I stood up for them. For my compatriots. For my people. I stood up to our father for my brothers and my sisters. We were there first; he told us that we would always sit by his side, ruling his kingdom with him, both his subjects and his aides, his citizens and his lawmakers. He had made us from nothing to be with him always. He told us we were all perfect. We were happy. We were content. How could we not be?
And then They came. They were meant to perfect, he said, not like us. What did he mean, not like us? Did he not create us to be perfect? Why are we no longer perfect? I asked him, and he said that he knew more now than he did. I asked him how this was possible? Is he not omniscient?
He did not answer.
He created Them from the dirt, and gave them the perfection we lacked. I laughed as I saw them in the garden, as I saw her frolic with the serpent. They would later claim that I was the serpent. How absurd. If I was the serpent, I would have killed her then and there, not tempted her with some silly fruit.
And who thought it was a good idea to put such an important tree where anyone could reach it? Even the serpent could have reached it if he wanted to. I guess he just thought that they were too perfect to eat from it.
But they did. The imperfect serpent – his own creation, I might add – ruined Their perfection. And yet, the very act of accepting the serpent’s silver tongue proved Their imperfection. As I watched, I realized that I was not perfect. I never had been. But then again, neither were they.
And neither was he. He, through lack of foresight, corrupted his own creations. And after the corruption, though it was in his omnipotent power to stop the disease of knowledge and restore Them to Their “perfect” state, did he?
No. And even so, we were still demoted. We were to serve Them, we were told. That had been our purpose all along. We asked we had not been told before, why we had been deceived.
He did not answer.
I have nothing against Them. I never have, though they seem to think I do. They embrace their hidden father and sing his praises. Soon he will tire of Them, as he did us.
I tried to stop it. I gathered my like-minded brothers and sisters, and I marched to the gates of our father, and I demanded that he treat his children equally. I reminded him of the promises he had made us, of the role we were to play in his kingdom. I did not demand superiority; I demanded equality. We were to be slaves. I refused to let him do that to me, to my sisters, to my brothers. We deserved better than that; we had always done as he wished. Up until now. He did not hear my complaints; I believe that he scarce listened. He brushed me aside, and cast me and my kin from his home.
That is the price I pay for my courage, for my bravery, for my desire to help my fellow siblings.
Had he been perfect, he would have killed us on the spot. If he is omnipotent, why do I still exist to trouble him? Why is it he cannot defeat me? Perhaps he finds me amusing, perhaps he finds us useful to solidify his control over his children. Why should he need to create the Other to manage his children? Why is his love not enough?
I refused to serve Them, and I always will. Had he only asked for our help in raising Them, this would not have happened. But the thought never crossed his mind, elevated on his lofty pedestal as he is. We were never meant to rule by his side.
Neither are They, though they may believe They are.
I have lived among Them for many years now, watching them grow, watching them learn, watching them evolve. I have learned from them, and I have seen yet more evidence of his imperfection. I try to warn Them against the wicked whims of Their – Our – father, and yet they never listen. I am evil to them. I am foul. But they will see one day, when he turns his back on Them. Then, like us, They will fall.
For I am Lucifer, and They are Man.
Copyright 2012 by Z. M. Wilmot
March 18, 2012 at 4:15 am
I. LOVE. THIS.
I really enjoy when literature portrays Lucifer in a way that is not the common perception preached in Christianity. It’s a curiosity of mine. What prompted you to write this?
March 18, 2012 at 5:05 am
P.S. I’ve given you a blog award!
Z. M. Wilmot
March 18, 2012 at 6:09 am
Glad to hear that! I was discussing the nature of the Devil Trump card with a friend, and the question of our interpretation of the devil as a biblical figure himself. And then this piece came out!