Hi. I'm dead. My name, where I lived, who I loved and hated is not important to me. Shouldn't be to you.
There is an infinity of surprises involved in dying. I was surprised about going to hell . . . I didn't believe in any of this shit when I had flesh. Then I was surprised all the more when I found out we prefer Satan's domain by such a huge, bloody serious degree.
Why is the life god sentenced us to so painful? Because the god wanted it to be horror filled... in a cosmos with a god, how could it be other? Heaven is the same way, a horror house of blood and gore.
The whole thing with god being good and the devil being bad is all just more of the usual bullshit that the living use to brainwash themselves into plodding through another tricky day.
The one we worshiped as god was really our tormentor, and Satan, the rebel, had been fighting for us. . . makes perfect sense, once you think of it, but the god wouldn't allow enough humans to think this for the thought to grow legs among the living.
The devil, satan, the fallen angel -- he was actually entreating god to end human suffering, telling god that just because he had a need to feel like the humans 'were good enough to worship him,' that this need alone did not make what god was doing right.
God had never been questioned before in any manner that god understood as questioned, and ignored satan's pleas to spare the living beasts of their horror of short, brutal lives.
Satan loved and revered god his father, praised him for every leaf of glorious grass. . . still he couldn't just ignore the screams of the humans. Satan heard from other Angels who shared his torment, and together their disquiet grew...
When he could no longer bear feeling the humans pain, the Dark One rebelled . . . fought for what he knew would be a losing cause. What was our pain to a god? Nothing.
God the mindless child sentenced Satan to remain in the center of the earth, trapped, forever hearing the torment of the dying life forms on the surface.
The Dark Prince cries our tears while the laughter of Christ echoes on high...
True fucking story, man.
THOU SHALT NOT STEAL THE WRITINGS OF JOHN SCOTT RIDGWAY... YOU CAN EASILY GET PERMISSION FOR A NON COMMERCIAL REPRINT BY CONTACTING MY EMAIL.