Genesis Orchard : IV : Leviathan

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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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Far into the unknown parts of the ocean…

A ship carried crates of apples from the Genesis Orchard.

Their scent stuck to the deck like rotten perfume.

Sweet. Heavy. Endless.

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The deck was home to sailors and spirits who whispered to one another.

Each counted what the other had in their pockets.

Each felt it twist inside them…

The need.

The pain.

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They said the captain had eaten one of those apples.

That he’s been having strange dreams since…

That he could no longer look anyone in the eye.

Only stare endlessly at the horizon.

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He spoke of a ship made of gold and silver.

A perfect vessel gleaming in the distance.

Amongst the darkest clouds across the sea.

He said it was real. He said it was far greater than his own. 

He said it was the most beautiful merchant ship he had ever seen.

He said it was begging for him to claim it…

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And so, the ship turned toward the storm.

Thunderous waves ripped at the hull.

The wind howled and cried for them to turn back.

But the captain only laughed.

He saw beauty in the lightning.

He saw the shining hull just beyond the rain.

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Below deck, the sailors tore into the crates.

They ate in secret…

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Mouths slick with the juices of the Orchard.

They muttered about each other’s shares.

About pay. About women. About gold.

Their envy boiled until only another’s blood could soothe it.

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The storms became devilish. 

Sailors could not stop their desire for more.

Their envy burned through their throats.

Cravings turned to devouring every bite of apple still to be found.

Even undigested pieces in one’s stomach were clawed and ripped out.

The sailors fed on each other’s corpses for every last bit of rot.

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The sea consumed the ship whole.

The captain reached for the silver and golden ship as it glimmered into the waves.

He smiled as his lungs filled with salt. 

He drowned into the abyss.

Dreaming of what he could’ve had.

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The Genesis Orchard spread around the world.

Sometimes on quiet nights…

crates and barrels still wash ashore.

They smell of apples.

And they taste of rot.

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