not misleading, i think where your headed with the story is fine. is the way its presented that could used the fine tuning. what im saying is, the way this opens lucifer speaks as if hes talking to the reader, then as it goes on it sort of turns into a first person info dump of “this happened, then this happend, then this happened, then this happened, then this happened”, then at the very end, we get part of the story actual story, characters and an invironment they interact in, some real sense of who they are. my suggestion is to start the story wherelucifer is “born” dont just say the angels popped out and then some more, and they went over to see them and yadda yadda, but get in there, tell the story. buld h\the characters, dont tell us what micheal is, show us. get him and lucifer into a conversation that shows how brave and stern he is or whatever. basically, i would use what you have written of this chapter as a bare backbone and flesh it out.
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Novel Treatments / Sympathy for the Devil (working title) Ch 1
CHAPTER 1: Creation
Heaven is a place of finite space with infinite possibility. Or, at least this is how God described it to me when I was born. I myself never found the boundary of heaven, nor did I ever find the boundaries of the universe. Perhaps they only exist for God, are only there for God, because only He is boundless. And powerful though He made us, my brothers and I are limited in our perception.
My first memory is my brother’s mighty call of welcome as I came into consciousness. Michael and I were twins, one coming on the heels of the other, and we shared each other’s strength.
For a time we stood looking at each other. He stood on two legs, with the body and head of an eagle. Powerful wings folded to his back, while strong arms rested at his sides. He was beautiful in shades of red and gold, softly glinting with copper and topaz. I looked into his eyes, the color of blue flame, and found my strength.
He came forward to embrace me, and lifted my form as though it weighed nothing. I felt an immediate love for my twin brother.
He set me down, and said, “I will love and protect Lucifer for always.“
I believed him capable of it.
God saw my brother’s desire and willingness to protect those around him, and gifted Michael with justice. Better him than me. He led others into battle with the conviction that he was pursuing a just cause, and always had the strength to lift his sword for one last charge.
The pulsating hum of a singing bowl captured my attention, and my second memory is the birth of my brother Uriel. God‘s light seemed to coalesce and separate from Him, and Uriel came to us bathed in that light with the ability to see into the darkest recesses of a thought or deed.
He stood before us in a homid form. I remember I was fascinated by the legs and torso, the features of his face. His hair was like kelp trapping sea foam, and he seemed possessed of his own tide. The color of his skin would ebb and flow, changing slowly from deep sea blue to shallow ocean green. Michael and I gasped at his beauty, but while Michael went forward and embraced our new brother, I hung back. There was something in him that made me uneasy.
His strength came from his mind, not his body. This quality made him perfect for bearing the light of truth. It was a great weight on him and, in the end, my brother became blinded to the subtleties of gray.
In his quest for the truth, my brother Uriel seemed more terrible than God with His innate knowledge of it. My brother frightened me from the start. His analytical nature directly conflicted with my spontaneous expressions of rapture. Often he would tilt his head and frown in my direction, disapproval in his jade green eyes. We sat on polar opposites in our service of our Father. And While I loved my brother, we never grew close.
Then God lifted His voice in a great reverberation of sound that bounced off unseen surfaces, crashing back into each other and creating a ripple in the air. Where they met, Gabriel slowly took form. When God ceased His vocalization, I had a third brother.
Gabriel stood on legs like a lion, with a head and arms like my brother Uriel, but covered in fur. He was our winged lion, with skin like smoke. From his hind quarters to his head, his coat shaded from the deepest charcoal to the palest gray. His black eyes seemed darker, ringed as they were by his nearly white mane.
We three existing brothers moved forward to welcome him, each embracing him in the order of our birth. I felt an instant kinship with Gabriel. Not the all encompassing adoration I felt for Michael, but the kinship felt when like recognizes itself in another.
Perhaps because he came from the sound of God’s voice, Gabriel seemed meant for speeches, not for songs. He became God‘s messenger, giving His proclamations in a voice that brooked no argument. Still, my brother was full of kindness Ahuraniand gifted in the use of his trumpet. I think he and I understood each other the best; we both left our home to wander and knew what lay beyond heaven.
As Gabriel stepped aside, the room filled with the softness of chimes, and my youngest brother peeked out from behind God. From so soft a sound, I expected a soft brother. But Raphael was very rarely what I expected.
He stood in homid form, but looked like skin stretch over rocks. Taupe and dun shaded his skin, though his hair was sandy shot through with deeper shades of brown. Nothing was remarkable about my brother, save his eyes. They were the deepest brown, and so warm and comforting.
Father shepherded him forward, and I greeted Raphael with open arms. We embraced, and a warmth enfolded me, bringing a calm with it. Here lay my brother’s true beauty. My other brothers followed suit, each embracing him and coming away with a look of contentment on their faces.
Little Raphael sang with all his being, uplifting the hearts of the entire host. No one could feel anything but love and joy when he lifted his voice, and God gave him the power to heal with his songs. Raphael’s gentle nature made him perfect for his task, and we all put our hearts at ease knowing he would always care for our hurts.
I was given the greatest, if most dangerous gifts. Unfettered, I wandered the joyous universe, reveling in the perfection of God’s work, while my brothers stayed in heaven. Each world showed me its own hidden treasure, and I was free to experience them all, while my brothers saw only what God put before them. Though I did not notice it at the time, a very subtle but very deep difference between my brothers and I was fostered because of my travels.
My form was the mirror image of Michael’s. But where he was an eagle of fire, I was an eagle of ice. Where he was red, I was green. Where he showed gold, I showed the palest blue. His eyes were the bright blue of flame and mine were the deep green-blue of glacial ice. I reflected nothing but beauty in form and voice, and I used those gifts to serve God.
For me, heaven was a place of infinite light. Surfaces radiated white and gold, blue and green, red and yellow. Most of the space shifted and flowed into whatever form we needed at the time. Benches rose from the floor when we required seating, and sank back again with the need. Only the great council room, and God’s personal audience chamber retained their individual shape.
The amphitheatre-style council room seats created concentric rings, with enough space to allow for every angel in the host. We would assemble there by house. Uriel with his oceanic philosophers, Michael with his fiery warriors, Raphael and his earthy healers, Gabriel and the lions of the sky, and me with my icy beauties. Great white pillars, marbled with gray and soft blue, blossomed from the floor and extended past sight. This meeting space, for God and all His angels, allowed all to speak and be heard.
In those beginning times, we spoke of philosophy and other such trivialities. Oh, they seemed most important at the time, make no mistake. But there was no real dissention in heaven. When God spoke, those who asked questions only sought understanding. None refuted His words.
The audience chamber served the greater purpose. Here God received His glory in whatever form we produced it. My brothers and I took great joy in experimenting with new ways to entertain our Father. We would assemble our houses, picking those who would blend together the best, and orchestrate complex expressions of joy and love. Sometimes, more than one house would perform together, though most often it was individual houses performing alone. There were songs, orations, expressions of technical feat, and anything else we could dream up.
Beyond heaven lay creation in all its glorious orchestration, and my job was the experience of that wonder. I collected images from creation, weaving them into songs of praise, filling my being, to bring back to Father. We would walk in a garden, or sit watching the stars, as I sang for Him.
Michael delighted in long discourses on cause and effect, though there was the rare occasion when his rich baritone would lift up and join the chorus. Uriel too loved to speak, which was just as well since his high voice sounded reedy when he sang. But to sit and listen to Gabriel and Raphael perform a duet was sublime. The rich sounds of Gabriel’s trumpet and the soaring, aching sweet notes from Raphael’s throat were a marvel to all.
God was in the habit of allowing any who wished to come hear what new marvel was brought into that space. And many would come to hear my brothers and sisters. Many would come to see the doings of the other houses. But on those days when I performed, lesser angels lined the halls hoping to hear a few notes of my song.
And this is how is was done in heaven. Daily, nightly, weekly, yearly we sang and loved and worshiped God. Our “servitude‿ was eternal and joyful, without any sense of subjugation. We had no concept of that word. Our work, the assurance of God’s happiness, felt like fulfillment of our hearts desire, not duty.
Sometimes, God would tell stories of the universe before we became. Our favorite of these stories, was the creation of the angelic host. We loved to hear Him tell how He was not fully happy until we came to Him.
Creation, by God’s account, went something like this:
Initially He created the Worlds—blue and green, barren and fertile, fire and ice. Each world spun in conjunction with others, and each group spun around a star. These floating rocks and shimmering bodies danced as He saw fit. Firmament separated itself from ether, all according to His will. He commanded everything, but it brought no comfort to Him.
Upon each world He created gardens of stone. Some glittered like stars, the land studded with jewels. Others gleamed with metal spires and molten rivers. A few sat plain as dust. Each garden held its own version of magnificence, its own radiance. He surrounded Himself with stony beauty, but it brought no comfort to Him.
To ease His need, the angels became. And in our loving presence, God was finally at peace. He continued the work of creation, for this was His favorite pastime, but had more joy in the final product. He would tell us, nothing was more beautiful to Him than our heavenly bodies.
We existed in shifting forms of light and shadow. Each house had its own look, it’s own character, based on the angel that headed the house. Our patterns would someday be called lion, eagle, and humanoid. To me, they looked like kaleidoscopes of color and texture.
I remember those beginning times as pure joy.
We all used our gifts to serve God, from the mighty Michael to the lowest angel. The Angels, my brothers and sisters, formed a choir.
The universe, in an expression of its love for God, began to sing. We heard, and it stirred within us a new way to express our love as well. The universe sang the melody and we harmonized with our own amazing, joyful songs and talents.
**
I remember quite clearly an incident that forever changed me. After giving my due to God in His favorite jeweled garden, one of the lesser angels approached. By her look, she was of Uriel’s house, painted in shades of gray and blue and pink with foamy hair and violet eyes. She was shy, humble, bowing repeatedly as she made her way to where I stood leaning against a golden tree.
“Lucifer, greatest among us, might I sit with thee?‿
I had no reason to refuse so heartfelt a request, so I smiled at her.
“You may sit wherever is pleasing to you.‿ I gestured to the area around me, and she took a perch on a glistening boulder to the side of me.
“I wanted to say,‿ she could not seem to turn those violet eyes to me while she spoke, “I truly adore you and your voice.‿
“My thanks to thee, but my voice is a gift given me by God on high. Do not adore me for the sounds it produces. Give your praise to God.“ I gave a slight bow in her direction, and turned to stand, but she put her hand on my arm and turned the full weight of her violet gaze upon me.
“Please, do not go. I meant no disrespect, nor do I forget my purpose is to serve God always, but you create the music you sing. I wished only to express the joy you bring me with your composition. God is truly blessed with you to sing for Him.‿ She flushed and lowered her eyes, hopped from her seat and joined a group of angels gathered near a gold tree. They each gave reverence as they parted.
At the time, I dismissed their bows and smiles, thinking how foolish and misguided they were. How could they possibly think I had anything to do with the sounds that poured forth from my mouth? But it planted the seed of pride in me; I never looked at my performances in the same light.
Life went on and the universe answered back with harmonies that soared above Raphael’s enchanting voice. I loved my God, my Father, and the work he allowed me to do. I worked hard; I worked well. I filled myself with so much I thought at times the ecstasy would never end. But all good things change, and become something other. All good things end.
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June 28, 2006
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well you’ve definitely put a hook into me. the vivid descriptions are great. the descriptions of the angels being born actually gave me chills. you’ve done a great job so far of showing how the angels lived to satisfy gods needs, and have definitely planted a seed with lucifers pride. one thing, the word homid, whats it mean? i looked it up and couldnt find it. the closest thing to it that i can figure is humic, which meant relating to or resembling human. is that right? or did i just use a shitty disctionary.
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To start, you definately need to intersperse the description with more dialogue. Also, decide how the angels are going to speak in heaven. Are they going to use the archaic “Thee” and “Thou” or not? It was disconcerting to hear them slip from an archaic mode of expression into something more modern. Perhaps to enhace Lucifer’s separation from the others, they can use archaic expression while he maintains his modern sensibilities.
Another reference for you: A Dictionary of Angels, Including the Fallen Ones. I can’t find my copy right now, but it does a breakdown of all of the angels from multiple traditions.
Check grammar (blah). Comma issues, etc.
The voice and tone here is extremely strong. Lucifer is definately shaping up here as something different from the others, and the slight creeping in of the cynicism is well handled.
I look forward to seeing more of this from you.
hmmm, i see this in both good and bad lights. the imagery you have presented is dazzling, with lots of color and splendor, but the way its all presented is an info dump. its i nice, rather filled out info dump, one of the smoothest ive read on this site, but its still an info dump. in the first portion of this tale, the first person take worked greatly to your advantage because it almost felt as if the devil him self was sitting there with you, all friendly smiles and bright eyed, but this piece didnt really capture that. i think this is the point you need to decide: will the story be the devil delivering a message, or an actual story told in first person. whichever you choose, stick with it, because info dumps, even if they have great imagery and brilliant ponts to be made, get boring.
for instance:
“He led others into battle with the conviction that he was pursuing a just cause, and always had the strength to lift his sword for one last charge.”- he and lucifer are the only two beings created, who is he fighting? if your talking about later, why dump it on us here?
same for that whole part where it says people were asking God questions, why not sit down, and right it out, with Lucifer as a functioning character, rather than such a swift narrative? if narrative is what your going for, put some of the wit back into it, the devil’s scynism.
so overall, good stuff, nice imagery, but its an info dump. personally i would take this part and start the meat story, have lucifer down there doing stuff, talking to people, ineracting. you do that at the end, but i think it was a little late in coming.
I think your imagery is great. At first thought I was thinking you were throwing up to much information and time distortion of the descriptions of the angles being born. They are being born and he is telling his future thoughts on them. Although being this is heaven and time is irelevant it sort of works. I would remove the talk of passing time however if you are going to do this.
One thing and this is a personal pet peve of mine, is in Christian mythology it’s always a woman that sparks the fire of evil. You do that in true patriotical (sp) fashion here. I know I am weird like that but it bugs me.
One last thing. Is this a prologe? If it is then it is wonderful. If it isn’t then I would say it needs a little work in that it doesn’t set scene and emotion or really start the tale.
Great story. I am extremely impressed by the beauty of the description of each birth of an archangel. I also am impressed by the dimensionality of Lucifer. This is not the standard good versus evil.
A suggestion: The first part of the chapter reads very much like the telling of a fable, while this is completely understandable with the content. It makes it difficult for the reader to experience the creation. This issue is cleared up later in the chapter, but as a reader I’d like to feel the events.
Overall, I cannot say how great I think this is unfolding. It is powerful and compelling. Great job.
Wow, this really is something a bit special. The writing is concise and assured.
Theology is not my strong point so i don’t feel i can comment upon the validity of the storyline but i do think that the way in which you have written is so engaging that it transcends criticism.
I’m really looking foward to reading any future posts.
One criticism: the title, a bit of an obvious pop-culture reference.
Great story though I think you should avoid the term
homoid (which you use twice) and when you say.. i can’t find the actual line but it is something like
” our forms would be the eagle, the lion and the homoniod? - I think you could easily get away with saying
Eagle, Lion and Man,
also I think the meeting with Lucifer and one of Uriel’s minions (?) could, and should, be lengthed, if this is the ”incident” that actually sets the stage for Lucifers fall then I think this needs more attention. Though I see why you would make this a subtle affair. I feel you are leading up to something else, as if this one incident leads to more “imperfect thoughts”. I am really curious to see how this turns out. The tone reminds me of an old story called “Prelude to a sin, the day before the apple fell” About Michael showing Adam the future of humanity and giving him the choice before the choice is made.
Also, I don’t know if this is an entire chapter, maybe the first part of the chapter, but not an entire chapter. I don’t know off the top of my head how many pages 2371 words are, but I know its not 25 – 30 pages, which I think is the minimum for a good chapter. I always find it easier to write novel length material when I think of each chapter as a short story, complete with all the tricks and structure that each short story has. Each chapter should be able to stand completely alone. I think this story has great potention but needs some trimming in certain places and some expansion in others.
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