Welcome to Gaia! ::

1. Introduction

This night, a nameless, sleeping human, one among many nameless, sleeping humans, dreams that

he awakens for the first time. Ever.

The first thing he sees is an expanse of blue, and the second thing he sees is the disk of brightly burning white that both draws his eye and repels it.

Then he is distracted because a voice - the Voice, all-encompassing and eternal, reverberating in his bones - says

"Good day to you, Adam."

He understands the words and does not understand why. Nevertheless - he is Adam.

"Yes. You are Adam."

"What are you?" he whispers, the words blooming upon his lips as he desires them. It is a heady feeling.

"What am I?" says the Voice. "I... am."

"Oh," says Adam, and

the nameless dreamer opens his eyes and forgets in an instant the dream.

3. Light

Well, there are worse things to lose dreams to than daylight. Let us depart, for a moment, from the sleep-world of the Garden.

Adam - for that is the name of the no longer nameless dreamer - finds himself unexpectedly happy as he sits up in his narrow bed and looks around his narrow, cheaply-rented room. He has, of course, no idea why. Nevertheless... he is happy.

And - after, admittedly, drinking a lot of strong black coffee - he walks out into the bright new day with a spring in his steps and whistles as he goes. As he puts it to the first person who asks, why the hell not?

in terms of writing, what is this 'genesis'? is it the theme of creation? i'm a bit confused by what you're working on here and why it is in sections. sweatdrop
anyway, in the first sentence there's a couple commas you don't need. it's very simple, but very moving. this would be kind of cool as a poem. : D

5. Seeking Solace

As he lies half-dozing, extraordinarily aware of the itchy grass against his bare back and the cold air nipping his skin, something approaches. It hisses quietly, and he does not recognize the sound - one he has not Named, yet.

"Hello," he says, quietly so as not to disturb Eve. He looks at the creature. It looks back at him.

"Hello," it says, in a low way that is as much a hiss as a word, an exhalation of breath, barely audible. He can barely make out a long, thin, curving shape, a shadow against the gray grass, made all the harder to see by the way the night leaches color from the Garden.

"You have not been Named?"

"No. I... was not Named."

He reaches out a hand, and the creature curls around his wrist, cool and dry and scaly against his skin. He can see it more clearly now; a strange beast, legless, long, like one of the many vines hanging from the trees that surround him except with a flat, triangular head. It curves against him, a forked tongue flickering out to brush the inside of his elbow, and hisses pleasantly. Sssssss...

"Serpent," he says. "You are Serpent."

The Serpent goes still. After a heartbeat pause, it murmurs "I wanted to be Named."

"I am sorry I did not see you earlier," says Adam, sleepily, oblivious to the undertones of the Serpent's words.

"No matter," it replies softly, but he is already gone. It sighs softly, regretfully, and glances, for the briefest of moments, at Eve, before

the other Adam awakens again, this time with a hint of uneasiness.

@Serenity Reed: See, that's what I mean - not intentional blasphemy, as in "the Devil was just a nice guy in need of counseling" but accidental mistakes. Is that true? I know God tells the Serpent that it will slither on its belly after the Fall, but I didn't know if it actually had legs before that or what.

6. Break Away

There is also a woman, somewhere, dreaming. Even if it is only a dreamer within a dream, for Eve is always near, and sometimes she dreams with both eyes open, dreams of

apples.

"Apples?" she says to the Serpent, who stands tall and proud next to her in the sunlight, nothing like the slithering creature she saw, half-asleep, during Adam's last Naming. Perhaps it was only a dream, or a vision.

She does not realize until later that it was a premonition.

"Yesssssss. Appless," it hisses in her ear, for still it is long, though now it looks graceful and proud.

She turns and looks doubtfully at the tree.

It is not a tall tree, but it is pleasant, dark green leaves rustling and a single apple, dark red and gleaming, hangs heavily on the end of one of the boughs just within her reach.

The Voice seems to echo in her ear. Of this tree you shall not eat, lest you taste its fruit and die for it.

Dutifully she repeats this to the Serpent.

"Die?" it murmurs, and seems to grin, though Serpents, as far as she knows, cannot grin. "No. Not... die, I think. These apples are not death-bearers; no."

"But the Voice said," says Eve, hesitantly.

"Perhaps the Voice wants to keep things from you."

"Keep things from me..." whispers Eve. The thought of it, of the Voice, beautiful beyond her understand, lying to her... the idea stirs something dark and ugly in the pit of her stomach. "What do you know, dear Serpent?"

The Serpent hisses, apparently pleased, and wraps its long neck around her pale arm. "The apple," it breathes against her skin, "will let you know of the difference between Good and Evil."

She does not know what Good and Evil are, let alone the difference.

She feels cool scales against warm flesh.

She reaches up, and snaps the stem.

She looks at the apple one last time...

and she bites.

8. Innocence

That is not the end of it, of course. It never is. Or was.

"Adam," says Eve, quietly. She wonders if he will hear the change in her voice.

He turns around, surprised. She guesses that he was about to go and look for her. His gaze on her bare skin makes her shiver in a way it did not before, and she almost glances longingly at the cover of the taller grasses, but catches herself in time and refrains. It is difficult; she is ashamed.

He meets her eyes, which, she knows from the reflection in the still pool by the oaks, are brown. His are blue, a light blue flecked with green and grey, not like the other blues she sees in the sky and on the flower petals. Seeing that blue stirs something in her. She is ashamed, (what a word! a word she learns the meaning of again at every passing moment), and he is unashamed. Those blue eyes are...

innocent.

And that too is a word she never knew till now and now knows far too will. Before she did not need it because everything was innocent; before innocence surrounded her and was her.

She hesitates, and he sees the apple.

"Eve?"

In real life, by curious coincidence, two sleepers sleepwrithe uneasily in their beds at the same instant.

xd

Note one: I know! The poor, abused apples! But I'm doing it anyway because it's popular culture, yo.

Note two: ...oops? I'm lazy so I wrote extrapolation instead of actual Genesis-shoot-off?

I assume it was after she bit of the stupid thing, but I guess I could be wrong there. Kind of doubt it though - it's not as if she relies on her husband's knowledge, is it?

Also, not sure if it's actually reincarnation or just, I dunno, disassociative personality disorder. wink Glad you're still reading despite my lack of research, general non-canon-appreciative attitude, etc.

Thank you so much!

And yeah, some contest entrees don't allow comments, but I love feedback with a passion that burns, so you know what the hell. xd