I do miss him. In the times when the choirs fill the heavens with voices of ethereal harmony, I sometimes close my eyes and pretend his voice is still among them. His was the most beautiful, with a softness and compassion that warmed the heart and made you long for more when the song ended. Each time I would look upon him and ask, Just one more, Lucifer, he’d smile that tender, graceful smile, and answer, Whatever pleases you, my Lord, and the choir would sing again with my precious angel shining the brightest.
Heaven’s beauty has never been the same since I gave him up. I do suppose, however, that is not the right way to say it. Sacrificing my most beloved angel was the most painful thing I have ever done. Perhaps it is because I cannot show my love to him any longer. The world cannot honor him, nor cherish that once gentle being in which I saw such perfection. They do not understand how deeply I long to reach out and take his face in my hands and whisper, I still love you, my angel. I cannot allow them this understanding, and it hurts to feel their hatred of him.
Or, perhaps it pains me so because his love for me was lost the day I cast him into Hell. I gave him that contempt he felt, the disgust and envy of my throne that sent the heavens crying out in war. I had to do it, yes, I know this. Though the human world was but a glimmer in my plan, there were things that had to be done. My angels – my precious angels – I wanted to give them a purpose. To guide, teach, and protect the creations beneath them . . . to cherish and love them, as I did my angels.
But there was one problem. For there to be free will in humans, to be given a choice, there must be more than one option. My angels knew only me and my grace; there was no need for free will in them. But the humans, who would one day be bearing the burden of free thought and choice, required I provide them not only with my grace and love, but with another. By my own law there could not be two, but without two, there would be no free will in mankind. It tore me apart to make the decision I ultimately did.
– S.L.S., The Morning Star – Short Story Submission
Reader:
Brilliant. This is a word that I use so rarely to describe a written work that I had to look at my spelling. No need to mis-spell such an important commendation. Brilliant is my description of how easily the author took me from a casual opening sentence into a profound world that I had not dreamt was possible until I was shown. Brilliant is the reason I surrendered so quickly to the imagination of this writer. It took me several pages to recover enough to remember J.R.R. Tolkien’s breathtaking leap in The Silmarillion to describe how Middle Earth came to be and what preceded its birth. This author and story have achieved in a far shorter space some of that glorious thinking that makes an author someone to remember. Thank you.
