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So is Below (Paradise Lost/Dr. Faustus)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Xicree, Sep 3, 2013.

  1. Xicree

    Xicree Destroy and Rejoice!

    Jun 1, 2013
    Likes Received:
    This is a picture of Mephistopheles (by me) for reference.


    As is above, so is below...

    The greatest lie told by man to himself, a desperate hope of pretension at the lofty divinity so very far away. The order of heaven gives way to a cacophony of chaotic creeds. But even in the dirt and filth of the earth there lies a powerful drive to make the lie truth, to give heed to the perfection lost, to balance the scales and find the symmetry. To bind life... chaotic, calamitous, messy, life... to the order of perfection that is the heavenly spheres. Cast out from the gates of serenity, all seek their way back into that first place of peace and of perfection.

    Both men... and demons alike. A festering malediction, manifesting in a drive to regain perfection. No matter the cost.

    Hurled headlong, from the aethereal skies, like all his other fallen brethren. Broken, Burned in the lake of eternal black flame. Countless stretches of eternity spent in lustful longing unfulfilled, spent in burning agony unescaped, the torments of hell a black void of need growing in his belly. And even when the light bringer forged the highway from the pit with his intent though the black void of chaos, a dark princely pioneer into a new world where to they could follow, hell came with them. The cast out sons of god bemoaned their desperate fate, reveled in their dire circumstance, and forged a kingdom of hellfire and lies.

    And as all kingdoms are want, a mediator arose.

    At first naught but a messenger, his power measured lacking against the hell bound might of those such as Beelzebub and the mighty Lucifer himself, a candle next to a light house next to the sun itself he burned. But a quick tongue defined him, Mephistopheles, a messenger of god. Now fel Mephistopheles the broker of deals, the bargainer, he who keeps the corrupted order of the master, a dread rot akin to the black reaches of chaos and cacophony itself.

    Retreated now to his hellish home, thus entreated in to the purity of corruption spent into the maw of undying souls, the base villain strokes his newest acquisition in preening delight. It truth of form apparent now as it had never been above as it cajoled and seduced this latest child of Adam, the newest coin in its dread collection.

    “Yes, I feel it, this beating pulse so well it is tuned,” spoke the fiend in joyous pain, “this shall be it, this shall be the one denied its way to the promised place of mercy, and with this currency I shall spend my way back
    into the graces of divinity to forsake this torment and loss.”

    The vile beast grinned faceless, its grim red right hand spinning about its newest prize, “Lucifer spoke of rule, but this rule is naught but pain and madness cobbled together in the cast off excrement of the unholy. We are removed from the gaze of god, for which if only we had known how much would be missed, would not have strayed into the Deceiver's path so grandly... Is that not so my pretty bauble?”

    From with the orb it held, a scream was elicited, a moan of pain, a sigh of loss as it spoke in a groan of wistful need, “Yes, it is his entire fault. You were pure. You will go back to the glory you deserve...” in practiced lit it rambled. This newest bauble in his dread collection, its fallen fate leaving it to torments mortal minds could scarce conceive. Words spoken as taught, words spoken in vain broken hope of torment ended.

    Without lips the bone gray visage of the demonic lord drew into a sick rictus which could be called a smile, even without a face its sanguine mood conveyed. It’s pleasured preening carrying on for but a few moments more then giving way to a once again stern decorum.

    “My dearest Faustus, can you not feel it?” Asked the vile thing of its toy. “Can you not see? It is a glorious day. You shall be the bartering chip with which I can be freed from the torments of hell absolute. You my dear shining son of Adam and his frail dame Eve, you shall be the key to unlock the blessed gates of heaven. Once more shall I be free of the reign of incompetent Lucifer and gluttonous Beelzebub, once more shall I be bathed in the light of god to know his radiance and be filled with his luminosity. The father shall no longer turn his eye from my presence; the Spirit shall dance as once it did when I took to and fro the etched word of the lord and fulfilled my role as the courier cog in the most perfect of machines.

    “Rejoice, dear Faustus. Your noble sacrifice, hell for but a mere guarantee of years, your gallant refusal to acknowledge error and break from contract in the very grip of fear emboldened me. Your soul so very important. Even in sin you committed but the most tepid of pranks, only the most slight of excesses. A great man you are, doctor, philosopher, scholar. You could have been the brightest of beacons to shine in your age. Such a gleaming prize. Surely you shall be the last of coinage I need to pay my way.”

    The sliding teeth of his twin serpentine tails stretched in delight as the forked tongues continued to rattle off obscenities with glee. Never once did the demon stop, messages being deliver, deals being made, every one spoken and approved or delivered in its crooked reptilian grin.

    “This time shall be it. This time I shall throw off the yoke of hell... this time I shall be free as I had been once... as I shall be forever more.”


    In divine serenity it stood a monument to the might of god. Mephistopheles knew well its stern continence for with every soul he himself collected from the earthly realm, here he would come, new coinage in hand. Raziel who spoke in whispers would have grinned its ineffable smile, Matariel would have allowed the waters of god to come crashing in, removing him from its sight post haste, Uriel would have turned his face... never to allow the light of god to shine upon the heathen face of one turned from it. But this, Zuriel, the very rock of God, who guarded the path from hell to earth with a solidity which escaped even the most stoic of other angelic beings ground itself to a slow wakefulness as an all too familiar devil prostrated itself as always at heaven’s edge trying oh so very hard to gain even a glimpses of what lay beyond the massive imposition of Zuriel itself.

    "I return," the fell one spoke. His twin tongues of twin mouths twisting themselves as one, forked not for this impassioned plea. One so often spoken it had come to take the lit of ritual.

    "See mighty Rock of our lord, I bring to the gates of heaven a tribute, greater now than has ever been before," The demon's eye blazed with desire and need.

    Zuriel did only as he always had, "You... are... de-nied... entrance. You... seek... to... pay... the... guardian.... To... sneak... your... way... into... the... back... span... of... heaven?" A profound sadness lit the slow power of his tone.

    And as always the wily demon spoke, "No, great and steady Zuriel. I merely pay tribute to the greatness of our lord's glory. Once more to beg entrance into the pearly gates, to be bathed in the glory which you guard."

    Zuriel closed its ten thousand eyes and beat the stony power of its wings to silence this practiced litany. The great angel's voice, much like a rock going downhill, began to pick up pace, "Once as again, as always, you come to beg, and plead, and bargain your way back into heaven. But you have sinned. You who were before close to my heart, the wind from which the rock hears the words of thunder. But you have fallen so far that you do not even realize the depths to which you have sunk."

    The demon's features tightened, but he calmed himself in the face of his ancient companion, "But this time, I have the tribute which will surely move even the Rock of God, and if Zuriel himself, the irresistible force, the immovable object, should so be moved then surely the father, the son, and the holy encompassment shall invite me back into the realm of purity and cleanse me as needs must."

    The giant now aroused to full waking, like an avalanche down a steep spoke its constant reply.

    "NO." it spoke with the finality of a grave stone.

    As always the great demon lord of power brokered and deals cut spoke, in desperation, "But here in my hand is a great son of Adam, one so great he may have become a saint save for the circumstance which placed him in my hands. You must recognize such greatness, must see that I hold a trove of treasure in my grasp?"

    Many of its many eyes closed, blocking out the sight of the pathetic creature before himself. Like any angel, the fallen were set to their ways, and the single instance which god chose to free all from his will and allow that even they his lowest of creations, despite their magnificence and power, could even once exercise the power which mortals for granted took.
    The fallen were always and would always be beholden to the circumstance of their fall. For Lucifer it was pride, pride so strong his knee would not bend. For dread Beelzebub, it was gluttony, the lord of the flies desired to make all else a part of his unworldly form, part of the buzzing death which sought to encompassed the world and make all a part of its hateful hive.

    But Mephistopheles was victim of his own greed. He could not see the world beyond the confines of his own personal desires, he'd followed Satan in vile ambition, no less than the hell bound prince's and only different in quality. Where the Satan forged ahead to break the order of heaven for his pride, Mephistopheles joined in the fell movement in order to become more from the spoils. He'd planned to double deal, and twist his way into the dark graces of his peers, to then find his way into the grace of heaven as well, by dealing information to both sides, as he took on divine essence and grew in magnitude. The problem came with the unexpected power of heaven, in one fell swoop were they driven into the pits, the power of the son irresistible and beyond measure. As such even his most sincere acts were tainted, and twisted by this basic facet of his broken nature. Unable to choose or change the poor beast would continue to attempt to buy his way back into heaven's grace.

    Thus with every triumph of weakness preyed upon, with every great human soul, for which Mephistopheles supposed that god cared most, he would come back to the gates of heaven, where he would present his dark triumph in hopes that he would be allowed in. The fallen one could not comprehend that anything which it might have desired, that the bright shine of the soul which it had so tainted upon taking, would not be of interest to the heavenly hosts.

    The once holy creature of order fallen deep into unhallowed cacophony itself.

    And thus with pity lining its ten thousand eyes, Zuriel once more spoke that dreaded word.


    Here the ritual would take on a different bend, as the Broker of Hell broke out into a wailing sound the likes of which would drive madness into men, pressing the power of its wagging, gibbering tongues and slithering mouths to action as WORDS were spoken to wring power from the world, their ominous breaths a collective cancer blighting the world, as the very path to the pit's paved intents screamed their apologies in chorus with the hellish rebuke.

    This was might.

    This was POWER.

    THIS... was nothing before the eternal solidity of Zuriel.

    The immovable object abstained from motion, only its many many eyes giving clue to its continued interest. There was naught that the demon could do that might even faze the Rock of God. His single eye wept red with frustration as once more the lordling of hell stalked off, back down the path into black fire and oblivion.

    It was not the first time, nor would it be the last.

    This denial, this failure, this chagrin as surely a part of his hell as all other aspects of his torment ever-lasting...

    ...as is below... so stays below.
    Last edited: Aug 5, 2015
    Facepalmist likes this.