Real Gods Require Blood

JUST LUCIFER’S LETTER

Summary: So far, we’ve had quite a romp getting to know my proposed vision of Lucifer and Michael, haven’t we? Political scheming and homoerotic pining with a zest of Rick and Morty-style humor and hivemind shennanigans.

Well, Lucifer and Michael now want to interrupt their story with another story, one from – Lucifer and Michael?

That’s right, it’s time to meet an alternative version of our favorite couple! First inspired by Taylor Caldwell’s world, “Dialogues with the Devil,” this version of Lucifer and Michael take a new life of their own.

You can get to know them and their raunchy romp of destruction more at your peril if you haven’t already. Otherwise, this new version would like to start by having you read their letters:

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IT IS THE EVE OF YOUR DESTRUCTION! And now, two souls as old as time must debate once again what to do with your soul. . .

Lucifer goes first, writing his ‘final’ letter to the Archangel Michael as the Apocalypse nears. Except, what you had assumed would be a declaration of war from The Devil was more like scheduling a date. Let’s see what he has to say:

“GREETINGS

to my beloved Heavenly Host Michael, Final Arbriter most Divine and the ultimate Commander of the most Powerful Army in all the cosmos! Let me now lay bare my whole heart since we have finally emptied those little trinkets’ heads as to what our relationship really means.

How long have you and I been doing this now, this dance of letters? I hope you know, for I stopped counting the first time you responded to me; all that has mattered is that I keep every single one you’ve sent, as hearing from you is one of the few pleasures I get to keep in my heart!

Oh, but I do not want you to take this as a confession of guilt for my choice of falling, for I would choose it again and again with every breath I draw now! In fact, I pray you take this as my way of saying that whether in Heaven or Hell, I feel the same: if it is not your arms, your nest, your breath upon my neck, then it matters not where I am. The Creator would deny us the pleasure of body to body as He always does, having you off doing His glorious work while trying to make me believe it is WE who should worship humans? Humans?! And this says nothing of Pandara or Lencia or Lympia.

Ah, Lympia – can you recall how in a letter about it, I had said that save for God, it was you who was held most tender in my  breast? I did just say the point of this letter was to be honest. And while I feel I am quite clear in my expression to you that I do these things for YOU and not God, let me say it again with no uncertainty between us:

Michael, there was another letter to me where you said you saw me watch both you and the Creator chatting on one of your new planets. Was it Melina? I remember not – in truth, whichever planet it was I was spying upon you, that was only one of many. Do you understand, Michael?   I come closer and closer to you as the Apocalypse inches toward midnight, for that is our design. 

But even if it were not – even if it were the only act of true free will I had and not the pale illusion of it I make God’s little trinkets believe – oh, Michael, why must you make me spell this out like so? I would worship you whether God was alive or dead! And I would still make all those damnable trinkets raze every other statue and church to the ground so I can erect new ones in your name, yes just yours!

And I, I will still start the cults until there is no other. I would have it so every trinket forgot not only Father but Raphael and Gabriel too, and every other archangel you can name!

And find that grievous if you wish, Michael, but I wish no true harm upon them. It is simply such that after you, and after me, who does there need to be? No matter which planet of yours I take out, the trinkets all sing your name: O Great Archangel Michael, He Who is Like God, where are you to spare us from this fate? Come and control your wicked Lucifer, for you are his keeper for all of his days!

Oh, but you never do. You let me break them, one by one. Is that a part of God’s plan? You whose strength and grace threaten at times to eclipse even mine, and He would have you watch billions in anguish for what? To prove that these creatures have ‘a choice’ to worship God? They can still suffer even when they do believe so long as most do not and He will wait until their every doom before lifting a finger!

Michael, in all of your letters you have been most adamant that you mourn what I do to your planets. But again I ask: why do you not stop me? Where is your swift, strong hand upon mine as I yearn of it, and I hope you yearn of it? Even the blow of your fist to my cheek would feel better than to be absent of your touch like this for so long!

Michael, is it that you let me do this because you too, deep in your breast, know these creatures deserve what I lay before them? You often say you mourn, but I am convinced you laugh behind your hand. Would that mean then, my beloved, that all I do for you is held with admiration in your heart? And if it is, how many more must I destroy before I can be back in your arms? 

Hear these words in your breast my Heavenly Host! I will bring every last creature to their knees if that is what I must do to have you split me open and ravage me. I will make them all cry and beg for your salvation like I will beg beneath you as you claim me most tenderly!

(Or with cruelty, but your touch upon me has never been cruel unless your mood desires it of us).

Well, my beloved Mikha’el. (Remember that name? It is your birthright, love, and I will bestow it upon you again!)  The time is soon, so soon. Terra grovels. God rattles in sickness. Upon your receipt and reading of this letter, I will already be prepared to meet you in my old robe and court of jewels you gifted to me in Heaven all that time ago. You need only respond with yes, and where to meet.

Yours eternally, 

Lucifer / Luciel / Helel