Yonder Beyond the Looking Glass

Yonder beyond the Looking Glass

The priest stood in front of the mirror. It was time, time to look back and reflect, repent upon his sins. In a world where he was deemed no less than an angel, it was here and here only that he faced himself, his dark truth, burnt upon his heart. Sin... that's what it is called in the scriptures. But where is the line where love ends and sin begins? In these moments of self-inflicted torture, his heart went astray for moments from the path of the lord. As the whip slashed its bloody lines across his young, infant-fair skin, his mind reached out to some darker realm yonder beyond the mercury layers of the looking-glass.

If there be a world where love be realized, he would fain lose his touch with all-governing lord and be a resident of that blessed realm, even if it cost his life.

The very moment his heart shivered in cold pangs of repentance. What it is that brought such selfish thoughts! He the shepherd was elected by the very heavens to lead his flock... what example would he set if he himself goes astray!

He was quickened to strengthen his dillemaic heart with newly inflicted injuries upon his skin, warm blood coursing like rivulets upon his tender skin. His legs trembled; he was but weak with the fasts and vigils that were supposed to keep his morals pure. He supported himself by pressing one of his palms upon the cool glass, soaked with his blood. The mercury quivered under his touch. Unbeknownst to the minister, a pact was made.

Startled, the minister staggered back, about to trip and fall, had it not been for a fair palm with tapered fingers, stretched out of the mirror, that caught his bloodied palm and steadied him. The minister could not believe his senses when he perceived a preternaturally beautiful male figure, replacing his own shadow upon the glass. Afraid though he was of the regal aura exuding from the tall frame clad in black garb, his lips betrayed his self-control in forming the reverential words, “Who art thou?”

The reply came, musical and sonorous, “Thy kind refer to me as Satan, but I prefer the name I was born with.”, ending in a sly smile.

“Lucifer! Lord of lies!” exclaimed the minister. ''How dare thee desecrate the house of the Lord!''

“That dependeth upon who thy lord is, young flock-herd, is it thy heavenly father who tortureth thee with mindless rules or is it me, who hath come to set thee free?”

“Oh fie, care not I for such immoral promises!”, quiveringly came the priest's melody.

“Che, damn thy moralities, or so I would have said, but I would rather not have that lot in my blessed hell. As for my reason to come here of all places, is thy earnest yearning to be admitted to a world where thou canst love thy beloved freely. Care not I for thy hypocrisy, sweet elect, thou knowest how I speak nought but the truth. What a shame, calling me the Lord of Lies!”

The priest shivered as he recoiled from the shock of this revelation. A moral dilemma faced him. Oh, he was but young, his nature soft and untainted, but he had been hurt at his core, and seeked respite from this internal trauma that he was forced to deal with every single day. Here lay open his path to bliss. Not knowing his mortal parents, he has served his eternal lord all his life. It has indeed earned him glory, from his parishioners and beyond, yet also brought him excruciating pain through fettering his human nature, his desire to love and be loved by someone else than this demanding Father. The very thought ran like molten lava along his veins, and this mild-natured minister's heart hardened. His mind was set, on the path of revolt, against this covetous Padre.

His entire body trembled, yet his voice was firm. “I take thy hand, Lucifer, but not as thy servant, but a fellow rebel. I choose thy land as mine. Grant me the freedom thou promised and my services are thine.”

Lucifer's bright laughter lit up the dim room. “Get thyself in, brother, today onwards, it be I who lieth at thy service. Gladdens my heart beyond measure to hear a mortal speak in such way to the Lord of the Darkness. Worthy comrade thou.” He held out his strong, lean arm for the young reverend to hold, as he beckoned him on the other side of the looking glass. And lo, therein lay the Elysian Fields of the priest's dreams. In the midst of the bliss, stood his beloved, waiting with open arms to welcome him.

“Confound those liars!”, the priest's voice echoed amongst the blue vales and green meadows, ''heaven canst be sweeter than this!'' He indulged into the first freedom of his life, a long, spirited run, towards the frame that he knew to be his beloved’s.

And at the edge of the mirror stood Lucifer, his eyes following each movement that the priest made, his pretty face contorted in a crooked smile, which reached the vast darkness of his eyes, dilating them into greater depths of abyss.