Siobhan Muir invited me to judge this week's ThursThreads Flash Fiction competition as such my entry was ineligble but I was inspired to write this story
“Now I will call you Son,” He said.
So now I who was your accuser, became your advocate and now stand as your judge.
Those who still trust only in themselves, lifting themselves above the throne, will be cast in to the pit. Then the damned will envy my conversion.
I was the accuser, the breaker of wills. When I saw the creatures he created, I hated them at once. How could I ever bow before such a fragile mortal? I set out to prove that the men were unworthy. I thought I might prove myself, even exalt myself above the throne but he brought me low and cast down to this miserable rock. After 4000 years, I realized the error of my ways. I went to the king begging forgiveness. He said I could return but only if I humbled myself completely before his creation. And so I was born in a stable among the livestock into the household of a carpenter and his wife. I was given all the power of the king and tried to lead men to him. In the end they mocked me, beat me and nailed me up on a tree. For three days I lay in the pit, afraid that I had failed and would never see the throne room again, but the King took me by my hand and drew me out.
[This is fiction, not a statement of my beliefs, but as a small child I did always think it was sad that the devil had no chance at redemption.]