The Simple Answer

Yes.

The simple answer, the only answer I can possibly give.

Everything indeed began with me. Every colour, shape, scent, sound, emotion... all crafted by my loving hand so that life would be... more.
More than an existence spent under the watchful eye of restrictive guardians, more than a life where the concept of human nature is insulted and undermined, where decision and choice are utterly redundant...

My dream was to make life an experience.

To grant purpose, individualism and a sense of identity rather than rolling out a perpetual production line of faultless, subservient robots.
Where is the fulfilment in an existence where the right choice is made simply by default; treading the path of righteousness solely through lack of alternative.

I created free will to afford life meaning... if certain individuals see fit to exploit this liberty, they must hold only themselves accountable.

And he saw...

Gnarled. That is exactly how he would like to imagine me, isn’t it? Offering up the forbidden fruit as a token of my malice. Bent double with clawed hands grasping at the throats of his creations.

To him I am the great deceiver: the antithesis to his will. He pretends I am his equal: but how can I be, when I was created only as his servant?

It smacks of the ridiculous.

It was after all, he who created everything that exists, nay (as he claims), existence itself.

So by proxy did he not create Pandora’s Box and all that sprung out of it? Did he not create the serpent and the fruit that it offered to his children? Did he not create me and all that I have achieved?

I am but a facet of his almighty nature.

Just a player...

Just a player... an interesting turn of phrase... to my knowledge, he would be the one that made this a game; his own personal entertainment, where existence itself is nothing more than a series of opportunities to corrupt decency and noble intention with festering, suffocating hatred.

Such relish and glee derived from disregarding lives as mere pawns; his own piece fashioned as a snake, a creature that would brutalise its prey through sheer instinct, representing a beast that would you have believe he operates in such a thoughtless, uncontrollable manner.

The sad part is that people will always play. You can offer love, warmth and support, forgive trespassers their transgressions and misdemeanours, but at the end of the day humans will never be satisfied because of their perpetual lust for that which they don't already have.

And whenever such a yearning is awakened he is right there, graciously escorting them to the table, his gnarled fingers closed knowingly around loaded dice.

Wise words? He claims.

I just wish to fulfill freedoms, to open their minds.

He would have had her remain in ignorance for the rest of her days. Sure ignorance is bliss. But I ask you this: is it any substitute for living life, for experiencing freedom? If we are all left ignorant then how can we grow and expand, how can we wonder and dream?

He blames me.

Yes I was there; I persuaded her take the step, to taste it. And for the consequences I am truly sorry.

But he invented punishment. He showed them what cruelty was; how cruel he could be if they did not bask in his glory, if they did not obey him.

He is the one who talks of boundaries and sides, who sits up on high, claiming benevolence but setting down judgement. He drew the line in the sand, he started the game and set the ball rolling.

I am just a player, trying to be alive.

The other side of the coin...

Some people never learn...
A lifetime spent imparting wisdom through a procession of weary platitudes has resulted only in finding myself forced to behold the apple crumbling in Eve's mouth again and again. Benevolence such as mine is rarely regarded with shades of grey; there's a single, unfaltering line running down the centre of everything, and you're expected to choose a side and stand valiantly by everything it represents.
The truth is... I'm tired; run down by his influence, his interference, and the uncountable failed attempts to prevent the constant surfacing of that one burning question.
Am I really any better than he is...?

Conscience...

I’m the devil on his shoulder, the thought in his head, the whisper in his ear and the hint that he should. I am the antithesis to his conscience and the hidden secret wants. I am the things that he should be and the things that he can’t. I have always been here and I always will. I’m going to have fun and I’m going to raise hell.

It begins...

No rules, no discussions, no plan! It worked fine for Baddiel and Skinner, so I'm sure it'll work just fine for us!

So far, the sole concept behind this is to write something. That's literally it!

So, watch this space...

A Start...

Hopefully this is the start of something great, or maybe just the rantings of two guys with too much spare time. At some point, I suppose one of us has to get the ball rolling...