The Girl Who Could Not Fly

Once upon a time, God grew lonely in Heaven.  This was back in the days when everything was lush and green, not a flower out of place in Paradise or fruit tainted by winter frost.  Despite all its beauty and his beloved sons, he yearned for a companion, and so he made a girl without wings.  He thought to keep her only to himself.  Even God was young in those days.  He named himself Adam, called her Eve, and everything was good for a time.

Each day, she would watch the birds and sigh, wishing like her brothers, she had wings.  All Eve wanted, she could not reach.  God granted her every wish, but still, she yearned for more.

“Adam,” she said.  “As a child, I fell in love with the stars.  If only you could give me the sun.”

Adam laughed.  “But Eve, our place is the ground, dreaming of what lies above.  It is the way of the world.”

She did not hear him.  “If only you could lend me a pair of the angels’ wings.  I would but for a moment know peace.”

God sighed, relented, and pressed them onto her shoulders, formed from the aether and clouds.

“Do not venture too close, sister, otherwise, the sun shall destroy you,” Adam warned.  For the sun was voracious, and cared little who he burned.

“Yes God,” she said, but like moths too a flame, flew too close.  They say Eve’s fall was like the Morning Star.  “Oh Sun!” she cried.  “Wed me!”  But the sun is an unthinking thing.  It laughed and cast her down, a bruised and broken girl.  As she fell, he smiled.

“What are you?”  Eve howled.  “Who?”

He echoed her call like a bird.  “Who?  Who are you?”

“I am Eve.”

“I am what I am.”

She contemplated this as she fell.  He struck her with his light and impregnated her.

In the cadence, Eve gave birth to the moon.  Women and the children of stars never got along well.

God caught her on impact.  She cried as he gave her a bath.  From the tarry suds rose a kill of crows.  Eve was dying, so he took his heart and placed it in her breast, then donned the blackened wings as his own.  Furious, he cast her out.

“You have cursed us all,” he cried.  “Now, I hath become death, winter will come to the garden, and we will know lives of toil.”

But Eve smiled, for she knew the truth- after all, she had seen the black heart of a star.

“You are eternal, oh God.  You are all that is.”

He was too far gone to reply.

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