Promised for Eden

They closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the senses. Where is it the most cold? Where the northern wind knaws, on the tips of their fingers and the nape of their neck. Where is it the most warm? On their arm pits and shoulders, safely shielded from the cold under a leather jacket. What’s the loudest sound you can hear? The ripping engines of the jets overhead seemed to blur out all else, so they waited, and once the noise had started to subside, what is the quietest? They struggled for a second, really intensely listening, until they could make out the distant noise of a child sobbing.

They opened their eyes just as the planes dropped their bombs. How many shades of blue can you see? For some reason the minutes immediately after closing your eyes were always soaked in blue, not just the dark melancholy sky, but the places where the sun hit the sides of the metropolitan buildings, and the edges of the great flowers of the explosions, where dust and ash rocketed out from what was once two apartment towers across town. How many shades of green? This was a bit trickier, but eventually they noticed the sickening lime hue that the very edge of the streets lights illuminated the empty dirty streets with. How many shades of red? Their eyes were immediately drawn to the large plume of smoke coming from across town, and saw how the dark maroon of the top grew more to an orange closer to the fire, which itself burned a dark blood red. 

They had finally had enough, nothing here was worth focusing so deeply on. They lifted themselves up from the ledge they had been sitting on, and wandered back into the building they’d taken up residence in for the past few months. They walked in through the empty door post and sat themselves down onto the make shift bed they made. After a few minutes desperately trying to fall asleep to the rumble of explosions outside, they flicked on the gasoline powered lantern next to them and grabbed one of the magazines they had stored away.

It was an issue on the extravagant homes of the wealthy. Their homes truly were beautiful. With large marble arches, large glass walls, some even had pools set along like a river sprawling across the mountain sides their houses perched on. Yet, the lingering smell of gasoline and flame and the intermittent sound of sirens along the broken streets showed the reality for most of everyone else. Still, when they flipped to a home with a garden unparalleled, it brought forth a memory that ripped them apart more violently than any bomb ever could.

They thought back to that original garden all those years ago. It was nothing like this world now, they couldn't even have imagined something so horrific then. No, they made it lush and green, full of vibrancy. It had every blooming color of flower, and the dark restful escape of the wilderness to escape from it. Waterfalls fell quietly, gently bringing in water never tainted with anything but minerals. And in the center stood a tree. The most beautiful tree they had ever made, with branches that moved within themselves, and leaves and fruit of every color that sparkled when the light touched them.

It was this tree that had caused all the problems. The humans there had eaten from the tree too early, and now were polluted with the toxins that God hadn’t quite removed yet.  It should have ended there, eradicating and replacing the contaminated humans before they passed the disease on to their children. 

But Lucifer wasn’t going to allow that. He had been the cause of all this, somehow convincing the humans that the fruit would make them more powerful, on the level of God. They had no idea why he would do this, but when he approached God later on their throne in heaven, it became clear why.

From his very creation, Lucifer had been praised. He had been compared to the most precious of stones in his beauty. But all those years of accolades, of gushing from the other angels, had numbed him to it. He had finally realized why. He could never be the best. No matter how beautiful, no matter how powerful, no matter how perfect, he would never have praise like God had. It was then that he began his planning, and he found just what he’d been looking for lying there in Eden, just waiting for him to pounce. 

“Great God in heaven,” he said before them, “I challenge you, before all the thrones, seraphim, and cherubs, and even the archangel herself; that you are unfit for rule. And as evidence, I sight the rebellion of humanity.”

The heavens went silent waiting for Gods response. 

“How do you propose we settle this challenge.” They said.

“Allow me to rule their descendants,” He replied, a sickening smile on his face, ”And every thing else in your creation too. Not forever, just long enough to see who can direct the universe better.”

They should have said no. There was no good that would come from this. Lucifer was obviously unfit for rule, and he wasn’t proposing any kind of contest. What he was truly proposing was a trade off, like how a child offers to take her siblings chores for a few minutes more of play. Except, Lucifer’s exchange was his life; for a few millennia of the greatest power imaginable. 

But he had phrased it as a challenge, something to be proved. God was justice, and they couldn’t simply throw either of those things away. Before they could punish him, it must be shown without reasonable doubt that he was wrong. Otherwise, God would be a tyrant, unworthy of true respect and admiration by their creation. 

“Your challenge is permitted.”

And just like that, Lucifer the angel was no more, and Satan the Devil became enthroned. God knew there would be no place for them in heaven, all it would do is leave them open to Satans manipulation. So their last act of creation was an earthly body, and they’ve wandered the earth ever since. They go to every scene of horror, every collecting place of evil, making note of all the flaws in his rulership.

They were ripped from their thoughts by the rumbling of a bomb going off near them, and the ensuing cacophony of car alarms going off all along the street. It disgusted them every waking moment. Not just the twisted atrocities of humanity, but also their own failure. Yes, God almighty, merciful, and perfect, had failed. They never should have agreed to the deal, never should have permitted it. In their pursuit of justice, how much injustice had they caused? Weren’t the rights and value of these humans just as important as Satans? Yet how many had they doomed to injustice? 

It began to dawn on them that the reason they left heaven may not have been to avoid satan, or better document the failures in his reign. After all, God was all seeing, and they had already become wise to Satan's deception. No, the real reason they threw themselves to earth, God had realized, was as their own punishment. They knew their guilt, and forced themselves to face the consequences. They had made the earth a hell by their foolishness, so now, it’s become their prison.