The Fall of Eden

    BOOM! The sound was enough to cause Micah to bolt upright, taking along with it the silky sheets that clung tightly to her small frame.. Silver eyes darted around the dark room that had temporarily been lit up by the flashes of electricity projecting through its small, and only window. The light highlighted the frame of a young girl with wild blonde hair piled messily on the top of her head, alert, and seemingly frightened by the noise that had brought her out of her illusive dreams. She shook her head, a light smile dancing on her lips as she seemed to realize what had woken her. She’d almost forgotten she had been asleep, her dreams had been so vivid to her recently, like drive in movies cast on the back of her eyelids. These past few weeks they had grown more ominous and it worried her, for they were violent and made little sense. Glancing around the room again she couldn’t help but notice its subtle charm. Though it was smaller size it seemed to bare an eerie resemblance to the rest of the old wooden cabin. Not that there were many rooms, just her own, her parents, the tiny bathroom, and the kitchen; the largest of the 4 that often doubled as a living area with its large stone fireplace on one end, and the small wood burning stove on the other.       This room was definitely the most heavily decorated, where the lot of the rooms were nearly bare, void of personal influence, with only the essential furniture needed to live a comfortable average life. This one had a touch of soul, the walls were littered with large canvas smeared into images with what looked like charcoal. Its dark lines fierce and almost ominous to most eyes. To her though; they brought into mind only the calming, careful essence of their creator. The walls behind them were a pale mint green, forcing a striking contrast that held most of the rooms attractive aura. Her eyes fluttered to the foot of her bed where a small light grey and black striped cat curled lazily in one of the broad rounded corners. Beside it, the large twisting wood of the bed frame rose out of the floor towering nearly to the ceiling. Small leaves carved intricately up the length of it. There wasn’t much in her room that didn’t remind her of her best friend. Everything was tainted by his influence, there would never be a way for her to completely bleach him out, not that she really would ever want to.       Another loud crack of thunder echoed in her ears, the bed seemed to shake with the might of it. She waited, expecting to hear the soothing drumming of mid-summer rain, but there was nothing. She peered out into the dark, looking for the path that bound her and her best friends yards together, when her eyes finally found it she traced it to the edge of the dark wooded forest behind her house. In that instant her mouth twisted, as a look of surprised flashed in her face, though she had almost expected the sight, it was enough to startle her. There, in the darkness of the surrounding woods stood a figure, instantly recognizable by a flash of glowing emerald green eyes, that seemed more familiar to her then even the stretch of the old cobblestone path at his feet.      “Oli-” The word sounded throaty to her ears, still undoubtedly thick with exhaustion. She forced herself off the bed, her feet landing lightly on smooth worn wood of her bedroom floor. Eyes caught the burning red numbers of alarm clock that sat on her bedside table. 3:07 AM. She closed her eyes, shaking the imprint of disappointment from her thoughts, after all she couldn’t really be angry, curiosity is what tore her from her dreams, not Olivandier. That and a rather loud and unforgiving symphony of thunder that seemed to rattle the house again, as if it knew her thoughts lingered on its presence. This time the sound was followed promptly by a soft thump, rather then the steady pounding of rain that she was expecting to chorus at any moment. Maybe it would hold off just long enough for her to manage crossing the yard without getting soaked, though she doubted such luck existed.       She half turned to eye the foot of her bed where her cat had once been and noted that it was no longer there, instead it was hunched irritably on the smooth wood floor behind her. No doubt angry at whatever had caused it to startle and fall to the floor. As it looked up at her, its eyes a similar but paler green to the glowing ones she had just seen along the edge of the trees. A smile crept into her expression, and she shook her head wildly as a laugh erupted from her dry throat. “I see you’re as brave as ever Liveen.” She bent over to pat the animal on the head, it pushed itself into her palm as if to welcome the attention, begging for more, but she promptly ignored it.       Her mind fluttered to a story of her grandmother her father had once told her. She was also known to be a rather clumsy woman, he had explained, and the cat had reminded him so much of her when he’d found it that he couldn’t dare leave it behind. So much so that it now shared its name with her late ancestor. She thought of the petite woman, her face crinkled with the ware of time, much older than her father. To outsider eyes she probably seemed more to be a great grandmother. Her eyes darkened as her thoughts forced her into a faded memory, she had been a near 6 years younger then, the ripe age of eleven. Standing in a flower garden in the middle of the forest behind her home, her family and a circle of tall trees surrounding her. She heard a chime of words on the wind but her only thought was the withering woman in the center of the commotion, her white hair twisted into small, but beautiful intricate braids that wrapped round her head and collected into a large braid that hung past her left shoulder. The realization that the transparent white of her eyelids held none of the glowing illumination that had often pierced through them, the light that she had once known as the life in her eyes was gone, and as the casket came to rest at the bottom of the dug up earth, so was she. She remembered that being the last thing she had seen before running that day, into the shield of the protective forest around her, gasping for air, hoping that at any moment she’d find herself in the familiarity of her bedroom, that this had all been a bad dream.      It had been Olivandier that had found her that day, her first time meeting the young boy. Her mirror in age and height, with dark curling hair that contrasted heavily with light silver eyes that they shared. She thought of the emerald color they were now, and longed for a moment to see them reduced to the blank canvases they once were instead of the ones that her entire family seemed have, a trait that was not reflected in her own features. She had always felt a little set apart from them, like the force that drove them was different from her own, like she was void of spirit, the light of what she had come to recognize as life. Her mind flickered then to the end of last winter, when he’d come over one day and the silvery comfort of his look was gone, replaced by eager, angry emeralds that seemed to swell and move like threatening storm clouds.       The thoughts of Olivandier and constant purring of Liveen on her calf, still begging for attention, brought her back to present day. She nudged that cat lightly away with her foot, as she reached the large, rounded wooden door and turned the knob. She stood back and watched as gravity helped it creak open, far enough to allow her slender frame to slip into the other room. She quickly shut her bedroom door behind her, forcing Liveen to halt in the pursuit of her protest.       Stepping away from the door, Micah squinted to bring the lack of features of the room into focus. The only light in the area emanated from the small flicker of flame in the stone fireplace, someone had been awake not long ago. She tore her gaze from its embers and tiptoed as quietly as possible to the large front door, it was the only piece of the room that adorned the same crafted carvings as her bedroom furniture. The looping and sloping lines like letters, seeming to form an old forgotten language. She reached for latch of the heavy dead bolt before she hesitated, looking down at the flannel shorts that hardly reached mid-thigh and the cotton tank top that she often substituted for pajamas. She searched the dark frantically for the coat rack, using the licking flicker of the flames to guide her to a tall wooden pole with small iron scrolls that held up what looked to her like massive dark figures. Her hand reached, grasping for the first thing it came in contact with, the long red trench coat that she recognized upon second glance as her mothers. Shrugging it on she felt along the floor for the thick rubber rain boots that felt snug and familiar as her feet slipped into them. Though the onslaught of rain hadn’t started yet, she figured it never hurt to be prepared.      She felt as if the process of latching up the black double sided buttons of the trench coat took her forever, though it had hardly stretched over 10 precious seconds. Finishing the last clasp, she reached up and twisted the dead bolt so that it clicked, signaling that it was free, and turned the knob with a similar motion, this time holding the door so it wouldn’t creak quite as loud and echo in the large half- empty room. Which she was sure would bring at least her mother out of her quiet slumber after her. Her eyes met the darkness, and she reluctantly stepped forward into it pulling the heavy oak door closed gently behind her. She winced as it clicked into place, and she busted into a run, bounding immediately for the dark lumps of mountains blanketed in tall deep green trees.       Nearing the edge of them, she slowed her pace, and fell in line with the smooth cobblestone surface of the path. She made it only a few yards into the trees before the path stopped at a large twisting white oak, which unlike the surrounding pines seemed to support a sturdy looking tree house. Micah remembered when her father had first built it for her, years before he had become weak with illness. She had helped him cut and haul enough of its thick halved logs that it seemed to be part of her now, riddled with her blood, sweat, and though she denied it most days, her tears. The memories sent a tremor through her that caused bits of her wavy blonde hair to ripple over her light silvery empty eyes. She noticed that one of the branches had been sheared off on its right side, making its appearance less symmetrical. Her chest gave a lurch as she seen the light flicker of a candle at the window of the structure. Her feet found the stairs with a familiar ease and she hoisted herself through the narrow opening and onto her stomach on the dusty floor.       Micah glanced around focusing on the small table, and two smaller wooden chairs, one of which she noticed, was rather occupied. She pulled herself to her feet her eyes focusing on the figure that no longer mirrored her reflection. His long legs forced him to tower over her now by near half a foot, and the broad masculinity of his shoulders had taken away any fragile innocence he had ever possessed. He looked up at her, with little effort as their eyes seemed to meet almost instantly, locking in a way that felt familiar to them both. His now long, dark ringlets pouring over his features, masking the thin pale lips and light bluish blush of his cheeks. She smiled then, avoiding the storm of concern brewing in the bright green of his eyes.       “Micah…” He shook his head in disapproval, his hands gliding over the piece of wood in his lap, the branch she had noticed missing just outside the wooden door frame. “You shouldn’t be out here so late, your mum would have a cow.” She sighed, the soothing tone of her name on his lips gave her comfort, and she took the opportunity to sink into the chair opposite of him, wincing at the mention of her mother. Micah had always admired her, but she was a very proud woman, and had been entirely too strict on her as of late. She thought of her mothers bright blue eyes and long blond curly hair that mirrored her own, her mother was the only person in her life who didn’t have the swirling green raging  storms in her eye sockets, Micah often found mesmerizing comfort in her gaze.  “I highly doubt that, if that were true we’d have a whole herd to milk by now.” She inclined her head as if to indicate the piece of wood he was raking over furiously with one of his long silver carving knives. “Plus I doubt she’d be too worried once she realized you were defacing Culdan property, again.” The last word seemed to catch a look of guilt from her friend as she had clearly been indicating the countless other times he had sawed off pieces of their trees to create one of his intricate carvings that he regarded as his masterpieces. She had even recalled a time when he had taken one of long beams of the cabins porch railings to construct an unsightly totem pole that her mother had burned upon realizing where he’d gotten his resources. Her eyes flickered with amusement at the memory, but it faded when she realized her attempt at conversation had earned no verbal response, that wasn’t much like Oli, he always had something, even if it were snarky and unrelated to respond with.       He looked up at her again, the knotted wood now a smooth and crease-less rectangular cube and with one quick cutting motion he sliced it in half, the two parts falling almost soundlessly to the table, his eyes never resting on anything but the ageless lines of her face. She took this opportunity to study his expression, though his face seemed calm she seen an eager, almost apologetic look in his eyes that caught her off guard.      “Oliv-..”      “You know I hate when you use my full name.” His words were irritated and not entirely put together as if he were fondling in the dark for the right ones and then caught off guard by her sudden syllables, clung to the closest ones he could find, tossing them into the silence between them.       Micah’s eyes fluttered with their own irritation at being cut off so early in her sentence.      “What’s going on then?” She asked as if his snappy remark was enough proof his mind wasn’t at ease. Olivandier moved slightly then as if to block himself from her prying gaze but he soon relaxed, picking up one of the halves of the rectangle and gripping it loosely in his palm. This was the first time, she had noticed, that the knife hadn’t been furiously moving over it’s surface. Their eyes met then, his mouth pressing into a hard line, he was definitely hiding something, she noted. There weren’t very many people to her knowledge that could lie to her. She’d always had this feeling, this almost knowing truth about her. No, not a feeling, a crystal clear gut instinct that tugged at her in the face of deceit. Olivandier of all people knew this about her, and she was sure his current demeanor was a result of this realization. His lips parted as he went back to his work on the wooden figure in his hands, making quick, deep scooping gestures with his wrist.      “Okay, don’t… laugh but, I have this terrible feeling.” His eyes seemed to distance himself from the moment, as if recalling a conversation or maybe even a dream, something that felt real to him, something she could tell he trusted, even believed in, not unlike the gut feeling she got when someone bombarded her with untruths. She thought her own recent vivid dreams that had her on most nights waking in sweat and misunderstood terror. She braced herself for his next few words as a grim look seemed to rush over his face. “Something’s wrong Micah, I feel like the world is crumbling around me and I can’t do anything to stop it..” His voice drifted off for the second time, he seemed almost panicked, his eyes darting around to examine the shadows in the room around them. He leaned in close then, his voice soft and pleading. “Don’t hate me, I’ve only hidden from you what they asked of me, I care far too much to lie to you any longer, and soon it won’t matter anyway. - Hold out your hand.”       She jumped slightly as his command sunk in and she did as he asked, eyeing his expression that twisted her own into confusion. He dropped the small finished box like object into her hand. Her palm lowered slightly with the weight of it, it looked oddly bigger in her small pale hands, nearly the size of a large matchbox. She opened it and gasped as her eyes came into contact with a small glass bottle. Its hourglass shape seemed to accent the swirling silver and grey liquid held inside it by a tiny off white cork. She moved to pick it up but he swatted  her hand away as he rolled his eyes. “It’s very important that you don’t open that until you absolutely need it.” He snapped the top part closed and in the same swift motion tucked it gently into the leg of the table, where he had carved a hole just big enough that it fit snugly, and sat flush against the surrounding smooth wood.       Her brain was swelling with questions, though her mouth had no idea which one to ask first, but it all seemed to hum to a stop when she felt a warm hand on her cheek. She looked up, Olivandier loomed over her now. His other hand extending to hers to help her to her feet which she allowed, without any effort on her part. Micah’s feet had hardly touched the wood before he bent down, gently brushing their lips together. She gasped as another flutter of a kiss entrapped her lips, and she suddenly found herself wondering if she were still asleep, if her journey to the tree house had been a wild dream. She knew though that this was reality, that his warm palm resting lazily against her rosy cheek was really there. That the lemon citrus smell that wafted into her nostrils was his breath, now hard and unsteady, colliding rhythmically with the pounding in her rib cage. She seen a flicker of green light pulsating at the base of his wrist as he leaned down eagerly, as if to kiss her again but this time she reluctantly stopped him.   “Oli-” She breathed her tone was soft and throaty as it had been when she’d seen him from her bedroom window. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange? And Who’s been asking you to hide things from me? And what..?” All of her questions seemed to pour out at once but ceased instantly when his long index finger met her lips. His eyes were darting around again, as if searching for the audience he didn’t have.  “It’s not safe.” His voice was a low whisper in her ear almost swallowed by a loud banging sound that erupted as the wind picked up. The sound she recognized as the thunder that had woken her from her sleep. His attention snapped to the narrow entry way and he rushed to it, leaving Micah grasping at the table to steady herself, she hadn’t realized how much of her he was supporting until he was no longer there. Her gaze watched him and soon her body followed, he was squinting into the darkness below him, Micah felt a hard lump in her throat as she realized there was a figure in the shadow of one of the nearby trees.       Olivandier pulled her close then, kissing her ear before he whispered his final words to her, and then he was gone with a flash. Darting straight for the figure that moved what seemed violently with the realization it had been discovered. Of course she hardly noticed, because his voice ringing inside her head seemed to drown out everything. Even the wind as it howled through the tree house, putting out the only light source she had, and she was left alone with the knowing silence of the darkness, until even it was stolen from her.       Another loud boom chorused through her ears, and her eyes fell to the doorway as she noticed the sudden flicker of fire past the trees. Micah shrieked, her eyes widening as they took the shape of a full swirling moon, her home, it was on fire.   “Mum! Dad!” She yelled, as she half jumped from the tree house, her feet barely touching the wooden steps. As she reached the cobblestone path, she looked up at the now roaring flames, licking at the cloudless sky. Something dawned on her then, there had never been any thunder, they were being attacked. She looked around hopelessly for Oli, hoping to cling to him, but she could not find him in the harsh glow of the flames. She stepped toward them, determined to try and find a way through the swirling heat to her parents, to Liveen, pull them from the fire. That’s when she seen red eyes, not unlike the ones she had seen from the tree house. They were glowing like the fire that surrounded them, like evil and mischief.   “They are dead kindling, and you’re next!” Micah gasped, his deep harsh tone ringing in her ears, drowning out the beautiful sound of Oli’s threatening to delete it from her memory. She could hear him laughing as he stepped toward her, a deep earthy sound that caused her spine to shake. She turned then, running into the safety of the trees, running as fast as her legs could carry her, running like she had at her grandmothers funeral. Running, running, running…