Lucifer Rising: a New Prince

Hello, there. Lucifer Morningstar here. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. You're actually talking to the Devil himself. Relax, I'm not here to cause you any harm. Honest. Cross my heart and hope to die. Seriously, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead and that's that. No, I'm here to set the record straight once and for all. You see, I've been the victim of the most negative PR campaign in human history. Actually, make that all of history because a lot of the shit that gets said about me took place before mankind came into existence. Alright? Cool.

Up until a few days ago, I actually thought of myself as Eric Wahid, an ordinary man living a fairly normal life. I actually remember every detail of the ordinary mortal life I led. I was born in the town of Nabatieh in the Republic of Lebanon to an Ethiopian father and Lebanese Christian mother. I was raised in the City of Beirut, and was fascinated by all things western. I attended a Catholic school and after graduation, I opted to study outside of Lebanon. I spent a year studying at Cambridge College in the City of London, England, before moving to the City of Ottawa in the Province of Ontario, somewhere in east central Canada to study at Carleton University.

I vividly remember my life in the Republic of Lebanon with my parents, Joseph Wahid and Catherine Al-Mansur. I remember being the only brown person in our part of town with the exception of my tall and dark-skinned, proud African father. Being an Orthodox Ethiopian didn't make life easy for him among the Christians and Muslims vying for control of Lebanon at the time. My father told me how he joined a Lebanese Christian militia after our family was attacked by Muslims during the dark days of the Lebanese Civil War. I remember the constant shootings, the rockets being launched, the destruction and the death. I remember seeing scores of young men and women dead due to sectarian warfare. Oh, yes. I remember all that. It was a big part of my life.

One day, my life changed. I met an old man named Ibrahim while visiting the nation of Ethiopia, my father's ancestral homeland. I didn't realize that I was speaking to the biblical Patriarch Abraham when he spoke to me. He came to me and asked me to help him on a mission of utmost importance. He believed that a war was brewing between the Angels of Heaven and the Dark Angels of Hell, and mankind might not survive being caught in the crossfire. I thought the old man was crazy, until he showed me proof of his supernatural abilities. Abraham the Patriarch, the Chosen of God, sacred progenitor of Jews and Christians alike, lived and died a long time ago. His soul ascended to paradise, where he rejoiced in the embrace of God. Until God apparently grew so disgusted with His creation that He couldn't stand to look at it anymore. God left the Universe, and basically all living beings, mortal and immortal alike, basically found themselves on their own.

Hoping to stop the War of the Angels from destroying the Abode of Man, Abraham pleaded with the Archangel Michael, the Ruler of Heaven in God's absence, to be allowed to return to the planet Earth. The Viceroy of the Kingdom of Heaven agreed, and Abraham was returned to earth in a new body....endowed with new powers. Although he's mortal again, he's no ordinary human being. He can heal instantly from any injury. He has the ability to regenerate. He can also heal others with a simple touch. At the time he revealed this to me, I was pretty impressed. I became Abraham's sidekick or little helper if you will. Our mission? The old man wanted to locate Lucifer's Prison, for he had it on good authority that the Angels of Heaven trapped Lucifer Morningstar somewhere on the planet Earth thousands of years ago, leaving the Dark Angels of Hell basically leaderless. As long as the Dark Angels fight among themselves for the Throne of Hell, they can't unite against the Angels of Heaven. See how twisted heavenly creatures can be? And they call me prideful.

The Guys Upstairs had this wonderful idea that without a leader, the Dark Angels posed no threat to their rule. Since they couldn't kill me, they destroyed my body. Now, an Angel's body is exceptionally hard to destroy. We are invulnerable, we cannot age, and we are immune to disease. We were built to last by the most powerful craftsman in history, God Himself. The only thing that can hurt an Angel is Empyrean metal, and both Angels and Dark Angels use it to fashion their swords and other weapons. Properly used, an Empyrean blade can kill an Angel. Abraham used one against a certain nasty Archangel named Gabriel attacked us in broad daylight, wounding him. The female warrior Angel Hazel fought the Dark Angel Astaroth and I used her sword to behead him as he was about to kill her. Yeah, I wasn't fond of Angels, either good or bad. Ever since I met Abraham, they seemed to have it in for me.

After I killed Astaroth, the Patriarch Abraham showed up, flanked by the Archangel Uriel and her two flunkies, the warrior Angels formerly known Sabriel and Haguel. They were determined to kill me because they just found out from the Archangel Michael where Lucifer Morningstar's Prison was located. Lucifer wasn't trapped in a conventional prison. The most powerful Angel of them all was trapped inside a human body, for Heaven made him forget who he was and stripped him of his Angelic powers. Uriel glowered at me with her flunkies as Abraham painfully told me all that. When she decided to sic them on me, I had to defend myself. Using power I didn't know I had, I dispatched them promptly. Uriel vanished like the cowardly bitch I knew she was. I stood alone with the Angel Hazel and Abraham. One was the Angel who intervened to save my life, the other was the man who changed my life. At the moment, both of them were scared of me. They thought I was The Enemy.

I told them that I meant them no harm, then I left. Now, here I am. Sitting alone in a park in downtown the City of Boston, Massachusetts. I had to get away from the City of Ottawa, Ontario, for a while. I watched people go by all day in Boston Common, thinking about my life. It's one of those existential moments, you know? I can clearly remember every detail of my life. I remember playing soccer in the streets of Beirut with my friends. I remember falling in love with Samirah Bashir, the tall, dark-haired and bronze-skinned young Lebanese woman who lived next door, and my parents discouraging me from pursuing anything with her because she was a Shiite Muslim and we were Christians. Religious differences are a BIG thing in Arabian societies.

Still, my heart yearned for the lovely Samirah and I could not forget her. I remember running into Samirah at a nightclub while visiting my mother's side of the family in the environs of Baalbek, south Lebanon, when we were both eighteen years old. How wonderful she smelled. How gracefully she moved. I remember making love to her that night, and many nights after that. I remember returning with her to Beirut, where I informed my parents of my love for her. We were going to get married. I would convert to Islam if that's what it took. I remember the cold, smug look on Samirah's father's face, the esteemed Ahmed didn't think much of a mixed-race man like myself. I remember the anger I felt when he called me a kafir and an abd, which means slave in Arabic. The racist goon! Angrily I flung myself at him, punching him in the face right in his doorstep. I remember my parents fearing for my safety afterwards and strongly encouraging me to study abroad, because Ahmed was a wealthy and powerful man in Lebanese society and his wrath would be fierce indeed. I left Lebanon, saying goodbye to my beloved Samirah forever. Later, I would learn from my parents that she died under mysterious circumstances. The truth? She was slain by her family for dishonoring them for loving me, a non-Muslim. Yeah, it's like that in Arab societies and elsewhere in the Muslim world nowadays.

Like many of the decent-minded people of this world, I rejoiced when Pastor Youcef Nadarkhani, the Iranian-born former Muslim who became a famous Christian preacher, was finally freed from prison by the government of Iran, which had sentenced him to death for leaving Islam. Yeah, I thought about all those things on that bright sunny day while sitting on a bench inside Boston Common. Just a tall, good-looking and well-dressed young Black man taking in the town's sights and sounds. While gazing at Boston and indeed at the world, I saw a lot. Men and women doing terrible things to each other. A myriad evil deeds for the usual excuses, such as differences in race, religion, greed, nationality, political ideology, lifestyle, sexuality, lust, anger, hatred, and all the other excuses men and women drudge up to destroy one another. Humans are still hell-bent on destroying each other, just like when I last saw the world.

I don't really remember too much about my days as an Archangel in the Kingdom of Heaven, just flashes and impressions rather than real memories. What am I supposed to do now? There is much chaos in the Pit of Hell, as Dark Angels fight one another depending on which factions they're loyal to. In Heaven, they're laughing, these winged sons and daughters of the Almighty. So bent on holding onto every last shred of divine power after the departure of Our Father. Tsk. Idiots. Don't they know that power corrupts? I'm living and everlasting proof of that. So, what am I going to do now? Return to Hell, get rid of the blasted and flimsy competition and lead the unified Dark Angels, Demons and Monsters against Heaven? Stay on earth and watch as Dark Angel and Angel endanger mankind with their folly? I shall do neither. For I am Lucifer Morningstar, Adversary of God, and the Master of All Surprises. I don't give a fuck about Heaven or Hell. I like it down here on earth. And I like humanity. To hell with good and evil, and long live those of us who live somewhere in the middle. That's you and me, folks. I declare war against both heaven and hell on behalf of their victims, the men and women of planet Earth.

Looking past the veil that hides the supernatural realms from the gaze of mortals, I saw hordes of Angels, Dark Angels, Demons, Giants and Monsters locked in deadly battle across a thousand worlds. More and more of them are crossing over to the earthly plane, heedless of the damage they're doing to this beautiful world and its inhabitants with their endless war. Just like many innocent people have gotten killed by both the Taliban and the U.S. Army as they fought across many nations, many innocent people will die as the Immortals bring their war here. Time for them to get a taste of their own medicine. With that thought, I ascend to heaven. Everywhere I look, fires erupt. The gates of Heaven smolder, then wither to ashes. Angel upon Angel gapes in surprise and shock. Heaven is open, and Hell rises to invade it, sensing its weakness, but colossal stones filled with Empyrean shards fall like rain on Hell's foot soldiers. Everywhere, both Angel and Dark Angel die, slain not by each other but by the Will of Lucifer. Me. In shiny gold letters I write in both the skies of heaven and the fiery tapestry of hell a simple message : Stay out of my sandbox if you know what's good for you. Sincerely, Lucifer Morningstar. I'm earth's new protector. Not bad for my first day on the job, eh?