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Angel Dust Apocalypse [Jeremy Robert Johnson] on malpcarvegu.tk *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. As of the majority of these stories have been.
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- Angel Dust Apocalypse
- Angel Dust Apocalypse book by Stephen Graham Jones
- Empire: A Jack Sigler Thriller, Book 8 by Jeremy Robinson
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Good Omens. It wasn't his problem. Truth be told, it wasn't anyone's problem. And it was also everyone's problem. They spent far too much time trying to assign blame rather than dealing with the calamities before them, but such was the nature of their cycle. Just before the end, they would all be too busy trying to avoid the finger of blame to do anything else.
Nobody wanted to be held responsible for what they could all see on the horizon. He was there to witness them again. Their technology changed. The specifics of their beliefs changed. But there were certain things about their civilizations that never changed. Every culture came to an end sooner or later. Often in the most spectacular and terrible ways. It was unfortunate that he was only called back on the eves of their civilizations. Very few called him at their heights and their peaks. They were too busy enjoying themselves then.
It was only in their valleys that they would beseech him to wash away their woes in a fresh deluge. Was he merely a witness to their own actions or was he a servant to their deepest frustrations?
He used to be more sure of his answer, but the centuries had brought him new perspectives on this world and of others. Who was he to say he was above them all? Who was he to say he wasn't just another part of the system that pushed their societies through continual growth, death, and rebirth? A servant has no agency , and he certainly didn't see himself as their master. He only came when he felt needed. This morning, he was only as large as a man, but he was not as limited in form as his charges.
Empire: A Jack Sigler Thriller, Book 8 by Jeremy Robinson
He could grow as large as the entire planet, take in all their thoughts as they passed through him. He knew what they were thinking as one mind, even if none of them individually could wrap their thoughts around something so complex. He felt their moods as one, and at the twilight of each civilization, it usually turned his wings black, and his eyes black as well, deep as the emptiness of space from which all warmth had burned away.
They were attacking one another now.
Everyone wanted the last scraps of their tired civilizations to themselves. Did he instigate their wars? He didn't like to think so.