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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1470983-The-Devil-of-Orleans---Preface
Rated: E · Chapter · Fantasy · #1470983
This preface for a story that never grew describes heaven and earth as seen by the dead.
Preface – the introduction of heaven.

From Heaven, the Earth appears in a manner not unlike the way a clear night sky looks when reflected off of a still, deep pool of water. It is a vast, inky black that swirls with the motions of the things that live within it, causing slow black ripples so feint that they can barely be seen against the dark expanse they move across. Like the surface of even the most glassy pond, the water is constantly moving with tiny ripples and shallows that must be sought out and looked for else they rise and fall without ever being seen, their brief existence over so quickly that anyone watching might never even notice.

Like the night sky, the Earth appears as if it is filled with stars, small spots of light caught beneath the surface of the darkness, all slowly moving and crawling as though someone had trapped an innumerable collection of fireflies beneath the folds of a widows veil. No two pairs of eyes that look down from Heaven ever see exactly the same thing. Some look down and see a small collection of sparkling lights that twinkle and glimmer against the impenetrable darkness that surrounds them. Others look and see the lights as wider expanses, like bright iridescent leaves floating about on the surface of the pond, slowly drifting from place to place driven by the silent winds that brush across it’s surface. No matter how the lights may appear to the viewer, on the few occasions when two of them touch then their lights are magnified by each others strength and those who are watching are treated to a magnificent display of light and power whose beauty has no equal anywhere else in the cosmos.

For the mortals who live their lives on Earth the beauty of the lights is one of the rewards that wait for them in Heaven, and many of the souls that reside in Heaven spend thousands of years simply watching the lights as they change and move with the passage of time. When they look down they see the lights shinning in relation to the things that the soul finds most important or interesting. Immediately after death the brightest lights may correspond to the souls remaining family or friends, while the people they cared for may be less bright, and the millions of people in the world they never met seem as just another part of the firmament. The lights correspond not only to people, but also to objects, thoughts, ideas, and anything that the soul takes an interest in. After death, an artist may look down and see the lights glimmering at every great painting or sculpture as its creator works over it, or may see a spark as the illuminated pages of an old bible inspire a young priest beyond the message of the words he reads. Each and every soul that looks down sees something that interests and inspires them, never short of something to watch. Many of them begin by watching the lives of their friends and family, staring at the lights that hold the most significance for them, but slowly their friends and family die and either join them in Heaven or move onto other places and their lights are removed from the Earth, yet the watchers find new appreciation in the world that lay beyond what they knew in life and find themselves forever trapped by the hypnotic dance of light playing out beneath them.

On the most rare and special occasions there have been mortals who have, for some reason or another, managed to glimpse the Heavenly lights of Earth while they are still alive. Sometimes madmen have visions in which they see a hidden message in the lights of the night sky and it drives them to achieve great things, while a monk of waning faith may dream of the struggling light of his belief and be moved to reach for the enlightenment he had assumed was beyond him. On even fewer occasions has a living mortal been allowed to enter heaven and view the lights of the Earth amidst the company of the souls of their ancestors. Each time returning to earth with a memory like a half forgotten dream, one that inspires them in ways they cannot fully comprehend but inspires them nonetheless, and while they go about their daily lives with passion and drive, their nights are spent staring at the starry sky, searching for some moment of the understanding that they feel lies hidden in the incomprehensible pattern of light. After death, these Rare few receive the Enlightenment like a trinket or remembrance of someone that had left them, and it is a great moment of joy for these Rare Ones when they finally see the lights of Earth again in their true form. They are always identifiable among the other watchers as their gaze seems always slightly more focused and a little more intense. They always prefer to gaze upon the lights alone, separated from the crowds who whisper that perhaps those blessed with the vision during their life are allowed to see the lights in a much purer form. It is seldom that one of the Rare Ones can look upon the lights of Earth and not be moved to tears by the beauty that they see, and while thousands have tried to understand what it is these souls see among the lights, the visions of the Rare Ones remains theirs alone, forever.

There are different ways to view the lights of Earth. Many souls sit and watch them with an easy manner as they simply appreciate the wonder of the spectacle that the lights create. Many more use the lights as a way of guiding them to the things they truly love to watch. A mother may focus in on the lights of her children and watch their actions in an image conjured up - as if it were a vision on a looking glass - and take joy in watching them grow and live their lives, A warrior killed on the battlefield might sit and watch the men of his unit and listen to their prayers as they dedicate their charge to their fallen companion and smile as they fight on, A missionary who did what they could to help the helpless may watch with a glad heart as the weak and hungry receive help from strangers and revel in the feeling of mercy that the helpers carry with them.

There are tales among the souls that watch the Earth, tales that get told in hope and disbelief, about those who could not bear to simply watch any longer. Those who were so moved by what they saw that – even through the enlightenment and understanding that comes after death – they were compelled to leave the comfort of Heaven and travel to Earth in the hope of helping right some great wrong, bring balance to an injustice, or simply comfort someone through an impossibly hard time that would otherwise drive them into despair. Many stories tell tales of young men and women – whose death took them suddenly from the arms of a great love that had touched their very soul – and how they returned to Earth to be with their loved ones and look over them for their remaining years. Yet everyone knows that no matter how warming the stories of those who leave Heaven for love may be, that a story is all they are. After death there comes an enlightenment and understanding of the way things are that prevents the kind of irrational thoughts that would prompt foolish behaviour of that kind. The tales of lovers who give up eternity in Heaven for the sake of being beside the ones that they love are always understood to be myths, tales told to inspire the mixed feelings of sorrow and joy at the thought of such passion and desire. Yet while souls may smile at such fanciful tales, there are other stories that are told less freely. The stories of the ones who really did find something on Earth great enough to spur a soul into motion and inspire them to return to Earth, disembodied, and largely powerless to act but for the one purpose to which they had dedicated themselves. Stories exist of the souls of kings who had sat and calmly watched the Earth for a thousand years until the last descendants of their blood had been tortured to death, and watched it all without so much as a whimper, and yet would be driven to throw themselves back down to the Earth simply to comfort a young girl as she cried through the first night spent alone after her mothers death. These tales are told without joy, as every soul who hears or thinks of returning to Earth cannot help but ask themselves the same question, the burning question to which no one has ever found a complete answer.
If I go…can I ever return?

The fear this question provokes, the fear at confronting the absolute unknown, is one of the few sorrows that plague a soul in Heaven. No soul has ever claimed to have gone to Earth and returned, and certainly if any soul has they are not talking about it. It is rumoured in whispers, among those who dare to discuss such things, that once a soul chooses to expel itself from Heaven that there is no return. They are forced to remain as disembodied spirits, powerless to act on Earth and devoid of the infinite satisfaction that comes from being in Heaven. Those who are hopeful suggest that maybe once the souls purpose has been fulfilled that they are drawn back into the cycle of life and reborn again as a human child, a second chance at life being their reward for their selflessness – Yet again, no one knows. It is only on the most introspective of moments that anyone dares to tell stories of the Fallen souls. The ones who dared to throw themselves out of Heaven to complete a conquest or seek revenge, indulge a personal desire or try to secure some trapping of mortal existence. The fate of these souls who reject Heaven for such selfish reasons is something few are even willing to think of, and ever fewer will dare to speak, but whenever the souls that watch the Earth spy a disembodied soul wandering the land filled with vengeance and rage they always look at each other uncomfortably with the unspoken recognition of what or who that soul might once have been.

And so it is in a majority of silence that the souls of the dead gather together at the viewing places of Heaven and look down upon the Earth.

However, it is not just the souls of the dead who look down on Earth from Heaven.
© Copyright 2008 HalLoweEn JacK (halloween_jack at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1470983-The-Devil-of-Orleans---Preface