Abolition
As I looked upon the courtyard, destruction littered my brain. There were no angels singing harmonious tunes, no beings frolicking in the grass. There was a shattered fountain that particularly stained my memory that day. Perhaps it was because that fountain was the same one Lucifer and I had spent countless hours wrestling, competing for father's attention in. Perhaps it was because the image of that shattered fountain symbolised the ending of an era and I subconsciously knew it, even without thinking it.
The atmosphere had changed when the rebels had been cast out of the city. The trees had drifted sideways. The grass had bent over, almost mocking their tree relatives. The buildings looked as if they had been weeping, deserted from any life form. The birds did not even come out to sing that day. As I walked through the gold stained streets, I heard a noise, not a noise you would expect in a place like Heaven. A place of love, compassion and peace at every corner. A noise I had not heard before. It was a woman weeping, and the only assumption I could make was that her lover had been one of the lost soldiers, one who followed Lucifer on his rampage and eventually into Hell.
I could not rationalize why such events took place, events that would leave the streets of Heaven sobbing. How could father allow this to happen? Perhaps he always knew, perhaps it is indeed part of a bigger plan. Perhaps my brother was a bad apple and instead of forcing him to become someone he's not, father allowed him to become the person he truly is.
I do still wonder if there was anyway I was partly responsible for Lucifer's atrocious thoughts and actions. I was always given slightly more opportunities than he, perhaps he grew bitter at Father and I. Or perhaps it is selfish to believe this in any way revolves around me, even if we are blood.
No matter, Lucifer is not the same person as he once was anyway. Satan has taken over Lucifer. Lucifer was ambitious, independent, slightly naive but always well-spoken. The being that now occupies Lucifer's body is an outlandish, irresponsible, hateful embodiment of what my little brother once was. There was no worse feeling casting my brother out of our dwelling place into a place of uncertainty. A place of wretched, horrid creatures, opposite of everything my father, neighbors, friends and loved ones are. However, I did not really cast my brother out of Heaven. What I damned to Hell was not my brother. My brother died long before, when he thought he could overthrow father and rule just as powerful as he, when he thought my father's selflessness and generosity made him weak. When father did not rule by fear, but rather by love and compassion, exploiting what he thought made him more powerful. That is when my brother died.
I wish not to hold onto the past though, as I trust in father's plans. My only wish is to understand. To understand the sins of my brother and his entourage. To understand why someone who was seemingly at peace wished to rage war with the creator of everything as you see it today. But I digress, you cannot be at peace whilst beginning a crusade against the almighty. It was all an act. But for how long? A couple of centuries perhaps. Maybe a couple of millenniums. Maybe from the start. How am I to know? My wife tells me she saw the rebellion in his eyes at a young age. She tells me she always thought something was off about Lucifer, I told her it was his upbringing in comparison to mine. Father always kept him close to the belt, always kept him on a shorter leash than I. The tighter the rope, the farther they run. I knew Lucifer wasn't the best child, but he wasn't a murderer, he wasn't a thief, a liar, an evil being. I accepted him for who he was. I cannot accept him for who he is now. I refuse to believe that Lucifer is the same being who now is the ringleader of the undead in a placed damned for eternity. That cannot be my brother. That is not my brother.
As time passed from the purging of the rebels, the city was rebuilt. Piece by piece, with love and compassion. Birds eventually returned to their daily hymns, and people returned to their lives and the wounds of the past began to heal.
Millenniums later, I am still trying to rationalize it. Perhaps the only reason I keep my sanity it by writing in this book. The only way I can keep my thoughts level-headed. I do not wish for anyone to read this, at least with my knowledge of it, but if someone may I have one thing to say. Lucifer, at his peak, was not a bad angel, in fact, he was fantastic. Noble, caring and always willing to challenge himself. What made Lucifer into a misunderstood angel was his turning away from father. His turning away from the ethereal of light in his life corrupted his mind. As it would anyone.
Although the rebellion of Lucifer has jaded me, I've come out more knowledgeable and responsible as I once was. Only really questioning why it had to come to this. Was it necessary? It would be irresponsible of me to believe all of this was out of my father's foresight, and I can only believe it is part of a greater plan. Perhaps, a plan that would show in comparison father's forgiveness and grace to the evil and brutality that exists in the universe. Perhaps a plan created for someone who may come across this reading.
THE END