the storm is really angels.

I want to be not useless.

August:Heaven:House Arrest

House arrest! Unconscionable! It is literally impossible to hurt anyone here and yet we’re being treated like we have done. My beloved paces, her liberated spirit thrashing against this prison. Her eyes are wild and lunatic. Her fists clenched. Buttocks flexing in synch with my heart.

We’ve stopped wearing clothes. There’s really no point. We can’t leave the house, and our passion is inflamed so frequently that repeatedly lacing and unlacing a corset became particularly vexing.

My love’s insides are like the warmest, softest waters.

She says copulation is better in Hell.

She says I must stop calling it copulation.

Sex

Sex

Sex

Her scent immolates me. Her hair brushes across my naked flesh and I’m laid bare to the sky, awaiting the vultures.

We tried to open a portal today. We sat, sweaty and panting in the pentagram, Evelyn lit candles and I painted the outlines in my blood. In the center we sat, bare knees touching, palm to palm, heads bowed.

“Infernal spirits, be thou lurking?” Heaven is a cold place, I tried think heat into my body. A candle sat between Evelyn and I, heated air twisted up into our faces, I breathed it in deeply.

“Infernal spirits, be thou present?”

We heard a scurrying sound and a faint “We cannot reach you.”

The candles went out.

“August, you were so close.” Evelyn smiled at me, she cupped my face in her soft hands. There is nothing I can compare to being looked at with admiration by the woman you love.

I will free her from this prison.

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Tip the Witch

Take me back….

Azazel:KeyWest:9/10/25

Fireball of my dreams lands tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it. My horns are twitching in the most pleasing manner. I did let everyone know that I had dreamed of this fireball. Willow looked at Mal. Mal grinned and rubbed his hands together.

“I knew she’d figure it out.” He turned to the Ring Master, “We’re going to need two more sleeping births ready by tomorrow midday. See if Dolphina has room.”

I haven’t spoken much of the Ring Master. He is, after all, mainly a figurehead. The Circus in Black belongs to Mal and always will. But the Ring Master is, and always will be, the public voice of the Circus. A consummate performer and real weird guy. He’s not a demon, more of a thrall. Made one of those crossroads deals with Mal a hundred years ago or more and eternal Ring Mastership was the price they settled on. He has more to atone for than just selling his soul, but that’s a story for another day.

I digressed. He did respond, “My good Sir, did I hear you right in that we are to welcome a fireball to the circus on the morrow? I should like to press you for a few more details. Perhaps I could mock up a flyer, send the advance men out into the city. No doubt a human?” He paused, eyebrows raised, “Human fireball would be quite the draw…”

“That won’t be necessary, they’re only guests. You remember Rebecca, don’t you? She’ll be coming with our daughter, but only for brief visit.”

Iahel stormed out of the room. She hates that she’s one of five and not the only. Mal says he had to have five daughters with five women for reasons of fate or somebiz, but I think he’s just… well, a demon. Let’s be honest, we love a good fuck.

As for the Circus proper, we managed to squeeze the entire kit and caboodle into our protection zone. It’s crowded. It’s noisy. But the neighborhood seems to be enjoying it…. we’re pitching in of course, helping with plywood and securing whatever needs to be secured.

Two days until the storm.

Rebecca:Deadwater:9/10/25

Flight leaves tomorrow morning. Miriam is packed. We have discussed how very very important it is for her to never to that flame thing with her fingers in front of normal people again. Most importantly not at the airport. Dear Christ, the girl can create a ball of fire and just roll it around and between her fingers like it’s a coin. Among the many other errands I had to run today, I got fire extinguishers for the house.

Miriam had thoughts.

“Mom, I’m not going to burn the house down. Watch.”

We were standing alone in the kitchen. She made a little fire ball in the palm of her hand. It spun and burned there. It was so mesmerizing, for a second I forgot to be afraid.

Then she dropped it.

“No!”

She laughed, and the fire dissipated into a little poof of hot, rippling air.

“I control it, completely.”

“You are kind of terrifying. Sorry.”

She laughed again, “Yeah, I really like it.”

I don’t know what to do with this.

August:Heaven:Administration

Evelyn and I were called into the Administrative Office today for a little chat. Apparently there were some complaints about the croquette game.

“Fire is really not allowed in Heaven, for obvious reasons, but namely we try to make it unlike Hell here. As much as we can.” The Administrator sat behind a large mahogany desk. There was nothing on it, just a flat expanse of overly shellacked wood. He was in suspenders with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

“But everything regenerates here so what difference does it make?” Evelyn, always so insightful.

“She’s absolutely right, Sir. Nothing is permanent here. Just two days ago we were on the promenade and someone turned the whole thing into cotton candy. Which, to be sure, I understand, the cotton candy here is to die for, but it could be that walking on cotton candy and getting sticky shoes is someone’s idea of Hell. Despite it being very whimsical, of course.”

“That was delightful! So pink!”

“Pink is a hideous color. I detest it. My Heaven simply can’t have pink,” Evelyn propped her elbows up on the desk.

The Administrator stared at her across the vast expanse of mahogany.

“There are no dislikes in Heaven,” he lit a cigar that appeared from nowhere. “It is designed to give you everything you want and remove the capacity to not want.”

“Well, I guess something when wrong during my orientation, but I have a strong distaste for pink… and croquette. Among other things.”

“Perhaps my orientation failed as well. In this very room I spoke to you of my strong distaste for my wife before she was brought to me.” I looked quickly to Evelyn, “We’ve patched things up, of course.”

“Perhaps… I could get you both scheduled for reorientation. That is highly unorthodox, but given the circumstances…” He reached for a button on his desk. I set the mahogany alight. We ran.

I don’t want to be reprogrammed. Neither does Evelyn. We need to get out of here.

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The plants need coffee

Take me back…

Azazel:Key West:9/9/25

Fortifications are holding and the atmosphere feels like a whore on the corner, watching headlights rush by, knowing one pair will stop and be her doom.

Iahel interrupts me: It’s sex worker, not whore.

I growl at her: You can’t police my mind.

Iahel again. She never quits: Someone should, you’re a beast with archaic thoughts.

I decide to test her: You reading my mind without consent is rape.

She’s Iahel, so of course: Your mind is loud, I can’t help it.

Me: So you’re victim blaming?

The defeated wrinkles her nose: Asshole. -She storms out of the room. A storm departing in bell sleeves and braids.

Mal looks at me from behind the actual physical newspaper, which I thought they didn’t print anymore, “She likes you.”

“She flirts like a fifth grader. How does someone with access to so many minds manage to remain so naive?”

“She doesn’t try to understand much of what she hears. Just in one astral ear and out the other. It’s protective, but she’ll have to grow a spine soon. Or she’ll die.”

I chose not to respond. He didn’t look particularly upset, but he’s not easy to read. Nor is the newspaper, by the way, I got inky fingers and it smelled like elderly humans. Plus trying to figure out how to fold it so I could read what I wanted in compact package ended up in the paper bursting into flames and Iahel screaming that I was going to set the sofa on fire.

I only set fire to the things I want to burn.

The sofa is comfortable.

I hate waiting.

Rebecca:Deadwater:9/9/25

The dinner table was tense tonight. Ted really doesn’t want me to take Miriam to Florida. He seems to sense the stakes: something there is going to change everything here. He wasn’t his usual good humored self. Matthew was quiet, too, as a result. Miriam spoke at length about hurricanes and hardly ate anything. At the end of her speech she asked if we wanted to see a magic trick. Ted actually perked up a little.

“Sure, honey, what’cha got?”

Miriam held up a fist. I felt a strange tightness in my chest. Miriam’s index finger popped out from her fist. Flame flickered from the tip, like a flesh candle. She tucked her finger back in with the rest and grinned. I felt a little lightheaded.

“Cool yeah?”

“Whoa! You have to teach me that!” Matthew, sweet naive, Matthew stood and grabbed her now proffered hand from across the table. “I don’t even see any tubes or anything. Where did the flame come from? That was so rad!”

“A magician never reveals her tricks,” Miriam smiled as she swallowed her magic canary.

“Oh c’mon! I’m your brother!”

Miriam just shook her head.

“Mir, that’s- I mean, how?” Ted grabbed her hand next. “That was unbelievable.”

“Sweetie?”

Miriam looked at me.

“That was very impressive, but no more tricks at the dinner table ok, especially when you haven’t actually eaten any dinner. Also, no more fire, you’ll hurt yourself or burn the place down.”

I caught the hint of annoyance that flashed in her eyes, followed by something that looked like clarity.

“Sorry, mom,” she smirked and shoveled a fork-full of cold mashed potatoes into her mouth. I looked up at Ted, his mouth hung open, pure confusion clouded his eyes. I shrugged.

“It’s neat, but dangerous.”

“Yeah, dangerous,” he echoed. He poured another glass of wine. I asked Matthew who his next game was against and the men were suitably distracted from then on. Miriam cleaned her plate. And now I see why she had fevers, and why they disappeared…

August:Heaven:Corrupted

We’ve just had a lovely time at croquette. I drained the energy out of everyone and set all the balls aflame. While they lay in their stupor, Evelyn and I set the croquette course on fire. We destroyed everything. I was particularly fond of a metal table, the porcelain tea set atop it cracked and melted in pastel ribbons of glass running to the grass beneath. I wore only trousers and suspenders. Even my feet were bare. That was Evelyn’s idea. That I feel grass between my toes. She’s very tactile, she says everything has a soul and you can tease out the edges of a soul with your fingertips. I let melted glass run through my fingers and burn away my flesh down to the bone, Evelyn licked the bones clean and we walked home hand in hand.

I wish I had appreciated her more when we were alive.

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Dear gods I need coffee money

Take me back…

Azazel:Key West:9/8/25

Landfall expected on the 12th. Since Iahel’s trailer is built right over the Hell Portal, we’re fortifying. We can’t have it destroyed in the storm and the portal exposed. But we’re not talking plywood, this is a more spiritual fortification. First, we feed energy into the surrounding landscape. The rocks, trees, grass, shrubs, the insects, the birds, the tiniest fungal spoor, all of it gets a demonic boost. It’s nature imbued with a combo storm/angel repellent. Angels hate nature as much as they hate demons, and our energy will lend strength to nature, so it’s very effective.

Then we work on shielding. This is a blood ritual. We draw our own blood and offer it to the Earth, the soil acts as conduit, channelling deep Earth energy up to us, which we then use for our shield. The portal is in a pretty active neighborhood, so we worked under cover of darkness and Mal dropped a sleeping spell on the other residents of the park. We should get enough juice back from The Mother to shield them all from the storm.

Demons work all the miracles around here.

The last part of storm preparedness is my favorite. Sharpening my knives. These knives were forged specifically for an occasion like this many years ago. My blacksmiths forged potassium into the steel so when the blades get wet they bursts into flames. Angels hate fire even more than they hate nature and demons.

Fire is their death.

Flames are my life.

Which is why the dream I had last night is so intriguing, I dreamt a fire ball will land at the Key West International Airport the day before the storm hits.

Can’t wait to see what that’s about.

Rebecca:Deadwater:9/8/25

Tickets are purchased. Bags are packed. We don’t leave until early on the 11th. I am vibrating with anxiety at this point. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I can think about is landing in Key West the day before a massive hurricane is set to make landfall. And seeing Mal again. And whatever else we may be walking into.

Miriam, the other hand, is suddenly all placid waters. She’s actually smiling. She sleeps. No fevers. She’s positively radiant.

Now I’m the one having dreams. I dreamt about Azazel swinging flaming swords in front of a pink trailer.

I’m actually looking forward to seeing him again. I owe him a hug he’ll hate.

August:A Hell all our own

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve told Evelyn that I want to raise Hell with her. She laughed, at first. But then I remembered. I remembered what it was like to have stolen energy coursing through me. To rule with intention. And I pictured our neighbors. I remembered how I used to open my mouth wide and draw a breath from deep within me. I opened wide and sucked the neighbors’ energy. Then I lit the pentagram on fire.

“August Evelyn Nevernight! Where did you learn to do that?” Evelyn hopped the flames to stand inside the circle, singeing her petticoat a little. I jumped after her.

“I learned it while I was a ghost,” I put my hand on her cheek and felt her smooth skin. I was mainly too afraid to touch her back when we were alive. It was so very easy to send a woman into madness with just the slightest impropriety in those days.

“August,” she put her hand on mine, kissing my palm. “I’m trying to get back to Hell, I hate it here.”

“So let’s turn this place into Hell, my love. A Hell of our own.”

“You would do that for me?”

“I would do that for us.”

“Oh, August!” She embraced me lustily.

“Can I confess something?”

Evelyn pulled away slightly. “What?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you gyrating on top of me two days ago.”

Her eyes lit up and she smiled at me. “We could try it without disemboweling you this time.”

I must admit I nearly collapsed in her arms and had quite the… well… stiffness. It seems we had quite the wrong idea about women when I was alive.

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So tired. Coffee me?

Azazel:9/7/25:Key West

This place is sweat and bruised fruit.

You’re holding a bruised peach, it smells intoxicating, saliva pools in your mouth and you hold it in the hollow of your tongue. Beneath the sweetness there is rot, but you’re on the hunt, the twin-backed beast of hunger, you don’t care. You can already feel your teeth sinking into the fuzzskinned fruit.

Pink.

Edge.

You push your thumb into the brown spot and it’s warm. Rot does that, produces heat. Entropy is an engine. You can feel the stringy bits of peachflesh rub against your thumb’s nervy skin and slide past, leaving slime trails.

This skin memory will stay with you.

You pull your thumb out and now there’s a gaping hole in your peach. Gooey rot has erupted over the edge, a pulpy lahar oozing away from the caldera. You’re looking at that hole and you’re thinking, my tongue would fit in there.

Do you dare devour the edge of decay?

Hurricane’s coming.

August:Heaven is a Memory Hole

I am whole again. Tongue and intestines back where they ought to be. Evelyn has been in an ill temper since this morning as I remembered where I’d seen her “yoga circle.” Hellbunny1, that rascal, would burn them into the hardwoods and cause the Writer apoplexy. Those were amusing days. I am forgetting, it seems. Perhaps that is the purpose of this place, to make you forget what you were, to change you into a quiet, complacent… what? What are we here?

I used to kill things. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I should be here. I do miss that black, furry ball of fury. Sweet and salty Hellbunny. I wonder what ever became of him. We had brought him to the Circus when we gave up everything we owned to get rid of me.

I was quite troublesome. Much like Evelyn is now….

What if I, joined her? I had powers, I opened portals to Hell, it was I who summoned Hellbunny. I could find those dark tendrils of life again. Let them surround me and work through me. I could create that mischief I once did, only now with my wretched wife by my side. Or let her take the lead, she’s quite spirited. Perhaps we could, possibly, by some chance learn to tolerate each other through this common exercise. I’d like to get my memories back, get my self back. I was a ghost longer than I was a living man.

I sit here on the promenade with a spot of tea, watching people walk by and I wonder, could I siphon energy like I used to? The Administrator says changing locations once you’re settled is unlikely, so what’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Perhaps I could… try.

Rebecca:9/7/25:Deadwater

Miriam is in hysterics demanding that I fly with her to Florida in time to meet the hurricane. I don’t know what kind of insane person flies TO a hurricane. With their child? But I guess it’s me.

Her fevers and night terrors are the worst they’ve ever been. The ER doctors told me she shouldn’t be able to survive the temperatures she’s reaching. They wanted to hold her for observation, do more tests, maybe admit her. But I don’t think she’s ill. This is something else. My little girl is bellwether. There is fire inside her that glows brighter the more urgent the impending trouble is.

I’ve talked to her father (Ted-father, not Mal). I did not tell him that she thinks her real father is there and that he needs help. I just told him that maybe we’ll get there and she’ll see nothing is wrong and it will cure her somehow. He’s reluctantly agreed.

I’m purchasing tickets.

Miriam says we need to be in Key West in three days.

I feel too light to be living.

I feel too light to be alive.

I feel too light to be decaying.

I feel too light to be darkness.

I feel too light to have a history.

I feel too light to have a future.

May the devil take my being and burn it down to ashes.

I feel too light to be ashes.

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Buy a witch a coffee?

Take me back…

9/6/25: Florida: Key West

We have reached the moron infested swamp. I’m being unfair. The land, Florida, is a remarkable place and I love a romp through the wet, seething everglades. The wildlife is not the issue. Nor is the climate, I can take the heat, and the humidity. It’s the humans here that give me agita, for the most part. Gross deniers of The Mother’s sickness. And then there’s Iahel.

We pull up to her trailer. It’s decked out like the Queen of Woo Woo lives there. Every disparate, appropriated new age sign, symbol, and signifier is affixed to the flimsy exterior, which is, of course, painted pink. I get a gut ache just looking at it. Iahel runs out at soon as we park. Long blonde hair flowing, weird floral robes billowing, scarves everywhere, she jangles like she just robbed all the kiddies at an arcade.

“You MADE it! I knew you’d come. Not a day went by that I didn’t tell the kittens that I knew you’d come.” She blinks deliberately, her eyes are blue. I want to vomit.

She’s like, twenty-three going on old money Boston. The kittens are lolling about all over the place. Twenty? Thirty? I’m hungry just looking at them. Buncha snacks.

I got out of the van first. Like ripping off a bandaid. That sweet bright flash of pain.

“Azazel! Ugh, you’re filthy. Are you thinking about eating my kittens? Filthy abomination.” She turned to Mal next, “Papa, a blank wall as always.” She’s so perturbed at this, hates that he won’t let her read his mind. “Willow! Your mind is always so peaceful!” She scowled at Angor Animi, Calculi, and Cogon, “You three can stay outside.”

Calculi licked one of her knives and Cogon did a handstand, clapping his feet. Angor Animi was checking his vitals, not paying any attention to her.

“Well, let’s inside, ducklings, I have the chiller running just for you. And I ran down to the deli for some victuals. I hope you’re hungry.”

Iahel is a mindreader, a very skilled mind reader. She doesn’t have to read all of us, she can turn it off, she just won’t. Willow and Mal can block it- I cannot. But I have fun with it at least.

Inside, the trailer is just as obnoxious as outside. Incense fogging the place up, dried flowers, tarot cards (which she cannot read, by the way. Not a skill she has), one of those Tibetan bowls, rain sticks, and perhaps the most irritating thing of all, a neon sign that says “manifest” in squiggly font.

We sat in her poofy furniture.

“Papa, I’m so happy to see you. I’m in such trouble down here.”

“It’s been too long, Iahel.” Mal does this thing where he stares right into the depths of your very being instead of asking the question that needs to be asked. Iahel squirmed.

“Well, Papa, the Key West portal is in sincere danger.”

Malphas raised an eyebrow, the Key West portal has never once been in danger. Angels burst in to flames just thinking about Key West. That’s why Iahel is stationed here, she’s useless, but she doesn’t need to be anything else.

“Papa, your goat just thought me useless.”

“Please continue, my lovely Iahel,” again with the ice. He thinks she’s wasting his time, vying for attention. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Iahel shot me a glance.

I showed her my tongue, a sign of peacemaking among goats.

I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation and get to the point. There are new angels in town, but they are not the builders and warriors that we usually see when a portal is in danger, they’re destroyers. Lucifer was once a destroying angel, before the revolution. Destroyers only come into play when something big is about to happen, plagues, natural disasters, world wars, genocide, that kind of thing. The queasy assumption is hurricane, but both Willow and I are prickling at this. It feels bigger than a hurricane. Mal is inclined to agree, though he doesn’t feel the future like Willow and I do.

Iahel is pleased with herself and insufferable.

The circus will be setting up in Key West for the foreseeable future.

At least there’s a lot of half naked men here.

Yoga in Heaven

Evelyn showed me all about yoga this morning. Interesting stuff. She’d carved a perfect circle into the floor of the second study and had then drawn a star inside. One, that one being me, of course, is to lie down inside the circle, much like Da Vinci’s famed Vitruvian Man, with one’s head at the top point of the star and then arms and legs aligned in like manner with the other points. Then Evelyn put black candles in between the star’s points and lit them. She said all of this was supposed to be relaxing, but if I ‘m being honest I was slightly concerned that I’d accidentally knock over a candle if I was called upon to move at all. Evelyn put me at ease, however, and instructed me to remain perfectly still, perfectly relaxed. She then placed a velvet cloth over my eyes that was perfumed with the most intoxicating scent. I insisted she wear it regularly, but of course she made excuses. Anything to avoid pleasing me, her husband.

Now the rest is a bit of a blur, but she cut open my shirt, slashed open my belly and snatched out fists full of my intestines before I could even render suitable protestations. She thus straddled me in the most unladylike manner, and, I perish to write this, she gyrated in a filthy simulacrum of a whore, not at all like a chaste and devoted wife. She then did mad incantations, ate of me, and bit out my tongue before swallowing it whole.

Well.

I’ve let her know that I’ll need a few days to recover before I do any more yoga. Fortunately my tongue has almost regenerated and my intestines were easy enough to stuff back inside before my flesh reformed.

I think I must have done something wrong, however, as Evelyn does not seem pleased.

I wish I could stop thinking about her gyrating while covered in blood. The vision has quite taken over my mind and I was, unfortunately, trying to remember where I’d seen such a yoga star before. But now all I think about is my wife on top of me. Most unsettling.

9/6/25: Deadwater

The husband has returned. He said he missed me. I think he meant it. He brought me gifts, thoughtful ones. He’s so nice. Why don’t I trust it? Is there something there? Or did August just wreck me?

I drank, not too much, we snuggled on the sofa and watched a movie. It was fine. It was better than fine, I liked it. He’s cute, he smells nice. He’s not Mal, but… I get so lonely.

And sex felt, exciting, with this man I barely know who’s known me for over a decade. I thought I would hate it, but, I didn’t. It was like part of me remembered. Some part of me that exists above all the others, in all the planes and all the timelines, She remembered being with him and that made it all ok.

Now I can’t stop wondering, what am I? If I exist in all these places? If there’s an omniscient me, can I reach Her?

Can I know everything I’ll ever go through?

Have I lost my mind?

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9/10 authors are under-caffeinated