I finished watching Good Omens and yesterday so now my head is bursting with fic ideas
I’ve started something so please let me know what you think so far and if I should continue it!
World: Good Omens
Voice: 1st person (narrated by God)
Characters: Purgatory (new created by moi), Aziraphale, Crawly (in this part)
A figure trudged through the rain over mounds of sand, towards the figures on the huge wall surrounding the Garden of Eden. In a pale green dress that seemed to be rippling, she walked with a surprising human-ness, considering she wasn’t. The angel and the demon watched her from their perch on the wall, intrigued to see who this figure was. It could not be Adam or Eve, for their figures were already far in the distance. And why would they come back? So the demon and the angel waited until finally, sopping wet and rainwater steaming through her entire body, the figure stopped at the wall.
‘I’m stuck at the foot of a huge wall,’ she thought, ‘and I need to get up.’ The wall really was huge. Easily the same size as the Big Ben, although the Big Ben wasn’t coming into being for another couple millennia yet, so really the Big Ben was the same size as this wall. Anyway, back to the figure in the flowy green dress. She stared at the wall, inspecting the secure cracks in between the sturdy bricks that made them. She had barely any idea of who she was, or why she was staring at this wall. She only knew that she was a being in a pale green dress that was fairly important to the world she was standing in. She also knew that she had to get up that wall. The girl tried with all her might to get up that wall. She envisioned herself floating up, she unsuccessfully tried to climb it. She even tried to jump, as if it was going to do anything.
Meanwhile, the angel and the demon - who are better known as Crowley and Aziraphale (although at this moment in time Crowley was not Crowley, but Crawly, as he was a snake at first) - were getting impatient.
“We should see what she wants,” Crawly suggested. Crawly had only just been put into the body he was in, but you could already tell what kind of person he was. He had snakelike amber eyes with a slit down the middle, a skinny body and red hair (long and curly) to match where he came from. He was a demon, yes, but he had been an angel before, and his smile showed that. Another fact about Crawly - well, Crowley - was that he would also find a certain interest for a rock band named Queen in the future.
“She may not be a she. I do not know what we should do,” Aziraphale replied. Aziraphale, like Crawly, was new in his body. He was plumper than Crawly and had cropped blonde hair that was almost white, and his grey-blue eyes exuded kindness. At this moment in time, Aziraphale was pure angel, through and through. He would not be pure angel his entire life. Aziraphale would also open up a bookshop in Soho, and find an appetite for French crepes, which got him in a struggle many a time.
“Might as well. We’re the only five beings on the planet right now, she’s probably important.”
Aziraphale nodded to this and a swirl of fire engulfed the girl in the pale green dress at the bottom of the wall and brought her up to the top, depositing her in front of Crawly. She looked around in bewilderment, like someone would if they had suddenly been transported to where they needed to be by a swirl of fire that didn’t burn them in the pouring rain.
“Who are you?” Crawly demanded. No hello, no ‘come out of the rain’, just, ‘who are you?’. It was unsurprising really, he was a demon after all. Aziraphale introduced himself and Crawly and pushed him along, allowing the girl in the pale green dress to stand in between the demon and the angel. Crawly was hurt at the tiny betrayal of his only friend (if you could even call him that), but at the time didn’t know so.
“Hello. I am Aziraphale, an angel, and this is Crawly, a demon. We look after the Garden of Eden. Who might you be?”
The girl in the pale green dress stretched out her fingers and looked at the men beside her. The beings beside her returned her gaze. Her hair was brown, long and flowing, with a wreath of vines crowning her head. She had deep blue eyes like the ocean but also like the sky. Her skin was not caramel, nor white like the demon and the angel. It seemed permanently tanned, yet green as well? Either way, she fitted perfectly together, and even though at the time she didn’t know, her colours represented the land they were standing on.
“I cannot tell you,” she replied. “For I do not know.”
She was well spoken like the angel, but overtime, as she lived with those in this world, her voice would change.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” The demon scoffed. “You can’t not know.”
“I do not!” She protested. “I am utterly and wholly new. I have been built for a purpose, for this world. For I am...”
The girl searched for the word in her mind, the demon and the angel watching her. Aziraphale was almost bouncing with the suspense and Crawly was rolling his eyes, fed up.
“What the hell is that?” Crawly spluttered.
“I know,” Aziraphale told him, looking out at the desert in front of him as he strained to remember. “We were taught this as children. I remember. Purgatory is where those who have sinned can live and redeem themselves before arriving at heaven.”
“Well, we both know that isn’t true,” Crawly muttered. Purgatory, if we call her that at the moment, nodded.
“I also know that it isn’t true. My role, if I have understood correctly, is an unusual one. I... interview those who have died. I tell them that they have passed away and interview them, and then choose if they go to Heaven or Hell. I think.”
Crawly and Aziraphale spoke at the same time.
“Only the Almighty chooses!” Aziraphale protests.
“What, so you’re basically Death’s spokesman?” Crawly asked.
“No, and yes. I choose where they go. I think. And yes, in a sense. Although that’s really all I do.”
Crawly and Aziraphale had come to different conclusions here. One believed that this girl, the one who represented Purgatory - whatever that was - worked for the Almighty, and was in fact just a form of him. The other believed she consorted with Death.
“So you must be on my side!” Both the demon and the angel declared.
Purgatory laughed now, a sweet thing like a brook bubbling through a forest. “I am on neither of your sides. I am on my own side. I am created only for the Earth, and it is my sole duty to serve for it.”
“So you control the Earth?” Crawly asked. “Because that’s not right. The head offices control the Earth.”
“I do not control the Earth,” Purgatory replied. The only thing she did know.
“I do not know.”
“Change the weather?”
“I do not know.”
“I do not know.”
“So you basically just interview the dead?” Crawly scoffed again.
Aziraphale, astounded by his acquaintance’s awfully rude behaviour, tried to comfort Purgatory.
“There must be a reason you are here, in the first day of the rest of mankind. Tell us.”
“I stop the world from overcrowding. I take all those lonely souls, so cold, and I warm them. I am their last friend. Or so I’m told.”
Purgatory was confused, her brain was only just learning to process things. Purgatory did not yet know what her purpose was, but I do, and so I shall tell you it. Purgatory was not created just to be an interviewer for the dead, but also a a welcomer to the world. No, she could not perform miracles, or control the world. But she could control the areas around her for a limited time. She could speed up harvests, create new green life. So, in a sense, she could control the weather, just in her own unique way. Purgatory was created to be the example of a perfect human; but if she would keep to that title, no one knew. In the bigger picture, Purgatory was mostly useless, almost like a warden. But she wasn’t not important.
In those moments as Purgatory speculated the lack of knowing in her head, Aziraphale and Crawly realised that the girl stood between them was in fact important. She navigated through life like a fawn learning to walk for the first time, but Crawly and Aziraphale swore to themselves, there and then, that they would look after this girl who represented the planet they were standing on.
Content, they stood tall, despite the rain. Purgatory, however, was travelling through a point of turmoil, and needed answers. Her first question was, for some strange reason, ‘can I die?’ So, on impulse, Purgatory simply ran forward and dived off the the wall of the Garden of Eden, landing with a sickening crunch on her head. The impulsive action of Purgatory’s was much like a human’s. I’m not implying that humans go jumping off huge walls and killing themselves willy nilly, but that humans didn’t take much time to think about things before they did them.
Aziraphale rushed forwards to see the remnants of the girl and even Crawly took an step forward and peered over the edge. Purgatory’s body was splayed out across the desert, face in the sand. Her dress was arranged prettily around her, a haunting sight in the rain really. No blood was leaving her body, as she had died on impact, the force of the ground rushing to meet her head too great for such a new body to withstand.
“Oh my!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “What an awful shame. So new. Why did she just do that?”
“Well, your side say that everything happens for a reason - ask them,” Crawly shrugged, trying to look unbothered. The angel and the demon were slightly shaken, especially after deciding that they wanted to look after this girl, but still, the pair went back to their first position: Aziraphale with his wing over Crawly, staring out at the desert.
Meanwhile, Purgatory had died. You may be thinking, well what is the point of you introducing this girl and then killing her off straight away? Or, you may be thinking; well, she’s going to come back to life isn’t she - so predictable - and rolling your eyes. If you think this, then you are in fact correct.
Purgatory can’t have been dead more than thirty seconds when the crown of vines around her head began to move. They threaded themselves into her broken head, pushing the skull back into place, fixing her brain, and a minute after Purgatory had died, she was alive and well once more. She now knew that she had been created for the Earth and would not die until it did. She also knew that she needed a new name. Because Purgatory wasn’t really cutting it.
She forced herself up and was now facing her first dilemma of the day yet again. But this time, she had a solution for her problem. For when the vines had entered her brain, they had awakened her only power; to control nature - and luckily she knew how to use it. So she told the vines to take her up to the top of the wall, and they did. It was a sight indeed for Crawly and Aziraphale, as this girl in the pale green dress who had just died and seemed to be rippling in every aspect of her body, rose up in front of them on a lift of vines.
“You know what, angel,” Crawly muttered to Aziraphale.
“Yes?” The angel replied, dumbfounded.
“I do quite like this girl.”
“I think I might do too.”
“We could, oh I don’t know, keep her around? Teach her how to live?”
Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “It wouldn’t be wrong. We’d be helping another non-human like ourselves. And as long as no one saw us together, we’d be safe, correct?”
“Oh, yeah, course.”
This here was the start of Crawly and Aziraphale’s long, secret, ‘not’ friendship.
Purgatory was oblivious to what she had been enrolled into. All she wanted was a new name. So, she stepped off her lift of vines, which presently curled themselves back around her head. This time, Crawly stepped aside without Aziraphale having to push him, and even placed a black wing behind her.
“I need a new name,” she announced. “Purgatory sounds wrong and just bleugh.” The strange noise that emitted from Purgatory in that sentence was only a hint to how human she actually was, and the journey was only going downhill from there.
Aziraphale clapped his hands together and began to utter names under his breath. “Gaia? No. Tula?”
Crawly, on the other hand, was staring straight ahead, deep in thought. Purgatory glanced from demon to angel, waiting for an answer, as she had no ideas of her own. After a minute or so, Crawly decided on a name.
“Oh,” Aziraphale protested, “not that! It sounds so close to demon.”
“Have you got any other ideas?” Crawly snapped.
“Terrafina?” Aziraphale suggested with a shrug. “It’s very pretty.”
“For a lizard, maybe. I stand by Demeter.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose we should ask the person who’s name it shall be. Well, Purgatory? What do you think?”
Purgatory blinked like a baby, eyes exploring the demon in a childlike wonder.
“Dem-et-er,” Purgatory tried the new word. “Demeter. Yes. I am Demeter.”
Crawly cheered and jabbed a finger in Aziraphale’s face, shouting, “Hah!”
Aziraphale blushed in return and decided that he would put it behind him, but he didn’t really.
You may be realising at this moment in time that the name Demeter seems familiar to you - do not fret, it would do. The Demeter you’re probably thinking of is the Ancient Greek goddess. If it is someone else, then I suppose the choosing of the name is just a coincidence. Anyway. Demeter was the Greek goddess of the harvest and all that other stuff, and her name meant earth mother. And, as Crawly stared out at the desert, he wanted a name that represented this shiny new girl, Earth’s representative. So, Crawly being Crawly, he mashed up a few hundred different languages and created Demeter - and the beginning of the Greek language a few centuries too early.
It just so happens that Demeter (still very young in the era of the ancient Greeks) had gotten drunk one night in the future and shown her powers to control nature as a fun party trick. When she’d woken up the next morning (with an awful hangover as she couldn’t sober up like the demon and the angel), she’d been painted numerous times and there were every manner of people worshipping her. She asked them to disperse as she changed and then fled to China, where she hid out there until the Greeks’ era was over. But that’s another story for another time.
Back on the wall guarding the Garden of Eden, Demeter stood in between the demon and the angel. Demeter didn’t have much knowledge of the world apart from what her purpose was. She also had every language that will ever be spoken in the world ingrained into her head, so that was a bonus. The point was, Demeter didn’t know what feelings were, she didn’t know what it was like to have a family or friends, she had no idea that the thing she was walking on before she arrived at the Garden of Eden was a desert, and she certainly didn’t know that in 2000 years there would be a huge war in which her purpose was unclear as of yet. But for now, Demeter was feeling something and although she would never admit it, it was the most important feeling in the world to her. You may be wondering, well, what is this feeling?
The feeling that Demeter was feeling, was love towards the demon and the angel. When Aziraphale and Crawly had decided they were going to look after Demeter, they had basically adopted her. They had crowned themselves the father figures of her life. A risky choice, especially for the demon, but one they had decided to take just the same.
This was one of the first things that made me, God, realise that Crawly was still part angel. Honestly, I’m rather useless - I’m a bit like the Big Brother, I exist as a higher being but really the Head Offices do everything. I don’t mind - less boring work.
So on this occasion, I’m going to retell the story of the girl who represented a rock better known as the Earth.
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