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 abyss, a.k.a. the bottomless pit, or just pit for short.
A place of temporal separation—temporal in the sense of not being eternal and yet for a very, very long time—cleaving the power and influence of Satan from the often unsuspecting human race.
The abyss is both a place and expectations, though those expectations are not always as one imagines.
The abyss is a place of:
Darkness—but for the gleam in his eyes.
Silence—broken by his deep, resonant breathing and his low, guttural utterings often ramping up into frenzied wails of madness.
Peace—that elusive creature of the mind and the soul.
Contemplation—the insatiable appetite of reliving vanishing conquests and dreams of unreachable victory.
The abyss—without knowing anything one might imagine it as a world of restful solitude, removed from distraction and interruption—a respite for the weary and an opportunity to recover lost strength and stamina.
Yeah right. That’s not imagination, that’s a lie—for how can anyone, even the devil himself hide away from the conflicts of his tortured mind?
The abyss—a limitless padded cell for the greatest and most powerful creature of insanity.
“Damn you God!” the devil screamed jumping to his feet, his hands clawing the air above him. “You don’t have the last word in this matter,” he spat staring upwards, saliva falling from his lip to his chin and dripping to the ground below. “Do you not think that I am aware of what is going on beyond my reach in this place. Do you not know that despite everything you have achieved, those who reject you and your precious Son who sits so righteously on the throne of Jerusalem are growing as I speak?
“What business do you have playing the role of God when you cannot even keep the millennial offspring in line? What right do you have to rule, when the unruly grow and without any undue influence on my part?” Bringing both hands together, he clenched them into fists and raised them high over his head. “Your creation stands with me!” His voice buffeted the great cavern, shaking the walls of the abyss itself only to be followed by the tremors inflicted at he brought both fists violently to the stone ground.
“Look at them—look at the young innocent hearts, born of this age—this glorious millennial age from which I have been banished. Look at the darkness lurking within them that refuses the light you provide. Look at their faces and the faces of their distraught parents who clamour to your Son seeking his intercession, and petition your throne to violate their free will if necessary—anything to keep them from their certain eternal destruction.”
The great fallen angel collapses in his chair in laughter. “My army grows and there is nothing you can do about it! Nothing! What kind of God are you anyway? Inept and powerless to keep these young minds from falling further into darkness—my darkness—and I haven’t had to lift a finger to help—”
His head popped up as he swallowed his last guffaw. “Now what was that?” he muttered quietly as he seamlessly rolled from his throne to his feet, standing tall in the great emptiness with his head pivoting both left and right. Slipping his feet forward, carefully shuffling to prevent the clanking of the chains which bound him, his eyes scoured the veil of darkness and his ears tuned in for the slightest sound.
“There—” he grinned as he paused to the faint whisper of a sound which had blatantly trespassed upon his insanity. Its faint signature was difficult to clearly distinguish, but it had a certain familiar characteristic about it, and his grin widened. Within a few moments, Lucifer could clearly make out the scuffing sound which occurred in a cyclical pattern—a lazy footstep, one which he had heard many times before.
The familiar scuff was soon followed by a smell—one that had faded long ago but was now back, afresh as it were, invading the devil’s nostrils as he lifted his nose higher and higher as if to will the odor to him. He crept closer, though by the sound and smell of it he didn’t need to since this creature was coming straight for him. But he was inexplicably drawn toward the scent and to the sound, the juices in his mouth working overtime and the excitement building inside.
It was only then that he realized that the anguish of his chaotic mind had stilled and whatever little peace the devil could possess, he did so now. He moved still closer, approaching the limit of his chains, standing quietly by waiting, listening, smelling and imagining the encounter which would soon take place. His mental and physical response to the approaching moment astonished him as he straightened his neck and blinked several times realizing just how much the solitude of his prison had weighed upon him and how much he missed his encounters with this human.
The approaching scuffing of shoe leather against the rocky soil thundered in his ears and Lucifer raised his head for one great sniff. He was rewarded with the undeniable smell of the man-stench. But this stench was not unfamiliar or arbitrary in any sense but was the mark of the scribe. He was back.
Scrambling as to how he imagined this reintroduction to go, he threw out several ideas and decided to go on the offence, and did so just as the scribe emerged from the shadows.
“And where have you been my repugnant scribe?” Lucifer barked.
“I missed you too,” the scribe answered without skipping a beat. “I am glad to be back.”
“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 –