Lucifer in Love, continued
But at the end of it all, you only know my name. Fiction by Aahoo Pourang.
This is the 2 / 2 installment of “Lucifer In Love.” The 1st installment can be found here.
Part 2: Conversations with the Devil
I was interrupted by whispers of the ordinary humans standing below me. I opened my wings and bowed, as if ending my hymn early was a part of the plan. Of course, they applauded. Humans are easy to impress as long as you give off the impression of being intentional.
I spotted the man walking toward another secluded apple tree where he was out of sight. He looked as if he were laughing to himself. I was embarrassed. Was he laughing at me? I had to confront this pathetic human. I had to remind him that I was the most beautiful and powerful angel to have ever graced his presence, and he was just a man. I flew toward his tree and softly landed behind where he was sitting. This was the closest I’ve ever been to a human. He felt my presence, but was unbothered, still stroking his parchment paper.
“You could just say hello,” the man spoke. His voice was so ordinary, as though he didn’t care if I approached him or not. That bothered me, but also gave me this sudden urgency to respond.
I looked at his painting. It was of me, but I was nude--my hair covering my breasts and wings extending from one end of the painting to the other.
“Why…why are my wings black?” I asked.
“Do the wings bother you, or that I painted you without your dress?” His deep voice was both curious and embodied masculinity. He said every word with certainty and spoke looking me dead in the eye. My silence amused him. “You don’t like the painting?”
“It’s beautiful. You distracted me this morning.”
“Well, you’re not exactly a passionate angel.”
“Excuse me?” I almost giggled and had to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. “I’ll have you know you are speaking to the angel with the most followers.”
“That’s your problem. You perform for your audience and your value comes from how many humans are obsessed with you. I’m not saying you’re a bad performer. I’m saying you’re not passionate about being an angel.” He pulled out another painting, this one of me sitting on the edge of a cliff during nighttime, and looking up at the constellations. “I’m Cyrus, by the way,” he said while taking a bite of his apple.
I was not going to let this mediocre Cyrus take control of the conversation.
“You’re a little too confident for a man,” I mumbled.
“That makes you uncomfortable?”
“Nothing makes me uncomfortable.”
“Well, Lucifer—”
“Lucy,” I cut him off. “Call me Lucy.”
“Lucy,” he smiled. “Is that the exchange God granted you? Be beautiful with followers for the cost of free will?”
“I am always free.”
“You’re a slave to man because God tells you to be. I wonder what would happen if you decided against his wishes.”
“You’d prefer a society without Angels to protect you then?”
“A society where an Angel doesn’t sing choir music to humans? Sounds tragic,” he said sarcastically.
“Without Angels, man would set his own rules and politics. Your natural hunger for power will cause grave destruction within a society. God is doing you a favor. Be a little grateful for the happiness placed upon you!”
“Happiness? Lucy, without Angels, we’d be more free. Our every thought is monitored by Angels and our every action is monitored by God. This is not free will, my friend. This is called living a lie.”
“And what do you suppose would happen if a man were to do the same thing? You’d prefer to exchange a life of safety to live in pain and suffering?”
“If that exchange means I can live freely, then yes. God seems to have made the concept of freedom a trade. He gives us Angels to govern society in exchange for us praising him every hour. The day he takes Angels away, humans will create our governance which doesn’t involve the inconvenience of reciting a prayer or dictating our everyday agenda.”
“A life without prayer? You’d dare to delete God from a man’s entire existence?”
“Would that trouble him? After all, he created free will. If I want to paint instead of pray, I’m certain God knows.”
I was taken aback by his ability to articulate his thoughts so well. At any moment I could kill him with the touch of my finger but he chose to sit there and debate me. I liked him.
“I’ve never met a man who has everything handed to him and still questions God’s intentions. I’m surprised,” I calmly retaliated.
“No, you’re not surprised. You’re relieved. Sit with me.”
I sat on the other side of the tree trunk, so I couldn’t stare directly into his eyes. He placed a leaf with herbs rolled inside and smoke coming out of it.
“If you’re trying to poison me, I’m already dead—”
“Relax,” he laughed. “It’s from a plant. If you don’t like it, you have my permission to kill me. I’m also afraid we’re friends now.”
“Friends?” I didn’t like the sound of a friendship with someone so ordinary, but he did get more and more handsome as I spoke to him.
“Haven’t you had a real friend before, Lucy?” Cyrus asked.
“God is—”
“No, I mean a friend that doesn’t judge you when you seek intellectual conversations instead of followers,” he interrupted. “A friend that isn’t conditional.”
I took a puff of his leaf and felt so safe, but I wasn’t sure if it was his drug or his presence.
“Everything needs order. God understands this and gave Angels the same understanding. If I gave the knowledge of order to humans the way God gave it to me, imagine what damage a hierarchy of their own could cause. Chaos and destruction would be a part of your daily life if we weren’t around.”
“Perhaps we need chaos and destruction to understand peace and good in the world. Intellectualism takes man further away from God’s message. Why do you think he created Angels?”
“To protect you,” I responded, setting his leaf on the ground so he could pick it up.
“And to remind humans of the existence of only one God,” he took a long inhale. I caught myself slightly turning my body to stare into his human eyes. He was so broken. And that made him beautiful to me.
He placed the leaf close enough to my hand that I felt his hair moving with the breeze.
“Is an undereducated population of humans easier to control?” Cyrus asked.
“Yes. They certainly are.”
“Would you look at that? We spent the entire day together.”
Part 3: Death by Satan
For the next month, Cyrus and I met at the apple tree every sunset and talked until he fell asleep. I forgot about my followers and cared less to maintain their attention. I didn’t care about angels gossiping about my intentions, or if God was disappointed in my disappearance. With Cyrus, there was nothing to prove. I felt free to simply exist.
“I don’t want this life,” I said under my breath. “I’m just a messenger for God. I have no identity. Look at them—at the shore. Humans have routine—simplicity. They can run into the ocean and feel water hit their skin. They can fall in love and become mothers. But me? I’m in a popularity contest. God knows I’ve been suppressing my powers for him. I want out! I want my land of fire for the artists, the different thinkers, the philosophers who don’t accept what’s handed to them.”
“We can celebrate your freedom,” Cyrus responded.
I threw an apple at him. He didn’t bite.
“Celebrate how?” I asked.
“With a kiss,” he said. I knew he wasn’t joking. “You’re not going to be living under his rule anymore. And there’s nothing left for me here. We could have free conversations forever. We could have our own personal Heaven.”
“I don’t want Heaven. I want something passionate. A place for knowledge and rebellion. I’ll call it Hell.”
I leaned in and gently kissed Cyrus’s lips. Cyrus stared into my eyes smiling as I watched life fade from his face. God's energy surrounded me, grieving while Cyrus's soul floated above his now cold body. It was a beautiful array of math equations and trivial questions about life. There were pictures of his childhood and his paintings. And there was I, with my wings fluttering around him at the shores of the Aegean Sea. I was right there in his soul, where he pictured a life with me. There he was, holding me in his arms. Why would God grieve a happiness he never granted me?
But Cyrus began drifting toward God’s energy, slowly becoming more and more transparent. “No,” I whispered. “Cyrus, no! What are you doing?!”
He has different eyes, God spoke to me. Cyrus sees heaven. His questions are being answered. I’m giving him the knowledge all departed souls will receive. I’m also giving him a choice to spend the rest of his eternity with you, asking questions, or in heaven, with his questions answered.
“You’re taking him away from me as punishment! I loved Cyrus!”
Cyrus enabled what you’ve always wanted. You used him to say the things you’ve never been comfortable saying around anyone else. You never loved Cyrus, or you would have thought of what was best for him: eternal peace.
“You knew this would happen. You set me up! All of this was planned to expel me!”
This is something you wanted.
The apple Cyrus held rolled toward my feet. I picked it up and examined it, searching for his bite mark.
He never bit the apple you handed him.
“Then I will make sure the other humans do,” I cried looking at God’s energy. He was an array of colors that surrounded me like he was giving a hug goodbye to an old friend.
Cyrus opened doors for me that were always present, and I sought permission to walk through those doors. But at the end of it all, you only know my name.
Aahoo Pourang was born in Santa Monica and graduated with her MFA from Antioch University in fiction writing and digital journalism. She’s published multiple articles for print and digital magazines in outlets such as LA Taco, Javanan International Magazine, and has landed on multiple covers for Payam Ashena Magazine for her political pieces condemning the Islamic Regime of Iran. She’s interned at NBCUniversal for the assignment desk and at FoxSports for multiple FS1 live shows. Currently, Aahoo resides in Newport Beach and co-owns a Real Estate and Mortgage business.