Incarnate Pt.2

I remember the first time I saw the world stretch away before me, plummeting from above as the pain of my rage and betrayal began to change me. All I could think is: he would rather play with these malformed aberrations, then explain why.

Now I walk amongst these feral beings, feeling a kind of kinship that would have been impossible only centuries ago.

Father left soon after I was cast out, though I hadn't learned that until some time later. Now I wander aimlessly just like the rest of his abandoned children. Children of the night, all of us.

I haven't spoken to the others in a long time. I don't even know how many of them are still here with me. Perhaps they left with him.

I miss Michael the most, a thought that sends an impossibly complex cocktail of emotions I haven't felt in a very long time spiralling through me.

It's not all bad, I suppose. There are so many distractions, so many avenues of interest. Hell has been open for some time. Nobody seems to have noticed the practically revolving door.

Heaven remains quiet as ever. Sealed and protected against us heathens. An eternally sleeping, gilded prison, far from our reach. Sometimes I venture to wonder if the entire garden lies empty and dead. A macabre and sacrosanct mausoleum where once stood a symbol for eternal happiness.

What has happiness ever done for them, built on the lies, death, and betrayal of others as it is. Far too fleeting for the cost that is asked for it.

But what else is there to do, while you wait for the blissful end.