Broken Wings: Genesis Read Online Free PDF

with the first problem. Thus my visit to Morpheus.
    All of the legends and myths
handed down through the centuries have a grain of truth to them. At least I
haven’t found one yet that didn’t. That includes all of those fun stories about
ancient gods. They weren’t actually gods, per se, but they were immortals.
    Now just to be clear, immortals
will live forever, as long as they’re not killed by outside influences. A few
of them weren’t around any more. Take Ares, for example, known to be the Greek
God of War. He was killed during the fall of Saigon
back in the seventies. It served him right. He was the one who kept stirring
the pot so he would have a playing field in the first place. Tengu, the
Japanese God of Mischief ran afoul of the President’s secret service during
World War II––bad timing for prank pulling on his part, as far as I’m
concerned. From what I hear, there wasn’t a whole lot left of him. And Venus,
known as the Roman Goddess of Love, was taken out in a murder-suicide two years
ago in Manhattan.
    Most of the immortals had been
around for centuries. If they didn’t learn how to adapt to the changing moods
and rules of the world around them, they didn’t last long. Many of them were
still around.
    The reason for their so-called
immortality, was that they had learned to tap into the source of the magickal
life force of the earth. A lot of people didn’t accept the theory of the earth
as a living, breathing entity. If they were to accept it, that would reduce
mankind to a parasitic infestation. Well, call a spade a spade.
    The earth is a living
thing, and the human race lives in a symbiotic, but parasitic relationship with
her. I really don’t know whether it’s a he or a she, it could be asexual for
all I know. It just seems to me that only a woman would have that much patience
with destructive children.
    Of course, there is the whole
magickal energy field she is imbued with as well. It is the ultimate source of
life-giving and creative energy. Once again, that seems to be a female trait.
Women lean more toward the whole “life-giving” thing.
    The immortals are nothing more
than humans who have learned to draw from and use the magickal energies of the
earth. That energy running through them as they direct its use gives them, in
essence, immortality.
    The human race has pretty much
forgotten how to connect, once the advent of technology rose through the ranks
of popularity. Not to go all biblical or anything, but even in the Old
Testament it mentions people who lived for hundreds of years. That tells you
which is the true power. Technology can barely keep us functional past a
hundred. Humankind has disconnected and often works to destroy the very thing
that adds to their existence. And then they wonder why we’re so messed up as a
species. Go figure.
    I pulled down the alleyway that
took me to Morpheus’ front door. It was well hidden––he didn’t care a lot for
unwanted visitors. The ones that did visit were a special breed. After parking
my bike, I waited. I didn’t have to announce my presence to Morpheus. He
already knew I was there. The lair-king of an opium den couldn’t afford to not
keep track of who was at his door.
    The door opened to let me inside.
A tall man, unspeaking, stood back in invitation. The sickening sweet smell of
opiate-laced haze wafted toward me. I really hated this part. Traversing the
narrow, dark, curtain-covered hallways of Morpheus’ drug-sustained lair of
dreams was not my idea of a good time. You couldn’t walk those halls without
falling victim to at least a subtle fog over your awareness. I certainly wasn’t
immune.
    When dealing with the immortals
you had to come to them on their terms, or they won’t play. Most of them had a
twisted sense of humor. They all had a code of honor. That’s why I could so
easily meet Morpheus on his terms. I knew he would never turn me away. As far
as he was concerned, he owed me.
    “Hey, Lurch, how’s it