End of Eden

September 5, 2009
July 28

The day was crisp, burning under blazing sun. The roof of my mother’s car was glazed with dust as it broke through the wind. Any child caught playing by this wave of heat would surely be punished by incineration.
As my mother drove through the outskirts of town, I was treated to a pitiful sight. The sky was a lucid blue, which was quite unusual, but that was how I remember it, and let me assure you, I never forget what color the sky was that day.
When we reached the building, we walked about three-hundred and sixty-five paces from the parking lot to my therapist’s room and an idle period of exactly fifteen minutes in the waiting room; I got “the chance of a lifetime” opportunity to speak with my shrink. As my mother sat outside thinking about whose friend’s party she was going, I spoke with my therapist, half-attentive as usual.
After an hour of listless talking, I was finally allowed to leave. As I walked towards the door, my shrink called out my name, meaning that she had one more thing to tell me. I was quite annoyed at this, but I chose not to show this on my face. Rather, I just stood there like an imbecile for about ten seconds, unresponsive. She then gestured me to come towards her and I awkwardly walked towards her
She told me she had a present to give me and she reached into her faux leather purse- why, what a thoughtful place to keep a present- and pulled out a 150-page, spiral bound notebook and handed it to me.

August 3

In an attempt to cope with a stupendous amount of boredom, I took some time form my work-challenged schedule, reminisced on my younger days and re-read my previous journal entry and took one good look at my writing: lack of contractions, high vocabulary, complex sentences- why, do I even write like someone my age?
This is how I naturally write: as a sarcastic, loathsome individual who spends his free time accomplishing little to nothing with his adolescence. I have nothing to prove by intentionally writing turgid, so it stands to reason that this is a bit uncontrolled.
I suppose the cause of this must have stemmed from the early years of my life, when I was eight years of age. My mother believed I had the ability to become one of those prodigy kids, so she worked diligently to get me enrolled into advanced classes in school. She even signed me up for a writing mastery class for the weekends. The goal in my mother’s mind was to shape me into a “distinguished writer”. In an effort to get myself kicked out, I acted out in class and tried as much as I could to establish myself as a problem child. When a four-legged desk was sent flying out the window, I was blamed for it.
Apparently, not all that I learned from that class was lost. As one can clearly see, some of that “distinguished writing” has smudged my writing.

August 19

Nothing I have ever experienced before in my life compares to what happened today. I was greeted by an unexpected visitor.

He was dressed in strange robes, but they made him appear somewhat dignified. A golden, triangle-shaped breast plate was placed over a green, tasseled scarf which sat, unwrapped, over his mantle. There were etchings of another language scribbled on the surface of both accessories. He had grey, putrid skin which, suffice to say, nice clothes could not completely make up for. He was bald from the top to the sides and had a crooked nose placed in the middle of his melting face. His eyes were glossy, yet repulsive. Red veins circled his red pupils to give him an aggravated look. His bare, wrinkly hands were decorated with elaborate rings and bracelets. He had no feet to situate him on the ground, so he just floated in the air. The bottom of his robe dangled menacingly over the sharp winds.

“Wh-wh-who-wh-what are you?” I managed to choke up.

He snarled instead of speaking. “Are you afraid of me? To be in a state of such unrest is a great concern of mine.” I took a hard look at his face. I noticed that he had no mouth to speak with, yet I could still make out two rows of moving teeth over the extra layer of skin where his mouth should have been.

“You… have n-no mouth!” I exclaimed without thinking. I realized shortly after if I had angered him for having said that, he probably was going to kill me on the spot.

Lucky for me, he continued to speak, not wasting time to reply to that poorly thought statement.

“Are you not going to escort me into your house?” he replied.

He probably wasn’t going to attack me after all, regardless of what statement I made. So I decided to make another one.

“But I don’t even know who you are!”

He probably would have smirked if he had a mouth that time.

“Oh, my dearest apologies. I have yet to properly introduce myself.” he said piously.
I quickly scanned him from top to bottom. “I could let you in, but there’s just one problem. Can’t other people see you?”

“No, my dear Richard. You see, I came here to only see you. Therefore, I can only be seen by you.”

He didn’t mention that before. It seemed like he was putting some effort to be vague. He knew my name without me telling, so maybe was telling the truth.

“Would you care to elaborate? Are you even human?”

“I have waited patiently. Please allow me to enter your house.”

I pushed the door wide open and walked parallel to the door. As soon as he drifted in, I immediately swung the door shut.

“Okay, I held my end of the deal. Tell me, tell me who you are!” Was I expecting him to answer me? “Are you an alien? Are you a ghost? Are you the one moving my stuff when I sleep?” I continued.
“In the universe beyond this one, my people are divided into hierarchies. I belonged to the lowest rank, the rank closest to this world. I fell from that rank and now I am no longer bounded by those laws.” He turned to look at me with those eyes. “True, my powers are weaker here, but I was able to take with me nigh omniscience. With no further obligation to my former duties, I can now serve my one, true purpose.”
“Serve your one, true purpose? What is it?”

“To guide and protect you. I am your guardian and at long last, I can do well to complete my primary duty.”

“So are you like an angel sent here to protect me?” It’s not that I’m an atheist or anything, I am just very doubtful of God’s existence. Skeptical, not secular.

“You are free to choose what to believe… my master.”

He said that rather coyly.

September 14

When the human race has long become extinct, I will, by some extent, have already found a way to live forever. True, my lifespan is probably equal to that of a typical human being, but even when the world has been turned to dust by its own hand, this notebook will serve as the only proof that I ever existed, and no one else. Furthermore, I plan to add more than just my daily activities in future entries. After all, this is my life’s testament! I will do no such thing as to disgrace the avatar of my immortality!

Ha, got a little carried away there…

At 8:30 sharp, I took an evening stroll down McCarthy Street. No one else was outside when the night clothed the sky in complete darkness. Save for a few light poles illuminating the sidewalk, everything was pitch black. I walked with my servant to my left. I was lucky that we were alone. Otherwise, there would have been a few problems if it looked like I was talking to myself.

“Hey,” I began. He rotated his head towards me oddly. “You remind me a lot of my shrink.”
Using the moonlight as a medium, his eyes glowed diabolically. Is he really an angel? Or a demon? I could see his teeth underneath that hideous, extra layer of skin, smiling. It was a sign for me to ask away.

“I’m not allowed to reveal your existence to anyone, am I?”

“Master Richard, there are concepts of the world that even we angels cannot deny. We can choose to be impertinent to the ones who enforce these laws, but such indignation will not be revered. There will always be consequences when one chooses to defy, not the being you call “God”, but the edicts of the universe.”

Such alluring words… I could not help but smile. I decided that I had heard enough and it was time to head back home. Half a mile down, my servant prodded me his own question.
“Pardon me, but may I ask to be allowed one request?”

“Still with that polite crap, huh? Permission granted. What do you want?”
“Tell me. Tell me again. Why are you absent in the faith of God?”
“No, I was wrong. God does exist,” I said, whipping my head towards him one last time, “You’re looking at him right now.”

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback