After careful consideration as to the direction of this blog, I have decided—with no small amount of trepidation—to return to the dark recesses of the abyss and once again stand face to face with the most insidious and vile creature in all of creation. This will be a most difficult journey, fraught with peril and I urge you to consider carefully the path that is set before you.
While not for the faint of heart, I am confident that should you choose to join me in this journey, you will by the grace of God be able to stand by my side in the face of this terrible creature and live to tell about it.
If you are ready then, let’s be off. If not, please find the EXIT nearest you.
The Scribe –
The Interview Continues …
The scribe, having returned to the abyss after an extended hiatus sat slumped over his desk, his hair in anxious disarray with his hands preparing to make another sweaty pass through the tangled mess. Several feet away, the great angel Lucifer, better known as Satan or the Devil in hushed conversation sat on his craggy rock throne, his attention focused on the human in front of him.
“I felt so helpless trying to reach those children,” the scribe moaned. “They reminded me so much of me, you know, back in the day.” He sat up straight and threw his head back, twisting his neck back and forth to work out the tension. “Even though several years have passed by since that dreadful period I felt as if I were thrust back in time to my own days of unbelief and deception,” the scribe muttered, “when I too gave no heed to the things of God.”
Pushing the table forward, the scribe leaned back in his chair, teetering carefully on the back two feet. His chest heaved with a deep breath that often follows such anxious moments as he looked up and about into the dark expanse.
Lucifer shifted, no longer reclining upon his throne. He now sat upright with his legs crossed his legs, letting loose with a startling flurry his great wings, but just for just a few moments—giving them a shake as he liked to call it, his attention fully squared on the scribe.
“It was happening all around me—around all of us, and I just couldn’t see it.” Leaning forward his chair landed on all four feet and the scribe started laughing. “But you know,” he chuckled nervously, “my father never stopped trying. Nope he never did. I sometimes think that if I were in his shoes I would have given up on me.
“The world was in a downward spiral—a wild ride of convergence to its destruction and he knew what was coming and he new my precarious spiritual condition. I heard him, and in some ways I understood and even believed, just like so many others I knew. They sensed it but never acted on it, at least not in a way that mattered.
“And underground shelters and food stocks are not the way it matters,” the scribe laughed. “Everyone I came across, and I’m not just talking about bible believing Christians, I mean everyone knew in their gut that something bad was coming.”
“And yet, most of them continued on as they had their entire lives,” the devil quipped. “It happened before.”
“The days of Noah?”
“Yessss,” he hissed with delight. “I nearly had them—all of them.” His hand shot up and formed a tight fist. “But a handful escaped the flood in the ark.”
“A dreadful time.”
“That depends on your point of view,” Lucifer snickered. “While I have had great success over the course of human history, there has never been a time which could rival those days.”
“Not even the tribulation?”
“Well now you see it is all in how you measure things.”
The scribe shook his head. “It is certain that more lives were taken and more souls lost to the kingdom of God in Noah’s day, but the suffering—the deception—the death in the tribulation—so much misery at the hands of the beasts and all the blood and souls in your own.”
“Beasts!” Satan snarled with twisted pleasure. “You know not of what you speak.”
“I call them what God called them,” the scribe shot back.
“You mimic God and you feared their power. But they are more than—“
“Were,” the scribe grinned, “is the appropriate way of addressing those creatures whose lives, or should I say—existence are now writhing in torment and agony in the lake of fire—”
“Don’t forget the brimstone part,” Lucifer smirked. “It has such a nice ring to it.”
The scribe cocked his head, realizing that even the beasts known by most as the antichrist and the false prophet meant little to Lucifer. They were after all, despite some undeniable enhancements humans.
“He was your seed, wasn’t he?”
“My seed?” Rising slowly from his throne, the angel lifted his head and began to scream. “My seed! My seed! My seed!”
“Tell me about him!”
Lucifer fell silent, staggering backward with one step and then another. “Tell you about him?” His voice turned soft and light, his words bouncing along as indiscernible prattle while he pressed his hands to his head, his face contorting painfully as he beat his wings with such ferocity as to create a gale.
The top couple of pages flew off before the scribe was able to get his hand on the stack, grabbing the bottle of ink with the other before it blew to the ground. He watched with amazement the tortured face of Satan as every sinew and muscle of his body contorted and spasmed. He didn’t know what to make of it.
The display lasted for several minutes before Lucifer collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily, his eyes having turned as crimson a red as he had ever seen. The devil leaned on his right hand, his heaving chest beginning to slow and his grimaced face turning to a smile, which seemed even worse.
“The world has no idea,” he chuckled. “You have no idea who or what he was.” Running his arm under his nose, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, his chains feeling even heavier than ever before.
“Tell me then,” the scribe encouraged as he pulled out his pen.
Lucifer looked up with a grin so broad that it reached both sides of his face. “I always found it fascinating to watch all of the theologians as they conjured up their ideas as to who he was. While they were given clues in the Bible, most found themselves running down the wrong path chasing after who they saw as a potential candidate in Europe, hah!”
Lucifer began to pace, as he often did when he entered into a long discourse. The steps he took were short and in what would be best described as a figure eight pattern, the great chains clinking and clanking on the ground behind him.
“The rest had become convinced that he would be of middle eastern descent, specifically that region of the world which was once ancient Assyria.” He snickered while shaking his head. “They argued and fought over every possible detail, not even being able to decide whether he was a Jew or Gentile or whether he was a homosexual. Incredible.”
For the first time since returning to the abyss the scribe began to settle in, his anxiety slowly fading away as he comfortably began recording the contents of the interview.
“Are you keeping up scribe?”
“I am doing fine,” he sighed as his hand which gripped the pen too tightly began to cramp.
“Let us therefore dispense with the errors of humans and allow me to set this record straight. Shall we?”
“His hand pointed behind me and I turned to see the emptiness of the heavens quickly filling with a massive wave of white, silver and gray angelic wings. They bore down on us like a torrential flood, twisting, turning and rolling in the sky. Their numbers swelled dramatically before my eyes, and soon there were so many of them that all that I could see was a vast sea of angels—my warriors.
“It was not long before my great liberated army stood behind me, facing God and those angels who remained loyal to him. Between us lay a great expanse of heavenly sky, a chasm formed not by distance, but by will. It would prove to be a rift that would forever divide those who were once united in purpose.
“As our forces faced each other, tension rippled its way through the ranks of my newly formed legion. Their demeanor changed along with their allegiance, and soon they were growling and snarling at those who just moments before were called friends and allies.
“A line had been drawn scribe,” Lucifer said. “It was a line drawn from heaven to earth and from the beginning of days until the end of time. It was a line between the forces of God and my own; between light and the darkness. It was a line which would separate not only heavenly angels and fallen ones, but separate friend from friend and brother from brother.
“Both armies remained in position, poised and ready to strike. But all eyes and ears were trained on God himself. Everyone waited for God to do or say something. But as the silence dragged on, God continued to reinforce his weakness and amplify my strength.
“Drunk with their new-found power, my angelic army broke the silence with a steady beat of Lucifer—Lucifer—Lucifer. Again and again they chanted my name, waving their fists in defiant synchronicity. Each stanza grew louder and more boisterous than the previous one. Eventually they gave way to an eruption of ferocious threats and wrathful taunts.”
So order your copy of Abyss today and thank you for visiting my blog.
The Scribe –