Angels Before Man

by Rafael Nicolás

Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. So I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you

And then Lucifer followed him, followed him out into Heaven and toward the singing, though he felt as if his beautiful reflection were walking behind and, at any moment, it would step ahead, and Lucifer would become its shadow.

Lucifer missed the darkness, longed for what had come before. This was his first wanting.

“You shouldn’t stay in your head so much, brother. Your life is out here.” Lucifer rolled his shoulders a bit, not wanting to think about those words, not wanting to think at all.

“Hm?” Lucifer brought a wing around to his front and picked at crisp, dried blood that had stuck a few feathers together. “You want to fly up high? But what if I fall?” “Have faith in God, and you will always be well, Lucifer.”

the wise know to be nostalgic for the good times even while they’re happening.

But consciousness is often born from production, by our relation to production; to live is to create.

But we’re always looking for narratives, looking for meaning, looking for God. Even the angels.

Bloodthirsty — Lucifer had never heard a word like this; he picked it apart literally, thinking of filling a wine glass with blood and sipping. Would it drunken him, too?

The Lord replied, “You’re becoming more beautiful, Lucifer.” Lucifer raised his head, blinking eyes that widened. “I am?” But his Father maintained His gaze on the waterfall, away from the angel. “There is nothing more beautiful than worship. Your splendor is like none other of my creations.”

Occasionally, Lucifer wondered why their Father couldn’t just be literal about the nature of things. Always, it was metaphors, allusions, words designed for interpretation. The first falsehoods.

He shut his eyes and listened to his friend work and the beats of his heart. Once, Lucifer had asked if these thumps in his chest were necessary, and God had replied that they were not, and maybe He would take his heart out, and Lucifer partly longed for that day. He imagined it beating, held tenderly in the Lord’s hand.

The end. This is where he often begins the story, though he’s never told it. He’s heard them say that his life really began here, because Lucifer surely couldn’t live unless he was adored. And it was sweet to believe that there’s ever such a person who starts our life, that everything before them was unnecessary — the belief that life begins with love. Our first love.

And if I’m told to take to the stars again, I’ll just take you with me.”