In the beginning there was only love, and it was kind. This was the love God had for all his creatures and creations: for the mountains and the stars above them and for dirt and the worms within it, for Adam and for Eve—and for his first but fallen son, Lucifer. It was a love that required no words to express it, for it existed in everything as its source and therefore between things as its purpose. Love flourished in silence. Until the silence was broken.
Lucifer’s vengeful plot to blight his former home and teach God that every father should pray for his children to surpass him cast the radiant Eve as its antagonist. But, of course, a plot to destroy Paradise would take time.
And so the naked moments of eternity spent with her under the Tree, wooing, coaxing Eve into taking one bite of the Apple began to have a curious effect on Lucifer’s black heart. Eve’s resistance to his charms (yes, because long before snake charmers, it was the serpent’s hiss that lanced the first spell) intrigued him, a spark against the stone walls of his cavernous heart. The purpose of his plot began to twist with every shy bow of her golden head. No longer an act of vengeance but the first love story it became. And in his dead heart a pulse of warmth was felt again. Resurrection, he thought. And with it the belief that once exiled from the Garden, she would follow him home to Hell.
Although Eve’s love for God could be corrupted, her love for Adam could never be.
And so, alone and smited once again, Lucifer hollowed his way back home but not before tearing his heart from his chest and leaving it in the Garden next to the Tree—one last pulse left in eternity. Along his fiery descent, his thoughts fueled by his memories of her, Hate was born: Love’s dark side.
Lucifer’s Last Love | Christopher Troy ©