The archive of the forgotten

the demon who was good

Trigger warning: mentions of death and heavy blasphemy!!

11:00 gallows hour of heaven. I am running through the meadows of the heaven it is 10:45, Gabriels son... No, my son. They will not hang him! I will not stand for it. I run through the grass that is hot on my skin, I wonder if once I am the heaven square i might be burning me up so I won't be able to save him. But I, aamon, was once an angel. I once was good I am still good, what is not good about me? Heaven doesn't tell me and that coward that we call god will not even try to explain. I spread my wings and Begin to fly. My red eyes contrasting the black hair on my head  and black feathers  covering my body. I am wearing a black suit, The sun burns my white skin but I am used to burning, I once lived in hell. What do they expect. Do they really expect us to be afraid of burning? I will never be, the only thing that is burning is my heart, too frightened that my son is already dead. He can't be dead! He isn't dead! I convince myself as I near the heaven barrier. I dig my claws into it and start to use all my might to rip it apart, just so I can enter. I will not give up, even if this will ccause my death I must prevent his! Haven't I already given up enough! Do not heat up my rage or contempt for all thhat heaven has even been and is!

Heaven does not have prisons, so I am casually walking around the palace moments before I will be hanged. So strange, I look at the painting of my father. Once the leader of heaven, the one who knew his plan, the allknowing. I call him the clueless. His name is Gabriel. I am his only son, I am Nathaniel. I am not proud of a lot but I am insanely proud that even though we almost share the same face I am not one bit like him, I love that I am not like him. He was cruel, even to the people who did not deserve it. Power corrupts people, it also corrupted my father. He has been retired for a long time already but it is still clear that he is seen as some kind of hero here. I think as I see a bust of him and tip it over. I smirk as it breaks. It reminds me of the day that I broke my own heart, I am still trying to reassemble it to be honest. I saw my father killing twenty humans, because he wanted it. That day I swore not to be like him, and even more important. I would never sing the praises of heaven, love or goodness. Because clearly it does not exist. I would choose my own morals and let nobody tell me what was right or wrong.

My father was cruel to me, so when I could finally fly I flew or rather fell down to earth. There I met A man who was horrified by me. But I had already chosen him. He has raised me better than anyone here in heaven ever could have raised me. So love does not exist but I do love my real father, Aamon. He taught me so much, he taught me everything about humans as we lived in our cute cottage among them. He taught me how to fly properly, how humans do things. What human morals are and why we should be kind at everyone in our life but why jealousy and hate towards the ones that have hurt us is normal to feel. Every sunday I went to church, he sent me to a seminary and I learned everything about the world I came from. My father is kindest man I know. I wish to be like aamon. But it seems I have no future here in heaven which aamon had planned for me. I am not fit for their holier than thou attitude. I do not believe in Gods mysterious ways, I believe in mercy and strangely I have become someone who believes in love.

"Nathaniel" Uriel says with a sorrowful expression on their face. "It is time, the order has been given." I smile. "who translated the order?" They look down. "Only your father is able to do that." they say. I nod. "I would reccomend to keep all important people away from my hanging." I say. "Why?" They ask, I smirk. "Trust me Uriel, you have shown me kindness I do not want you near my death." They nod. They lead me to the gallows, The golden gallow is so extremely cynical. There are fourteen lesser angels witnessing the hanging. "Any last words" "Yes, several actually. My real father, the one who raised me once said you have never believed in flowers who grow in cracks of the street. But I promise you they are real. Oh and I wish you luck" "WIth what?" "I think you have grossly miscalculated." I answer as they put the noose around my neck. "Why" The lesser angels are confused. "I'm with two, You only have fourteen." They start to laugh when suddenly I hear a magnificent scream as aamon land on one of the lesser angels. "Right on cue pappa" I say with a smile as my six eyes open and my six wings grow from my back. I smirk. "Are you frightened now?" I ask the lesser angels

A demon raises an angel child and it turns out he doesn't do such a bad job. But heaven is not happy with that. I need a better desciption but still