Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Soul (07/13/06)
- TITLE: Alpha
By Helen Paynter
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He stood with arms folded, surveying the scene.
It was good.
The Creator was reclining on a pillow of herbs. Fruit trees stooped over him with exuberant offerings.
At his feet capered a family of lizards. A sleepy anaconda festooned his neck. Twin giraffes flanked him, nibbling his ears. A gibbering monkey swarmed up his leg and began pelting him with betel nuts.
The Creator chuckled. A troupe of butterflies tickled the air around his head.
He laughed. A handful of seed pods exploded nearby, spawning with joy the new generation.
He bellowed. A dozen geysers erupted, startling a pair of snoozing bear cubs.
The angel smiled.
What a plaything the Creator had made for himself. How delightful was this fertile colony of diversity. How endless were the amusements here. How they would entertain the Creator and his angels.
It was good.
The Creator extricated himself from a creeping ivy which had wound itself around his waist. He stood up, shaking off a pair of doves which were preparing to nest on his shoulder.
“I have more work to do.”
The angel drew close, his eyes appreciative. What new delight now?
The Creator stooped and took up a handful of clay soil. The angel watched as he moulded it in his hands; with precision, tenderness even.
Atom bound to atom.
Molecule linked to molecule.
Proteins joined, fused, and made cells.
Cells shuffled themselves into organs.
The creature was magnificent in contour and complexity. Soft and pliable; stony and potent.
It was good.
The angel began to applaud this marvellous creation; the crowning glory of this most extraordinary day.
The Creator stopped him. “Wait, my friend. He is not yet finished.”
He scooped the creature into his arms and bent his ageless back over the inert form. Placing his mouth over the creature’s, he gently blew. A soft long exhalation, gentle as the patient wait of eternity.
“Awake, Adam. My Spirit has inspired you. Live. Breathe. Love. Always you will crave my breath. Your life is your own, but you will find your deepest longings met whenever I return to breathe through your soul.”
The angel furrowed his brow. Love? Your life is your own? What sort of plaything was this, that had the breath of the Creator within it? No angel could claim that honour.
It was not good.
This needed consideration. It must not continue.
Silently he rose into the air. Sullenly he withdrew to the other side of the world. To the shadowed side. Somewhere he could be alone to think.
The Creator watched him go with tears in his eyes.
“Good-bye Lucifer,” he whispered. Then he turned back to Adam. “How costly it will prove, the breath I have given you.”
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