Garden of Salt and Stone

by A. L. Burgess Jr.

  “I control this place,” Lucifer responded. “I can give you power or take it away—all at my discretion.” He raised a finger and made a small gesture toward Lilith. “Do you feel it now?”

  In a sudden and overwhelming rush, Lilith felt immense power return to her being. The irrepressible might within her was more than she had ever sensed in the past. Her aura vibrated with energy and seemed held at bay by only the thinnest of veils. It was as if the most inconsequential of gestures would set it free to course through her veins and obey her every command. The only thing that came to mind was the sheer intoxication that it brought. “How is this possible?”

  “There is massive energy here,” Lucifer replied. “Once I attenuated myself, I blocked the path for all others unless I see fit to bestow it as a gift.”

  “So, you used it to fashion this world to while away your time—to distract you from your feelings toward the humans?” Lilith asked. “Or was it simple boredom?”

  “I was quite lost when I first came here,” Lucifer said, quietly poking at the grains of sand trapped within the cracks of the rock. “My mind was a blur of hatred and anger toward the unfortunate turn of events forced upon us. It was during that time that I found a new purpose—a new beginning—one that allowed me to see clearly once again.” He outstretched his arms to the plain of sand. “The power that exists here is akin to the same power the Almighty uses to command the Universe—the same that was used to shape our existences and those of the humans. I realized I had a choice, and one not accepted lightly—nothing short of a fight for our own existence using the power of Creation itself to my advantage.”

  Stunned by the admission, Lilith shook her head. “How could you win such a battle? Do you mean to destroy the Creator—our father?”

  Lucifer raised a calming hand. “I merely intend to lure him onto this world where his omnipotence can be negated. Perhaps then he will be more reasonable and hear what I have to say.”

  “You would plead for concessions while keeping the Almighty in confinement? Is your existence worth this issue you have with humanity?”

  “He has brought this upon himself by giving life to those creatures!” Lucifer hissed. “I would see nothing less than our rightful place restored and the humans subordinated beneath us!”

  Lilith’s eyes widened. “So you could be their god—is that what you desire?”

  “I seek nothing of the sort,” Lucifer replied. “They are animals, nothing more. They are mortal and weak and have no place among beings of light.”

  “He has given them immortal souls,” Lilith rebutted, “and the same freedoms to choose between right and wrong that we possess. Their mortality makes their freewill more pronounced—more damning should they choose poorly. I know this to be true.”

  “How can you defend them?”

  “How could you risk open rebellion over them, Lucifer? The Creator loves the humans and would do anything to stop you.”

  “Love?” Lucifer scoffed. “What do humans know of love? They have not the capacity nor the inclination to grasp the concept of love—let alone reciprocate it. You of all people should know that. Adam’s betrayal of you proves it as fact. Surely, you must find yourself seeing things as I do?”

  Lilith turned away from Lucifer to hide her anguish. He blindsided her with her own past and it hit her tenfold. The emotions that welled up within Lilith were so raw that it was painful for her to recall them in full. She remembered the days from long ago when the Universe was in its infancy. She had spent her time with Lucifer exploring the vastness of Creation. She had fallen in love with him early on, but his aggressive nature and bold ambitions pushed her away. She had distanced herself from Lucifer and had broken his heart in the process, but that was not the only thing that he sought to lay bare.

  After she left Lucifer, Lilith continued on her travels alone, roaming the vastness and searching for something to give her existence meaning. That is when the Almighty came to her with a new opportunity. He had recently created a new sentient being called Adam. The Almighty needed help in teaching Adam the ways of the Universe and sought out Lilith for the task. She accepted the charge and took Adam under her wing, shepherding him through his early and awkward stage of existence. Adam was a charismatic individual who, at the same time, was vulnerable and innocent. It became easy for Lilith to defer from her own endeavors and acquiesce to Adam entirely. She fell in love with him, and for a time, he was her one, all-encompassing passion. She gave him everything and yet, through it all and despite their professed love for one another, Adam turned his back on her and asked the Almighty for a new, more human, companion. She had been devastated.

  Lucifer saw Lilith’s pain and fought back his own emotions. “Your feelings for Adam were strong and I understand that now. I was a fool for not showing you the true love you deserved, and for that I am sorry.”

  Lilith wiped tears from her eyes. “Why did you ask me here?”

  “I need your help.”

  Lilith saw right through Lucifer. “You would have me betray the Creator?”

  “Betray? Did they not both betray you? First Adam and then the Almighty for his role in fashioning the woman that now shares Adam’s bed?”

  Lucifer was right. The Creator had known Lilith had feelings for Adam and disregarded them completely. She felt jaded, but she was not the only one. Existence for all the angels changed dramatically once the humans arrived. The Creator spent more time occupied with the humans than he ever did with angelic affairs. Every angel felt lessened because of the human problem. Lilith shook her head and drew a deep breath. None of the current plight was her problem. Lucifer was obsessed with humanity, and she could not let his thinking affect her. Lilith stiffened her resolve. The Creator’s path was unknown to all and her emotional pain, however severe, was not enough to overcome her loyalty to the Almighty. “You ask much.”

  “I only ask for you to show the Creator what he wrought.”

  “I cannot help you.”

  Lucifer bowed. “I understand your decision.”

  Lilith spread her wings to leave.

  “Please wait,” Lucifer said. “There is one other thing that I think you should know.”

  Lilith turned an ear in the direction of Lucifer. “Yes?”

  “Eve,” Lucifer said. “She is rumored to be with child.”

  Anger welled inside of Lilith. She railed against it, tried to bury it deep within her, but it rose to the surface spawning a tumultuous and powerful rage. She did not want to believe Lucifer but could not ignore him either. Adam had betrayed her and now she knew the reason why. Angels were incapable of procreation and this fact had created an ever-widening rift in her relationship with Adam. Angels existed to serve for an eternity and carried out their lives with a common focus. Humans were carefree creatures—they came and went, lived and died. To live a mortal life was naught but a fleeting glimpse into the whole of the Universe. To be an angel meant to be a fixed point among all else—there was no need to have offspring. Yet somehow, Adam had chosen a human to be his companion—to bear him children, to heal his wounds, to nurture his wellbeing. They would have offspring and soon their kind would outnumber the population of angels. Lilith and her brethren would be overwhelmed. Scores of angelic beings would become superfluous in the eyes of the Almighty.

  Lilith looked down and sobbed. She did not want to go against the Creator, but this new revelation proved she had no choice. Hurt, fear, loathing, and rage all permeated her voice as she spoke. “I will help you, but I will do so for my own reasons.”

  Chapter 4

  Peter’s feet were slightly elevated as he lay unconscious on an examination room table. An intravenous bag hung from a stand nearby and dripped a clear liquid through a taped-down catheter into his arm. A small sensor hung loosely from Peter’s finger and relayed his vital signs to a monitor that beeped regularly in the back of the room.

  Renée sat in one corner of the exam room watching the elderly Doctor Valente shuffle ar
ound Peter. He checked Peter’s breathing and took his pulse manually as if not willing to trust the digital readout of the monitor.

  “Will this take long, doctor?” Renée asked.

  Doctor Valente pulled at his well-worn physicians’ coat and shrugged. “Perhaps he needs hospital, no?”

  “Hospital?”

  “Yes,” Doctor Valente replied, shrugging his shoulders and showing a little contempt for Renée’s impatience. “He could be seriously injured—brain trauma is not to be taken lightly.”

  Renée bit her tongue and reined in her intolerance of the situation.

  After completing a thorough inspection of his patient, Doctor Valente bent over Peter and asked very loudly, “Can you hear me?” The doctor looked for any signs of recognition and when he saw none, continued, “Can you move your legs for me?”

  Peter shifted his legs and moved his arms slightly.

  Doctor Valente took a pen from his pocket and prodded his patient in the hands. “Peter, can you feel this?”

  Peter opened his eyes and blinked.

  “Very good,” Doctor Valente said. “Can you see me?”

  Disoriented, Peter fumbled around trying to find a handhold to raise himself up from the exam room table.

  Doctor Valente put a firm hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Please, I will raise the bed.” He worked the table’s controls and elevated his patient into a sitting position. “Better?”

  “Oh man,” Peter said, wincing and rubbing his temples. “My head is killing me.”

  Doctor Valente grabbed a cup from the examination room counter and filled it with water at the sink. He handed it Peter who immediately drank the contents.

  “What happened?” Peter asked.

  “It seems—”

  “It was awful, Peter,” Renée blurted out. “You passed out right there in the middle of the road—almost got hit by a car. It was a huge scene in front of all those people.”

  Doctor Valente raised a hand to quell Renée’s emotional outburst and went back to his patient’s care. “What were you feeling when you collapsed?”

  Peter waded through his memories and resurrected the moment of his ill-fated rescue attempt. “I got dizzy—there was a ringing in my ears—I couldn’t move.” He stopped when he remembered the purpose of his physical exertion. “There was a boy!” he exclaimed. “The kid ran in front of the car—he must have been hit—” Peter trailed off. “I tried to stop him.”

  “There was no kid, Peter,” Renée said. “No one saw anything.”

  Doctor Valente listened carefully to his patient’s recollections and to the circumstances surrounding them. “Peter,” he said, taking the most authoritative tone he could, “have you been drinking, perhaps taking medications—drugs?”

  Peter shook his head. “I know what I saw and he was real.”

  “Doctor?” Renée begged. “Could you please tell him?”

  “Tell him?”

  “That he’s having hallucinations.”

  “I wasn’t hallucinating anything,” Peter argued. “He was standing right there—I could even tell you what he was wearing.”

  Renée sought reinforcement from the doctor. “He’s wrong, right?”

  Doctor Valente chuckled. “I’m no psychologist, no?” He inspected Peter’s medical chart. “The mind is a powerful thing. It can lead you to believe many things.”

  “But Peter almost killed himself!”

  “Yes,” Doctor Valente replied. “This is a very serious malady.” He took out a small flashlight and tested his patient for pupil dilation. Finding nothing amiss, he took a hesitant breath. “Peter, that church, there’s a lot of strange things over there.”

  Peter scoffed. “Like?”

  “Perhaps you saw an old statue or some sort of carving on the side of the building—maybe the plants moving in the wind made you think someone was there?”

  “I’m not crazy.”

  “That church has been there for some time, no?” Doctor Valente stated calmly. “Years ago, people thought they saw the ghost of a woman appearing on the door of the church.”

  Peter’s interest stirred. “A woman?”

  “Yes, some thought it was an angel—others a demon.”

  “What was it?” Peter asked, attempting to fortify his non-psychosis position.

  “It was nothing,” Doctor Valente chuckled. “The holes in the porch over the door cast a strange apparition in the correct light.” The doctor’s mood turned serious. “But everyone thought it was real, no?”

  Peter knew what he had seen and there was no convincing him otherwise. He appreciated the neutral viewpoint, but the doctor was not there when it happened. No one else saw what was going on because either their view was blocked or the scene unfolded so fast they found it incomprehensible. He could see that Doctor Valente truly cared for his wellbeing, but Peter did not want to be treated like a child. He endured it every day from his wife, and he found it uncomfortable to linger on the matter further. “I think I’m better now. Thank you for helping me.”

  Doctor Valente put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to stop him from rising. “I will need to run some tests.”

  “Tests—will they take long?” Renée asked impatiently.

  “Yes, two, perhaps three days. I need to send them out. You will need to stay here in San Cielo while we wait for results.”

  “But we’re on our way to France,” Renée pleaded, hoping for some latitude in the doctor’s orders.

  Ignoring Renée, Doctor Valente spoke to Peter directly. “This could be very serious. You should wait for the results.”

  “You’re not going to listen to him?” Renée asked Peter.

  Peter gave his wife a sour look. “What difference does it make to you?”

  “Monaco? We’ll have to skip it and go straight to Paris.”

  “I don’t care about Monaco,” Peter responded with disgust as he thought about the doctor’s proposal. Perhaps there was some merit in delaying their journey for health reasons. He smiled. If the decision displeased his wife, then it was definitely a good idea. “Besides,” Peter said, “think of how much money we’ll save by staying here locally.”

  Renée went flush with anger.

  Doctor Valente felt the tension and stepped in between them. “Very good, Peter. There’s nothing in France better than Italy, no?”

  Chapter 5

  Plants and trees of all varieties thrived in the fertile soil of the Garden of Eden. Their verdant hues spread to every corner of the expansive reserve, punctuated only by the colorful flowers and fruits they bore. The lush forest of green wove a tapestry of floral life that spread across the ground like a thick blanket, making passage to some areas impossible.

  Animals prospered in the Garden as well. Birds soared through the azure sky, playing in the gentle breezes and hovering in warm thermals. Larger animals strolled along well-worn paths, frolicking in wide meadows and taking repose in the shade of tall trees.

  At its center was the lifeblood of the Garden—a spring that welled with such intensity that it overflowed its banks. The water’s surface area was no more than a few yards across, but the flow surging from beneath was extraordinary. The crystal-clear water spilled out of its confines and served as the primary headwater to all the rivers and tributaries in the Garden. Life teemed within its waterways, with frogs, fish, and other aquatic animals inhabiting even the smallest of fens and estuaries.

  Along the banks of the wellspring grew two trees. Well past the sapling age, both trees had developed strong trunks, covered in hardy, deep-grooved bark. They stood next to each other, and at no more than fifteen feet tall, both were equally stout for their height. The limbs of the trees intertwined within their canopy of thick, lively green foliage. Deep red, fig-like fruits hung at evenly spaced intervals along most of the trees’ branches.

  A random passerby might not have noticed the trees amongst the varied wonders of the Garden. They looked similar to any other, yet were the individual to stand and
attempt comprehension of the trees, they may have seen much more than they originally desired. Although the trees were of the exact same species, each gave off an aura that was markedly different from the other.

  Growing closer to the source of the headwaters was the Tree of Life. It swayed gently in the breeze, its branches moving in harmony with the ebb and flow of the wind. Thick roots, some taller than a man’s waist, sprang from the tree’s base and grew toward the life-giving stream. Light poured from above and bounced off the Tree of Life’s leaves, bathing the surrounding area in a warm, pleasant glow. Fruit vied for every inch of space along its branches, yet the heavy burden seemed almost welcome and of no particular consequence to the tree.

  The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil projected a darker energy from that of its sibling. The light of the Garden did not radiate from this tree as it did from its sister; instead, the Tree of Knowledge consumed it, allowing only a small fraction of the abundant illumination to escape. The tree’s thick roots carved into the shallow earth of the embankment and dredged up a multitude of rocks. It was as if the ground was in collusion with the pure waters of the wellspring to fight against the incursion brought on by the Tree of Knowledge. The fig-like fruit teemed along its branches similar to that of its sister’s, but the fruit hung much heavier and made the limbs strain under the added weight. The Tree of Knowledge was the balancing force to the Tree of Life. Both of the trees stood their ground defiantly, each in direct contrast to the other.

  Each day, Adam and Eve ventured throughout the Garden. Oftentimes, their individual duties took them in opposite directions. Adam spent the daylight hours hunting the wild animals of the Garden, while Eve gathered a bounty of fruits and vegetables. When night fell, they both returned to the centrally-located wellspring they called home.