M Atkinson

Lucifer, The Psychologist M Atkinson

The pitter-patter of the rain could be heard against the windows, drowned out by intermissions of the sharp crash of thunder. Leaning over his desk, Dr. Samuel Seir could be found meticulously working on a sketch by the dim light of his table lamp. He found the ambiance of the room most soothing as his mind was drawn away by the pattern of the rain, lulling him into a relaxed state. Still he could not help but turn over recent events, scrutinizing them for their sublime details. The man had an inclination for interpreting chance events as pieces of a greater whole, making the possibility of fate too tempting to ignore. It would be wrong to say that disruptive events would usher themselves into his life at the moment when he needed them most, but rather when he no longer needed, had almost forgotten, but still wanted them. That was when opportunity would strike and he took pleasure in contemplating this pattern, a part of him aware that events held only the meaning which he chose to attach to them. By his own mind, he could create a semblance of destiny in his life and thus cast himself in a role of importance, whether hero or villain it mattered not. That was the beauty of amorality.