Sinner’s paradise

He sits on a throne of fire, eternal flames his paradise.  Slowly but surely he turns to face his audience, a sardonic smile on his lips ‘Welcome, Welcome to Sinners Paradise’. His audience claps, robotic in motion- as though their movements were engineered by puppets.  Suddenly his speech is fuelled by an underlying anger , a hunger to avenge the past, so many millions of years ago ‘ My people, my  followers , merry band of men , it is time to carry out my work and fight for what is rightfully ours’ . There is a great cheer at this statement and he continues his speech ‘we have been so cruelly condemned, apportioned blame for actions conceived by humans, why should we be scapegoated for the actions of others? Why should we lie meek and mild as we wait for our fate to be carried out? No we will fight, fight until judgement day if need be’. The roar becomes deafening, the flames crackle, and huge plumes of fire surround him like an emblem of evil light. He walks forward, his movements pronounced, flamboyant even as he reinstates his cause , persuasion on his lips ‘ so who will join me and make a name of themselves , be remembered forever for all eternity? It is a hard question to ask, a life-affirming decision that would divide them forever. If they say yes, there is no turning back, no embracing the light once more, a golden aura gone, a gauzy black their nature. They look at each other, some apprehensive, unsure of what is expected of them, whilst others are exultingly celebrating their chance to wreak revenge. Then there is me, an isolated spectre, neither black nor gold, a grey mist my guise. This was never my choice, you must understand, they forced me, betrayed me to these ‘barbarians’, I thought they were on my side… it seems as though I was wrong. They turn to look at me, to see what my choice is. That thought is laughable- what choice? I have no free will, a prisoner in another world. Before I give my answer you must understand why I am here. And so our story begins, a pen dipped in ink, a scribe to my senses.

Thomas

I am an angel, powerful and magnificent- one of God’s chosen, a golden being made of light and glory. My piercing blue eyes are all knowing, my senses heightened, my beauty breath-taking. You cannot see me, you do not know me but I know you… all of you. I am the angel erased from history, the shadow in a divide of darkness and light. I am the piteous whisper of wind, rustling through the trees, condemned to an eternity of wandering. It began with Luther, you all know who he is , the intrinsically immoral angel that refused to bow down to Adam and Eve. Pride was his downfall, he failed to understand God’s intentions ‘ we are superior beings’ he cried ‘ I refuse to kneel’. He continued his passionate admission further ‘ you expect us who are fashioned from gold and light to kneel before beings of mud?’ . A few nodded enthusiastically, Luther was almost equal to God, and his words had substance. Yet God refused to accept Luther’s words and condemned him for all eternity. Fast forward a hundred years and Luther had set up his own kingdom aptly named a sinners paradise. How ironic I thought, we who were once friends, now mortal enemies. But he had not forgotten me, oh he was clever that one, all part of his plan along. He came to me, caught me unawares sobbing uncontrollably. I was surprised – primarily because he had sought me out and secondly because he was on forbidden territory ‘what are you doing here’? I whispered frantically, relieved that there was no one to witness our reunion. ‘You have got to help me’ he whispered tear drops trickling down his now imperfect features. Fear clenched my heart, expecting the worst- a mass execution perhaps? He whispered his treacherous lies, pouring false emotions into his rehearsed speech. He knew, knew I who had only known goodness and light would fall into his deviated trap.

He led me to believe that he wanted to atone for his sins, he was always a dramatist that one. Even now as I remember these events from so long ago, feel the simmering rage threatening to boil over. And of course I helped him, innocent, vulnerable fool that I was, too naïve to sense the treachery behind those words. You can guess what came next, something too painful to even describe. He took my innocence, poisoned my senses and then I realized it was too late.