From the Shores of Eden

by Shelley Penner

  FROM THE

  SHORES OF EDEN

  SHELLEY PENNER

  RCN Media Publishing

  DEDICATION

  To my beloved siblings: my sister, Linda, a fellow spiritual explorer; my brother Joe, an exemplary son and father; and my older brother, Dave, an honourable man in a time when the concept of honour is not longer ‘fashionable’.

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  From the Shores of Eden by Shelley Penner © 2021 by RCN Media

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  First Edition: October 2021

  RCN Media was founded in 2015 by Colton Nelson. It is a publishing company for adult, young adult and children's books. The RCN Media logo is © 2015 by Colton Nelson & RCN Media. If you require bulk orders of an issue with an RCN Media contact, feel free to contact them with the info below. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the email address below.

  Cover artwork © 2021 by RCN Media.

  Artwork created and adapted by Colton Nelson © 2021 by RCN Media. Some rights reserved.

  Colton Nelson was the head of production and is the promoter for this novel. For any comments or to contact the author, you can reach them through him (contact below), or you can contact RCN Media.

  Contact:

  www.rcn.media

  (250) 206 0356

  nelsoncolton16@gmail.com (subject: “From the Shores of Eden”)

  Also available as an eBook & Audiobook

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  FROM THE

  SHORES OF EDEN

  INTRODUCTION

  While the intention of this book is simply to entertain, it also is meant to bring together disparate legends and theories in a work of speculative fiction to show how they could fit together into a relatively harmonious mythology that explains lingering questions about human evolution, like: where was the garden of Eden; why have we never found evidence of the missing link between apes and man; how was the first religion started; where did the myth of mermaids come from; what was the scientific basis for the plagues in Egypt; how could a virgin give birth?

  One of the theories that particularly piqued my interest was Alistair Hardy’s Aquatic Ape theory — that our ape ancestors went through an aquatic phase in their evolution that shaped their physiology and caused them to develop verbal language. The other theory these stories illustrate is Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus was originally a huge comet on a long elliptical orbit that caused havoc in the solar system whenever it passed through. The theory gained little acceptance amongst the scientific community, who considered it ‘pseudoscience’ because it is based not on scientific evidence, but on eyewitness accounts in ancient texts from around the world.

  The two passages that precede each chapter piece together stories in themselves, the first as a metaphor for the rise of human civilization, the second illustrating Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus entered the solar system from space and wreaked havoc as it rampaged through the inner planetary system again and again through the millennia, causing changes that shaped our planet and the destiny of thousands of species, including our own.

  As a whole, this book symbolizes the initiation of the human species into adulthood. Each short story represents a single ritual in the male initiation ceremonies common to many Stone Age cultures.

  FIRST RITUAL – SEPARATION FROM THE MOTHER AND THE DEATH OF CHILDHOOD

  Recent genetic research provides evidence that we all share one common ancestor from whom all modern humans spring. According to legend, that ancestor was Eve. In EDENSONG, as climate change decimates the rainforest, on a small island off the east coast of Africa, Eve is separated from her clan and discovers a new way of life on the seashore.

  SECOND RITUAL – VISION QUEST

  In SEA CHANGE, the descendants of Eve live a semi-aquatic life that brings about changes in their physiology, language and culture. Exiled from his Tribe, Eggsucker experiences a vision that guides him to become a leader and start the first religion.

  THIRD RITUAL – REBIRTH

  In EXODUS, an early human Tribe moves to the mainland savannah where, against all tradition, Huda becomes the first male Keeper of the Mother’s Secrets and leads his people on the first migration northward.

  FOURTH RITUAL – CIRCUMCISION

  MILK OF THE MOTHER, as the pivotal story of the series, describes the initiation rituals in detail and tells the tale of a young family of Stone Age humans who are torn away from their Tribe by tragic accident and break ancient taboos to unwittingly become the first farmers.

  FIFTH RITUAL – PURIFICATION

  In THE RAINBOW SERPENT, misunderstandings between the farming/herding culture and the hunter/gatherer culture bring about a tragic massacre during which two young tribal people are taken captive and come under the protection of a family of farmers.

  SIXTH RITUAL – SECLUSION AND REVELATION

  MISTRESS OF CHAOS tells the story of Moses and the plagues in Egypt from the perspective of Immanuel Velikovski’s theory that Venus originally entered the solar system as a planet-sized comet that nearly collided with Earth.

  SEVENTH RITUAL – BETROTHAL

  THE BETROTHAL tells the story of Jesus and represents the generation of a new seed, the beginning of a reunification between Heaven and Earth, God and man, male and female, through love, compassion and self-sacrifice.

  1.

  Infinity spins in darkness, a void, an immortal well of energy potential. The Feminine Principle dreams of fulfillment, a receptive womb waiting for something to initiate its creative function. The magnetic Masculine Principle joins her, completes her, moves rhythmically within her, generating an explosion of active realization, forming energy into matter. In the thrust and retreat, life and death unfolding of material reality, time takes measure. The dual principles combine to form a Seed. Within its deepest heart, the singing of its secret name reverberates with infinite potential. Its shell of innocence encapsulates perfection, the unity of spirit and body, dream and actuality, positive and negative, the cycles of eternity, the simplicity and complexity of worlds within worlds within worlds. It is the Beginning…and the End.

  * * *

  From the deep reaches of space, the celestial traveler comes, a lost planet, a wandering goddess clothed in flame. Caught up in the Sun’s attraction, the enormous comet is drawn into a long, elliptical orbit that stretches far into the darkness beyond the solar system and takes millennia to complete. With each approach to her lodestar, she loses a little of her freedom. With each pass through the solar system, she disturbs the family of planets, wrenching them from their orbits, bathing them in fire and destruction, causing ripples of change that will shape their destinies forever — and her own.

  EDENSONG

  First Ritual: Separation From The Mother And The Death Of Childhood

  AS IF SEEKING solitude, the island stood apart from the continental landmass, a demure virgin sitting, folded knee, upon a rumpled cloth of diamond-dusted sapphire, a peaceful mother rocking her children to sleep in the cradle of creation. The mountain which formed her torso thrust up proudly, square shouldered, naked and primal, crowned with white wings of mist. A rich brocade of emera
ld and verdigris clothed her flanks and pooled about her knees, perfumed with passion-red and milk-white lilies, beaded and bejeweled with luscious fruits, sequined with bright, flashing wings and fringed by golden sand and sedge-green salt marsh. From her bare breast flowed a river, an inverted tree, life’s blood and mother’s milk, coursing down her lush thighs and plunging into the moist, mysterious vale of her feminine cleft.

  The ancient river existed even before the mountain which rooted it close to the heavens. At one time it flowed through Stygian channels and vast, lightless caverns, but the volcanic fault that ran beneath the island buckled the earth skyward and blocked the river’s course. Forced to ascend through myriad cracks, it fountained from the stony earth in a multitude of small rivulets and springs. Feeder roots braided together to form radial streams, congregated into a vigorous taproot and cut a deep gorge down the flank of the mountain, until it reached the level valley and the river’s trunk. Meandering through green tunnels of lacy vegetation, it followed a serpentine path to the sea. There, on the silty delta, the river divided once again into spreading branches, supporting the vast canopy of the ocean.

  Millennia passed. The celestial wanderer appeared, wreaked havoc once again and passed on. The planet shuddered, shifted in its orbit, rocked by earthquakes, fire storms and volcanoes. The climate changed and the two-thousand-year Pliocene drought began, forcing massive ecological adaptation. Growing polar ice caps claimed more and more of the sea’s substance and new coastlines began to emerge. Temperatures grew cooler and rains scarcer. Rents appeared in the fabric of the rainforest and the lace of vegetation turned brown and brittle. The island faded into an old crone, her wisdom exposed in the bones of the earth. But the river flowed on, a guide, a message, a celestial template.

  * * *

  Her birth marked the evening of the day, the end of a way of life, the death of childhood for a species, therefore, we shall call her Eve.

  All day the hills had resounded with the gathering calls of the Tribe, but Mama remained unable to respond. Alone in a night nest high in the sheltering arms of the forest canopy, she labored to give birth. Just as the sun surrendered to its nightly death, leaving a smear of red along the cutting edge of the horizon, a rising tide of muscular contractions swept Eve into the world. Mama rested, settling for the night with her new daughter tucked protectively in the crook of her elbow.

  * * *

  In the bright chill of early morning, the Tribe descended from the trees and gathered on the open, grassy bluff above the river gorge that marked the border of their territory. Overlooking the cliff edge, a broad, spreading mbula tree cast naked limbs heavenward in eerie supplication to the dry-burnished, merciless shield of sky. In seasons past this ancient giant had provided generous sustenance. Now the apes regarded it with a dim stirring of bewildered apprehension, sensing changes beyond their understanding. At the end of one branch a solitary, parched leaf fluttered like a snared sparrow. The sibilant voice of water whispered far below, and the seductive hand of the wind promised liberty. With a snap that shivered silently through the desiccated wood, the leaf sailed free, drifting inevitably downward in a gliding spiral. It came to rest on the surface of a thin silver runnel trickling over the rocks.

  Nutcracker watched the leaf disappear downstream, then shrugged off her uneasiness and leaped into the branches with a cry of defiance. She climbed to a comfortable perch and gazed down on her companions with contemptuous superiority. Ignoring her impudence, Scarface, the alpha male, ambled over and settled beneath her. Scarface remained unique amongst his kind. Except for the grotesque scars that puckered his face into a fearsome mask, his appearance remained fairly typical — short, bandy legs ending in handlike feet, heavily muscled shoulders and long arms, knuckles thickly callused from bearing the bulk of his weight over varied terrain, and a pelt of coarse black hair, thickening about the head into a mane and beard which bristled alarmingly when tempers flared. No, what set Scarface apart was not his appearance, but his character and his history, for he was not born of the Tribe.

  From the eastern lowlands he came, a solitary, battered exile. As a highly communal species, the maned apes remained dependent on family ties, and they rarely prospered outside their social group. But Scarface had an unusual tolerance for solitude and a stubbornness which refused to surrender. When scouts first sighted him wandering the lower slopes, his face crusted with half-healed wounds, the males of the Tribe banded together to drive off the intruder. Wounded and outnumbered, Scarface stood his ground and battled with unparalleled ferocity, until his attackers finally backed off, awed and intimidated. Never before had a stranger trespassed on clan territory and survived. They tried again, many times over the years, but they could never defeat him or drive him away. For a time, he lived on the fringes of Tribal society, avoided, occasionally challenged, but treated with healthy respect. As time passed, familiarity slowly grew into acceptance and he forged alliances, first amongst the females, who began to accept his sexual overtures, then amongst the younger males. And, over time, he worked his way up the chain of dominance to challenge the alpha male himself, old Greybeard, and won.

  Under the mbula tree, the senior males gathered around Scarface, alert and nervous. They gazed intently across the gorge. The sun rose higher and the chill breeze began to warm a little, rustling in the dry grass like a live thing. The tree line offered shelter, but none of the apes moved to seek it out. The Tribe waited in silence, bound together by invisible threads of tension and anticipation. An updraft sighed out of the ravine, carrying the distant scent of fermenting fruit and vegetation, the warm exhalation of the lowland jungle.

  * * *

  Mama moved slowly down familiar trails, stopping occasionally to rest. Though tired and sore, a sense of urgency drove her on. Eve clung beneath her with reflexive strength, and Mama kept a supportive arm around the newborn. Stomach rumbling with hunger, she paused to harvest a few shriveled berries. Once the highlands provided a rich, productive garden, lush with succulent fruits, sweet honeyed blossoms and nutritious leafy forage. Now the Tribe could search all day, spread out over their entire territory, without finding enough to fill their bellies. Too many important food sources had succumbed to years of drought and chill temperatures. On the continent the dwindling rainforest gave way to grasslands, but here on this island the effects of climate change were softened by proximity to the sea, and a remnant of the jungle that once spanned the continent still struggled to survive.

  Mama hurried on. The calls which echoed through the forest yesterday went unvoiced this morning, and the silence gave her a lonely, anxious feeling. She squatted on her haunches, listening. A breath of wind rustled through the dry leaves like a death rattle. Far away a troupe of monkeys shrieked in panic as some predator sent them scattering through the treetops. Mama shivered. Alone she remained vulnerable. Only in numbers could she find any security.

  * * *

  Nutcracker detected movement on the far slope and grunted a warning. Hooter and Throwsrocks leaped to join her in the branches, while their companions on the ground stiffened, attention riveted on the opposite ridge. Brush shivered and swayed, then parted as two strangers stepped into view, a rival border patrol. The pair pulled up short and stared across the gap at the highlanders. They shifted uneasily, exchanging quick, sidelong glances, caresses of reassurance. Encouraged by the depth and breadth of the ravine, the strangers began hooting the vocal recognition call of their tribe, a sound which under normal circumstances would discourage trespassers from encroaching.

  A violent light came into Scarface’s eyes and every hair on his body bristled upright. His chest vibrated in thunderous threat. Subordinates scrambled to a discrete distance. With a savage bellow of challenge, he erupted into an explosive display of strength and ferocity, raging back and forth along the verge, pummeling the dusty earth, tearing up grass and small shrubs, hurling rocks and debris as far across the gap as he could. Overcome by tension and wild excitement, th
e rest of the Tribe began shrieking and flinging insults as well. The strangers replied, displaying wildly in an attempt to appear more formidable. But their efforts only threw Scarface into a frenzy. With a strangled shriek, he flung himself over the rim and avalanched down the slope in a cloud of dust. After an instant of startlement, his five lieutenants followed enthusiastically. Outnumbered and intimidated, the border patrol fled.

  * * *

  Sounds of vocal combat drew Mama to the bluff top. She wandered out of the trees just as the war party vanished into the depths of the ravine. Her adolescent son, First Born, spotted her immediately and hurried over to greet her, followed by his younger brother, Tickles. Mama settled wearily into a crouch, with Eve cradled protectively behind knees and folded forearms. First Born began grooming Mama, sifting through her coarse, dark hair, as much for his own comfort as for hers. Tickles huddled against her and pushed his face against the crook of her arm, begging to suckle. She had weaned the five-year-old a year ago, but Mama’s overnight absence had shaken the youngster. The milky smell of Mama’s breast offered reassurance. She moved her arm and a tiny face peeked out. Tickles squeaked in surprise and scanned quickly to see if anyone else noticed the apparition. The Tribe sprawled at ease on the sunny slope, waiting for some unsounded signal, oblivious to the tiny newcomer. Only Nutcracker showed curiosity. She settled next to her sister and tried discretely to get a glimpse of the new baby.