Paradise Lost: Books 1 through 4
Ramy Vance
Keep Evolving Studios
Contents
BONUS CONTENT
Part I
1. In The Beginning …
2. Of Angels and Men
3. Even Angels Have Their Wicked Schemes
4. Do Caged Angels Sing?
5. Trains, Planes, Automobiles and Wings
6. Lust or Love
7. The Head of the Pin Is Crowded
8. White Wings, White Coat
9. Blessed Be He
10. Being Human Is Easy … If You Have the Cash
11. Home Is Where Your Heart Is
12. Just When It Was All Going So Well
Part II
13. Prologue
14. Unleash the Dogs of War
15. Spiteful Angels
16. Even Angels Have Wicked Schemes
17. The Question Is an Answer
18. Everything Leaves Behind a Scent
19. The Light at the End of the Tunnel of Shit
20. Betrayal Can Be Sweet
Part III
21. Prologue
22. A Fight for Life and Life
23. Run, Lola, Run
24. Revenge Is a Dish Best Served as a Banquet
25. Life from Above
26. Choices, Choices
27. Putting Affairs in Order
28. On the Road Again
Part IV
29. Prologue
30. Memories
31. Dream a Little Dream of Me
32. Thanks for Making Me a Fighter
33. The Deepening
34. Paradise Lost … Now Back to Paradise Lot
2. Keep Evolving
Part V
35. In the Beginning …
36. A Nest of Sexy Vipers
37. De-Evolution and the Manicure
38. Which is Heavier—a Ton of Stone or a Ton of Peacock Feathers?
39. Star Wars Ain’t Just for Humans
40. Yes, the Internet is Just for Porn
41. Sibling Rivalry, Sororal Bonds and Cat Fights
42. Come Drive with Me …
43. Hairy Men, Fish and Flight … As in, Run Away
44. Family Feud: Gods Edition
45. Lights, Camera, Spying
46. Shake It, Baby!
Part VI
47. Prologue
48. The Earth Shook, the Stars Fell
50. Momma’s Gotta Die
51. Coming Straight from the Underground
52. Do You Even Realize the Sacrifices I’ve Made for You?
53. Bob’s Back, Baby!
54. A Lot of Hot Air
55. Hairdresser’s Got a Gun
Part VII
56. Prologue
57. Jedi Are Not the Only 1980s Troupes
58. Cookies and Mopeds
59. Hairy Men, Bulls and the Predator Three
60. Some Fiction Ain’t Fiction
61. Out with the Old, In with the Chaos
62. Jail Isn’t the Best Place for a Third Date
63. Apocalypses and Children, Children and Apocalypses
64. Trumpets, Trumpets, Trumpets
65. Crystals Are More than Just Pretty
66. Calamari, Anyone?
Part VIII
67. Prologue
68. What the What?
69. It’s Raining Frogs! Hellelujah!
70. On a Prayer and Wing—Well, Two Wings
71. Worst … Day … Ever
72. Once More … With Feeling
3. Crystaldreams
Part IX
73. In the Beginning …
74. Not All Entrepreneurs Are Created Equal
75. Refusing Offers You Can’t Refuse
76. Despite Popular Belief—Sinbad’s a Girl
77. Mother-in-Leer
78. Fairies, Snakes, Angels and—Arrgh!
79. That’s Captain Archangel to You
80. Men in Love and Men in Uniform
81. The Monster Under Your Bed
82. Occultists and Their Trained Abominations
Epilogue to Part One
Part X
83. Prologue to Part Two
84. Anomalies and Sleeping Angels
85. Angels in the Sky, Police on the Ground and Ghosts in the Night
86. Regroup, Reassess … Retreat?
87. Caps, Captains and Cains
88. Do That Thang You Do So Well
89. Sailors, Jackals, Succubae and Passports
90. Elevators and Angels
91. Jackal-Guards and Eyes and Ghosts and Succubae and Harlequin Romance Cover Models
92. Kids and Planes and Buses
93. Epilogue to Part Two
Part XI
94. Prologue to Part Three
95. Next Bee Nurseries, Nappies and Dirty Pixies
96. Pixies, Monsters and Invulnerable Sailors
97. Ever Been Punched By a Pixie?
98. Monster vs. Pirate (Hint: Pity the Monster)
99. Save Us, Sinbad, Angel and … Weird Guy in a Black Jacket?
100. The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round
101. Donuts, Cops and Rubber Bands
102. You Had Me at Hello
103. Epilogue to Part Three
Part XII
104. Prologue to Part Four
105. Preparations, Help and Hope … Nah! Just Kidding!
106. Nobody Knows the Trouble I’m In …
107. New Living Quarters and Empty Chest Cavities
108. Flashbacks and Retro Camper Vans
109. Universal Serial Buses and Picklocks
110. Council … to the Sidebar
111. CrystalDreams
112. Epilogue to Part Four
Part XIII
113. Prologue to Part Five
114. Bringing the Boom
115. Assault on The Garden
↔ A Brief Interlude ↔
↔ End Of Brief Interlude ↔
116. Epilogue to Part Five
117. CrystalDreams
4. Penemue’s Inferno
XIV. Hell
118. Portals to Hell and Dead Wives
119. Dark Forests and Cold Mother-in-Laws
120. Not All Rivers Flow
121. Hostile Rivers and River Hostiles
122. Ahh, So I Was Kind of Seeing This Gorgon
XV. Hell
123. All Public Libraries Should Look Like This
124. Apparently the Worms in Tremors Were After the Books
125. A Brief Interlude
126. Out of the Library and Into the … School?
127. Classroom of the Gods
128. Ever Been Punched by a God?
129. Dark Forests, Skeletons, Stonewalls and Goodbye Kisses
130. Spanking Gods and Raging Thors
131. Fighting Godly Power with Godly Power
132. Frightening Gods with Old Flames
XVI. Earth
133. Marc’s Story—Part 1
134. OtherMe Is Yummy
135. Lust Is Enough
136. Sex Isn’t the Only Game We’ll Play Tonight
137. Hounds, Huntresses and Hate
138. New Moon, No Moon
XVII. Hell
139. Tearful Serpents
140. Why Would Anyone Ever Fight Over Me?
141. Abandoned Classrooms and Fresh Hells
142. Family Fights, Pain and (a Modicum) of Gain
143. Rolling Darkness, Pinpricks of Light and All Hope Be Damned
144. Chain Guns, Shooting in the Dark and Misguided Teenagers
XVIII. EARTH
145. ↔↔↔A
Very Brief Interlude↔↔↔
146. EightBall and Bats, Darkness and Hell
147. Demons of the Past Hurt, But Monsters in the Present Kill
XIX. Hell
148. Dying Isn’t What You’d Expect
149. Explosive Families and Families Exploding
150. Again and Again and Again, Ad Infinitum
151. Keeping Secrets Secret
152. Home Is Where the Heart Is … Even When It’s Not Your Own Home
153. Now May Be Forever, But Forever Isn’t Now
154. Anything, Everything
155. I’ll Love You Forever, I’ll Like You for Always
156. You Don’t Have to Die to Commit Suicide
157. Like Bats Out of Hell
158. Exploding Libraries and Runaway Wives
***A Brief Interlude***
XX. Earth
159. For Whom the Bella Toils
160. Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
161. Fighting Yourself Hurts
XXI. Changes
About the Author
Bonus Content
Keep Evolving Series © Copyright <<2018>> Ramy Vance
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
For more information, email: ramy@paradise-lot.com
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Part I
In The Beginning …
“Trap the bogeyman, she said. Steal his bell, she said. And what do I do? I listen to her,” I muttered to myself as I laced beads onto a long piece of tread.
“I listen to my dead wife, who, by the way, speaks to me in my dreams, because, that’s normal. And when she tells me to hang out in a dark, scary park with a Mug Me Here sign on my back because … what? … I’m still pussy-whipped?”
I chuckled at the thought as I laced the last of the ceramic trinkets then walked the thread around three nearby trees to form my own Bermuda’s Triangle of yarn. A cat’s cradle—if the cat were the size of an elephant. “Pussy-whipped from beyond the grave.”
I carefully placed my Cabbage Patch Kid that I got from my—ehem—collection in the middle of the triangle. Hey, don’t judge me … I love old toys and the Cabbage Patch Kid is a classic. “Open your hearts to a Cabbage Patch Kid … each sold separately,” I hummed as I worked.
I shook my head. “I need help.”
Then I pulled out a blue quilt from my baby days, and covered the toy with it. Once my trap was set, I pressed play on a Sony Walkman that I hooked up to a little portable speaker and climbed up a nearby tree.
The Cabbage Patch cries rang out in the night.
“Here I am,” I muttered to myself again—or maybe I was complaining to my dead wife just in case she was listening—“a grown man, sitting in a tree, literally waiting for the bogeyman to show up because she told me to do it. I didn’t really listen to her when she was alive, so why start now?”
I felt a pang of guilt whenever I thought about Bella in such a callous way. She was the love of life, my soulmate—if such a thing exists—and she was gone forever. I loved her and her being dead hadn’t changed that one bit.
And the fact that I dreamed of her every night proved that, too. Right? I mean, why else would my dreams be filled with her?
Not because I couldn’t let go. I can let go. I’m well adjusted.
Seriously.
But even I couldn’t deny that dangling from a tree, in the dark, broadcasting a toy baby’s toy cries, was case-and-point to the contrary. Still in love, yes. Well adjusted? Hardly.
Certifiably insane, most likely.
At least the “bogeyman” part didn’t make me crazy. He’s real—thank the GoneGods.
And not just him—they’re all real. Legends, fables, mythical creatures—all of ’em, real as you and me. And all currently living amongst us ever since the gods decided to pack up and leave, closing their heavens and hells and forcing their “Other” creations onto Earth—the only remaining plane of existence they left open in this Universe.
As if Earth didn’t have enough problems with just humans, we now have to add on the divine complications that elves, trolls, oni demons, dragons and all the other Others brought with them—you name it, we got it!
I listened as my Sony Walkman cried on a loop. The recording was OK given that I got it from a YouTube video and had to really work some cross-generational technical hook-ups, but it worked in the end.
Not the best baby crying in the world, but good enough. For the mission, at least.
If only the bogeyman would show up. Where the hell was he? I knew the guy hung out around these parts and my source told me that he frequently cut through the park at night on his way to what he referred to as a gathering. It was night, and this was the park, so why wasn’t he gathering?
Then again, my source could be wrong. He was, after all, a drunk fallen angel who lived in my attic. Still, it was quite literally in Penemue’s nature to know things—
Bells. Chiming in a chaotic rhythm, like a dozen nearby churches ringing their Sunday bells a few hours premature.
The chiming drew closer and my heart sped as I waited for the bogeyman to appear. I had one chance to get this guy in my trap or suffer the consequences. And according to my source, this particular bogeyman travelled with a shelleycoat … and pissing off a shelleycoat had all kinds of nasty bad-for-your-health consequences.
Legend has it that shelleycoats dealt with those who crossed their path by getting the offender so lost and confused that they would literally die of starvation as they wandered aimlessly looking for the path back home. Even Hansel and Gretel, those clever bastards.
Stories of bodies lying dead only a few feet away from a clearing or a road littered the shelleycoat’s past. And I was determined not to add my own to the shelleycoat’s present.