Fallen Angels
Author: Dr. Leena Johns
Category: Creatives
Publish Date: Feb 9, 2011
Views: 25033
Jorm 313 was tired and irritated. It had been a long and tiresome day. He looked at the mirrored ceiling as he clocked in his stats for the day- 1222 facilitated deaths, 518 murders, and 2000 failed attempts. Darn!
The new recruit in line behind him sneered, wiping at the droplets of saliva that spluttered out, with his tail. Jorm 313 felt gripped by a morbid fear. As a member of the elite Legion of demons that came under the direct supervision of the Commander in Chief, competition amongst the ranks was fierce and performance heavily monitored. He knew he had been slipping.
Back in his hole, that was referred to as cubicle, he looked at the ceiling again-mirrored all round like the other cubicles in the hive. The cubicles resembled the structure of a beehive - 1000s and millions of hissing holes housing demons of different sizes, shapes and assignments all with the unified goal of separating man from God. He peered closely at the face that stared back at him from the mirrored walls. He couldnt ignore the fact anymore yes, there was a definite softness about his face- the knit of his eyebrows that once framed menacingly piercing amber eyes that stared back at him from the dilated eyes of many a horrified victims , definitely had a hint of softness. The constant crunching of lower jaw that had ground most of his teeth had suddenly stopped. He was losing his touch. He was sure of that. He was going soft. The change in him was apparent since he metsince he met - Jesus!
His mind raced, like a flashback scene from a Hollywood movie, flitting across images of oceans, seas, dizzying terrains, valleys, frozen horrified stares in faces of dead people, across earths and shining stars to that fateful day that had changed the entire course of destiny; the day He was ousted from Heaven. It was all so many years ago millennia ago but the day was clear in his head like yesterday. It was all because of Lucifer. That day that single fateful day - Jorm and a multitude of his comrades had sworn allegiance to their new leader Lucifer. Almost immediately, the course of the universe and its destiny was thwarted.
It was easy to trust Lucifer the charm and beguiling intelligence of Heavens beloved angel was fabled. Angels swarmed around him to listen to his tales whenever he narrated his experiences following another successful completion of an assignment across the Universe usually one that would be riddled with dangers and excitement. He was beautiful; his wings were exquisitely designed bearing precious stones from the far corners of the Universe. Music followed him everywhere. He was a chosen Cherub, with powers and authority. Everyone knew The Commander in Chief trusted him for all assignments that required exceptional planning, courage and finesse. His aura and charisma and eloquence of speech were unparalleled in all of Heavens hosts.
Jorm did not know since when the seeds of mutiny had been taking hold and was surprised at the numbers that had come out to show their allegiance to Lucifer that day. He remembered how restless he was for the whole of the previous day as he had worked side by side on an assignment with arch angel Michael in the newly created Planet Earth, but Jorm kept all his plans to himself and he found himself avoiding Michaels penetrating gaze all day. Jorm remembered the momentary pang of pain that threatened to overwhelm him as he remembered the look on the King of Hosts. But none of it mattered to him that day because if what Lucifer had promised him was to come to pass, he would have his own Shamayim- his own private Heaven, something above God, with hordes of angels to do his bidding!
Spurgius barged into his cubicle; his putrid breathe suffused the cubicle with sulphur smoke and a veil of flaky flyaway skin. Spurgius was the leader of his platoon. He snarled at him and projected into the middle of the room the scorecards of his platoon for the day. There was also a comparison with the rest of the platoons. Jorm hazarded a look at the scorecards. He was at the bottom of the heap. He - Jorm, now Jorm 313 the one who was promised his own Shamayim was now at the bottom of the heap. All of the other Jorms - all cloned from him, millions of them, were arranged into different companies and battalions but all of them had the same functionality i.e. lead men to feelings of worthlessness, failure, depression and eventually suicide. Jorm alarmingly realized that none of his clones recorded a nil in the column of failed attempts. And his read 2000! The newest clone, topped the list, the one that leered at him earlier on.
Jorm 313 felt himself being flung across his cubicle, as Spurgius charged at him. The mirrored walls came crashing down and a thousand pieces plunged into his body. The smell of putrid flesh seeped from the wounds. The cubicle was askew with shattered mirror pieces a million of them and Spurgius face stared back from all of them as he stood back to smile and watch his handiwork. He then came menacingly close to Jorms face to pull out a large shard of glass from his palm. He flicked his two pronged tongue on the glass edge, sneering at the hole left behind in the palm. A sudden thought flashed across Jorms mind. The thought of Jesus on the Cross, with a nail driven through his palm. Jesus!
Did you say something? Spurgius spewed his eyes set in a menacing stare as if reading into Jorms thoughts. Jorm unsuccessfully attempted to answer, stammering a yes, and then a no. Spurgius eyed Jorm suspiciously. His mind suddenly registered the changes that he had missed earlier- changes in his attitude and face. He realized that Jorm hadnt struck back or said anything in his defense and this was unusual- definitely unusual in Hades. And just as abruptly as he had entered the cubicle, Spurgius disappeared in a cloud of black smoke hissing and the sounds of a million souls languishing in hell moaning and crying followed him out, leaving Jorm ominously alone struggling with his own private little demons. Spurgius would not let this rest. Abaddon would soon be summoned. From now on it was not going to be pleasant. The little demons perched on Jorms shoulders, each no longer than a thumb swirled around in circles, laughing hysterically. He shooed them away.
What had happened to him- Jorm? Once the most dreaded of the Ahremaens the fallen angels? He remembered how he had driven some of the worlds powerful men to suicide from poets to emperors, lovers to world leaders. Christian leaders even, men of God! Humans, left to their own device, were incapable of shaking him away. He could align himself into their very souls, control their brain waves and manipulate their thoughts. Only death could eventually free them from his stranglehold.
He, Jorm, was supposed to be without a conscious that was for humans- those mortal beings whose minds he pried. They were the race that God had created in his own image. He could feel the anger rise in him every time he thought of the closeness God wanted to share with these creatures of dust! He hated mankind! Jorm recalled the elation he felt when Lucifer had revealed his plans to ascend above such a God. He did not want to belong to an order of things were angels were to protect mortals made of clay! He was an angel an immortal. He could fly the expanse of the Universe, He was beautiful, glorious, and powerful. His allegiance to Lucifer was almost instant then.
And then, after all this while, he had seen Jesus -The Son of God. And His tender eyes had pierced right through him. It was as if He had known. The chaotic ouster from Heaven, the subsequent realization that Lucifer had lied, cheated and reneged from his promises. The transformation of his once beautiful body to that of one of abhorrence even unto his own eyes, the infightings, the mutiny amongst the fallen angels themselves, his defeat at the hands of Lucifer, all he had taken in his stride but when he saw Jesus that day, the sense of loss and remorse he felt was acute and intense.
What was with that gaze of the Son of God? The thought had hardly escaped him when the demons of jealousy, rage, wrath, vengeance, immorality, hatred, cruelty and hordes of other morose demonic creatures of the Dark pounced on him. Spirit of Vengeance plunged through him. Abbadon- the king of the evil spirits, Andras the marquis of Hell, Ayperos were already at work fresh troops were being ordered in. The Prince of Darkness was in control.
Just before the last remnant of coherence and ipseity escaped from him, Jorm wished with all of his being of a salvation. A salvation through Jesus Christ. He knew he was not human and that only humans could achieve a salvation and redemption of their sins through the blood of Jesus Christ. He wished he was made of dust. He wished he was what he hated the most. He wished he was Man.
The new recruit in line behind him sneered, wiping at the droplets of saliva that spluttered out, with his tail. Jorm 313 felt gripped by a morbid fear. As a member of the elite Legion of demons that came under the direct supervision of the Commander in Chief, competition amongst the ranks was fierce and performance heavily monitored. He knew he had been slipping.
Back in his hole, that was referred to as cubicle, he looked at the ceiling again-mirrored all round like the other cubicles in the hive. The cubicles resembled the structure of a beehive - 1000s and millions of hissing holes housing demons of different sizes, shapes and assignments all with the unified goal of separating man from God. He peered closely at the face that stared back at him from the mirrored walls. He couldnt ignore the fact anymore yes, there was a definite softness about his face- the knit of his eyebrows that once framed menacingly piercing amber eyes that stared back at him from the dilated eyes of many a horrified victims , definitely had a hint of softness. The constant crunching of lower jaw that had ground most of his teeth had suddenly stopped. He was losing his touch. He was sure of that. He was going soft. The change in him was apparent since he metsince he met - Jesus!
His mind raced, like a flashback scene from a Hollywood movie, flitting across images of oceans, seas, dizzying terrains, valleys, frozen horrified stares in faces of dead people, across earths and shining stars to that fateful day that had changed the entire course of destiny; the day He was ousted from Heaven. It was all so many years ago millennia ago but the day was clear in his head like yesterday. It was all because of Lucifer. That day that single fateful day - Jorm and a multitude of his comrades had sworn allegiance to their new leader Lucifer. Almost immediately, the course of the universe and its destiny was thwarted.
It was easy to trust Lucifer the charm and beguiling intelligence of Heavens beloved angel was fabled. Angels swarmed around him to listen to his tales whenever he narrated his experiences following another successful completion of an assignment across the Universe usually one that would be riddled with dangers and excitement. He was beautiful; his wings were exquisitely designed bearing precious stones from the far corners of the Universe. Music followed him everywhere. He was a chosen Cherub, with powers and authority. Everyone knew The Commander in Chief trusted him for all assignments that required exceptional planning, courage and finesse. His aura and charisma and eloquence of speech were unparalleled in all of Heavens hosts.
Jorm did not know since when the seeds of mutiny had been taking hold and was surprised at the numbers that had come out to show their allegiance to Lucifer that day. He remembered how restless he was for the whole of the previous day as he had worked side by side on an assignment with arch angel Michael in the newly created Planet Earth, but Jorm kept all his plans to himself and he found himself avoiding Michaels penetrating gaze all day. Jorm remembered the momentary pang of pain that threatened to overwhelm him as he remembered the look on the King of Hosts. But none of it mattered to him that day because if what Lucifer had promised him was to come to pass, he would have his own Shamayim- his own private Heaven, something above God, with hordes of angels to do his bidding!
Spurgius barged into his cubicle; his putrid breathe suffused the cubicle with sulphur smoke and a veil of flaky flyaway skin. Spurgius was the leader of his platoon. He snarled at him and projected into the middle of the room the scorecards of his platoon for the day. There was also a comparison with the rest of the platoons. Jorm hazarded a look at the scorecards. He was at the bottom of the heap. He - Jorm, now Jorm 313 the one who was promised his own Shamayim was now at the bottom of the heap. All of the other Jorms - all cloned from him, millions of them, were arranged into different companies and battalions but all of them had the same functionality i.e. lead men to feelings of worthlessness, failure, depression and eventually suicide. Jorm alarmingly realized that none of his clones recorded a nil in the column of failed attempts. And his read 2000! The newest clone, topped the list, the one that leered at him earlier on.
Jorm 313 felt himself being flung across his cubicle, as Spurgius charged at him. The mirrored walls came crashing down and a thousand pieces plunged into his body. The smell of putrid flesh seeped from the wounds. The cubicle was askew with shattered mirror pieces a million of them and Spurgius face stared back from all of them as he stood back to smile and watch his handiwork. He then came menacingly close to Jorms face to pull out a large shard of glass from his palm. He flicked his two pronged tongue on the glass edge, sneering at the hole left behind in the palm. A sudden thought flashed across Jorms mind. The thought of Jesus on the Cross, with a nail driven through his palm. Jesus!
Did you say something? Spurgius spewed his eyes set in a menacing stare as if reading into Jorms thoughts. Jorm unsuccessfully attempted to answer, stammering a yes, and then a no. Spurgius eyed Jorm suspiciously. His mind suddenly registered the changes that he had missed earlier- changes in his attitude and face. He realized that Jorm hadnt struck back or said anything in his defense and this was unusual- definitely unusual in Hades. And just as abruptly as he had entered the cubicle, Spurgius disappeared in a cloud of black smoke hissing and the sounds of a million souls languishing in hell moaning and crying followed him out, leaving Jorm ominously alone struggling with his own private little demons. Spurgius would not let this rest. Abaddon would soon be summoned. From now on it was not going to be pleasant. The little demons perched on Jorms shoulders, each no longer than a thumb swirled around in circles, laughing hysterically. He shooed them away.
What had happened to him- Jorm? Once the most dreaded of the Ahremaens the fallen angels? He remembered how he had driven some of the worlds powerful men to suicide from poets to emperors, lovers to world leaders. Christian leaders even, men of God! Humans, left to their own device, were incapable of shaking him away. He could align himself into their very souls, control their brain waves and manipulate their thoughts. Only death could eventually free them from his stranglehold.
He, Jorm, was supposed to be without a conscious that was for humans- those mortal beings whose minds he pried. They were the race that God had created in his own image. He could feel the anger rise in him every time he thought of the closeness God wanted to share with these creatures of dust! He hated mankind! Jorm recalled the elation he felt when Lucifer had revealed his plans to ascend above such a God. He did not want to belong to an order of things were angels were to protect mortals made of clay! He was an angel an immortal. He could fly the expanse of the Universe, He was beautiful, glorious, and powerful. His allegiance to Lucifer was almost instant then.
And then, after all this while, he had seen Jesus -The Son of God. And His tender eyes had pierced right through him. It was as if He had known. The chaotic ouster from Heaven, the subsequent realization that Lucifer had lied, cheated and reneged from his promises. The transformation of his once beautiful body to that of one of abhorrence even unto his own eyes, the infightings, the mutiny amongst the fallen angels themselves, his defeat at the hands of Lucifer, all he had taken in his stride but when he saw Jesus that day, the sense of loss and remorse he felt was acute and intense.
What was with that gaze of the Son of God? The thought had hardly escaped him when the demons of jealousy, rage, wrath, vengeance, immorality, hatred, cruelty and hordes of other morose demonic creatures of the Dark pounced on him. Spirit of Vengeance plunged through him. Abbadon- the king of the evil spirits, Andras the marquis of Hell, Ayperos were already at work fresh troops were being ordered in. The Prince of Darkness was in control.
Just before the last remnant of coherence and ipseity escaped from him, Jorm wished with all of his being of a salvation. A salvation through Jesus Christ. He knew he was not human and that only humans could achieve a salvation and redemption of their sins through the blood of Jesus Christ. He wished he was made of dust. He wished he was what he hated the most. He wished he was Man.
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Steephen Houston (February 10, 2011)
Very Good Article. Keep up the good work. May God Bless you Dr. Leena.
Very Good Article. Keep up the good work. May God Bless you Dr. Leena.
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Beautiful flow of thoughts and language doc! You should write a book soon. Interesting idea you have used.