The Antichrist's Dilemma

The Sunday after the Apocalypse that wasn't, was a relatively normal day.(1) On a street in Soho, the usual people bustled about and hid themselves in their large trench coats as they left shops on the street. One place stood out from all the questionable stores and that was Mr. Fell's bookstore. Inside the bookshop, there was layers of dust on everything including the almost always present "Closed" sign.(2)

The bookshop owner himself was inside handling and tending to his books that consisted mainly of ancient to recent religious tomes, often raising the question if he would ever part with any of his obviously precious books. Mr. Fell was known around the area as being quite pious but a kind soul, giving the most sketchy drug addict a smile and a hot cup of tea. He frequented the churches in the area and spread the message of the good lord to anyone who would listen for a moment.

Another odd constant with Mr. Fell was the dark young man with the lovely restored Bentley that frequented the shop and stayed for weeks on end if one bothered to notice.(3) The speculation was that the two were either family or lovers, seeing as the two could be seen leaving together at some moments after hours in the bookshop. A few people thought ill of the two but everyone else adapted to the presence. The Bentley man and Mr. Fell became something of a comfort to most on the street but as a man said, "All good things must come to an end," which it did on Monday.

Shop owners, employees, residents, and regular passersby were greeted with the empty store front of Mr. Fell's bookstore. The shop was empty, all shelves, books, and inhabitants gone with a large glaring "For Sale," sign on the front door. The middle aged, plump, bespectacled proprietor had vanished within one night and without anyone's knowledge. Another oddity was that no one could recall Mr. Fell's first name or his partner's for that matter, even for the older residents who had been there for decades.

As the days proceeded into weeks, a feeling of loss and hopelessness had began to grow oppressive over the once peaceful area. More sketchy characters began to hover around, robberies were becoming quite popular, and vandals started to exact their aggression on the still empty bookstore.(4) Residents watched as the building itself began to crumble and decay over time. In the time of six months, nothing was left but rubble on a foundation.

On a block not so far away from the bookshop, residents of an apartment building noticed the reek of something rotting in a flat on the top floor. The manager gathered her courage and eventually opened the door to the flat of Mr. A.J Crowley. She gazed around in horrified wonder at the rotting and dead plants all over the floor with a reek of rotten eggs hovering in the air with the plant smell. Her tenant had paid his yearly rent just six months ago but now there was hardly any evidence that he had once been here. The nice furniture and electronics were gone and all that was left behind were some of the most tragic plant life she'd seen.(5)

While the street in Soho experience a feeling of despair, the residents of the ritzy neighborhood felt a feeling of elation and enlightenment. The churches in the area saw an increase in attending members and people taking part in all the fundraisers with some glee. The apartment manager had the place cleaned within a month and rented it out again after failing to get in contact with Mr. Crowley. Life continued on but there was the great stone at the bottom of the stomach of the world.(6)

1) A relatively normal day is usually a little damp with a little bit of fog and humidity. And the occasional pimp having to remove his coat.

2) If you stepped foot in this store, you would probably die of an asthma attack, even if you're not asthmatic.

3) Those who did notice usually spent more time with their binoculars and telescopes than with their own lives.

4) Which is the usual behavior of vandals other than for their entertainment of course.

5) She didn't realize she had been the first witness to a mass flora suicide.

6) Kinda like that feeling you get when you go down the first big hill of a roller coaster ride.

It was a year later when the letters I sent to Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell were returned to me that I discovered the events of the past year. I knew that I could no longer feel my godfathers but I assumed in a childish way that they had simply stopped messing people around. As I stared at the foundation of Mr. Fell's bookshop, I could feel small tears sliding down my face. My father simply patted my back and drove me back home to Lower Tadfield, explaining that there would be more bookstores where I could get my books.(7)

It was hard after that being the antichrist with only my four friends to really rely on. My godfathers had been helpful in a few aspects in that they could have helped me with my powers, my role in the world order, and given me tips about dating in my teen years. I couldn't help but feel I had been slapped in the face by a clown with a swordfish and kicked by the world's largest horse. The powers that be had taken Aziraphale and Crowley and didn't even leave me a small crumb to cling onto.

Sixteen years later, I succeeded some part of the prophecy by starting my political career with my wife, Pepper, and our 1.5 kids. My campaigning brought me many supporters and introduced me to two people, who affected me in a rather jarring way. At a party for my nomination, I was pulled aside by one of my endorsers and introduced to an Egyptian dignitary and his wife.

The couple simply screamed something dark and off as I shook their hands. The husband had eyes as black as coal, his skin was the color of mocha, and he had long black hair stretched down his back. He spoke with a foreign accent while his wife had a posh English accent to her speech. She had the same black hair but was lighter than her husband's skin tone with eyes the color of polished gold.

I learned from my endorser that the two had been married just the year before and it was plain to see, expecting a child very soon.(8) The husband called himself Lebial Crowen while his wife was known as Lilith Crowen. I talked to the two about their lives and their jobs while I watched as Lilith devoured whole apples, core and all. After some time, Pepper found me and dragged me away to give a speech about how I was honored to be the nominee and all that jazz. I couldn't take my mind off the couple and the odd feeling of "offness."

The two vanished at some point during my speech and I spent a better part of two months trying to forget about them. My political battle was coming up when I finally received information about what had become of the two. I was given a rather boring beige envelope and I opened it after some conflict and read a news clipping announcing the birth of the dignitaries son. Now not many things jar me from my seat, but when I read the child's name I flew out of my chair faster than a frog escaping a fish in the middle of a pond. I reread the name to be sure that I was not imagining things before I finally sat down in my abused office chair with a hint of astonishment.

Anthony Jericho Crowen had been born on June 6 in Cairo, Egypt and weighed in at six pounds and measured at fourteen inches. All I could think about was what did this mean for not just me, but my family, England, the world, and the powers that be.(9) A great chess game was in play and I had a feeling the first pawn piece was put into play sixteen years ago.

7) My adopted father of course, the real one probably wouldn't have cared too terribly much.

8) The rather large extended belly was a bit of a give away.

9) And what that odd taste was in the back of my mouth. I couldn't remember if I had cheese a day ago.