Biblically Accurate Misfortunes

Zimo and The Singing Angels

It was a cold night. Zimo was breathing through his mouth, his nose was blocked. His lips were cracked and his throat was dry. The cold was making his eyes hurt. At least Hell had central heating. 

If you're wondering how he knew, well it's a long story actually. 

You see, Zimo's mother was the antichrist. And his grandfather is the devil. You know from The Bible. His antichrist of a mother left him in front of an orphanage as a baby, with just a piece of paper with his name written Ha Zimo and nothing else and somehow passed the mantle of the Antichrist on to Zimo. Which was shitty of her. And she didn't even leave him outside a nice childless couple's house like those movies. No, she left him outside “Singing Angels Orphanage for boys” and boy, wasn’t that ironic as fuck. There are no angels in that godforsaken place. 

Zimo, being born with a biblically accurate misfortune, was the punching bag for the other boys until he hit his growth spurt and became taller than the other boys and also learnt how to hold his ground. 

Before he learnt how to fight the universe would fight for him, some tree branches would conveniently fall, and sometimes the light wouldn't quite fall on him, helping him melt into the background of the dreary halls of Singing Angels. 

He didn't get adopted in the beginning because he was too round, And later because he was too old. They don't pick the older one. Especially not a 6’2” Chinese Giant. Zimo did not fit the white suburban dream family. And no Asian couples wanted him because he was too much of a British orphan, he didn't know the formality that they wanted. He didn't fit any of their moulds.

Zimo learned to make a corner of the orphanage home. From the back room loft in the church, nobody could see him there. But he could see everything. Only the face of one of the angels statues was faced where he would set up camp. It was a nice cozy space just big enough for Zimo to settle in with his comic books that he stole that one time they let the children roam the city. 

But don't get your spirits down. Because, one day, a man in a very expensive suit walked through the doors of the orphanage. And adopted our young protagonist. Things were looking up for Zimo. The man was filthy fucking rich. Zimo packed up his 2 t-shirts, 1 jumper, and 3 comic books and sat in the passenger seat of the Ferrari. 

The man was nice. Too nice. He had a smile that didn't quite reach his dead dark eyes. But who was Zimo to complain? He was out of that hell hole. He was out of reach of the bullies that roamed the halls of Singing Angel. He would never have to hide in the dingy cupboards and the dark classrooms. He would not have to eat the shitty food with a secret ingredient (hate). Zimo was free. And filthy fucking rich, baby. 

So it turns out, the old man had a mansion. Which was cool. But you see, Zimo had a rule, good people didn't live in palaces. He quickly checked his skill set. If this man turns out to be a tosser, Zimo was big and competent enough to fight his way out. He had nothing to lose anyway. He might be 14 but he could easily pass for an adult. The man was alright. For the most part. Zimo ate good food three times a day. They talked and he didn't hit Zimo. It was all fine and dandy. Well…until the portal to hell, Zimo stumbled upon in the library. 

It was all going so well before the portal to hell in the library! So yeah. Turns out the mansion is a portal to hell; the man is his grandfather, The devil, From the bible. Judging from Lucifer's big evil monologue he performed in front of Zimo at the library, Zimo was the anti-Christ. And also Merlin, the greatest Warlock to walk the earth. And it's his responsibility to bring Armageddon (how does one even do that?) yada yada yada. Just when Zimo thought he got out of the god-forsaken hellhole. He literally drove into the literal god-forsaken hell in a fucking Ferrari. 

Now before you judge Zimo for staying in the mansion that had a portal to the actual hell. The food was good and the mattresses were even better. The devil had good taste… and he was family. Zimo liked the mansion for the most part. But he avoided the library (the blood-curdling screams of the tormented souls brought the vibe down, you know?) It was all good. 

Until Lucifer drugged him and brought him to a different mansion that looked the bloody same but had a red ambience (The devil was dramatic) 

Lucifer demanded that Zimo learn magic and get ready to well, bring armageddon. Zimo went with it. (Hell also had good food and a good mattress) and there is not much Zimo won't do for a comfortable life. So he learnt magic. 

He liked the fear in Lucifer's eyes when his magic would go overboard and give good ol' Satan a run for his money. 

So turns out, Zimo had an insane amount of Magic. Which he pulled from his surroundings. Hell being Hell, it amplified his magic. Which was…fun. Zimo liked that he felt weightless when the magic flowed through his veins. It tasted amazing. The air smelt like burnt wood. It was intoxicating. The force of it would make him close his eyes. But he would become much more aware of his surroundings. Like he was connected to everything around him. Zimo decided that he liked magic. 

Then good old Grandpa Satan busted out the Tome of Evil™, it contained the most powerful spells in all the realms, but it was also a key. Without it, Lucifer wouldn't know how to travel between the realms and would be trapped inside his red mansion. And who could blame Zimo when he took the big Evil™ tome and ran away with it? He is the grandson of the devil. It's on Grandpa Lucy that he didn't see this coming. 

If you're asking Why Zimo ran away, well dear readers, it's because Zimo did not have a fucking clue about how to bring on the end of the world. And it was pretty clear that the only reason Lucifer was keeping him alive and around was because he thought Zimo did. And it was only a matter of time before he would realise Zimo wasn't the big bad Antichrist. He was just a British orphan from Singing Angels who liked reading comic books and the genealogy chapter in his biology textbook. 

The tome was heavy. And the evil™ book was leaking magical energy. It took Zimo a stupid amount of time to realise that the magical energy could be used for heat.

The night was bearable. He settled under a bridge. It smelt terrible. But beggars can't be choosers.  Zimo used his magic to make the boulder he was leaning on softer. He made his jumper warmer, and let sleep take over him.