Phil Botha’s story - ostensibly a serious biography, is laced with major inconsistencies, errors and flaws in its claims about Satanism which reveal that neither he (nor the biographer) knew enough about Satanism to ever qualify as a “High Priest” in Phil Botha’s story - ostensibly a serious biography, is laced with major inconsistencies, errors and flaws in its claims about Satanism which reveal that neither he (nor the biographer) knew enough about Satanism to ever qualify as a “High Priest” in Satanism, or even to masquerade as a novice. As such, Christina's writing isn’t stereotypical, and her characters aren’t stereotypes, regardless of their sexuality or gender." -, June 21, 2021. A firm supporter of the LGBT community, Christina believes that Sexual and Gender Minority characters aren’t reflected enough by authors due to a number of reasons. Her books are never short of suspense, adventure and humor, while her colorful characters and thought-provoking settings take readers into another world, making her one of the most gifted and creative storytellers. You can find out more on "Christina Engela is a South African editor and author of horror, fantasy and science fiction novels. Something in the microcosm that didn’t even have a name went ‘bling’ and against all the laws of probability, Brad Xyl opened his eyes."Christina Engela is a South African editor and author of horror, fantasy and science fiction novels. A wind of Change blew at him from behind and he pushed off from the beach with iron determination and a mental clarity hereto before unknown to him. The Wetsuit of Insanity clung to his spiritual body, isolating him from the timelessness that seemed to exist here.
Nearby, two other inmates collided with each other, bounced apart spread-eagled and spiraled off into the distance in infinite slowness. Revenge splashed around his feet like the cold waves of the ocean of Time. How long he had been here, he knew not – but he was slowly learning to master these barely tangible waves like a new surfer with one foot on the sandy beach and the other on a shiny new board of Hatred. Feint forces of the universe they were, nearly indiscernible from the nothingness like a warm breeze on a hot summer night.
“Time did exist here, in small amounts (well some of the time) – and there were feint eddies and currents of time here, things that were barely tangible.
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