I will tell you of the end.
Of mankind's collective last breath, brought forth by forces they could never conceive.
Of a moment not filled with despair and desperation, not of pain and hopelessness, but relief.
Relief that it hadn't come of their own doing.
Relief that He would finally make a move.
For all but one who walked the land.
For all but His greatest failure.
I will tell you of a human.
A boy, with silver locks and ruby eyes.
Who threw away everything and wandered the land.
A boy who was not told to do such a thing.
Who was not made to do such a thing.
Who went against His wishes not once, but twice.
I will tell you of a sinner.
Of a hopeless world, doomed to itself.
Of holding out hope, for normalcy to return.
Of a mistake that I could not fix.
I will tell you of my brother.
— — —
In the beginning, there was a garden.
A grassy, empty garden.
At the center of which was a hill.
Atop the hill, a house.
And before the house, us.
Two kids playing without a care.
When we got hungry, Father made us food.
When we ran out of things to play with, Father made us more toys.
When we got bored of the scenery, Father planted more things in the garden.
We truly had no care in the world.
We had no need for such a thing.
— — —
You trudged on through the flowers, each footstep accompanied by the crunch of pedals, leaves, roots, and who knows what else. It didn't matter to you. Even if what was crunching underfoot were those you tried so hard to connect with, you kept going.
Was it desperation? A last-ditch effort to do something and make up for all those times that you didn't?
Did you think it was noble? The way you scrambled about in desperation, trying to save those who never needed saving?
That somehow, once it was all over, you'd find what you were looking for?
Did you even know what you were looking for?
You always clung to superficial things.
Even though they were always going to disappear, even though nothing would stay with you in the end…
You kept it up.
You made new ones.
But that's not possible now.
Whatever it was that kept you going, it's gone now.
So why do you keep going?
What do you still see before you?
That endless expanse of flowers that turned your once-colorful world a single shade of red…
What is there left to look for?
— — —
When we were kids, my twin brother watched as I planted a tree in the garden.
"What's that one?" He asked.
"A 'tree.' Father told me to make it."
"He asked you to? He didn't make it?"
"Nope! This is a me original." I stood proudly after patting the dirt down around its roots. "It's supposed to grow up big and strong, he said."
"Won't it fall over?"
"That's what the roots are for, silly."
"How big will it get?"
I smiled and spread my arms wide as if to cover the whole sky, "thiiiiiiis big!"
"Woah…"
"I know, right?" I laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Doesn't Father just come up with the craziest things?"
He nodded, still looking up as if envisioning the tree in its full glory.
"Hey, Eno," I waved a hand in front of his face.
"What?"
"What do you think it's like being Father?"
"Being… Father?"
"Yeah, like being able to make all that stuff! He even made us, you know?"
"I don't know…" My brother looked down at his hands, disappointed. "I can't even make a weed."
"I'm sure Father wanted you to do something else," I said proudly. "After all, I can already make stuff, maybe he wanted you to be my idea person?"
"But Father does it all on his own, doesn't he?"
"I'm sure he thinks it's tiring, doing it all by himself." I nodded, my reasoning sound. "That's why he gave me you!"
"I don't know…" He looked around, as if searching for Father to affirm what I was saying.
I cupped my hands around his face and turned him towards me.
"Eno," I said.
"What?"
"Won't you stay by my side forever?"
— — —
How did it feel?
Waking up that day and watching the vines come up through the ground?
Seeing every inch of the city you once called home be consumed by an endless sea of red?
Running in desperation to try to keep the few that you cared about from being taken?
You knew a day like this would come, you'd probably run it through your head a million times.
How would He decide to end things? That was a question that never could've left your mind.
After all, the only thing that remains constant in that world is the end.
The knowledge that everything and everyone will come to an end.
All you could do was hope. Pray that you'd be taken with them in their final moments, that maybe you'd finally be forgiven at the end of your journey.
But you were never asked to go on that journey.
You could do nothing but bear witness to His plan for the world.
Just like how you always have.
But at least now you never will have to again.
Let that be what sets your mind at peace as you climb through the ruins of the city you once called home.
As you dig through the rubble and cut through the roots at every little noise in your desperate attempts to find one last connection.
Ironic, isn't it?
When you've long since abandoned the only one who could have given you what you wanted.
— — —
"Do you think we'll ever get to go outside?" I asked my brother.
"This is outside," He replied, knowing full well what I meant.
I rolled my eyes and turned towards him, laying on the grass beside me.
"Don't give me that look," he said, not even bothering to check what look I was giving him. "You know how it is. Father doesn't like it when we get close to the gates."
"But what do you think's out there that he wants to keep out so badly? Surely it's nothing that we can't han—"
"That you can't handle," He cut me off, waving his arm in the air.
"En—"
"Don't comfort me, I'm used to it."
I let out a sigh and turned my gaze back towards the sky.
A couple minutes pass, with nothing but the sound of rustling leaves to fill the silence.
"How different would things be if our places were swapped?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"If you could do all the things I can, instead." I turned to face him again. "Would you be thinking the same things?"
My brother sat up, wind blowing strands of his long, silvery hair into his face. He made no move to brush them aside.
"Who knows what's going on in your head?" He finally said after a very long second. "I don't think I could ever match that, even with the same blessings."
I sat there for a moment, processing his words.
"Did you just insult me with a compliment?"
"You took it as a compliment?"
I rolled away from him, down the hill that housed the tree and into the sun. His poorly restrained laughter followed me down.
"Stupid," I muttered.
"You have a point though," My brother didn't bother speaking any louder, and his voice barely reached me. "What really is out there?"
— — —
Curiosity killed the cat, they always said.
Of all the sayings that humans have come up with, I understood that one the best.
After all, you and I have experienced it firsthand.
Curiosity was something that we were created with, yet weren't supposed to use when it came down to it.
In that way, I guess we're similar to them.
Even now, you've made your way onto a path amidst all the flowering vines that covered every inch of the terrain.
Why would there be a path there? I guess only He knows.
Buildings still stood, torn apart yet held together by plant life. You'll glance through the occasional window to see silhouettes frozen in time, seemingly still going about their daily lives.
See, even now, you're still dancing in the palm of His hand.
You tried to escape, that's for sure. Over and over again you tried to convince yourself that your punishment was no punishment, that your curse was a blessing.
But you could never fully believe that, could you?
How many times did you watch them leave? How many times did you have to leave?
How many times did you grieve alone, with no-one to understand your pain?
How many times did you stand right back up and do it all over again?
Even now, as you walk along that path.
As you come across each and every vaguely human-shaped mass still standing among the roots.
Masses of vines with flowers blooming from every inch of their once lively frames, their "faces" cast towards the sky.
Not a single one of them tried to run.
Not a single one of them tried to hide
Not a single one of them tried to survive.
Even as you continue past them with no more than a glance, you know exactly what they looked like as they faced the end.
And with each one, your expression grows more sour.
Humans were supposed to laugh in the face of adversity, cry in the face of pain, and fight for every precious breath they could squeeze out of their lives.
And yet… Even that belief of yours was untrue.
Did any of it matter, then? If even those you spent so long trying to understand were mere puppets controlled by His fingers, unable to act freely in the last moments where it no longer mattered, did any of it mean anything?
You were right, you know?
You shouldn't have kept trying to prove yourself wrong.
— — —
"That fruit," I pointed out one day.
"What about it?" My brother asked, noting the large, golden fruit hanging from one of the branches of our favorite tree.
"Was that there before?"
"How bored do you have to be to keep track of the fruits on a tree?"
"This is the tree, though?"
"Still just a tree."
"You're mean," I punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"What about the fruit?"
"Oh, so you do care."
"I care that you care, what about it?"
I looked up at the fruit again, reflecting the sun's rays in such a way that it seemed to radiate them.
"I kinda want to try it," I said.
"Didn't Father tell us not to eat the stuff from the garden?"
"Father's not here right now."
"Father's always here."
I looked around in an exaggerated fashion.
"You know what I meant," he rolled his eyes. "Just grab it then?"
I reached for the fruit, pathetically grabbing at air as my hand doesn't come even halfway to being able to touch it.
"Why did Father make you so short?"
"Why did Father make me so short?"
I looked at him.
"Hey, you said it."
"You said it too."
My brother sighed and got down on one knee.
"Here, get on my shoulders."
— — —
Sometimes I wonder if we're also just pawns in His game.
Little puppets He leads around on a string, dancing to a tune we can't hear.
We've always been different, but actors who don't step out onto the stage are still actors.
You've thought about it too, right?
There's no way you haven't, with how long you've been watching it all play out.
All that time you spent with them, did you ever meet one that could go against His plan?
Was that what you were trying to find?
I guess we never knew if He even had a plan.
But now, with the sun glowing a shade of red you'd never seen before, the world blooming with the sickly smell of a plant you've never smelt before, and all the pieces have been shaken off the board…
It's hard to tell if any of it meant anything at all, right?
They thought a lot about Him, every generation with a new idea of what His plan looked like.
They were curious. About Him, about themselves, and about what comes after the end.
They thought that those who had done wrong would be cast into eternal punishment, and those who did right would be rewarded with eternal bliss.
Yet now as you walk along that endless path between twin seas of red and green, you see that they had all been met with the same fate.
No winged figures came down to retrieve the good, and no horned monsters arose to condemn the evil.
They all returned to the earth, as if they never existed in the first place.
With nobody to remember them, and nothing to show for their existence.
No-one is rewarded, and no-one faces punishment. No-one has.
No-one… Except maybe two.
But which received the punishment, and which the reward?
I wonder, what did it taste like?
— — —
I sat across from my brother, a crackling campfire between us. He laid flat on his back, silently connecting the stars in the sky with a finger.
"Brother," I said.
"Sister," he replied.
"What do you think it would be like to live forever?"
"Terrible, I'd imagine."
"Terrible?"
"Watching everything and everyone around you, your friends and family, grow up, grow old, die, all without you?"
I turned my own eyes towards the sky, following his finger. "But would the happiness of making an infinite amount more not outweigh that pain?"
"You'll always be alone when the pain comes. And I'd imagine the more happiness you feel in the moment, the worse it will be."
"You're such a downer, you know that?"
"I'm just realistic," you said, lowering your hand and turning towards me. "Why would I want to live in a world without you?"
— — —
Aren't you tired yet?
There's just flowers to either horizon, with no end to the path in sight. The skyscrapers of the city and homes of the suburbs were long behind you.
Surely you can't just be walking for the sake of it, right?
It's clear that He wants you to go this way, so why do you?
Why do you, even though you never seemed to respect His wishes before?
Is this it, then?
Are you, too, just dancing along to his tune?
Has all this time we've spent apart only served to prove that to us?
Do you know what you're doing, or have you given up?
What is it that you want to reach so badly?
…
Why…
Why are the Gates appearing before you now?
— — —
"Gen, stop!" My brother held my wrist, keeping me from running away. "Father said to not eat that!"
"But you helped me get it down, didn't you?" I asked, straining to pull my arm away from him. "Why do you care about what Father says now?"
"Okay, I don't think you should."
"Why not?" I managed to free my wrist, pulling away from him. "Why do you always get to tell me what to do?"
"I—"
"Give me one good reason to not take a bite of this right now."
"I…"
"You can't," I felt a triumphant smile creep onto my face as my heart pounded its way into my throat. It was getting hard to speak. "You can't, because there never was a reason."
"Father—"
"Father this, Father that, screw what Father thinks!"
My brother looked at me with wide eyes. My head was pounding, my vision was blurring at the edges. I hoped I didn't look as ridiculous as I felt, but I couldn't stop myself anymore.
"Why do you always listen to Him?" I choked out. "What about what I think? What I want?"
"Gen…"
"Fuck you," It was hard to stand. I fell back against the rough bark of my favorite tree in the garden. "Why do you always have to be right?"
I held the fruit up to my mouth, and threatened to bite into it.
"Gen!"
The next thing I knew, I was on the ground and my brother was holding me down with his own weight. My side hurt from where he'd crashed into me, and he'd pinned my arms above my head with his left hand.
"So that's how it is?" I could still feel my heart pounding away, but the pain of him tackling me to the ground cleared up my head a little. "You're taking His side again?"
My brother sat there for a moment, his breathing ragged. He met my eyes and without a word, he brought his right hand up to his mouth…
And golden tears dripped down the once-perfect face of the fruit.
— — —
I stand in silence as I watch the Gates swing open.
You step through, and they shut once again behind you.
Our eyes meet, and a look of relief comes across your face.
How dare you look at me like that.
"Why are you back, Enoch?" I ask.
"What happened to 'brother,' Genesis?"
"You are not my brother."
"Are too. Have you gotten taller?" You got closer, your eyes stalling for a moment on the two protrusions from my back. "Those are new."
"And you haven't changed a bit."
"Yeah, that was kinda the point…"
"The point of what?"
"Beats me," you shrug. "God only knows, y'know?"
"Is that what you've been telling yourself?"
"What?"
"Have you been around those puppets so long that you can't help but think the way they do? To pin everything that you don't understand on Him and move on in ignorance?"
"Gen—"
"Don't call me that."
"They're not puppets, Gen."
"And how long do you plan to delude yourself that way?"
"As long as you, you." You fire back.
"I've seen everything that they do. Like nothing but animals, they live meaningless lives and die meaningless deaths. All of their attempts at giving themselves meaning have been worthless. What could you possibly know that I—"
"Them, Gen." You cut me off. "I've known them. Walked alongside them. I've seen it all from their eyes."
"Good for you, then. I'm sure He would be proud."
"Don't bring Father into this."
"Why not? You seem to love playing right into His hands so much."
"What is that supposed to—"
"You didn't keep your promise, Eno."
You froze. Of course you did.
"All those friends you made, all those people you loved, you left me here. Alone."
"I never wanted to—"
"But you did. You left and didn't even care to look back"
"I couldn't," you protest. "I couldn't get back even if I wanted to."
"Did you even try? Did you even check if He locked the gates when he cast you out?"
"Why would he…" Your eyes widen. You hadn't even thought about it that way?
I scoff and turn around.
"You should've died alongside those humans you adored so much."
"Yeah?" The tone in your voice is surprising. I never thought I'd hear you sound like that. "Maybe that would've been for the better, but that's not what happened, is it? Who are you to act all pissed-off when you didn't care enough to follow me?"
"He got rid of the fruit, how was I going to—"
"You made that tree."
It's my turn to freeze up.
"And even if you couldn't have made another, the gates were right there."
"I could say—"
"Except you can't. Because I never saw them again after that day, yet you had access to them whenever you wanted. What was Father going to do, throw you out for leaving?"
"Who was going to be here for Him if I did?"
"He didn't need that, and He never did. Was He ever even here for you?"
"I—" I searched for my voice, but it had hidden itself in a dark corner of my throat.
You took a step back, that smile of yours quick to return.
"Well, I guess I never looked for them all that hard, either."
Damn you.
Why do you always know exactly what to say to break down these walls?
To bust right through the dam I'd spent so long building?
Wasn't it pathetic?
For that majestic, winged figure to be so small in your arms?
"Fuck you," was all I could manage.