The Hymn Of Future Days

With the contract for his eternal soul available for sale on the open market, Henry weighed his many options before settling upon the only religion he could find fully focused on the future as it really is, not some promised eternity we can never verify for ourselves.

The congregation sings the Hymn of Future Days, our days, the days that grow out of our decisions now. We erect our house of worship on these very real bones of actions and words, and if it all comes crumbling down, we have only ourselves to blame.

Choose your building blocks with care.

A Second Chance At Life

There's an owl outside the window. That's a bad omen.

"Maybe we should stay home tonight."

Amanda ignored his reluctance. "You got us into this mess. Let's get this over with so we can get our lives back."

He sighed, knowing what she said was true. But he'd been backed into a corner, with no good options left. He tried convincing Amanda everything he'd done was for her sake, but she still insisted she'd finally divorce him once they were free. If they could get free.

The thing about pacts with the devil is they are notoriously difficult to break.

Chamomile Tea

"I'd like some chamomile tea, please."

"Our specialty."

"It's the only thing on the menu."

"True, but we have many options. There's Roman chamomile, English chamomile, garden chamomile, ground apple chamomile, low chamomile, mother's daisy, whig plant--"

"Just the standard chamomile will be fine."

"Please let me finish. We also have low chamomile, anthémis odorante, anthemis nobilis, chamomile d’Anjou, chamomile noble, chamomile romaine, fleur de chamomile romaine, flores anthemidis, garden chamomile--"

"You already said that one."

"Yes, but most people don't pay attention, so they never notice."

"How much for a cup?"

"Ten dollars. Hold on, where are you going?"