Sam Winchester’s Journal - Entry #27
Heaven must be almost empty by now.
Its whole population is falling to Earth, angel after angel after angel. It never seems to stop. Every time things appear to quiet down, another wave shows up, even stronger than the preceding one. More angels, more blinding lights, more indistinct screaming in the distance.
We’ve always thought that the biggest peril for this planet was a fallen archangel ready to start an Apocalypse because of unresolved daddy issues, but the real threat was hiding on a Native American reservation and had the face of an average guy with an old wool sweater, reading books and waiting for people to tell him their stories.
What was the quote from Borges again? “I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library”? Man, if only you knew how right you were, except that the librarian has become completely crazy and that he shoved all the readers out in a fit of anger.
There’s nothing we can do now. This is beyond us.
When I said that everything was over, I was wrong: things are only getting started.