This Week’s Short Story: “The Mourning Star”

I come to you as a man of many names.  Some acknowledge me as error, as sin, as prince, as devil.  As Satan, as Moloch, as Beelzebub, as Mammon… I rather like that last one.  During this, our one-sided conversation, I come to you as Luke.  A Luke who is very annoyed.

I admit, as keeper of the infernal regions, I do not keep the most honorable company.  Nor, as being the first to plummet, do I have the best reputation.  However, I am a responsible individual and as such, will not run away from whatever crime I have caused.  I will not blame those furthest from liability for what I have done.  Unlike you.

I will allow you to fetter me to the first 100 years or so of your history after that fruit incident.  I will not say that I was wrong in doing it, only that I accept responsibility to a degree.  After a century, I would like to believe that you have learned to take care of yourselves.  A rat escapes from the flame once too close.  Surely, you are better than a rodent.

I have seen many a war during your history, none of them being my fault.  Most of you claim that money is the root of all evil but as All Evil, I would like to point out that money is nowhere near my foundation.  Like many things, currency is a human construct, thus I cannot have anything to do with it.  Reminding you also that wars over religion are wars with your Father.  Example being that Satanists were not the cause of your Crusades.

I would very much like to take credit for diseases, but they are due to your filth.  Rats were blamed for the Black Death quite unfairly, for scientists have found out that it was dirty humans all along.  But what do you expect from a species that carelessly dumped their piss and shit onto gravel and clay that made their day-to-day?  Do not dare place the blame of cancer on me.  The same goes for those sexually-transmitted things… why would I corrupt the art of fucking?

I find your need for superstitions amusing.  The black cat, the mirror, the ugly socks you wore the one time your favorite sports team won.  Most of you are so afraid of responsibility, and success, that you will thrust interest on anything except yourself.  I suppose you will bury whatever you are wearing as you read this to avoid whatever accident you will get into.  Remember to draw a chalk circle, toss salt, and that it is always the blue wire.

I see that you are all aware of your sky and how it works.  Air currents and such.  Why do you blame me for hurricanes and earthquakes?  I can perhaps understand the latter, but I have no business with or in your sky.  If you can keep a secret, I am quite frightened of heights.  Falling from beyond the clouds to below the dirt is mortifying.

I enjoy violence in all its forms, from infanticide to polygons.  However, as I have hinted, I am not the cause of violence.  That is the fault of you being a neglectful neighbor, the shootings that have erupted as of late.  Instead of pointing the lazy finger at the flavor of the month, you should ask yourself if you would have cared about these murderers if they never picked up a gun.  I at least ask questions of my prey.  Does that make me better than you?

I must say, while on the subject of being a good neighbor, most of you would not use drugs as an escape if you knew someone cared about you.  Would you risk being arrested and a blight, trying to obtain a few measly leaves, if you knew you could get the same pleasure from being held?  Because you can.  All you have to do is be kind to the human wall next to you.  The one wrapped up in itself.

I find it hard to take seriously a species that says “god is in the details” whilst also saying “the devil is in the details”.  I wish I could find the fucking genius in Hell who thought of that one: five minutes alone is all I ask.  It is also hard to take seriously a species that claims to do good in the name of their god whilst simultaneously doing all but.  They know who they are.  Then they will know who I am.

Of course… of all this, I could be lying.

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