The Wandering Angel

A different sort of Lucifer, from his point of view. No religious offense intended.

I look down from my perch atop this tower of stone, the humans below me going about their menial everyday lives with as much or as little enthusiasm that they choose. Really, these beings can be quite entertaining when they have the chance, but for now I must look for a solution to my boredom elsewhere.

No heads turn as I swiftly jump from my seat and land in the midst of a bustling New York street. That’s to be expected; I can’t be seen since I do not choose to be. My ethereal presence continues to be my secret, and that thought makes me smile. I raise my head in arrogance; I am superior to those around me.

They always did say I embodied the sin of Pride.

I take my time meandering down the sidewalk, automobiles passing me on one side, shop windows on the other. The gray sky above me foretells of rain, possibly snow as it is the middle of December.

I look ahead of me, spotting a couple, their hands clasped and their faces close. The woman giggles as she leans on her partner, his own eyes shining with adoration and love as he looks down at her. Ah, these fleeting emotions, too bad I have no use of them. The human obstacles they call feelings will only destroy their lives one way or another. Nothing lasts forever besides me and my fellows, and sometimes that isn’t always best.

My hand runs through my long hair as I sigh. I’m looking for a plaything, one that rivals even my beauty, but I am beginning to suspect I won’t find one.

I may be omnipotent (well in my position I am), but the life of the king of Hell is a lonely existence indeed.

Yes, my name is Lucifer, and would you like to walk with me?

 

Author's Note

First attempt at a first person, present tense, and notes about my execution would appreciated.

Reviews

[Richard]

This seems like the introduction to a longer story, but on it's own it doesn't seem to go anywhere.

It would be interesting to see how you developed it, though.