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 …
“Ah, humans, humans, humans—how I love to hate them and how I hate to love them, but I must admit that I do. I hate their weakness and God’s love for them in spite of it, and yet I love their weakness and my ability to exploit it to my purpose. I hate their ignorance and God’s willingness to overlook such shortcomings, and yet—oh, god but how I love the ignorance which rules their lives; how can I not?” The powerful angel lifted his face, with arms extended and wings extended. “How could I not?” he screamed.
With widened, maddening eyes he dropped to a crouch, snapping his gaze to his left then to his right—scouring the vastness of the pit for imagined spies and interlopers. The ovals of his eyes crashed to mere slits as he peered into the darkness as his voice fell to a quiet hush. He pressed his finger to his lips. “Shhhhhhh,” he blew with a widening grin. “I must not let curious ears hear what I am about to say.” He let go a few muffled snickers before going on. “My enemies must not hear me acknowledge that my success has been due in large part to the ignorance of human beings. They have proven themselves quite valuable as collaborators in their own destruction—unwitting collaborators, but collaborators nonetheless. I couldn’t have done it without them!” His snickering returned, quickly ramping up into an uncontrollable laughter as he jumped to his feet and began to dance in place.
“Did you hear that?” The question came from a figure and a face of a man, obscured in shadow and seen only in silhouette who stepped from the world of men through the portal into the abyss. He was not alone.
“No, what did you hear?” the scribe asked as he stepped through.
“I cannot be certain, but it sounded like laughter.”
The scribe grinned, though it wasn’t not to be seen in the shadows. “I’m sure that’s what you heard.”
“He laughs? I would never have guessed.”
“Whatever inclination you had concerning his personality should be put aside. If there is one thing I have learned about Lucifer, it is that he is consistently inconsistent. At one moment, Satan can be a storm of unbelievable antics and the next a brooding, seething cauldron of anger, hatred and misery. I never know who I am going to address when I come face to face with him. A loose cannon, that he is.”
“I am sorry? A loose cannon?”
“Uh—you know, a little unstable.” The scribe stared at his companion and saw that he wasn’t quite getting it. “Crazy?”
“Oh, yes. I understand,” the man replied.
“Good. Now if you could wait here in the shadows, out of sight. Once I find out whether he is a storm or a cauldron, I will engage him in the interview and then call you when the time is right.”
“I will wait for your signal.”
The scribe gripped the stranger’s shoulder before turning and walking toward his desk and the devil.
Dropping his arms collapsing his wings, Lucifer walked over to throne of stone, dragging his ever-present chains behind him and sat down just as the scribe approached.
“There you are!” Lucifer said, his hand waving in the air. “I hope that you don’t mind, but I just sat down.”
“I don’t mind at all,” the scribe said as he took his seat.
“Today is the day, isn’t it?” the devil asked as he leaned back, putting his hands behind his head and stretching.
“If you are speaking about our venture into the realm of religion,” the scribe said as he set up his desk, “then yes, you are right.”
“Good, good.” He brought his hands forward with a slap before rubbing his palms together. “There has been little opportunity for calmness as my mind has been fully engaged on this topic since you were last here. I am a bottle overflowing and cannot wait to get started.”
The scribe filled his pen with ink and sat poised to write. “Well, let us see what we can do—”
“Do not think that you are going to take the lead on today’s interview,” he growled. “You are not in charge here and I resent the fact that continually try to set the course.”
“I, uh—I wasn’t trying to do any such thing.”
“Really!” He slid from his throne to his feet, walking slowly toward the scribe, the heavy links clinking and clanking over the rocky ground. “You should take a lesson from your own bible, scribe. For you are echoing the words of King Saul upon the arrival of the prophet Samuel. Saul’s denials fell flat against the background of bleating sheep just a your own denials fall flat—for though I cannot see him, I can smell his nervousness over there—” his hand extended with his finger pointing toward the portal.
Taking a deep breath, the scribe began spinning the pen in his fingers, his eyes on the great creature as he considered his response.
“There is a reason that I—”
“You see!” Satan snorted. “There you go again. I am not interested in your reasons. And should you be so inclined, I am even less interested in your apologies. I am only interested in you accurately recording what I have to say. And the direction my interview will go is at my discretion and in accordance with my will—not yours.”
A particularly foul temperament popped into the scribe’s mind as he shook his head and began writing.
“Now—before we begin our trip down religion’s memory lane I wanted to make a few comments about a special group who are perhaps the most deceived of all. I will not give them any more attention than they deserve, but I will give them sufficient attention for I am pleased that their prideful reasoning takes them away from God. But I detest their arrogance which in some ways attempts to rival my own, for in my eyes, humans are nothing more than a filthy rodent in your own.
“Their arrogance blinds them to the truth that although they claim to deny any deity at all and detest all matters of faith, they unwittingly fall victim to both. These delusions of their intellect will not allow them to see that they are amongst the most religious of all people. For their deity is self who they worship with deep and reverential adoration and their faith is in the idealism and capability of that which is human.
“I have given a great deal of thought to these humanists who cringed at the sight of a cross-filled cemetery three lanes away as they sped along the interstate. They cried foul when a helping hand came from a person wearing a cross on a necklace. I heard their words and read their writings as they recoiled in horror before striking with vitriolic and hate filled words and activism, particularly against Christians. That the power of human reason could be so threatened by a symbol. Rodents.
“It is such foolishness which gave rise to novelized accounts of vampires hiding behind their capes to escape the glare of a cross. Like the vampire which has no reflection, the humanist is hardened—their consciousness seared with a hot iron to the point where they are incapable of inner reflection, unable to see the depth of their depravity. They are a sorry lot.”
Lucifer took a deep sigh. “That they should believe they are the center of the universe—the pinnacle of ability, ambition, knowledge and capability makes me nauseous. They see themselves as gods, and trust me, I have fostered this idea in their minds for years. But still—they are but wretched little life forms hurdling through time to their own destruction.
“All right,” he said as he wiped his hands against his skin. “I am done with them; at least for now. Are you ready?”
The scribe looked up and nodded.
“Then let’s turn back the pages of time shall we,” Lucifer said as he sat down, cross legged on the ground. “If I’m not mistaken, the uninvited guest you brought into the abyss is crucial to where I am going. It is Abel isn’t it?”
The scribe’s head shot up, shocked at what Satan said. “Yes, it is Abel.”
“Then bring him in scribe. Bring him in and we will begin.”
“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.”
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The Scribe –