Excerpt for Shell (Inside the Archangel) by , available in its entirety at Smashwords




IT WAS HARD TO UNDERSTAND WHY, but the connection I felt to my Shell, Gabriel, was encapsulating. I was born inside him, and when he died (after what we had all agreed would be our terrifying last moments on this battleground, Earth) I would go back to where I came from. Unexplainably, I knew all this. It was an unforgiving knowledge. To deny the truth would damn me, and to try to break free would kill my kindred souls.


Fifteen acres for just the lawn doves, phlegm and bile

spilling into an egg point which exploded like fire

inside me. The rotten yolk was suckled by the newborn


The compartment I manifested inside his skull for myself was one of many rooms in the fabric of his consciousness. I lived, tiny, within this view of Gabriel, twenty-three. Three months ago, I thought I was Gabriel. What I learned then was the knowledge discovered by the others long before me, known as elders. I was my own soul. I was freed when Gabriel began his automatic writing.

My soul became aware of its unique identity, and I was stuck inside the archangel Gabriel.Yet, I was a late-waker, and most like Gabriel himself. I was Gabriel, plus three months of wakefulness, and however much I had learned in that time. It was the stuff of devils and Hell.

His automatic writing he would wretchedly type into his typewriter. He thought it was terrible. The Elders saw it as the work of a medium, and memorized and researched every word. Writing became an experiment in psychosis for Gabriel; one that would ultimately free over thirty souls in three days, including myself. I’ve met the others. We were different and unique. We lived, inertial, inside Gabriel. We felt what he felt and thought what he thought. Our own consciousness had finally broken free.

I was concerned only with survival. Would I suffer for the rest of his and our lives without autonomy? How could I have hope inside this Shell? The programs we had invented did help with day-to-day life. The elders and other souls who had freed themselves before me had imparted to me that my smoking habit (Gabriel’s, that is) had allowed them much more control than they were used to. This program was a sort of technology which allowed us to pattern his behavior. We were the unconscious, and could guide him. In fact, the Elders (who had achieved wakefulness since as early as three years of age) had been communicating with the archangel through his unconscious for years and helped him avoid serious emotional trauma with dreams. The elders were like Gabriel’s own angels.

“The frenzied words of our Shell will be the gift we have needed for a long, long time. Gabriel is becoming more mature, and with this tool, we may find some kind of peace within him.” The true purpose of the archangel was unknown.


It was hard to understand why, but the connection I felt to my Shell, Gabriel, was incorrigible. I was born inside him, and when he died (after what we had all agreed would be our terrifying last moments on this battleground, Earth) I would go back to where I came from. Unexplainably, I knew all this. It was an unforgiving knowledge. To deny the truth would damn me, and to try to break free would kill my kindred souls.

I lived in a compartment inside his skull as one of many spirits. We had been witness to the events of our death and rebirth, and lived, tiny, within this view of Gabriel. I thought I was him for the first 23 years of our lives. In a half-conscious state, I had merely been watching and influencing Gabriel until then, and it came as a shocking surprise that in fact, I had been destined to live a hidden life inside of one of the last remaining archangels on planet Earth.

Gabriel obviously didn’t know I existed, and he thought his life, friends and family were real; and although he knew through his psychology research up to this point that he had an unconscious, he had no knowledge of the exact nature of our place in his mind. We loved him, although the pain of his mistakes weighed heavily upon us.

I considered the possibility that an archangel was a machine, or a program, and that we had been siphoned into an archangel’s consciousness by other machines. That ultimately tempted me to dream of a new archangel, Ariel.

When I learned of the other spirits, I had to forget about Ariel. Or was Ariel from the mind of Gabriel?

Some of the spirits had known the truth, and not contacted others. Some of us were lost, or hidden. All of us—an entire population of spirits—had at one point in our lives, if even briefly, believed that we were Gabriel, and that we were in control of the arms and hands we could see from day-to-day. By 23, it became very clear that I was inside—perhaps—a robot or machine; the becoming of either a giant mockery of Heaven and its Angels, or a curse from our angry God: the archangel.

Gabriel’s automatic writing began to wake many, at 23, and as recently as that morning new souls were becoming aware of each other inside our Shell.

Taken alive! For the punch was quick to the count. . . five

seconds and he would swallow, swallow, swallow the

fevered attack from his man. The needle point dripped

heavy onto his brow.

The elders believed this poem predicted a terrible battle with an older man. We suspected it could be his father, who many of us had strong emotional ties to, still. I myself was concerned with survival. Could the upcoming event curse us to a life of turmoil? We could communicate to Gabriel (barely) and guide him. We convinced him to take more naps than he was used to, to prepare his mind and body for an event which he was completely unaware was going to happen in the very near future.

Some of us decided we could eject ourselves from this shell and into another, but we had not the energy nor the knowledge of others’ minds to do such a thing.

We didn’t know who we were. We supposed we were doomed.

1.3Point of Flame

His father was a heroin addict, and Gabriel didn’t know.

The archangel burst into the garage during the exact moment his father was using a syringe on his arm.

Some sinners never pay for their crimes. His father would never pay but Gabriel instead, and us. Our host became disassociated, and many of us faded out. His father was our greatest shame, and Gabriel would punish himself for his father’s addiction.

Since I was a late-waker, I was more or less responding to the crisis with despondency and limited actual awareness of how impactful the moment was. The Elders, however, were shocked and predicting that the doors to Hell had been opened. When we came together again finally, the Elders told us the spirits who would wake then would be monsters. The damage was done. There would be a war inside our archangel’s mind.

I prayed for a technological answer. If we could understand why we were trapped, and how, then I could cope with the confusion of my life. If we could escape, or even find a connection to other spirits, or decide where we were (in Hell, or Purgatory, or Earth) and what was real, we could reach self-actualization. The elders spoke of self-actualization with whispers. It was the true unity between our Shell and us.

I felt movement in my hands, and watched myself type words. I blinked, perfectly in time with Gabriel, and upon reopening my eyes the hands were further away. I blinked again, and they became further. Was I Gabriel? I couldn’t even remember the first time I thought of myself as him, but I think of myself as him. I accepted that I was more like him than any other spirit who has found wakefulness. Yet my flashbacks, when he sleeps, separate me from him. My dreams are not something that could come from Gabriel’s mind.

Gabriel, the terrible. Me, the grey child. I have so many friends, Gabriel so few.1

Many elders chose to live in the forested mountains, with their giant green beards. They said it’s where we came from, a lazy Hell of wasted time and opportunity. It was a dead place. Some disappeared and, as the elders say, became unconscious themselves. Perhaps they became archangels. But, if it was a biological process instead, I envied them. I could be a sleepy slough of blood cells or an organ. I could live with anything but being tortured this way.

Shoulder broken, I fell into a pit of drying bones.

Survival, I find, is resting solely on my lighter, and

its tiny, ephemeral point of flame.

The simulation sucked some of the Elders in. The simulation was a forested hill which they could live behind, green and hazy. It was rest for their tired minds. They had created it out of our Shell’s reflexive memory. It allowed them to remain alive inside the mind for as long as they were without succumbing to the biological life processes and becoming a sleepy slough of blood cells or an organ.

One activity which I had yet to master was called “possession,” by the Elders. To me, it was a misnomer because actual control of Gabriel was impossible. When in possession, you take hold inside a limb or body part and feel a stronger physical connection to Gabriel, instead of the constant mental connection. It’s a way for us to sleep, but Gabriel notices and gets very edgy if too many of us do it for too long. We attempt it at night so he can dream through it. While we’re in possession, the Elders use symbols and imagery to communicate and control Gabriel in his dreams.

I felt self-conscious. I was not familiar with being a completely non-physical energy being.

I sometimes sought to possess Gabriel during the day, in denial of what the elders call “wakefulness,” and tried to regain autonomy of my old self. It was terrifying, sweeping in and out of a delusional state, wondering if anything was real about myself or what I see, think, or feel. Fortunately, I always returned to the other spirits, drained but alive. The un-wakeful spirits never did. They lived in constant misery, and felt the disconnectedness between reality and themselves, until they were awakened. It’s reason enough to pray for their freedom.

Gabriel was speaking to his father. He had chosen to forget yesterday’s walk-in.

“You know what’s been weighing on me, Dad?” he said.

“Yes? Hm?”

“My car isn’t clean. I’m going to go wash it.”

“Right now?” his dad said.

“Why not?”

Something stopped Gabriel, and he went for a cigarette. Now’s my chance! I charged into his legs and urged him to enter his girlfriend’s room. I was face to face with her.

I longed for her, her mind, her bosom, and I imagined myself launching like a cannonball into her head. She asked what he was doing.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

He turned and left for the garage. I felt enraged. Soaking the sponge with my own pain, and rubbing the hot sore of disappointment, I watched the car drip. It dripped with my tears.

We could hide in his body parts but Gabriel always noticed, and became angry if we did so. It was called “possession” by the elders which I found humorous. As if we had any real control over his actions. It was a way to sleep and relieve stress. We attempt it in groups at night when others are dreaming of plans.

Sometimes, I became very self-conscious because I was so recently awakened. I thought of myself as still being Gabriel, and--in denial--would try to take over my life and regain a sense of autonomy. No other spirit understood the distress and despair of returning back to my home inside the Shell, having accepted that my life was an illusion.

This was actually what my life amounted to?

Non-awakened spirits did the same thing, but never found the truth. Their misery alone was reason enough to pursue freeing their souls.

He was speaking to his father. They weren’t talking about drugs.

“I’m going to wash my car,” he said. “I can’t believe I haven’t done it yet. It’s been really weighing on me, Dad.” If only I were Gabriel!

“Get it done, son!”2

Arrive late and be disgusted for a sponge. You’re

taking the time to get to know your underwater

neighbors while catching the big worm. Eat, friend, on

the morsels of my longevity.

Something happened to Gabriel. His anxiety spiked up and he went for a cigarette. Now’s my chance! I charged down into his legs and urged him to enter his room with his girlfriend after the cigarette, and it worked. I was face to face with her! I longingly looked into her eyes, and imagined myself launching into her head. She asked what he was doing, and he remembered and turned his back to her. I couldn’t even look at her face. I washed the car with Gabriel, my pain soaking through the sponge.

Later, some elders were studying his automatic poetry. One said, “Look at this:”

Fly late and fork over a sponge. You’re taking the time to get to

know your underwater neighbors while juicing up a pretty big

worm. Eat, eat friend, on the morsels of my longevity.

“Weren’t you in possession when he was sponging off his car?” the elder asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You have been more influential than any other spirit since your awakening. I believe you, or others like you, to be the key to being truly free.”

I wasn’t close to the elders. “How can we every truly be free, elder spirit? We’re trapped inside the mind of a Shell. The best we can do is free the other souls and escape upon death. Or are you among those who believe stayed with Gabriel in future lives?”

“Stay optimistic. Perhaps, Gabriel could reach an ascended state and discover us for himself one day.”

“I fear that will be at the end of our life, and his.” Everyone hears us. The bluish feeling makes Gabriel sick.


The baby was coming. Our son.

“You were in possession when Gabriel was using the sponge?” an Elder asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Your influence is staggering over Gabriel. Perhaps this is because you have only recently achieved wakefulness. I believe you, or others like you, could be the guides for finding self-actualization.

I was flattered but distant. I entered my compartmental cell. “At the end of Gabriel’s life, we will find freedom. But, I fear, that will be the end of our lives as well.”

“You may be correct. But what do you think about the automatic writing? Can you offer insight into why the Shell started making these poems?”

“I—or he—was interested in Jung’s ‘unconscious.’ Through studying psychology, I knew that I could find the powers that existed underneath my mind if I jotted down more or less random words.”

“I think Gabriel senses us,” the Elder said.

“I had no idea of anything. I was simply following my own curiosity. Gabriel may know, however. We don’t even know if Gabriel—or his family, or friends—are real. This world we’re in may be a fabrication.”

“If we felt that way, son, it will truly be the end of our lives.”

The blueness we conjure makes Gabriel sick.


The tiny body brought more joy than we had fathomed. The baby wasn’t born yet, but Gabriel’s girlfriend was in labor and we had coaxed him into a waking dream. We were communicating directly to him. The stress pushed him down to our level. He was low energy and confused, yet we were full of life and new ideas.

Then, a miracle occurred that matched only my quest into wakefulness. We were visited by an Angel of God.

We were to be taken into the mind of the baby. Forever.

In our last moments, we found synchronicity. The Angel assigned an Elder to actually speak for Gabriel. He said, “I will name him James,” and the elder lost consciousness.

When he awoke, he was inside James, the child he had just named himself, and forever free from our Shell, the archangel Gabriel.

We were siphoned one by one into James, starting with the Elders. We were told Gabriel had fallen, and to avoid a war, we would be reborn into the life of his child. James would be self-actualized by three and we would finally experience the universe in our own unique way and begin an immortalizing journey to heaven.

“Will Gabriel survive?” I asked.

The Angel said, “He has reached an age where he cannot change. He will not need spirits. You will see him for the rest of your life inside his son James. You will think soft, kind thoughts about him always.”

I myself was transferred last, and rapturously visited by the archangel Ariel. She said she had known me forever, and loved me just as long. The archangel Gabriel was her son.

1His father was a sinner, and like some sinners, he would have to repent to save his loved ones. He would never repent. The urges of his father were passed onto his son, who found his father injecting heroin that morning with a syringe and plastic band. It was Gabriel’s reaction that shocked us: he disengaged emotionally and seemed to forget it. We could not forget. And within hours, Gabriel’s self-destructive behavior manifested, and he had sex, and the girl—we knew, he did not—had been impregnated. Our responsibilities to the child would either be a toiling gauntlet (for the rest of our lives)or a deep scar which we could all bear. The spirits in Gabriel which had not woken would be the most damaged, if we could even wake them at all then. The Oracles said that new souls would be like monsters when they broke free. We were actually the lucky ones. Powerless. Gabriel (and us) was raised to a high standard of morality. We were not monsters. But Gabriel had just become one.

2 “Mother,” his thoughts came to us. His mother had been away for weeks. She was a prominent doctor in the city which Gabriel lives. She traveled to rural areas to improve the quality of care. Embarrassingly, we learned his word was a Freudian slip. His girlfriend flickered into our view. Mother. He meant her. She was very far away.

“Gabriel, I have something to tell you,” she said. I felt attracted to her. I had nowhere to go inside this body, and began to plan out his smoking routine in panic. “I’m pregnant.” I couldn’t hear the others. “Gabriel, I’m pregnant!”

His eyes closed and I saw the other souls. Their minds were intensely focused on her, fiercely in denial or prayer. His eyes opened, and he said nothing.

Partly because miracles can happen, and partly because of our denial, or prayer, one of us disappeared. Gabriel touched his face, and for a split second, we could see inside the girl’s mind. It was a splendid oasis: new, alive, innocent. He regained composure and the spirit reappeared. The glimpse was over.

An Elder used ESP for the first time. We found hope.

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