I, Devil (a love story)

Chapter 5: Azazel

I found that wholly unhelpful and uninspiring. Not only was Sandal Phones boring, but he wanted to talk about his thing. He wanted to tell me about my brothers, Raum who have been proverbially picking up cans on the side of the road. Angels that don't want to be in Hell. Angels that want God to see them again. We have been over this through infinity. The thing that makes life real is pain. In order for pain to exist, we have to be in it.

That's just the algorithm for this programming. It's just the way it has to be. For me, it is a little different. Though, I am in no less pain. My consciousness is so vast, that even as I write this, there is anaspect of me being tortured. It creates a discordant resonance that rings throughout the universe, grounding everything in its place. The only way out is up, and I knew exactly where to find Raum picking upcans. He was in the American penitentiary system, trying to cheer up a man on death row.

I suppose it is exciting to see one of us try. Of course 'Ol Phones was excited. Its just never worked. So, my brother Meresin said he was going to quit. Was he going to try to be good? What was he doing with his human lab rats? Was he picking up cans like Raum? I decided to go ask. I attempted to hone in on Raum's signature vibration. He is a quiet brother, not unlike Meresin, and almost always appears as a raven. I've never talked to him much, so he seemed elusive to me. All I knew of him was that he was a fellow fallen brother, and was now attempting his way out of Hell's grasp.

It was a cold penitentiary, somewhere in 1937 Pennsylvania. A man was on death row for something he probably did. He prayed to God every day, but it wasn't changing the outcome. Like so many do, the inmate turned to God after first turning to the library. When God couldn't be found in the icy cages of prison, he turned to Satan. It was from there he found Raum. Or rather, Raum, my fallen angel brother, found him. Luckily, Raum wanted out of prison, too. I saw Raum sitting on his shoulder, taking the form of a large black crow.

I didn't let Raum see me. I wanted to observe him, first. I wanted to see with how he interacted with humans-- picking up cans. Trying to raise his and the human's vibrations. Giving him hope. Instead of allowing the inmate to succumb to his thoughts of despair, I watched as Raum encouraged him with feelings of hope. Hope, not for escape of his fate-- but rather hope for peace. There would be an ending, Raum said to the man, where it would be soft.

I watched as the human, John Franklin, quietly wept into his bedsheets. They weren't good tears, I could tell. He was frightened of the electric chair. They were not speaking verbally, and John Franklin laid in his uncomfortable prison bed waiting for time to pass. The man hugged his worn bible and boredly stared at the wall. Aman wept quietly across the hall. Raum hopped across John's chest, pecking at him with thoughts, and answering all of the human's questions that rose. Heaven was a fine place and the food couldn't be beat. It had all the music he liked, and plenty of pretty girls.

Humans tend to ask the same questions over and over again. Prison was a good feeding ground for low vibrational hanging fruit. There wasn't much good energy to be found. It was a desert, a wasteland. It was picking up cans in the universe's dumping ground. Instead of pushing the human's negative thoughts, Raum spent his time encouraging him to think nice things. Be polite to his fellow inmates. Keep his mouth closed even when the prison guards were beating him. I watched as Raum did this over and over again, from inmate to inmate, all the way through to 2015, where there was a moratorium placed on the death penalty, ending the fear of the electric chair.