Thrown
And high permission of
all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs
-John
Milton, Paradise Lost Book One
My
whimpers are swallowed up by the surrounding trees. I am angry and
embarrassed; but there is not a soul to hear my cries. Animals
have ceased to den here, scared off by my nightly howls. I cannot
sense a single mind hidden in the woods. A few mosquitoes keep me
company, but I swat them away.
The cooking
flame lights my clearing. The ground glows a light red and flickers
with the wind. I sit in the center of this place that is my lake of
fire, strapped to it by fear. The grass is worn thin where I have
slept for the past weeks.
I am aware that I
have to move on soon. Itex has too many creations that can track me. I regret it; I've become attached. It is beautiful here, and I have
been able to hunt successfully. But sentimentality is useless; the
only thing that is truly important is I.
My
fingers touch my face lightly, feeling what is considered so valuable
by my creators. I am strong, I am beautiful. My powers are
unheard of. They are impossible and frightening. I am invincible. I am a danger to them all.
That is why I am
hunted. I am sought after by two groups, both who think that they
own me, that they made me. No, it is not possible.
I am stronger than them all. I am self-made and self-raised. I am
fit only to reign. My mind, intelligent and quick, constantly plans. The world should be mine, it will be mine. None of them ever
understood that. Or maybe they did, and that's why they worked so
hard to control me.
I can't help it; I break
out into sobs again.
I launch into the air,
wings spread, letting out a scream of anguish. The trees around me
are a green blur and I break out of the woods. The sky above me is
grey and opaque. The humidity assaults my skin and little beads of
sweat form on my arms, only to be swept away by the wind.
I can't breathe with the injustice of it all. No one ever stops to
think that Lucifer might have been right to plot against God. When
he rebelled against his ruler he was fighting off an oppressor. He
was destroying the lies; he was reaching his own true potential. He
placed himself rightfully above his peers. And for that he was
thrown into hell.
He fell, remember? He
was not thrown. Hell was Satan's own creation.
No, no, it couldn't be. No person would choose hell. No person
would resolve to that misery. He was thrown.
And when he fell through the clouds, they all just watched. Gabriel,
Raphael, Michael, they stared down at him from above. They were
glad, most likely, happy that the one, who was better than them, the
one who dared to challenge the authority, the one that threatened
their perfection, was gone. They let him fall.
Lucifer did not create his hell.
"He was
thrown!" I yell it to the sky, hoping that the angels would hear
me and weep for their lost brother. And maybe, with enough guilt,
they'd jump to join him.
I fly over a lake,
staring at my shadowy reflection. My body is lithe and bendy; my
beauty is that of human myth. I am transfixed, unable to pull away. I relax, my fists unclench and my mouth slackens. I didn't realize
how tense I had become. At this moment I feel as if God himself
could not call me from this mirror.
Yes,
reigning does hold some appeal.
My tears
ripple the still water, and I wipe my eyes angrily. I was driven to
it, all of this hiding and running. I hug myself; touch myself, just
to make sure that I am real.
I will not be
satisfied until I rule, even if I must turn this earth into a living
hell.
oO0Oo
AN: I just always think that Angel is too narcissistic and controlling for anyone's good. The comparison between the flock and Angels is obvious.
Review please? Concrit is more than welcome.