Genesis Orchard : I : Lucifer

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Translated excerpt from The Scroll, as preserved by the Traveller.

These words were not meant to be spoken. They were not meant to be written. They were not meant to be read. And yet they are here, and so you will know… 

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What follows is one of the seven visions. I retell it not with the tongue of the scholar, but as I saw it in the dark valley of the tree.

This is an invitation to a Dream of Genesis.

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The Orchard grew only in the mornings. Faster.

Apples redder than gaping wounds. Sweeter than blood.

They would fall quickly and too often.

And when they struck the soil, the soil died.

The mud cried. Muck drenched in blood bubbled like lungs.

The leaves fell and drowned with the apples.

Nothing remained green. Nothing remained alive.

Except the fruit.

It never died. It waited for light…

But then, he rose. Morning Star. Son of Dawn.

Brighter than all others. Higher than the mountains.

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“Ascension. I will sit on the throne.

I will make myself the Most High.”

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His whispers and chants burned into the orchard.

Every Tree of God listened. 

The fall began slowly.

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“Descension. Don’t dare deny me the throne. 

I will make myself the Most High.” 

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The scream thundered the branches.

A fall towards infinity.

Still falling. Still. Falling. Still.

Fallen.

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Cast down into the Orchard.

His light extinguished.

The fruit swelled, sucking in his radiance.

Until the last light, it was welcomed.

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“How have you fallen from heaven, morning star…”

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The next day, the fruits fell again. One by one.

You will fall too.

You will not escape the orchard.

Pride has no end.

Only depth.

Only rot.

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