Chronicles of the
Eternal Realm of Glory

By
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
http://noahidebooks.angelfire.com


STORIES for Volume One
The Universal Angel (Short Story)
Falling into Grace (Short Story)
Melanie and Daniel (Short Novella)
Daniel and Abraham (Short Story)
Dario and Andrew – Two Clowns at a Circus (Short Story)
Master Radcliffe and the 7 Epochs of the Shadow Wars (Short Story)
Melanie’s Dilemma (Short Story)
Melanie and Bag Man and an Undying Love (Short Story)
The Dark Sound of Chaos (Short Story)
Master Radcliffe’s Lazy Sunday Afternoon (Short Story)
Melanie and Daniel 2 (Novella)
Melanie and Daniel 3 (Novella)
Rest In Peace (Short Story)





The Universal Angel

By
Daniel

(All stories in this saga written and dedicated to the singer Melanie Chisholm)

Raphael looked at the orange. It looked tasty. Tasty and refreshing. But his will was absolute – totally and utterly committed – and he would not relent from the challenge posited to him by the lord of darkness.

He looked at his watch. 3 hours to go. His throat was, perhaps, drier than the Sahara on the hottest of summer days, and his stomach was in agony. 4 days straight without any water and he was nearly dead. And the orange, sitting on the table in front
of him, the lord of darknesses required temptation for the challenge, never looked so appealing.

But so much was at stake – so much at stake. 14 million years of service to Satan’s throne of darkness versus 14 million to his own. The challenge had been so tempting, and the agreement watertight, that how could the firstborn son of God truly
refuse? How could he ever look his angelic community in the eyes again should he have not taken such an opportunity. Of course, he would rule, then. He would rule the universe – the entire known and inhabited universe, should he accomplish the
challenge of the lord of evil. And in the glory that would be his – in the glory that would be practically eternal – he could bring to life the ways and beauties of the most high, especially to those who had never tasted such graces. He could not
fail – whatever else, he could not fail.

* * * * *

Daranok looked through the screen at the enemy, Satan standing beside him. ‘He’s fucked. He has got be fucked. I mean, he has got to be fucked.’ Satan said nothing, but just stared at the slumped figure of Raphael on the floor, hoping his
ancient adversary had indeed passed on to Sheol. Gabriel, standing beside him, looked at the clock. ’30 seconds to go,’ he said to the other two. Satan gave no reaction. And then, the chime going off, Gabriel rushed in with a pitcher of ice water,
hoping against hope that his older brother had indeed survived the ultimate challenge.

* * * * *

After 4 months in hospital, having received a healthy number of visitors, Raphael had the slightest of grins on his face. He was a little happy now – just a little happy. He would be back to work soon, back in the highest most diamond city of the
realm of wonder, God’s heavenly domain. But it would be different work, now. Most definitely different. For he had already sensed it – sensed it in his spirit. The withdrawal had taken place, and the darkness, the evil, had submitted and
surrendered. For Satan, despite the evil of countless generations practiced, was still an angel dedicated to honouring a divine contract. And in the 14 million years of light ahead of the Realm of Wonder, Raphael looked pleasantly forward to all the
divine opportunities he had available to him with his malevolent, diabolical opponent. And then he smiled.

THE END


Chronicles of the
Eternal Realm of Glory

“Falling into Grace”


Satan. It was a name, once, not long ago that, when spoken amongst the heavenly diamond cities of the Realm of Glory, brought fear and worry. But that was then. That was then. Because now, three hundred years since a certain wager had been decided, a
wager between the higher powers of the Realm, a wager in which Satan tasted his once held vice of being humbled under the powers of the Sovereign One, that name was now tossed around casually, if at all bothering to be spoken, as one of the most laughed
upon and derided members of the eternal realm. For Satan, truly fallen from grace of the position of Adversary to Archangel Raphael, the Devil himself, these days, in honouring the terms of the contract upon his defeat, swept city streets, cleaned
toilets, and dealt with sewerage on a regular basis. And not exactly in the best of positions either amongst the regular other workers in such an occupation – in no way indeed. For Satan was the general dog’s body. If there was a crappy job, Satan
was your man: In fact, the crappier the better as far as some people were concerned, and in the long held spirit of vengeful revenge held by the citizens of the realm upon their ancient adversary, going out of their way to find really horrible jobs was
almost deemed a pleasant undertaking.

Satan himself, at first, didn’t really mind. He felt that Raphael was probably just having a go at him and reminding him of his past sins. But after the first few years had passed, with no sign of relief at hand, Satan gradually sank further and
further into misery at his lowly position in life. And now, three hundred years after being treated as the butt joke of so many, Satan was miserable. Life fucking sucked.

His pay was total crap. Fifty bucks a week. So crappy, in fact, that he couldn’t afford to rent anywhere or share a group house and, having purchased a tent, he lived in a park, near a toilet, and made do with that. The toilet had a tap with running
water which he would clean himself with, and was able to shit there, naturally. The cops occasionally hassled him, letting him know people were often offended by his presence in a place they liked to recreate in, but they would eventually leave him
alone as his claim that he had nowhere else to go usually softened their hearts just enough for them to snigger a little and move on.

He usually spent the Fifty bucks on food and drink. It was enough to cover basic meals, and occasionally he would buy a hamburger and a coke, which he liked. His work overalls were provided, alongside his shoes, so he didn’t have to buy any extra
clothing, but had a few jeans and t-shirts he would wear in his free time.

Unfortunately his demonic entourage had abandoned him, now calling him a total loser. And, as such, really nobody gave a fuck about him anymore. Nobody at all, just about, apart from Raphael who would visit him nearly every first day of the month. But
all Raphael would do was lecture him on his past sins, and remind him that he was his pawn for 14 million years. And then he would laugh at Satan and call him ‘Sucker’.

All of this had been getting to Satan and now, three hundred years into his sentence, he finally started crying at nights. No, in no way tears of repentance of past sin, but tears of sorrow. He’d had enough. Really, he had had fucking enough. God
was still the fucking bastard he had always maintained he was, but Satan had finally realized what he had always feared – God was a sovereign cunt and, in the end, he could get you back for your sins, and in a way which really would rub it in.

So, the current state of Satan, adversary of God, in the Realm of Eternal Glory one fine Sunday morning, was misery. Total misery. And that is when a new person came into the life of the master of evil.

The Celestyel Angel Melanie was a very attractive angel. Very pretty. And also very talented at music, singing extremely well. She’d had good chart success, had a large number of fans on ‘rww.heavenspace.heav’ and, all things considered, happy
enough with everything in life. Yes, generally happy enough, apart from the minor problem of having no boyfriend. You see, no man had yet touched her, somewhat daunted by her looks and star status. This didn’t really bother Melanie, but she yearned
for the touch of a guy, and to enjoy that forbidden fruit so many of her female angelic sisters all talked about. ‘Perhaps one day,’ she thought to herself. ‘Perhaps one day.’

Today was Sunday, and after attending Assembly that morning, hearing a familiar sermon on the virtues of godly living, Melanie had decided to visit a nearby park and have a quiet picnic by herself, watching the swans and enjoying life. She packed a
picnic bag full of fried chicken, cola, water, apple juice, fruit salad, and some crisps. And, packing the bag into the back of her car, tossing the rug in, Melanie smiled to herself at the happiness she would have with a quiet day to herself, out in
the sun.

Arriving at the park, she pulled up into a carpark, stopped the car, and got her bag and rug. Walking onto the park-grounds, she looked around, noting it was quiet today, and only seeing the bag man over by the toilets were he lived. She called him the
‘Bag Man’ as she didn’t know his name and had never introduced herself. She was silently puzzled why he lived in the park. As far as she knew everyone in the Realm had a good income and could afford to live in at least a nice unit. But this guy
lived in the park for reasons known only to himself. ‘I guess he must like the lifestyle,’ was her only conclusion.

She reached the centre of the park were the pond was, placed her rug near the edge, opened her picnic bag and began her feast. The chicken tasted good and as she sat chewing on a wing, looking around, she again noticed the bag man over near the toilet.
He looked as if he was reading something. ‘Probably not much else to do,’ she thought to herself.

Drinking her apple juice she looked at the still waters of the pond. The swans glided, seemingly effortlessly over the surface, busily engaged in the things swans occupied themselves with. She wondered to herself what it would be like to be a swan. To
be free, with no cares, no responsibilities. It must be the easy life, she thought, and in some ways she envied them. But, no, she wouldn’t swap her glory for the life of a swan, no matter how effortlessly they swam over the water. Taking a bread
roll from her picnic bag she picked off little pieces and threw them at the swans, who swam over and started eating them. It was so relaxing, and peaceful. So idyllic that, really, life couldn’t get any better.

Sitting there, watching the day pass, Melanie thought on her recent life. The new album was doing really well now. It had peaked at number 11 on the Realm charts, her highest position ever, and the first single had got to number 8. She was possibly at
her peak, and she knew it, but things were hopefully still looking up. ‘Just stay committed,’ she constantly reminded herself. Her mother had visited her recently, talking her usual stories, fussing her usual way. But that was mum. Really, like
her to fuss. But Melanie knew she cared and was grateful because of it. And sitting there, thinking how nice it was of her mother to care for her, she reminded herself that, as an Angel of God, so should she care. Care enough to help people, when they
were down, and to give a damn, even about the most despondent of souls.

Suddenly she needed to relieve herself and, rising, made her way over to the toilets. She noticed again the bag man reading his book, wondering what it was, then went into the ladies toilet to be about her business. Coming out she looked at the bag man
and thought to herself what she had just been thinking on. ‘Care’. She was supposed to care. And perhaps, just perhaps, Bag man needed a friend. Someone to talk to, to chat with. Someone to be there for him when perhaps others had given up and
forsaken his life. So, thinking it a good idea, she carefully approached and introduced herself.

‘Uh, hi. I’m Mel.’
Satan looked up at her, looked at her happy face, almost wanted to smile, but looked back down at his book and continued reading.’
She thought about that but decided to persevere. ‘Do you mind if I sit down? She asked. He said nothing so, assuming he really didn’t mind, sat down opposite him. She looked around. ‘Nice day, isn’t it?’ Still no reply. ‘What are you
reading?’
This time he reacted, holding the cover of the book to her. It was a standard ‘Realm Bible’.
‘Oh.’ She said. ‘So you are spiritual?’ But he said nothing.
She looked at him, a little frustrated at the lack of response, but decided enough was enough. If he really didn’t want to speak, perhaps it was best not to bother him. She stood up, looked at him, and said, ‘Well, Seeya around, perhaps.’ And
giving him a last look walked off, wondering just what was going on in his head.

* * * * *

Melanie was lying on her back on her double bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had earphones on and was listening to her CD walkman. ‘The other side of life, where the wolves and jackal’s play, where the darkness has its might, where the sinners
have their say. The other side of life, is a place where love is lost, where the price of life is high, where that price comes at a cost.’ Those lyrics Melanie had heard many times. They were a spiritual band, ‘The Light Crusaders’, and they
were an inspiration to Melanie, especially at times when she bemoaned her virginity and their lyrics encouraged purity. She would mate one day. She knew that. She did not really know who with, but she was sure it would be the right one when she found
him. She was sure of that.

She thought on ‘Bag Man’. Perhaps, living out there in that wilderness, away from a softer feminine touch, he could be lonely. Very lonely, despondent even. Fed up with it all, and even crying at night. And, thinking that, she suddenly felt for
his heart and how bad he could be feeling. And suddenly, overcome with a desire to help him in some way, she got up from her bed, went to her kitchen and filled a picnic bag with various food items, and grabbed some books and little puzzle games, and
left her apartment, heading for the park.

* * * * *

‘Yes, diamonds are the hardest substance. So our cities are the hardest cities in creation. Throughout all the Realms of Existence, it is our cities which are the hardest. The strongest. And, with the beauty of diamonds, the most glorious. And
hopefully the most valuable.’
‘That is interesting,’ responded Melanie to Bag Man’s wisdom.
‘Of course, very few appreciate what we have, and few understand how important it is to maintain our glory and improve upon it. Raphael is a fool. A foolish angel. He lets angels carry on their own lives as they see fit, doing practically whatever
they want, as long as they comply with the law. I mean, that is insane. Totally insane. People have so much inner talent and capabilities that they need a strong, determined leader. A leader who can get the best out of them. Not let them be so slack
and second rate.’
‘And you are that leader, are you?’
‘Hey, I was born for that. I am the greatest there ever has been, and the greatest there ever will be. I really am the God of glory, you know. The God of glory.’
Melanie nodded, but kept her opinion to herself. Bag man, it seemed, was quite an intense individual. He seemed to have a very strong sense of self worth and self capability, but she questioned just how much reality he had taken in. Just how aware he
was of the way things were. The way it was.

‘And how will you achieve your glory?’ she asked him.
He looked at her for a moment, as if thinking about that, then looked down. ‘I don’t know. I almost had it, but it was taken from me. And now life sucks. But I will get the glory one day. I will, you hear me. I will. It is just a matter of
time.’
‘I believe you.’
He looked up at her, a sincere look on his face. ‘You do?’
‘Yes.’
‘Uh, thanks. Good to have a follower.’

They chatted on for a while longer, sharing a meal and watching the day pass by. Melanie give him a Rubik’s cube and some other puzzles and finally, feeling she had done her good deed, bid him farewell and returned home.

* * * * *

Daniel thought it over. Yes. Yes, it was the right time to move. The right time to move. Melanie had finally given him her address after all his years of adoring emails and, while he was devoted to a number of girls in his heart, Melanie was one
right near the top of the list. Yes, he would lock up his mansion and start again in the new Diamond city, only taking his bare essentials and his bank account details.

Daniel had been a fan of Melanie’s music for centuries now. She was, in his heart, exactly the type of girl he desired an eternal relationship with. And perseverance was definitely the call of the day to hopefully attract her attention and win her
heart. There was no real other way in the end.

* * * * *

‘Of course, the Dragon is the most powerful of all God’s creatures. And I am a Dragon, Melanie. I am a grand and glorious Red Dragon, the most feared of all God’s creatures.’
Melanie listened intently as Bag Man continued with his rhetoric. ‘You sound like Satan himself,’ responded Melanie.
‘Well why wouldn’t I?’
She looked at him closely, looking closely at his face, and then noticed it. Despite the grime and dirt which he had been covered with, and the filthy beard he was wearing, yes, it was him. She recognized him now. It was Satan. Satan himself.
‘Uh, fuck. Um. Sorry, I have got to go.’ She quickly got to her feet, alarmed at the company she was in, and hurried off, not turning her back. Satan was not someone to tangle with. Definitely not someone to tangle with at all.

* * * * *

Satan looked at the chapter. It was the Christian Bible he had picked up, just for a change. Something different to read rather than his standard texts. And he was looking at 1 Corinthians chapter 13. He looked at it, thought on Melanie, and thought
it would be nice to have that sort of love with a lady, perhaps someone like Melanie, or some other love. It would be nice. And it would be especially nice to have a home to live in with such a lady – a home with servants, and nice cutlery, and a new
car, and vacuum cleaners and happy children, and everything fine and dandy. It would be nice. But, of course, he had never married. Never had any children. Never gotten around to it. He had been preoccupied with his position of power in the Realm
and had never quite been able to find that female relationship, apart from the prostitutes, which could have satisfied such urges. But, well, it would be nice, he thought to himself. It would be nice.

* * * * *

Melanie thought on the sermon she heard that morning. ‘Falling into the Grace of God’ meant accepting, in the end, our frailties and weaknesses. And accepting them in others. And then, because of that, accepting them for all that they really could
be anyway. And, without that Grace. Without that Grace which accepted people and didn’t try to exalt itself in pride against them, which didn’t ridicule or belittle them as if they were nothing. Without that Grace of God which, when in the end you
realized you needed so much anyway, how could you really find in your own heart anything worth calling yourself ‘Angelic’ for anyway? If you could not show that Grace, the Grace you yourself relied upon, how could you look in the mirror and be
pleased with the picture you saw. How could you.

She would go back in a few days. Back to the park and speak with Bag Man again. She would try again, trying not to judge him. Trying to accept him as he was and realize he was how God had made him and how he wanted to be. And, as worthy as any other
of God’s children, he was worthy of kindness and love, just as she herself was.

* * * * *

Daniel looked at the flat. It was on the second storey, but looked quite spiffy, and the rental price was quite affordable. He would look inside but, if everything was ok, this one would do. It was close to Melanie and in a suitable location. Really,
it was ideal.

* * * * *

‘Yeh. I guess so Melanie. I guess so.’
‘That is why I work hard to get along with people. To try and be accepted by them. That is why I do it.’
‘But shouldn’t you just try and be yourself in the end?’
‘I am being myself. That is part of my self expression – caring about the opinions and hearts of other people. Caring for them and what they want and expect from me. In a way it is part of service – serving the community. Remember what Jesus
said: He who will be greatest amongst you must be servant of all. Remember that.’
‘Jesus, huh. Yeh, I have been studying his stuff recently. He was a reasonable thinker. Deep on some issues, confused on some others. He was ok.’
‘I think he is brilliant.’
‘Maybe. A bit of a heretic towards his people’s religion, though, don’t you think?’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘They crucified him. I mean, he didn’t exactly get along with the Rabbis like you think is so important, did he?’
She considered that. ‘Interesting point, I guess. But the New Testament explains that. God moved on from a stubborn child to people who would listen to the message of truth. People who had grown up. People chosen by God from the foundation of the
world.’
‘Predestination, huh?’
‘Yes, Satan. Predestination.’
‘And what of the Revelation? I don’t recall any of that coming to pass.’ She looked at him, considering her response. It was a good point he had raised. And then she decided to respond. ‘Well, you are stuck here for 14 Million Years, aren’t you?’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked, suddenly taken aback.
‘Well it sounds like the Ages of Ages to me.’
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind. Well, I have to be going – things to do. But I will be back tomorrow, k. See you then.’
‘Yeh, ok. See you then.’
She left him then, returning to her car, and her mind starting to think a little over his words about Jesus. Perhaps they were pertinent points. Certainly some food for thought.

* * * * *

Melanie and Satan developed a relationship over those few years she visited him. It was a relationship of friendliness, Melanie doing her best to show Satan the grace she knew God desired her to. And she hoped Satan realized she cared about him, even
if not romantically interested.

Eventually, though, she started visiting him less and less, satisfied that she had, to a degree, done her good deed. He was not the one for her, if that had ever been a consideration, so for now she would remain virginal. Whoever the man was to tame
her wild heart, well time would tell on that. Time would definitely tell on that. But for now life went on for the angel Melanie and only the future could guess just what would happen next.

The End


Chronicles of the
Eternal Realm of Glory

“Melanie and Daniel”

If 4 years with Satan had taught Melanie anything it was that without a heart which showed grace – without a heart which showed tolerance, acceptance and mercy - only judgementalism would arise and, in that spirit of judgementalism, when placed upon an
individual in the pride of heart which renders irrevocable judgements of hatred, criticism and mockery, such pride would eventually be found out and undone by the glory God would give to the one abased in such eyes. For Melanie knew a truth – a truth
she had learned which she now held sacred - ‘What am I, really?’ Melanie thought to herself. I know I am pretty. I know I am talented. I know I am popular. But where have I come from? And where am I going? And what does the future hold for me?
I know, once, when I was a child, I had immature ways. I smoked often, and would curse from time to time. And while I often justified my vengeance, as I grew I came to realize that such ways just don’t work as well in the end as kindness and
friendliness. For a heart which shows hatred and pride towards another heart, inevitably in my experience, just calls itself a snob. It feels as if it has all these great values, but looks at the way it treats people and ends up saying ‘Well what
makes me so great? Aren’t I just a nasty bitch which people don’t always like anyway?’ And then, in my experience through life, I have watched some of those I derided. And I have learned this lesson – this inevitably true lesson. So many
people – so many people who have chosen good over evil, even in the absolute crappy way I once viewed them – so many of them, even slowly mind you, but so many of them start gradually and carefully improving. And, after time, I notice some of those
I once derided so greatly – some of them are now quite nice people. They dress a bit better, smile a bit more, speak a little more softly and display a bit more talent. And while once I derided so many people as ‘Try Hards’ I have noticed them
getting better and better. For it is a truth I have learned. It was a song – I song I heard about one of those Christian artists. I forget her name, now. But I liked her in my youth. It had a line which went ‘We’re all just diamonds in the
rough, but we love because he first loved us.’ So all of us are diamonds – diamonds in the rough. We have unpleasant bits. Crude bits. Nasty bits. We can mock, deride and hate. We can insult, hurt and even fight. But we are not finished yet.
We have not yet arrived at were we are going or were we are supposed to be. And perhaps we will never reach the end of that destination. But as we journey along the road – as we venture further along the walk of life – we, putting it simply, grow
up. And we learn better values. Values we had not really known in younger years. Values which show just how juvenile or stupid earlier ways of thinking really were. And I have noticed, many people slowly and gradually learn these values, and the
earlier ones too. So, well, what I am saying to myself is this. Why judge someone so harshly. Why be so hard on someone, so insistent on pointing out their faults or shortcomings. For they may well get there eventually on what you perceive as
weaknesses or faults. And this thinking permeated the mind and heart of Melanie for so long that, when she finally parted from the romantic relationship she’d had with Satan, a relationship which saw no physical attachment, but romantic affection,
Melanie had learned to cope with one of the more awkward and frustrating of God’s children and, in her heart, saw the peace and joy which came from someone who showed kindness and grace. And, because of this, appreciated the wisdom of her eternal
father in the life lessons she had always known were true, in her heart, anyway.

Daniel smiled at her. She noticed him straight away. A faint smile, just a hint of one, and then he was gone. But she knew he liked her. She knew that.

He had been a member of the fan club for many years now and, finally, after she had let him know were she lived, she found he had moved not far down the road from her. And, unsurprisingly, whenever she was at the mall in the food-court he had an uncanny
sense of being there, sitting just a little away, sometimes noting her, but trying to be as casual as possible.

He still emailed her, and sometimes she would answer. In his letters she noticed he tried hard not to ask anything of her. Anything which would allude to him making demands on her time or attention. And, perhaps because of that, she had started to
like him a little. It seemed, although she had not quite fathomed him yet, but it seemed he generally respected her and wished her well in life. As if he wanted good things for her.

She puzzled, though, why he wasn’t a little bolder, and why he didn’t come forward more often to talk to her. ‘Perhaps he is scared of my success,’ she thought to herself. ‘Or perhaps he is just a little shy.

* * * * *

Daniel wanted to fuck Melanie. Boy, did he want to fuck Melanie. She was death on two legs, as far as he was concerned. The hottest vagina he had seen in a hell of a long time. Naked. That is how he wanted to picture her, and as much as possible.
But not yet – not even in his mind. It was a line, at the moment, he refused to cross. Because, perhaps more than anything else, he seemed to think that girls like Melanie wanted to be respected. That girls like Melanie wanted to be treated well,
and with care and forethought. To be treated kindly and esteemed as a decent person, with good values. This much he thought was true because of the way she presented herself. Her album lyrics were carefully written to be sensitive to people and
promote a decent way of life. He really did not know wether she was so very deliberate in crafting such words to be politically correct towards the masses, or wether they were genuine, natural words, which simply reflected the heart of the angel Melanie.
But even if intentionally deliberate he worried not because they still would have reflected a heart of total concern. He had been a fan of Melanie for the last 700 years, seeing her live performances many times, owning all her CD Albums and most of
her singles as well. He had tonnes of merchandise which he stored in his small mansion, a mansion he had bothered to go to the effort to afford simply because of his strong desire to own a lot of things about his favourite musicians and various other
things. He found he just needed the space to store it all, no longer convicted about the size of the mansion because of his genuine love for the articles he had obtained and the joy that they gave him. A counsellor had told him, once, after his query
wether it was too much that he really shouldn’t worry because he had a genuine liking for the artefacts, and it had nothing to do with hoarding wealth or trying to be showy with possessions. In such circumstances a small mansion was quite appropriate.

Of course, he had a lot of other favourite musicians as well, in his early years a lot of male ones, but he had finally gotten rid of all his male musicians’ paraphernalia and decided, in true hetero style, just to concentrate on ones from the opposite
sex. In the end he was just basically a guy who digged chicks and liked their music, so there was no point in pretending otherwise.

But fucking Melanie would not be easy. Probably not easy at all. For starters, he doubted she would be that easy to score with. And perhaps that would be a good thing. Because if she really was that easy, then she could end up fucking any Tom, Dick
or Harry. And he really didn’t want her to do that. If she got to a Tom, well, that would be bad. But Dick, well that might be too much for him. And Harry, you could never trust a Harry. Oh, he came on all smooth and stuff, but get him naked and
watch out. So he hoped to hell that if she got to a Tom Cat she would leave it at that, and hopefully he would be the next name and the last name on her list. Hopefully.

* * * * *


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