She’s always trying something new, but she gives up quickly. She moves from one thing to another, like a humming bird flitting among the flowers. She moves from one place to another the same way. When things get hard, when something goes wrong, she doesn’t feel the need to apologize or fix it. All it means is that it’s time for a new place and new people and new things to do.
Although I couldn’t see, something told me that I definitely wasn’t alone in the cellar. It wasn’t that I could see it, but more that I could feel it. It started slowly at first. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. And I felt the frenetic energy of anxiety, a need to act. But I didn’t know how to act or why I felt that way. I couldn’t see a threat in the dark.
As I tried to maneuver my way around the dark room to look for a door or a light switch I felt it for the first time. The feeling of being watched. The feeling of eyes on you when you move. My breath came faster, shorter. I felt my feet stumble, nerves overtaking me as I searched for a way out.
I thought I heard something. Shuffling of feet that weren’t mine. Ragged breathing that didn’t belong to me. Was that a growl?
And then there was the smell. Subtle at first. Just a little unsettling. And then stronger. The smell of something old. The smell of something metallic. Blood. Decay. My stomach flipped.
I clenched my eyes closed, sending out a silent plea for help. Scuffling of feet as I stood still. Claws sliding across the floor. An exhale of something foul, breath across my face.
I let out a scream just before I felt the pain. Claws slashing though clothes. Teeth gliding through flesh. A wet squelch before I knew I would be contributing to the fear down here, to the smell. I would be a new set of eyes to watch from the dark.
My body shivered, muscles quaking, teeth chattering. I had no idea where I was. And there seemed to be no land marks. Every direction I looked in was filled with empty, dead, fields. Fields that had once probably flourished with corn, or wheat, or soy beans, now, just barren. I knew I needed to get out of here. I had to run. To save my own life. To live. I had to find my way out of this wasteland and to civilization. My feet shuffled against the dirt. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had been outside. I wasn’t used to moving around that much. My body felt weak. I looked up at the sky, the moon hung low and large in the sky. And out here, in the middle of nowhere the stars twinkled brightly. I didn’t know which way to go. So I decided to trace the constellations until I found Ursa Major and the North Star. North seemed as good a way as any. It had worked for the Wise Men once. Maybe North could also lead me to salvation.
As Eve stared across the table at Adam, she realized, that she didn’t really love him. Sure he was good looking, incredibly toned. He could carry things all over Eden. But his abdomen was misshapen from where he was missing a rib. And there was that little bobble in his throat that didn’t exist in hers. And he always wore the same things. He didn’t have any good clothes, just this haphazardly thrown over himself to hide his private parts.
It’s just the idea of loneliness hit hard. She would be in this garden for centuries, maybe millennia, maybe eternity. Just her and Adam and the animals. And God jumping in every once in a while with some sort of weird rule about trees or fruit or hygiene.
She was in love with the idea of not being alone, more than she was in love with Adam. She thought she might be in love with some other type of guy more than she loved do golden follow all the rules Adam. We have to stay in the garden. You can’t eat the apples. That tree is bad. Don’t talk to the snake. I mean, honestly, what else is she supposed to do in this place.
She figured if she ever got truly bored, or truly sick of Adam. She knew how to escape. She could gain knowledge, see what was in the world beyond, with one tiny bite, from one small apple, from one tree in the garden. The snake had told her so. And she trusted the snake, because the snake seemed like fun.
Margot was meticulously organized. Everything had a place and there was a place for everything. She always presented herself well. Her clothing was impeccable, everything ironed, starched, tied up. Just so. She never had a hair out of place. But Margot was never happy with what she had. She was always wanting for more. Always striving to be better, to get the promotion, to get the sought after man, to get the new TV. She never felt satisfied. And she had a way of making sure that when you hung out with her, you never felt satisfied as well. And not just in the way a good friend might push you or challenge you. Margot had a way of making sure you knew that you were less than, that you were left wanting. And she did it all with a bright friendly attitude, a smile on her face, and not a single hair out of place.
Something hit her hard in the head. She felt the darkness engulf her. There was a long moment of silence where she felt suspended in time, hearing nothing, seeing nothing: blank. She drifted. It felt astonishing to her that she would find such peace and clarity in a moment when she was sure she should be panicking. She should be worrying about what might happen next. About who had hit her. About how she might die. But she just couldn’t. She floated through unconsciousness. And she did not feel eager to awaken.
His frame is large and imposing. Muscles ripple just beneath his skin with every movement, blood coursing through his veins in a hot, angry rush, spurring him onward. His steps are silent, so as not to give him away. He moves like death. Strong, confident, unyeilding, silent. Death always catches you by surprise. Even when you’re looking it right in the face. You always think that maybe you might escape it. He never runs. Because for him, this is all planned. He knows where you are going to go already. His strides are firm and assured. He has planned this attack. He has planned this moment. He is ready for it. He craves it. He’s smarter than you, from the moment, he has known what he would do. He’s planned it ten steps ahead. He’s imagined it. Both this way and other ways. You will not out smart him. You will not cheat death. He will come for you. Death comes for everyone.
