Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Randy Alcorn is the founder and director of Eternal Perspectives Ministries and a New York Times bestselling author of 50-some books, including Heaven and Face to Face with Jesus. His books have sold over 11 million copies and been translated into more than 70 languages. Randy lives in Oregon with his wife, Nanci. They have two grown daughters and five grandchildren.

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Lord Foulgrin's Letters

Multnomah Publishers

Chapter One

IT DOESN'T GET
ANY BETTER?

Shirtless, Jordan Fletcher kicked back on the lounge chair on the sunnydeck of his new house at Sunriver, basking in the high desert beauty ofCentral Oregon. He'd always longed to have a special place of his own. Nowit was his?and no one could take it from him.

    Jordan's wife, Diane, sat five feet away reading her novel, but it may aswell have been five miles. They inhabited two different worlds. He found iteasier to avoid conversation, since it usually ended up in a laundry list ofways he'd let her down or things she wanted him to do. High maintenance, hethought. He breathed in the scent of fresh pine and contemplated the mountainpeaks framed by the huge blue sky.

    Well, she can't accuse me of blowing it on this place.

    "I'm walking to the store." The voice from behind startled him. Jillian?It didn't sound like the voice of a little girl?maybe because his strawberryblond daughter was now seventeen.

    "Okay," Diane said weakly, eyes not moving from her novel, the story ofa life far more interesting than her own.

    Jordan looked disapprovingly at his daughter's skimpy outfit. He startedto grumble something about not talking with strange boys, but by then shewas gone. She seemed always to vanish these days, outrunning his words.Jillian never asked permission for anything anymore. Half the time she nevertold them where she was going.

    He looked over at fourteen-year-old Daniel, his hair in a stiff black bangagainst his pale skin, earphones permanently attached to his head. He satunder a desert pine, still pouting because his best friend couldn't come withhim and he was stuck with the family. He wore his perennial black T-shirtfeaturing some rock singer, with an embossed "Hail Satan," blood spurtingout of the words. Daniel gazed at a magazine Jordan didn't recognize, probablyabout computers or vampires or who knows what.

    What's he doing wearing those stupid boots on a hot sunny day? When will he growup, take some responsibly?

    Jordan stood restlessly and ran his hand across the smooth deck railing.He looked at the tennis courts where he could barely see someone practicingserves. He watched carefully, trying to figure out if the guy was good enoughto beat him. Finally he turned around and studied the house, his latest symbolof success and happiness. The shutters screamed at him.

    Idiots.

    The builders had installed the wrong shutters. He'd left a message andhadn't heard back from them. He wouldn't let them get away with it. Stillthough, the place was beautiful.

    Wait till Hal sees this. It makes his mountain chalet look like a bungalow. AndMatt's little beach cottage? No comparison. I'll buy a barbecue and have it going Fridaynight when they get here. A few cases of beer on be. Everything'll be perfect.

    He looked at the vacant spot under the tree where Daniel had been amoment ago.

    Oh, well He's fourteen. Not like he needs a babysitter.

    Jordan went inside to get his briefcase off the shiny oak dining roomtable. He pulled out the monthly sales figures. He'd gone over themalready but wanted to study the numbers again. He returned to the deck andsettled back in his lounge chair, sipping lemonade.

    Yeah, it was true. He'd outsold everyone. He'd come out on top again.

    I can borrow a little more, get that ski boat. No problem.

    It felt great.

    Yeah, great. Everything's great. It doesn't get any better than this.

* * *

LETTER 1

Our Working Arrangement

My newly assigned subordinate Squaltaint,

    I'm recording these instructions despite the misgivings ofmy assistant Obsmut, who believes it's too risky.

    As you've heard, there's been a reshuffling of the chain of commandin your geopolitical sector, precipitated by the removal of Ashtar for hisreprehensible acts of disloyalty against Lord Beelzebub. I've beenassigned to command your region. You and your cadre of six temptersnow fall under my authority. So do all your current subjects, includingthe vermin assigned to you, Jordan Fletcher.

    In our kingdom's multilevel marketing structure you have now come inunder me. I will be the beneficiary of your successes. I will also be heldresponsible for your failures. Make sure there are none.

    Since I have vested interests in your success, I'll offer my keenest adviceand monitor your progress. I'll aid you in deceiving and destroying Fletcher.Together we'll share the spoils of victory.

    I'm a master of strategy and tactics. In my letters, I'll tutor you in thefine art of deception. I'll begin with Foulgrin's Basic Training, or if youprefer, Temptation 101.

    These half-spirit, half-animal hybrids who inhabit this planet, ourplanet, are an endless source of fascination and frustration. They're suchcreepy little things, misshapen balloons of flesh, bloated bags of liquid andalloy. Grossly inferior to spirit beings, they should be our servants?yet theEnemy would have made us theirs!

    As you deal with Fletcher or any of them, remember in the end they arebut raw material, to be used by us against Him or by Him against us.They're weapons to wield in our jihad against heaven, that oppressivecitadel called Charis.

    Never forget the reason we revoked our citizenship?to establish thenew and greater realm of Erebus, that mighty domain of which hell is but ajunkyard, a ghetto for human slaves. (The Enemy claims we shall one dayjoin them there?I think not, but if the worst proves true let's first do all thedamage we can.) Our kingdom is being built each day with the bony bricksand bloody mortar of the Enemy's precious image-bearers?including yourcockroach Fletcher.

    Picture it, Squaltaint: The sludgebags are caught in the crossfire betweenErebus and Charis. Skiathorus, what they call earth?that festering wound,that canker sore of the cosmos?is the battlefield where two rival kingdomsvie for the allegiance of puny men. The delicious thing is, the vast majority ofthem don't have a clue about the raging battle. How can they prepare for abattle they don't even know they're in? And how can they win a battle theyhaven't prepared for?

    Foulgrin's rule number one: Keep them in the dark.

    The central question is always this?how can we exact revenge on theEnemy? It was He who evicted us from our rightful dwelling, He who chosethe sludgebags over us. He made ours a government in exile, driving us outto the hinterlands of the spirit realm, where we have no place to call our ownuntil we colonize Skiathorus.

    What can we do to inflict pain on this Creator who at first glance appearsuntouchable?

    Intelligence gathering yields the answer. The Carpenter gave it awaywhen He asked that vermin Paul, "Why do you persecute me?" Well, whowas he persecuting but Christians?

    There you have it, so simple it's elegant: To persecute them is to persecuteHim. By striking out at them?and at all His weak and vulnerable image-bearers?wekill the Enemy in effigy. Better yet, we actually inflict harm on Him.

    In and of themselves the vermin are utterly insignificant. But because theEnemy places such value on them, they become immensely useful to us.They're the objects of our aggression and the means of our attack againstHim. What better way to hurt the divine parent than to kidnap His children,brainwash and torture them?

    Delightful, isn't it? As you hatch your plots for Fletcher, Squaltaint,never lose sight of the big picture.

    As you're doubtless aware, I'm known throughout Erebus as a highlydecorated agent of Beelzebub. Indeed, from time to time I've traveled withthe Master himself and served as his confidant. I am an experienced tacticalinstructor. My sage advice and counsel to field-workers is legendary. You'llfind me far more accomplished than Ashtar.

    Count yourself privileged to be the recipient of my advice. Know thatmany would give their right arm to receive my counsel. Know also thatmany have given their right arms when they failed to heed it.

    Despite Obsmut's reservations, my sending letters to subordinates hasmany advantages over our conventional communication. Something vitalgets lost in oral transmission, and you can never fully trust the messenger.(The Enemy has the unfair advantage of being present in more than oneplace at a time. The rest of us must make do.)

    Our methods of thought-projection have also proven imperfect. Enemywarriors?those bootlicks with whom we once served?sometimes overhearour messages. And occasionally our emotions?rage in particular?blur ourthoughts and create some unfortunate misunderstandings.

    I have before me your résumé, Squaltaint. I see you've had only mixedsuccess with the thirty-eight sludgebags assigned to you in the past sevencenturies. No less than six of these became Christians, and only three of thosedid you manage to derail from serving the Enemy.

    My standards are higher than Ashtar's, and my tolerance for failurelower. Trust me when I say it is in your best interests to serve me well. Sit atmy feet and learn, or you will lie on my plate and be devoured.

    The scientist must know the lab rats or he will not be able to use themto greatest advantage. Guided by my keen eye, you will come to understandthe human prey. You will learn to stalk them, developing the keen instinctsof the predator.

    Submit immediately detailed information on Jordan Fletcher. In my nextletter, I'll advise you concerning my strategy of team temptation. Bear inmind I may pay a visit to the field at any time. Unannounced.

    To get you started, here are Foulgrin's Rules of the Sting:

    1. Never lose sight of your goal?Fletcher's enslavement.

    2. Find just the right bait, tailor-made for him. Be sure the hook iswell hidden.

    3. Use as many lures as you can. He may pass on one but bite on the next,or spend his life moving from one to the other.

    4. Make him promises and actually keep a few now and then, so hedoesn't catch on to the setup.

    5. Tempt your prey with what he wants to have, but give him what youwant him to have. Lure him, coddle him, reassure him all will be well, evenas you fatten him for Lord Satan's altar.

    If you're somehow unfamiliar with my past campaigns and decorations,you should review the attached sixty-page vita, which summarizes a smatteringof my accomplishments over the millennia. Attached also are Foulgrin's66 Rules of Temptation, an acknowledged classic. Read, marvel, and obey.

    There are many reasons to follow my orders. First is our common commitmentto retaliation against the Enemy and aggression against the sludgebags.Second is the punishment I'll inflict upon you if you let me down. I'llcelebrate your victories with you, but should you fail, I'll discipline youseverely. Mercy is the Enemy's weakness?not mine.

    We are forging the only sort of alliance that works in Erebus, a coalitionof mutual self-interest that keeps our house from being divided against itself.For both our benefits you must deceive and destroy Fletcher. As long as youdo, we will get along fine.

    When talking to you, I explain, clarify, and enlighten. When talking tothe sludgebags, I hide, eclipse, and obscure. You must be honest with me anddishonest with them. Never get it backwards. I eagerly await your firstreport.

    Remember, Squaltaint, while the vermin have successfully exorciseddemons from their daily conversation, they've failed to exorcise us from theirdaily lives.

    We always work best in the dark.

Your indisputable superior,

?Lord Foulgrin

Continues...

Excerpted from Lord Foulgrin's Lettersby Randy Alcorn Copyright © 2001 by Randy Alcorn. Excerpted by permission.
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