Wars Unseen: The Devil and Despair

Writers Inquisition
4 min readOct 31, 2020

He fell to his knees as life had finally appeared to overcome him. Tears began to fall from his tired eyes, and he gripped the cold earth gasping for air.

The pain had run too deep for him that time, and he couldn’t overlook the circumstance.

In his mind he contemplated ending his existence, for how could there be anything more to gain in his cursed life?

His love had left, his hope had been vanquished, and only despair and angst encompassed his thoughts.

In the day, he’d been haunted by the cold reality of life and what it had become. At night, terrorized by his dreams.

A heavy steel weapon laid beside him, loaded with brass, gunpowder, and lead.

The final end would come so swiftly and without pain. Afterwards he would rest with only peace and blissful darkness swallowing his torment.

No more struggling, no more sorrow, and no more gnashing of his teeth.

He entertained the idea while holding the gun, studying it with such care.

He’d been there so many times that month, but that night felt different.

Something seemed to be stopping him from proceeding, though nothing that seemed to be of his own willpower.

Hope for a better future? No. Fear of the unknown? No. A morale obligation? Nay, it would be most morale to have put that wretched creature out of its misery for compassion’ sake.

What seemed to appear from nowhere, and focus his attention like a moth to the flame, something whispered words into his heart.

The words were not audible in the ordinary sense, but were engraved in his heart like hot flames that have forever scorched the strongest fortresses.

‘This isn’t your time to leave’.

‘It matters not your efforts, willpower, or level of desire. I won’t let you be harmed’.

‘Pick up the gun and fire, it will only draw a blank’.

‘Fall from the mountain top, and you will pick yourself up afterwards’.

‘Impail yourself with the blade, and your flesh won’t be harmed’.

‘There is nothing you can do to leave this Earth before I declare your time’.

‘And when you go, my purpose in you will be fulfilled’.

He understood the message, but he then sensed another which followed directly after. One of ambivalence and malice.

‘Your purpose is already fulfilled, and your time is futile. There is no hope for you’.

The darkness and the light waged war inside his mind.

The conflicting spirits fought for their place in his heart, both claimed to be truth, one in the name of light, and the other darkness.

The two spirits were not unfamiliar to him, as he’d felt both throughout his life, beginning in childhood.

He felt gracious that the first chose to intervene, and scorned the other for leading him this far to perceived destruction.

He chose to follow the first, for he knew it was written:

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand” (John 10-:27–28).

He then looked to his future and made peace with the battles before him.

He understood the things to come, and the things which were to be done. He rejected death for it was impossible.

As he found his resolve through God’s grace, trillions roared like thunder.

Their cries of triumph shook the foundations of the galaxies and planetary systems around. The angels cried out in victory.

Like a stadium filled with hundreds of thousands of fans, the angels roared with electric zealousness.

Their champion had emerged victorious.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).

The adversary had grown close and nearly dealt his finishing blow, but the spirit was stronger.

The darkness had planned its victory feast for its new soul, but the spirit intervened.

Why it choose to intervene his battle with supernatural fervor, no-one knows.

As the angels cries of triumph wrung from above, the demons cries of curses shook below.

All bets from the underworld’s stronghold had been lost, and hell’s fury raged.

He was supposed to be theirs. Not once, not twice, but too many times over.

The deal had been set, and he had been scheduled to be taken into finality.

Their anger was immeasurable. They stewed malice and conjured ways in which to win back their losses.

The spirit had won the battle, but the war for his soul was far from over.

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