Angels Before Man

by Rafael Nicolás

“How is it that I am so beautiful? It’s too much.” He turned away, swift, and shielded his face with both hands, blanketing himself with darkness. “If that is what you see, please look away.”

He couldn’t return to the emptiness he’d awoken from; already, it felt as if that time had never existed and, just seconds ago, he had made it up. Yet, Lucifer missed the darkness, longed for what had come before. This was his first wanting.

It’s a bit unfair for someone to be that beautiful and full of curious whimsy, don’t you think?”

Even if it were, what is an angel of beauty meant to do? Sit and be stared at?”

“To be incarnate, they say, is to bleed and to hurt.”

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

“Thank you! I like them too. White lilies symbolize purity, they say.” “What is purity?” “Not sure! I suppose that symbolizes something too.”

My name is Lucifer — that’s all that I know. I know what the Lord dressed me in and what He handed to me, and inside, I can feel the detail He put into me.” These whistles between his words, these beautiful things inside him. “And yet, I’m lost. I want to know what He made me for, so that I can uphold His splendor,”

They said Lucifer must be His favorite, and that they stood witness to Lucifer being tended like a flower, teased to grow in the direction of archangel-hood.

because Lucifer surely couldn’t live unless he was adored.

‘How terribly lonely that must be, to be so beautiful that others think of you a thorn.’” His arm extended out, fingers brushing against one of Lucifer’s wrists, before taking it. Michael pulled downward, making the other expose himself, then simply held him, rubbing his thumb over the veins. “And how worse it must be to think that of yourself.”

“They don’t kill?” “Only if they must.” “Then are they really beasts?”

Was he trying to mold him, like clay? Was he shaping him into something new?

So if Lucifer had ever the choice, he might’ve decided to inspire the Lord’s hate, rather than His quiet displeasure. A hand that strikes from the dark is at least proof of a hand. It’s kinder to be beaten than to be left untouched.

‘There is another Eden, within me. I have it nestled between the heat of love.

He didn’t understand; ‘Is this being immodest? Simply wanting to admire myself? Father made me opulent, and everyone gets to enjoy it, but I can’t?’

‘But if I were like God, I’d create a new piece of me every day for you to kiss. I’d remake myself, chasing that mouth.’

“These robes were a gift, the same way my beauty was. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Isn’t this paradise? Why should I spend eternity disliking myself?!”

‘I saw the way He took advantage of you, singing so adoringly to Him. It doesn’t make sense, why would He hurt you? Aren’t you His favorite? Where was His mercy? I’m not wise, I never have been, but I’m fearful.’

“Is Father good because He is good, or because He says He is good?”

‘First, Father strips him of his voice, and now it appears he’s cursed him with speaking nonsensically. What will a third time bring?

what would Seir do, if Lucifer told him to do this, or that, what would this young angel Dina do, if Lucifer ordered him to smash his head against the wall; where might the line be in all the angels’ sweet obedience to him? ‘This is what Father wonders, isn’t it?’

‘All I ever wanted was to be loved, and now you’ve shown me that to be loved is to be broken. What is inside me?’ Someone had once said there were flowers, within him, but his fingers had only found the smooth, wet tissue of organs beneath flesh. Could it be he was made up of both beautiful and horrible things?

I don’t understand how He can be furious with us, hurting you, when He knows everything, when He can see eternity, when He should have seen this when He made you, when He made me.

‘I overthrow God, or I immolate myself until I become as close to death as death. Creation at last — the death of an angel.’

If God is so all-powerful, then what does He gain from our servitude? What does one derive from subjugating meek, tiny creatures? Do any of you see dignity in punishing a rose that cannot defend itself from you?”

“No matter how He punishes us, we’ll be free!” Lucifer shouted out and the army replied they would be. “He cannot take this away from us, these memories, this pride, this will. Let Him disown us!” Between the tears of sorrow and soft wails, the army fisted the air and cheered for their suicide mission. “None of this can ever be forgotten. He will remember us for all of eternity.”