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Lucifer's Side of the Story

97 born and a bookworm, I am an awkward potato finding her way to become a french fry.


Lucifer's side of the story

Screams. Wails. Cries. Sobs.
Regrets. Punishments. Sufferings.
Pain. Pain. And Pain.
Hell reeks of those smells.

How are you wondering me right now? Sitting on a throne with a trident in hand, a tail with pointed arrowhead lazily whipping beside me and horns emerging from the head? Maybe the creative among you would be imagining a much vivid me, with red and thick scaly skin, vampire teeth and black eyes like the depths of my non-existent blood. How do you imagine my voice? Scratchy and dark? Emotionless and screeching like nails on a chalkboard? I smirk. You poor little, clueless souls. Let’s go for a ride, shall we?

I walk through the floor of my castle to the window which has no barrier. In fact, no doorways or windows in my castle have any barrier. I am the King of mastering your fears here. I am afraid of nothing but out there, over the expanse of my empire, I am dreaded like a human dreads a painful death and those moments that come after, which decide whether a soul will travel to Heaven or my doorstep. Because when you’re here, there’s no escape. It death again and again… And again… And again… Over and over. I unfurl my wings at the ledge. Again, what are you imagining? Black torn feathers? Red scorching wings like the fire? I jump down the castle’s roof like a graceful dancer and fly. Gliding through the smoke and red clouds, or are those clouds pristine and white?

I smirk as I fly over the boiling water rivers which look crystal clear, like the water from fountain of youth. See the souls there at the banks. Cupping water in their palms and drinking. Mistake? Yes. Clueless? No. Desperation? Bull’s eye. Because only the river here quenches thirst. Or, that’s what the ones drinking think. It brings you satisfaction, but it also never quenches the thirst. Or the burning of skin. Or the death. Or the revival. You drink, you suffer, you die, you revive. The cycle repeats. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. Eons. Eternity.

What are you imagining right now?

Stopping at the pristine gate made of gold and diamonds, I land on the soft floor that feels like velvet on my skin. This is the doorway to my kingdom. And if you’re wondering why everything looks so fucking beautiful here, look at the souls entering this place closely. Some gorgeous in terms of looks, some in terms of money dripping from their skin pores, some in terms of greed and some in terms of just pure lust.

All that glitters is not gold. Ring any bells?

That’s what drives me insane about you humans. You assume. You lie. You cheat. You deceive. You weave lies out of the purest truths. You con. You harm. You kill. And the funniest part, you feed these wolves on your own volition. You’re easy. Because beauty deceives you. Beauty distracts you. Not the inner one, but the one you see on skin and in flesh. You fall in love with that beauty and fall prey to its sins.

So, tell me, how are you imagining me right now?

Look at me closely. Because I still was the morning star and the bringer of dawn. Father’s favorite son. Warm and peaceful with lovely skies. And now look around you. And look damn hard. Tell me who abuses power. Tell me who cons. Tell me who harms the most. Tell me who wage wars. Are those ugly? Are those scary? Do they have scars on face or different appearance? Some do. But what about most? No, they’re beautiful. In shiny shoes and expensive watches. In pristine mansions and classy outfits. Black blood cakes their manicured hands and poison leaks from their perfectly colored lips. They smile with their perfect teeth over the cries of innocent victims.

And now, look at my kingdom. Look at the spectacular gates. Look at the roses and tulips and countless other flowers planted here beside marbled pathways. Look at the trees bearing juicy fruits and fountains of wine. Look at the pure white clouds. Beautiful, isn’t it? Breathtaking, is what I would say. Literally. Because these flowers bear the fragrance of a high that burns. The marbled pathways hurt and bleed feet after a while. The fruits starve instead of killing hunger. The wine quenches thirst but brings to life a living nightmare.

This is my kingdom. This is my home. This is me. And this is what happens when you abuse others for your worthless existence. I know sinners who went to mass every Sunday and prayed every morning and night for absolution. And I welcome them with open arms. Because when they’re told “Fear God.”, I laugh because they don’t. And it’s too late by the time they realize I am the one who they should have feared. They meet every lie for lie here, every sin for sin and every spoon of their own taste. Absolution. And I enjoy every moment of it.

Maybe that’s why I fell? Because Father couldn’t forgive some sins and he’s too full of love to punish. Or maybe I didn’t fall at all?

What are you thinking right now?

Tell me, if you say demons live in your world, where are the angels? If you say I did something barbaric, where is God? Or, does He even exist? What happened to Him? Or he went rogue? Like… me?

I don’t exist among you. I don’t walk the floor of Earth. Nor do my soldiers who you call demons. Because you create your own Hell up there. And I am too good to be between you. So continue in your own doom. Till you meet me at the golden gates.

© 2018 Maddie Sawyer

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