The book was right where I’d left it. It held its own in the corner of the attic library, golden letters catching the light of my flashlight and whispering soft beckons. I breathed out a shaky breath and picked it up off the floor. The book felt almost heavier in my nervous hands.
I opened to the first page. This time, the vision didn’t appear immediately. It came slowly, like a fog creeping across the forest floor. The images slowly drew in more color and became clearer and clearer…
The attic room disappeared altogether.
Chapter Eleven
“The earth was formless and empty,
and darkness covered the deep waters.”
Genesis 1:2 NLT
I broke the surface. Choking, I frantically searched the horizon. The expanse seemed endless. Was I in the middle of the ocean?
I looked at my motionless hands and feet. I wasn’t swimming.
This wasn’t water.
Before I could think, a bright light shone into my eyes, like someone had switched the lamp on in my room in the middle of the night. I writhed, the light blinding me.
Gradually, the light faded, overcome by darkness in a matter of moments. It felt like hours had passed. Time itself eluded me, although the drowsiness of the morning and the drag of the evening seemed to fall in step with the slow changing of the light.
A voice spoke, echoing across the substance in front of me. Though the voice’s force would have moved the water, not a movement was in sight. My own shallow breathing was loud in my ears. My floundering movements were useless.
It was like swimming through nothing.
Suddenly, rumbling resonated from below. A vast solid form grew nearer and nearer to me at an alarming pace. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.
I braced myself for impact. It collided into me, and we soared towards the surface.
When we emerged, we broke the now familiar expanse of the sea. I trembled and quivered, my eyes shut tight. The shaking underneath me went still, and after a moment, I opened my eyes slowly.
Pure, silky water rolled off my skin. The sea lapped at the edges of the land mass now supporting my feet. Rolling hills devoid of grass and green life obscured my view of the far distance. But it was there. Mountainous, vast terrain living under the cloudless sky.
I lifted up my hands and watched soil and dust fall from my fingers.
Where was I?
I rose slowly from my crouch in the dirt. The water behind me splashed against my ankles, and I took a step forward. I’d never seen such an empty landscape. It didn’t look real.
That was when the realization that I was completely, absolutely, and utterly alone kicked me in the gut.
“Alright…” I said to myself slowly. “Don’t panic. This is a weird illusion, right? My brain is doing this. Think of home and you’ll go back.” I closed my eyes shut and thought of the attic.
When I opened them, the hills greeted me.
Anxiety crept into my stomach and twisted it into a knot. I pressed the back of my hands to my forehead and paced the ground, my breathing accelerating.
I stopped and crouched onto the ground, trying to steady myself. “What’s happening?” I whispered.
Almost as if in answer, the ground beneath me began to shake. I shot up onto my feet.
The ground where I’d just been cracked open, and a tree sapling burst out of the split. Next to it, an even larger split cracked across the ground, and a massive tree shot from the soil. All around me, grass poked out of the dirt, covering the landscape in thick, lush grasses and underbrush. I watched the bare hills turn green and colorful.
A juniper tree towered above my head. Leaves unfolded as branches reached out into the sky, their fast-forward growth increasing in rate. Below the tree, corn poppy flowers uncurled their petals, and moss crept up rocks and trees.
After what felt like mere seconds, the plants settled into a still silence except for the rustling of the leaves. I froze, my eyes darting to every corner of the forest that had now popped up right in front of me.
Something hard fell on my head, and I swung my gaze upward. Apples clung to the branches of the neighboring tree. The other trees, one by one, grew fruit from the blossoms on their branches. My stomach growled a warning to me that I would have to eat soon, and without thinking, I reached up and plucked an apple from the tree. I bit into it, my mouth drooling. It was sweet and tart. Not one bruise covered its skin.
Suddenly, a stronger light passed through the folds in the branches. Warm sunlight warmed my skin, a sunny orb shining beams through the leaves and onto my face. I was overcome by the fact that the weather was unimaginably perfect. The forest ahead, now dense with foliage and greenery, beckoned to me in soft hushes that only forests can elicit. Enchanted, I took a step deeper into the woods.
This forest was like nothing I’d ever seen.
Back home, wherever home really was at this point, a walk through the forest was enough to make your skin prickle with primitive human instinct. At the same time, the sounds of wildlife were soothing to ears accustomed to mechanical, suburban noise.
It was like that…but magnified.
Every inch of me sang with vitality as I dove deeper into the core of the eternal garden that had sprung up like an overnight clover patch. My surroundings were ten times more alive than I’d ever seen. The entire woods hummed harmoniously. Each birdsong complemented the other with matching melodies. As I moved farther, the presence of animals increased in my surroundings. I could feel them living behind every bush, rock, nook, and cranny. But the initial fear I’d expected to feel in the presence of possible predators never came.
The bushes started to rustle. I stopped in my tracks and a deer scurried out and cocked its head at me. It sniffed the air and looked me straight in the eye, but didn’t run away. Instead, it took a few steps forward to nibble on the bark of a birch tree, ignoring me completely.
I leaned against the oak tree and stared at it. I checked myself to see if I had turned into a harmless fluffy rabbit or a squirrel.
Nope, I was still human.
The sound of running water lured me in a different direction. A little way past a bend of evergreens, a bubbly brook appeared in my path, the water rolling over smooth stones and trickling past reeds along the bank. Splashes echoed in the water.
Fish. I leaned over the creek, my reflection bouncing back at me. I smiled.
I backed away slowly and lost my way back to the clearing. I decided to follow the water instead, flashes of scaly bodies appearing at the surface and dipping back down again.
After a few minutes, the line of trees broke into a field ahead. The sun shone brighter there, tall grasses sashaying in the wind. I could see a lamb sitting in the grass with its legs folded, chewing on a piece of clover. Life was everywhere now, while a few seconds ago, not a creature was in sight.
That’s when I saw the golden mane.
He was walking steadily on the outskirts of the field. His paws moved silently in the grass, shoulders sticking out above his bowed head. My heart skipped and I started to back away. He raised his head and sniffed the air. Penetrating eyes settled on the lamb in the field.
I watched as the lion approached her. Why wasn’t she running? The lamb’s ears pricked, but she remained motionless. The lion, now mere inches from the lamb’s neck, stopped. He knelt down, stretching his powerful paws in the grass, and laid down beside her.
My heart slowed in awe. Something about this place was so different from the earth I knew.
I turned and left them in the clearing.
Chapter Twelve
When I opened my eyes, the attic library looked exactly the same way I’d left it. The sound of the old grandfather clock’s chime drifted up the stairs from the living room.
It was two in the morning. I’d started reading twenty minutes ago.
I waited until my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the light. Had I fallen asleep? I must have. That was the weirdest dream I’d ever had. Bu
t I couldn’t remember anything before it. Had I really fallen asleep that fast? I didn’t even read a page.
The book lay open on my lap. I peered closer at the words, but they swirled and blurred into each other until I couldn’t read them anymore. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to the middle of my forehead. A migraine was coming on.
“You need sleep,” I whispered to myself. “Something’s obviously wrong with you.”
I closed the book, but this time, I put it back on the book shelf. For now, it was going to stay there.
But when I slipped under the covers, sleep didn’t come, and all I could think about was the lion and the lamb sitting next to each other in the clearing. All I could think about was the landscape and the trees and the brook. All I could think about was how real that dream was.
But the thought that kept me up the longest—the thought that kept my eyes open long enough to see the orange of the sunrise—was the thought that sent my blood coursing through my veins in an awakened revelation.
I thought, maybe…maybe it wasn’t a dream after all.
“You look dead.”
I tried not to heave as I treaded up the school steps. My backpack was an annoying child griping on my shoulders, screaming at me to hold on to it tighter. I let it drop to my elbows and kept climbing.
“I know,” I panted, reaching the top of the stairs. I caught the railing before I could tumble backwards down the steps. “I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night.”
“What were you doing that late anyway?” Aven’s eyes grew wide and she squealed in a hushed but not so hushed tone. “Were you calling a boy?!”
I opened my mouth but she put a finger to my lips. “Wait. Don’t tell me. It’s Jace, isn’t it? You took my advice.”
I shoved her hand away and gave her a look. “No, Aven. I’m not talking to a boy.”
“Oh,” she pouted. “Is it Maverick? He’s in all your classes, right?”
“I swear, you never let me say anything.”
“Why do you always look so tired and jumpy and mysterious then?” She folded her arms and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You, like, never pay attention anymore.”
I sighed and hiked my backpack onto my shoulders. “I know, I’m sorry.” I hesitated. I considered telling Aven everything. The weird dreams. The book. The reason behind all the sleepless nights.
But when I saw Aven’s heart-shaped face, newly glossed lips, and round eyes, something in me told me she wouldn’t understand. That maybe I was on my own in this thing until I figured out what was happening.
So instead, I sighed and replied, “School’s just a little stressful right now. It’ll pass, don’t worry.” And with that, the bell rang.
“See ya, Favorite,” she called and blew me a kiss. The cheap gloss clung to her hand after she touched her lips, glistening in the morning sun. She never wore lip gloss. I’d have to ask her about that later. But now, first period was the only thing on my mind as I entered Mrs. Whitaker’s class.
The late bell hadn’t rung yet and most of my classmates were scattered throughout the classroom, leaning on other people’s desks or throwing used markers across the room in the general direction of the garbage can. Jace, not surprisingly, was perched on his desk, his feet resting on his chair below him. He was leaning forward, probably telling some stupid story about something stupid he did.
I rolled my eyes, disgust crawling up my arms like an annoying spider. Unfortunately, it was during my eye-rolling when Jace decided to look straight at me from across the room.
“Genesis,” he called out in the fakest sweet voice he could muster.
Well, crap.
“I’m surprised you can even roll your eyes, they look so heavy in your head,” he said. He had on the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. I scowled in return.
“They’re tired of looking at your sorry excuse for a face.”
The friends around him oohed and clapped him on the back as his face turned a little pink and his smile faltered.
The corners of his mouth perked back up as he spit out, “A little feisty this morning?”
“Only to you,” I countered and I didn’t hide the bite in my voice.
I might have imagined it, but the light left Jace’s eyes as soon as my words left my mouth.
“Alright, in case you bunch haven’t noticed, class is starting,” Mrs. Whitaker scolded at the front of the room.
I started to set my backpack down by my chair and Jace and his friends got off the desks. I rummaged around in my bag for my pencils and notebook, placing them on the table.
Mrs. Whitaker began her lecture. On any normal day, I might have paid attention. But something was bothering me. Was Jace hurt by what I’d said? I mean, he deserved it. But he’d never reacted that way before. Was I imagining things again?
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was writing his notes, looking as normal as ever.
Yes, I’d imagined it.
Dust swirled beneath me. I stepped back, the dirt turning around my ankles like a pool of water in the summertime. It brushed against my legs but moved past, the dust seeming to flow in one strong current.
The leaves on the branches were still, as if waiting for something to happen. The dust collected and flowed into dust rivulets at the base of the trees. There wasn’t any wind. It was all heading in one direction.
I followed it.
After a while, I stumbled into a clearing in the heart of the woods. I kept to the outskirts and watched as the dust collected along the tree line. The dust spun in a circle, growing darker and thicker as more dust accumulated into the ring hovering a few inches above the grass.
What was going on? Dirt didn’t just rise from the ground and flow into one place on its own. I stepped closer and knelt near the ring, passing my hand through the growing cloud.
Within seconds, the dust lurched towards the middle of the ring in unison. It collected in an opaque mass near the center of the clearing. I fell back into the thickets. The cloud was slowly building from the ground up.
A shape was taking form.
Captivated, I couldn’t move. It was hard to depict what exactly was forming as pieces of dust circled the figure. I needed to get out of here. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. I needed to escape this daydream.
Just when I found the strength in my legs to stand up, the last of the tiny specks of dust fell into place.
I gasped as a man, now completely developed before me, collapsed onto the ground.
Chapter Thirteen
“For you were made from dust,
and to dust you will return.”
Genesis 3:19 NLT
I thought he was dead at first. He was lying on the ground for several seconds, his body as rigid as stone.
But then his chest heaved a breath of life.
The forest came back with his first inhale. The birds hummed a melody into the clearing. A breeze ruffled the tree branches along the outer edge. Almost as if it were holding its breath until he took his.
The man jolted, covering his eyes to block the sun now illuminating the clearing with a powerful beam. The remaining dust around him was still settling into the ground. Shafts of light passed through the particles. The man scanned the clearing calmly, adjusting his legs to stand up.
He seemed to be unaware that he was completely naked. The man’s head turned towards me, and I bolted behind a tree back towards the shadows. Fear crept under my skin. I hadn’t seen a human for hours, let alone an undressed one in the middle of the forest. Everything that was happening right now was beyond bizarre. I wanted to wake up.
The apparent silence in the clearing was what caused me to glance around the tree.
His eyes were fixed right on me.
I froze. His features were much clearer now that we were standing face to face. His nose was straight, a pair of doe-brown eyes staring at me from a symmetrical face. The muscles along his shoulders and down his torso shifted as he adjusted his
stance.
My heart decelerated as I realized he wasn’t looking at me but past me, almost as if I wasn’t there. I turned around habitually, searching for whatever he was seeing. There was nothing. When I turned back around, the only human I’d seen in this place was already gone, disappearing behind the trees.
When I knew for sure he was gone, I released a breath and entered the clearing again. The sun was warm from here. I may have been frightened by the mysterious human in the woods, but the forest itself was an open book. A sense of peacefulness hummed throughout the entirety of it. Almost like it had been announced to every creature, every plant, and every grain of dirt that existed.
I spun in a circle in the center of the clearing and clasped my hands over my head. I had no idea what I was supposed to do next. I peered down at my feet. The remains of the man’s footsteps still marked the ground. They led away to an exit out of the clearing.
Did I have a choice?
I turned and headed in the direction the man had disappeared to.
If this was the world, it wasn’t the world I knew. It was a newer, less corrupted and destroyed version of it. And as I walked, I found myself wondering what had happened to cause an earth that was once so perfect…to fall.
I heard the double click of my dad’s car keys lock the car, and then the back door opened and slammed shut. There was a clinking as the keys landed on the kitchen table. Footsteps thundered.
My back ached from leaning against the bones of the bookshelf. Had I fallen asleep? Again? The Holy Bible was still on my lap, open to the first page.
It was like I blinked…and I was back. The perfect forest was gone.
“Genesis?” my father called. He was in my bedroom.
I bolted, sticking the book back onto the shelf. I ducked my head to avoid hitting the ceiling as I ran across the room and pounded down the steps. At the bottom, there was a door that opened to our kitchen.
I got to the base of the steps just as Dad entered the room.
Worthy of Rain Page 4