It started with a dream

It started with a dream, one I had when I was about sixteen – the same age that Gen is in this story. It was a recurring dream, of a boy so beautiful that he took my breath away. Not pretty boy beautiful; his face was all planes and angles and danger dripped from every pore.


He was a demon, I knew that, and knew that he could snatch my soul in a second. Yet he didn’t. Instead he tugged me close and held me as if I were the most precious thing in the entire world and beyond. He took me flying, swooping over the suburban landscape in which I lived then. We few over parks, through high streets, over playing fields. And then he said, in a voice that caught in his throat:

‘I must show you who I really am.’

We dived into a crowd in the park and he ripped off their faces. Bit them and tore them away. I shut my eyes and yet still felt the blood splatter over my face.

‘Why?’ I asked him. ‘Why?’
‘Because people hide their true natures,’ he said. ‘Because I disclose that which is hidden. I show the truth.’

What is good and what is evil? Angels or demons? Is everything really so black and white?

Samael has been in my head since I was sixteen. Like Gen, I have painted his face time and time again. Now – and I’m not sure why it’s now – he seems to want to have his story told. I hope you enjoy it.

You can read the first few chapters of Samael here..

I'd love to know what you think. This is very much a work in progress right now so any suggestions just might make their way into the book!