Succulent, the moments when serious sects succumb to sin. Where the paint on pastors, cut hard and straight as pews, puckers and reveals the wormy wood within. Revel in rebels revelations, when they realize their too- short time could be better spent supplementing society than destroying democracy. As fascinated fictionists, entranced observers, we become fixated on fallen moments, when ones true demonic demeanor is lit by the glare of horrendous hellfire. We give custom created characters the rare chance to choose right, and when they do we watch them grow, teem with goodness and take on a new life. We experiment with emotion, extract meanings from the every- day, and breath fresh breath into the broken, the beaten down, the bygone. Take pride in the thoughts you think up, the dreams dreamt but not disclosed for fear of their dismemberment. Play with your possibilities, and grease the rusty hinges of doors to deceptive for others to dare open.