(Image credit to Piotr Ruszkowski, “First Sin”)
In the beginning
I was formless and void and scattered across the dark and the deep. A disseminated being created for one purpose. To bring together the first man and his lust for immortality.
My creator was from parts unknown to any but the Author. Once, they were friends and together lullabied the world into existence. Then a quarrel—a woman—and they spoke no more.
I was chosen by the Architect to damn the Author’s design. It was my sole purpose, my reason for being. And I was perfect for the job.
Mist came up from the earth
The Architect did not work with flesh and bone as the Author had. Instead, he habituated the shadow vapors from below the crust. Pulling from those dark places of fire and ash, he brought forth an essence, lurid and aphotic—me.
I grew from the ground, a trunk and limbs, sensuous and alluring. The dew of my fruit, tantalizing oral glands to salivate with desire a craving that could never be satisfied.
And they wanted me.
Warm hands plucked at my fruit. I shivered like strings on an apparatus ripe with high notes. I slithered, knowing this was my destiny. I could feel the press of lips, teeth invading my pome. It was my climax.
I will put enmity between you and the woman
Perhaps I should feel sorrow for the fall. It was mine to orchestrate and I played my instrument with symphonic precision. Now I sit in this hall of the bones of my enemies. I feel no empathy. I feel no pain.
I feel grateful. I was the beginning of the end.
LKT © 2015