Waiting… (fiction)

Okay, so I test-ran this back in December as a page and no one took a peek. So I decided to re-introduce it as a category, hopefully some of you might take a gander and see. Please comment if you desire to, I’m all for communicating.

Brief Bio.

Waiting has been an idea in my head for too many years. It wasn’t until 2010 that I decided to finally put this idea to paper. Over the past two years it has taken many forms and re-drafts to get it where it is now. However, I’m still working on the end, because originally I wanted the story as a trilogy, but now I’m not sure. Hey, that’s what being a writer is all about, right!

I’m also still not sure what genre it squeezes into. One minute I see it as a Fantasy, another time, Paranormal or Supernatural. God, I hate genre squeezing, why can’t we just be allowed to write something without having to fit it into a particular box. It makes you want to flout the rules and throw them to the wind. But I’m ranting. Sorry. One thing I am sure of, it’s not Religious. Okay, my two main characters are Adam and Eve, but that’s where the connection ends. The prologue probably won’t be to everyone’s taste, but let me explain, I mean no disrespect. It is fiction after all.

Perhaps I’ll let you decide for yourselves.

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Waiting…

Prologue

Day 6: The beginning. Time: early.

I came to life this morning. Weird things were happening, strange movements coming from inside that I couldn’t say for sure what they meant. Only, I didn’t like it. I felt connected to something. Weighted. As though something had me pinned to the softness beneath me.

A gentle sound broke the darkness. Like an explosion going off in my head it became clear what I was here for, and who I was. I opened my eyes to the warm fiery glow of the new morning sun, lying beside me under the shade of a tree was a form so beautiful I could hardly think. His eyes opened to greet me. One as green as the grass we lay cushioned on. The other, as blue as the sky peeking through the splayed branches of leaves fashioning a roof above our heads. He knew me, and I knew him.

I lost all will to move staring into those eyes, which for me were the only things that existed. A voice boomed out from above our heads, breaking the unspoken connection we had found ourselves locked in. The voice declared himself as The Creator, maker of all things, and the time had come for us to accept our names.

We rose to our feet without question, our heads raised to the sky and waited.

“I name you Adam, the first of man.” A bolt of light erupted from above, striking the person next to me in the centre of his forehead and he fell to his knees.

“You I shall name Eve, you will bear fruit of your kind.”

It wasn’t pain that I felt when the light struck my head, but an overwhelming feeling of love so pure I could sense it with every fibre of my body. As I fell to my knees beside Adam, I turned and looked at him and found him smiling.

So, you’ve probably gathered who I am. For those still unsure, I’m Eve, the first woman. Weird I know but hey, I didn’t believe it either. At first. And I had yet to learn that with each new life, I would in time feel the awakening of my cursed existence. But let’s get a few things straight before I continue.

There was never a serpent, well, none that I could see. And there wasn’t a devil, but perhaps that’s wrong because over the passing centuries I‘ve come to realise my fatal mistake. Oh, I couldn’t deny she was beautiful, though. Dark ebony hair, skin the colour of caramel and eyes the palest of violet. I should have known then she was someone who couldn’t be trusted. But I was game for anything and never much of a person for following rules (that part of me still hasn’t changed). So when The Creator told us not to touch the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, how could I resist.

Fine, I’ll own up to it, I was the one who took the first bite, and yes, it was an apple, and I say with my heart full of guilt, also delicious. Adam on the other hand, didn’t quite agree with my conclusion. Where did you think the term ‘Adams Apple’ came from, because the damn thing stuck in his throat when he realised what he’d done.

My remorse was… let’s just say, not so openly visible. Of course, I felt a painful stab of regret, but what I had revealed proved far more intoxicating. Things around me took on a different meaning, the trees, the plants, the animals; all became real, as did my emotions. My head became clear, and I saw myself for what he intended me for, including the sudden embarrassment of my naked body.

Adam broke first, blaming me for making him do it. He got all whiny and cried how he’d done wrong to go against our makers wishes. I concluded I was of my own doing; no way had he made me from such a pathetic wimp blabbing as soon as the opportunity arose.

I couldn’t see why he was creating such a fuss; it felt good to be able to think for myself. Only, the thought never crossed my mind that my minor indiscretion would lead to our banishment from the garden. But no amount of pleading on Adam’s part could change the inevitable. I accepted my punishment; there wasn’t any point in trying to argue. Adam followed me out, sulking and whimpering how he didn’t deserve to be treated the same as me.

During this happy and unhappy time of revelations, a band of renegade angels—known only as The Guardians—came to our rescue. They saw our treatment as unfair, how The Creator had placed the temptress in the garden to test us. I didn’t feel the need to question their help; the thought of having to go through painful childbirth when I didn’t even want children was scarier than The Creator expelling us to the wastelands.

So they devised a plot. With their untold knowledge and skills, they replicated our images and put them on earth to take our place, stealing us away from the servitude that lay ahead. Although a century of waiting in limbo with Adam, was a sentence in itself.

When the time came, The Guardians had only one stipulation to our freedom, we were never to know either of us existed. The risk would prove too great. I had no problem with the deal; spending eternity with him didn’t bear thinking about anyway. So that was where Adam and I went our separate ways.

But, strange how things never go quite according to plan.

Through the centuries, our paths crossed a few times, and without even knowing, we would find each other again. What our rescuers hadn‘t bargained for, our connection to each other went too deep to break. The Creators stipulation of the bond that held us together as one.

Yes, we fell in love—sometimes—but we didn’t always part on amicable terms. During the Witch Trials for example, he was my judge and executioner. I burned at the stake. One of the times, love failed to work. However, I did pick up a few useful spells and incantations, which I used later. My warranted version of payback.

Nonetheless, with each new awakening came the consequence. Death. And with each death came a new ability. I suppose you could really call us the first super-humans. Only, everything came with a price to pay. A battle to face. I’d seen things mere mortals believe to be fairy tales. Stories to amuse or terrify the eager listener. I learnt the hard way not to be so quick to judge a rogue shark, a mountain lion or a grizzly bear. Every one of those tales found their basis in truth, and there are dangers far beyond imagining always waiting for a chance to take a new victim. Trust me.

Then after my last premature death, a nasty entanglement with, let’s just say one of those rogue sharks, something changed. I lost myself somewhere, a peculiar place where I exist out of human form. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, and there’s a definite change coming, a new life awaiting me. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like hands pulling at me, encouraging me to go with them. One problem, I have no idea where they want me to go, and I sense a terrifying permanence in this next life, which could end in my death for real this time.

Copyright © by Sarah Neeve

Eight, may not be copied, shared or unlawfully used without the prior consent of the author.