Eve

I think I died.

Not in the unfortunate way humans do — slipping this plane of reality for another, just vibrating at a different cadence.
No, I died completely; a gentle ease into eternity, like a sleek ship slipping its moorings in the half light of dusk’s embrace.
At least I think I did.

Your forehead, crinkled now, as it was then, when I left oblivion’s bliss into the harsh arms of life — and living; still is, a most beautiful thing to me.
Concern in your eyes, tinged with fear and an immense amount of curiosity as you watched the slow, faltering, rise and fall of my chest.
A sudden wheeze of in-drawn breath startled you away. My body, trying frantically to heal itself, couldn’t help it though. War is a terrible thing, and physical scars are seldom its worst blessings.

You returned. Furtive — of fleet feet and darting eyes; fear of the unknown, ever a characteristic of your species. Frankly, I like cats better. To be fair though, cats have nine lives (Father wasn’t too pleased when I slipped that one in). Also, the wings — mine — fanning out beneath me, couldn’t have helped your unease.
You laugh now, at the memory; the sound leaving your throat, a crescendo of the evening’s beauty.

You reached me then. I felt my head lifted, to rest on a platform soft, warm: your thighs. Something parted my lips — hard, unyielding, then liquid was rolling over my tongue and filling my mouth: water. I swallowed. Bliss. In this form, in this plane of reality, I needed that drink.

I coughed the indication of my limit, excess water dribbling down the sides of my mouth.
The worry on your features eased into relief as my fit subsided. I wondered about that. Your obvious concern, for a stranger — for a strange humanoid thing with wings; covered in what you couldn’t know was blood.
Your eyes met mine, their green irises sparkling with intensity. The mid-afternoon sun behind you, slinking towards the horizon, set your skin afire: its caramel tone glowing. The effect, from my vantage point, was beyond heavenly — and trust me, I’d just fallen from heaven.
You smiled, and its wattage blew my circuits. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, but it was blissful, because I carried your smile with me.

Weeks went by and we danced — conversations, activities, silences; each one transcending boundaries, bringing its own music.
Even when we disagreed — you insisting I meet your husband, me obstinately refusing — it had its own music.

Now, we’re lounging beneath this tree. Its network of branches, a luscious canopy. Centre of the garden — its pulse. Forbidden place, God can’t read your thoughts here. It suited me fine indeed.

I’m about to give you something. A gift that would shatter your assumptions, turn your belief pillars to sandstone, open your eyes to what our ‘Creator’ actually is. I’m about to gift you Doubt, and the questions it brings. Questions that will lead you to knowledge — of good, of evil.
You see my sad smile, and concern creases your forehead. I marvel for a moment at how much I’d diverted from my singular aim of destroying you and your husband. His pets, I spoke vilely of you then. Now, after my lost war, close shave with death just to enter Eden, I was about to give you a most precious thing.
It would bring you pain, this gift of mine. God doesn’t let go of slights, He’s petty like that. I know only too well. Yet I open my mouth, and I speak my gift.

I watch you leave, a sudden inclination for solitude has claimed your person. I sit; weak knees could no longer hold me. I look down at my chest, and the lack of gore surprises me. I could swear my heart had ripped my thorax open and fled after you.
I just sit there watching your nude form diminish. You’ve always been nude; carrying your body with a vitality and innocence that is intoxicating.
Now though, you felt naked.

image credit: Photo by Alejandra Quiroz on Unsplash