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The Man stood, his retching seemingly done for now, watery red eyes once more taking in the scene around him. Utter destruction, a charred wasteland replacing what had once been his home. Small fires still burned here and there, springing up in the few places not completely covered in heavy soot. Embers twirled, dancing in a sky that was darker than he had ever seen it before.
Before. The idea hit him hard, ducts thought to be thoroughly drained suddenly filled with tears once again. Darkness clouded his vision and for a moment he was sure that he would fall, equally as sure that this time the will required to regain his feet would fail him.
A few stumbled steps and his eyes cleared, cleared as much as they could in the hazy smoke that enveloped everything for as far as he could see. Residual heat burned away tears that he swore would be the last that he would shed.
An oath quickly broken.
The Man stretched, an involuntary groan escaping cracked lips as trapezius muscles retracted his scapula, blood trickled down a back already slick with fluid and the gaping holes on either side exposed torn tissue and flayed skin to the newly crimson moon. Holes where once his wings had been attached.
dlee/Pixabay
He walked over to her, The Woman, the one ultimately responsible for the destruction that now surrounded them both, the destruction done upon their bodies, upon their souls.
He walked slowly, blisters forming on his feet as he went, like the rest of his body devoid of covering, of protection from elements now felt for the first time. Newly discovered pain that his mind still hadn’t fully figured our how to process.
He walked slowly for another reason, not sure what his intentions were upon arrival. Would he pick her up and embrace her, walk by without interaction, stop and strike her? He honestly didn’t know. He knew that there was blame that he would one day have to acknowledge as his own, a door he had opened that The Deceiver had exploited, but also that the decision to throw open that door and invite him into their garden had been hers.
He stopped and studied her, the dancing fires reflected in eyes that seemed unfocused, staring through him seemingly without recognition or even acknowledgment of his presence. He wondered for a moment if she had gone mad, her mind simply shutting off, running away from the horror. He felt a flash of anger, thinking that even her subconscious was selfish, that he would be left to suffer this pain alone.
pixabay
A sudden shift in wind brought acrid smoke into her face and The Woman gasped, eyes suddenly widening in shock. She saw him now, standing over her, and whatever she saw in his face caused her to recoil. She drew her knees tighter to her chest, face buried in arms that began to tremble uncontrollably. She sobbed and The Man felt shame for the first time. Shame that he took pleasure in her pain.
How long he stood like that he couldn’t say, but eventually her emotion ran its course and she raised her head once more, chin held stubbornly high as if daring him to hit her. Once more her eyes were veiled. If there was remorse there she buried it deep, denying him that satisfaction and vowing to herself that this would be the last time she presented herself in such a vulnerable state. There would be a time to mourn all that she had lost, all that had been stolen from her, but he would not be witness to it.
He reached out his hand to her, as they both knew that he would. He helped her to her feet, stepping back as she gingerly brushed fallen ash from her hair and painfully pulled back the strands that had grown stuck in the scabs already forming over the wounds in her own back.
Flight now forever denied them, they began walking, an arbitrary direction that neither knew where might lead.
Their Garden was gone, their lives forever altered in ways that neither of them was able to fully understand. Food, clothing, shelter, were needs that they had never known before, needs that neither knew how to meet.
They walked, several paces apart to start, but gradually growing closer, the air growing cleaner, fresher, the farther they went. Small brush marked the edge of “before” and the beginning of “after”. On the horizon, a line of trees, behind that a mountain whose peak seemed to reach all the way to the Heaven that still seemed to tremble with anger.
They walked together. For better or worse.
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This post was previously published on Thirsty Daddy.
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Photo credit: iStock
