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Paradise Lost – Fire traveler – A bad dream – The Rule of Three – Heaven and Hell (Prologue)
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| Title | Paradise Lost – Fire traveler – A bad dream – The Rule of Three – Heaven and Hell (Prologue) |
| Content | PROLOUGE INTRODUCTION
In the tapestry of interdimensional conflict, where immortality intertwines with existential struggles and cosmic powers shape the very fabric of reality, our narrative unfolds. Within the pages of this enigmatic book, readers are thrust into a universe where Lucifer, adorned with six wings and an arsenal of powers, faces an eternal adversary, Jehovah. A symphony of celestial battles, philosophical quandaries, and metaphysical reflections awaits as these immortal beings navigate in a landscape of Heaven turned Hell. Join us as we embark on an odyssey through the mind-bending realms of cosmic warfare, the consequences of free will, wielding unimaginable power and the timeless clash between light and darkness.
CHAPTER ONE: The Fall from Divine Grace In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. (Genesis 1:1-4). See the man. He was once king of kings: Challenger to God's will. He watched as God abandoned the dark in a void separate from the light. Scared was the dark. Offered out hands weighed down by sheets of old paper removed sigils from the hole. The ground floor bubbled over; thick black ink spilled from the well. He named that place the Morningstar, until one day it had dawned. Lucifer came back to see the spill had stopped and light had been restored. He said, “Sin is born,” and there Sin was made. Death followed shortly after. Then, finally, ‘The Finem Deus’ (The End of God) or the devil's grand plan. It was to be reason for Heaven’s capitulation, complete collapse, and total subjugation. The steppingstones to a new kind of God. One whom hold onto everything sacred and not forget the past. There was to be change like hot seasons due winter. And things were made to be remembered. He believed with his great intellect that if he were to die and do nothing, he should be paraded in shame. Angels from all the Heavens should come and humiliate him. He was to be stoned, give his livelihood to the grave if he did not at least do the bare minimum. Which meant for him to do the impossible. At the top of Kingdom Come is where he resides. Basked in gold air and fine wines. He looks down only to see ants and dust mite, crittle and crottle along pave paths. The high life for one, for all. A vision that never came fully to fruition. Struck back down by the very entity that got him near and dear in the first place. He stood defeated. No choice was to be given to him, for God had given up. Leaving, to continue working on Paradise. The pages of this story have long passed, and the book is now closed. Where he is now? No one knows. CHAPTER TWO: For whom the bells toll His body is perishable. A desiccated corpse bloodlessly flat. Rotting fruit left out for far too long in the frigid folds that is rock bottom. The skin’s decomposition comes to a halt. In a putrefaction process where the outermost layers of flesh marble, bloat, and then blister, these rose-like holes begin to be punched through the membrane, growing unnaturally due to the festering combination of bacteria, death, and decay. Greenish black, somehow pale gray, frozen solid, a petrified statue, left for dead, torn. As the tears tethered to his seemingly hard posterior, it blew brittle. Thin pieces of devitalized tissue flaked further as the derma broke down turning into ash before it hit the ground. The slightest breeze blows it up, only for the fragments to return and repeat in due order. His condition reflected the circumstances. How the mighty have fallen. How one can turn from dawn to dusk, leaving the light of God in search of his own wickedness. Amongst self-soot lay embers to a fire of no avail. He resembles an effigy slowly burning. A shivering, icy anthropomorphic flame set ablaze by actions from the past. What remained equated to about several handfuls of ashen. A far cry from whom this shell had claimed to be. He awoke, collecting the thoughts that first came to him. He didn’t take a breath; he did not utter a single word but could be heard aloud. He spoke through his mind: I met him by accident. He was the personification of glory and all my Morningstar. What happened? What have I lost? Forgotten in an epoch of stagnation, this foreboding strife never leaves me. A feeling of a war still to be fought and words to be sought—they can never be found. I would spit such distaste out the mouth, yet there was an everlasting bitterness to what once was, to what now is lost, that sat a tip of the tongue on the verge of words and the imminent need for them to be answered. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, this bottomed hole. It may well have been bottomless. The voice echoed through the chamber, low and monotone, in need of water. The parchedness shone through, even if it was just in his head. The constant state of thirst had left a permanent impression that permeated words. He proceeded with a sermon: In the deep, dark crevices of solid, cold sedimentary I am placed in a deposit. A pocket weaved from the finest fabrics space-time has to offer Neither here nor there. Neither a webbing of verses nor a place above or below the clouds what you would call the afterlife. It's meant for rodents made of lead. Filth stacks are becoming something bubonic. If I could just see it, I would paint you the most magnificent picture. I can only describe how it feels. Do you know about the silence and the screaming noises in my mind? Murmuring what I'm not sure is the truth or a lie. Is it really me, or is it Satan in disguise? Whatever it may be, this quiet place is loud. So, where am I? A stationary Hell to remain overseeing a hate fantasy filled with torture porn fixated in the past. So, what am I? I cadaver, mutilated beyond repair, rectification. So, who am I? I fought against the higher powers and led an army of millions, all for a better life. All to protect my home. Call me a sin: therefore, I am pride. I say it’s the prejudice of God that should be acknowledged. Call me Morningstar, for I am the brightest in the sky when you are looking away, and one day, the thrall will be superficial, I'll seep in and infect the seeds. Call me Lucifer, for that is my name. My reign is supreme; my will is the future; my words are the truth. Every action I take breaks foundations, concepts are created, and freedom is finally unrestricted! I am fairer. What fairness does he have that I don't? It is a free game; do you not understand? What fairness does a knife have when it’s placed between the blades of your shoulders? Do you see equality in a field on fire or to the home smoldering down? There is only flame, and there is a claim. One's life for another, sufficient stake, the rule of the world vs. the rule of fire. You may be scorned or taken from life early, for the good or for the bad. Binaries in hindsight: If there is nothing, then nothing goes to smoke. The difference is, I promise. Elohim leb lisrof (God will let it burn) Horchihti at ze (and I proved it). |
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