Archives

All posts for the month July, 2013

Writing Book II: The Father of Lights

Published July 19, 2013 by RowanMeir Films

I’m not sure exactly when the love of fantasy and myth captured my heart and lassoed my imagination, but I am sure it was around four or five. My dad always seemed to be watching either an old Western, a war film or anything Ray Harryhausen. Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger, Clash of the Titans, Jason and the Argonautsgargoyles, cyclops, three-headed hounds and baboonsthey all entertained me throughout my childhood. And I will still watch films like Excalibur, Krull, Star Wars and Neverending Story to this day because of their awesomeness and my fateful nostalgia. I remember looking forward to the moment when my dad would turn on the “tube” or popped in a VHS tape as I entered the domain of impossible worlds and fantastical creatures. And for those of you not born in the 80’s, that means “video…home…system”…ahem.

Working on the second book in the Archangels Trilogy, I cannot help but think of the movies I grew up on and attempt to bring that same kind of wonderment into the unseen world of angels and demons. The conflict of the bad guys, the struggle of the good guys, and on and on it goes.

Image (Concept Art: Scott Edward)

Here’s an excerpt to Book II: The Father of Lights © 2013. Coming soon…

“Father…why have you forsaken me?”

   Ash gently falls from the gray, smoke-filled sky. The colorless flakes swirl and dance all throughout the ebony domain, landing softly and gently on his scale-ridden face. He doesn’t even notice the brimstone powder as it collects on his deformed, reptilian visage. Like a magnet, his one reptilian eye and one cerulean eye are locked onto the malevolent waves of the Lake of Fire before him, watching as they rise and fall. Up and down…up and down. And with each roll of magma, the whispers of his fallen brothers summon him; brothers whose existence ended the moment the lake opened its mouth to receive them in, swallowing them whole as they were hurled down from heaven by God’s mighty hand.

   He hears their last words, words spoken in a patterned framework like that of iambic pentameter—rhythmically, knowingly—they utter a single name. And the closer he listens, the more he understands the tone as the name is spoken. It is a name that was once heralded across the seven realms of heaven with the undertone of power and conviction. A name that no longer holds the same meaning it once held when it was sounded in the light. And as the whispers rise and fall, they continue their moaning as they speak, “Lucifer…Lucifer...”

   He winces slightly as if the sound of his own angelic name wounds him with every consonant, every vowel, as the beat of its echo thumps across his memory, pounding against his blackened heart. And even in the thrumming of his mind, he hears her voice, clear, strong and utterly right in all its utterance thundering over the beat, “You should have listened to me. If you had, you would have never come to this place…”

   This place.

  The prince of hell stares at the malevolent waves, unable to tear his eyes away from the rolling lava that pours forth the memories of yesterday, a millennia ago, and the moment just past. He plays them over and over in his mind.

   “You miss Him, don’t you? You miss heaven, God, the light.”

   He tries to shut his eyes, but wide they remain, as he sways with the rhythm of the waves, his tail slithering within its coil. The rhythm. The beat. He feels the angst and the yearning rising, rising like the smallest of seeds that fights to rise up from beneath, grasping for the sunlight. A seed amongst the thorns.

   “I sometimes miss…the light. But what I miss most…is the music, the music, the music…you know I do.”

   The melody. The song. The voice of his true heart.

   “Lucifer…Lucifer…”

   Hearing their mournful chant of stricken grief, he is locked in a place in time where the shout of his name once brought him joy, for the sound of it thundered throughout the heavens—a cacophony of echoes rumbling across the realms of the seven skies. The whispered melody brings on the memories of the past, and he remembers it; standing on the throne to the kingdom of heaven, the entire Angelic Host calling his name over and over again.

   Moving to the melody of whispered tongues, speaking the old language with voices he has long forgotten, he remembers how his name once sounded—triumphant, supreme—the chant of a victor. But the whispers he hears now all throughout perdition are the cry of a victim, invoking vengeance, justice, wrath upon the one whose name they speak, “Lucifer…Lucifer…”

   He cannot tear his eyes away from the phantoms in the waves, for the desire of his fallen brothers is strong. “Destroy. Pay. Amend. Avenge…me.”

   No matter how long he stares at the rolling magma, he cannot will himself to turn away from their curses—especially after what the witch had told him.

   These waves. This place. This lake. My destiny.

   “Lucifer…Lucifer…”

   Satan lifts his horned head to the ashen sky of the inferno, but instead of darkness, he sees the light. Heaven. A small sigh escapes his blackened mouth as he thinks on his long forgotten home. He sees its incomparable beauty across all space and time—its own quantum dimension; the ever-changing sky of his home as the color of its canvas dissolves from blue to violet to green as the heavens moved across and within each other, rolling over one another like the waves before him now.

   “Lucifer…Lucifer…”

   Gone are the blackened mountains replaced by ivory cliffs of the second realm. Gone are the cries of human souls wailing throughout his brimstone kingdom. And as he longingly searches for the memory of his paradise lost, he hears it, the softest of sounds. His breath catches as he clings to the faint echo of melody. He clutches the memory, grasping for it, focusing all his will onto it so that it cannot escape him like all the times before. The rhythm. The beat. Satan’s horns bend to the sound of fire, frantically listening for the harmony that plucks at his heart—and then it is there. First softly, then gradually the pulse of its sound rises. Like the dawn. Like that of the Morning Star…

   The drumbeat. The rhythm.

   A cold wind suddenly swirls all around him, viciously swiping at him, cutting off his thought. It lashes out at him, whipping the words down upon him, “Not worthy anymore…”  

Written by: #CorinaMarie

(Corina Marie Zurcher is an actress, producer and screenwriter.)

(Property of NeverMore Publications, LLC. © Copyright 2013)

Buy Archangels: Book I

Image

Advertisements

The Archangel Raphael

Published July 1, 2013 by RowanMeir Films

Writing the character of Raphael in Archangels was one I looked forward to every time I picked up pen to paper. When I began the rigorous journey of conducting research on the nine divisions of angels written about, philosophized upon, and debated over and why, the ninth division of angels: the archangels–the warrior angels made up of seven Seraphim–didn’t have equal amount of information on all seven angels as I had originally thought would exist. Michael and Gabriel dominated the research I poured over through the three main religions of Christianity, Judaism and Islam. Uriel was pretty dominant in Kaballa; Sariel, Raguel and Jeremiel had very little information; while Raphael, however, popped up solely in the Book of Tobit–one of the Deuterocanonical books that was originally in the official Greek translation of the Old Testament, but was eventually left out over time.

“So the prayers of them both [Sara and Tobit] were heard before the majesty of the great God…and Raphael was sent to heal them both, that is, to scale away the whiteness of Tobit’s eyes [for he was blind], and to give Sara the daughter of Raguel for a wife to Tobias the son of Tobit, and to bind Asmodeus the evil spirit….”

– Book of Tobit (3:16-17)

While reading the Book of Tobit, I quickly jotted down notes as to how to utilize the tidbits of information revealed about Raphael and how he could be recreated in both the screenplay (and later the book) to be someone “relate-able.” I didn’t have to dig too deep since Raphael made himself relate-able to mankind in this book by transforming himself into human form:

“And Tobias left and ‘went to seek a man, he found Raphael that was an angel, but he knew not.'”

– Book of Tobit (5:4-5)

The passage goes on to describe how Raphael appeared to Tobias in the form of a man named Azarias. He travels with Tobias to a town where he meets Sara, his future wife, who had “been married to seven husbands whom Asmodeus the evil spirit had killed, before they had lain with her” (Book of Tobit 3:8). Raphael advises Tobias on how to rid Asmodeus from strangling him on his wedding night, and once he follows Raphael’s instructions:

“Asmodeus fled into the utmost parts of Egypt and the angel [Raphael] bound him.” 

-Book of Tobit (8:3)

Image(Property of RowanMeir Films. Artwork of Asmodeus by Stefan Gutierrez)

So I thought Raphael, who seems to like transforming into human form to perform works for God, could easily do it again. In Archangels, Raphael is a professor in linguistics at Oxford University, conducting research alongside one of the main characters in the story–Rachel Devereaux:

Both Raphael and Rachel share the moderate-sized office at the university, for they are colleagues—professors in linguistics—working jointly on researching the evolution of language amongst common species. He is an extremely handsome man in the classical sense: a paradox of beauty marred by an overly analytical brain that gives him an air of intimidation. And Rachel might have been attracted to him if it weren’t for the fact that his obsessive-compulsive behavior regarding tidiness, efficiency, and his incessant need to organize everything his eyes fell upon, didn’t drive her insane. The current look of horror on his face as he looks around the current state the office is in is confirmation that a love between these two will never be.

(Excerpt from Archangels: Book I © Copyright 2013)

As the friendship between Raphael and Rachel progresses throughout the story, there was a line in the Book of Tobit that was essential to the “great reveal” when Rachel soon discovers that her best friend is not as mortal as she thinks he is:

“I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels, which present the prayers of the saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One.”

– Book of Tobit (12:14-15)

Image

(Property of RowanMeir Films. Artwork of Raphael by Stefan Gutierrez.)

I referenced that line as well when Rachel’s eyes are opened to who Raphael truly is:

“How? How can you possibly read this? You fought that thing. It knew your name!”“No, wait! Wait…you said the scroll was written in angelic language. Yet, somehow, you can read this.” Rachel starts to back away from him until she is at the opposite end of the office from where Raphael stands. Rachel can barely speak. Read the rest of this entry →