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.
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