Part V.
I gasped awake, choking on a bug as it wedged itself into my windpipe. Only after I spat the critter out did I wish I’d eaten it instead when my empty stomach cramped not a second later.
More pain. Wonderful.
It seemed as though I was still alive. And my hands were still wrapped in vine, but now my shoulders were too, forced back against something big and solid. I wiggled in place, wincing as the rough, brittle texture rubbed against my bare backside.
Where was I now?
I looked up, only to find gnarled limbs in the sky, stretching out far and away from its base. The sight of tangled veins was familiar to me. The same thing existed under the Earth, its roots full of water and soil and worms—deep underground where I’d soon learn the mortals bury their dead.
Everything above ground is underground too. Not all of it is dead. Nor is everything on the surface alive.
I peered across the clearing, just a few yards away. The angel laid on her back, arms outstretched and head in the dirt. She looked dead. Would my high hopes jinx it? Her chest rose then, mouth wide open as she breathed.
Dammit.
She was still alive.
I had to get out of here.
Vine was my third taste of Earth. It didn’t taste very good, mind you. The vine wasn’t as wet or grainy as the soil. And it wasn’t as tasteless as air. It was both crunchy and slimy, like biting into raw muscle. While the taste was much to be desired, I found I didn’t so much mind its texture, and so I chewed and chewed until the vine snapped and I was set free.
My legs wobbled as I stood. I used the sturdy, wooden structure behind me to keep balance. Walking didn’t take as long as it did the first time. One step at a time, I reminded myself. One, slow, terrifying step.
I fell after the fifth step, and as I hit the ground, I banged my knee on something harder than a skull. Before then, I didn’t know anything could be harder than a skull. I picked it up, felt its weight in my hand as I threw it into the air and caught it. It was smooth on one side, rigid on the other. And unlike a skull, it was solid. As a weapon, it was quite primitive, but it would have to do for now.
I slowly crept upon the angel and stood over her. Holding the skull-like weapon over my head, I froze when a voice whispered, Why didn’t she kill you when she had the chance?
Who said that?
I peeked over my shoulder and around the clearing. No one was there. I was still alone.
Raising my weapon, I prepared to crack the angel’s skull.
Really? While she’s sleeping?
Twisting my neck, I practically broke it. “Who’s there?”
She spared you. Why did she spare you?
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
You should spare her.
“What? Why?!”
Because she spared you.
“So?”
So you should spare her.
In the midst of this madness, I could no longer tell which voice was which as we bickered back and forth in my head.
I looked down at the angel again. As she slept, she looked different. Not to the naked eye; no, she appeared the same as she did before. But unconscious and unaware, she seemed to have gained a new innocence about her. I lowered my weapon. She was lucky. The recognition of our shared ignorance was the one thing that kept me from smashing her head in.
“Good riddance, seraph.”
As I fumbled my way through the jungle, I failed to give any forethought as to where I was going or how I would find my way home. At the time, all I cared about was furthering the distance between myself and the angel.
What was the worst that could happen anyway? Besides the harmless beasts of Earth, it seemed as though I was the only living being in these parts.
Mortals were the least of my worries.
They should have been my first.
Four days later…
I opened my eyes to the moist snout of a wild goat.
“You,” I growled.
“Me,” Goat amended, sounding bored.
I scrambled up and winced at the soreness in the back of my head. I felt out the grooves with my fingers, wincing even more at the dent in my skull. I was still alive? This body was way more durable than I’d originally given it credit.
Nausea bubbled up my throat, and I gasped to keep it down. My saliva tasted acidic, sharp with a tinge of rusted metal. I blinked, spots drenching my vision as it blurred against the sunlight and caused a white hot flash to zip through my eyeballs towards my pounding temples.
What was this agony? My brain felt like it was loose in my skull as it rattled around and bounced off the edges.
I clutched my head in my hands and leaned back against the wall. “What the hell happened? Where are we?”
“Look what you did,” the goat muttered, snorting through his snout as he paced back and forth in our limited space. The clacking of his hooves pitter-pattered across the wooden floorboards. Clickety clack, click-clickety clack.
The goat’s trotting made my head dizzy. My stomach bubbled. I groaned, “What I did?”
I closed my eyes and breathed, trying to recall what happened when I last saw that furry face. That arrogant, furry face that thought it was always right. Almighty God, I hated that face. I would’ve plucked that face between its eyes if my world wasn’t currently spinning.
“You abandoned me for the humans—for Chapter,” Goat accused, huffing through his wet snout. “You… you human-wannabe!”
“Good one.”
“Thank you,” the goat said, tilting his chin up.
I could feel myself being inspected, and so I turned away to look out the bars of our cage. A wooden cage. For the first time, I clued in to what existed outside my thumping skull. It appeared we were in a moving crate. It was enclosed and surrounded on each side but one. Our only chance at escape was between the small space of metal bars. Suddenly the wound on my head was way less of a concern than our current predicament.
I looked out at the green fields. Where there was once a village—and outside that village, a deep and ferocious jungle—there was now an endless landscape of rural pastures as far as my human eyes could see. Which wasn’t very far. Meadows flowed into hills, and hills flowed into mountains. The waves of valleys were endless and everlasting, much like the wide open seas and the blue skies above.
“Where….” I rubbed my eyes. Perhaps I was seeing things. Perhaps the angry mob had struck me harder than I thought. “Goat, where are we?”
Goat ignored my inquiry. His pebbled eyes scanned the terrain of my face, more interested in my appearance than in answering my question.
“You look different,” the goat said. “What happened to your eyes? They were once black, were they not? How are they brown?”
“Where are we, Goat?” I repeated, carefully finding my footing as the crate jostled below us.
Again, Goat ignored me. “What happened to your body?”
“Goat—”
“And what happened to your face?”
I wrapped my hands around the cold bars and pulled, expecting the metal to easily bend to my will. It didn’t. I looked at my hands, at the lines in my palms, and clenched my fingers tight. They looked the same. They felt the same. I didn’t know how. Couldn’t explain how. But they were not the same. Despite this fleeting thought, I tried again. I breathed in deep and reached forward, folding my fingers around the bars. I closed my eyes, mustered as much strength as I could in my weakened state, and I pulled, clenching my jaw and scraping my molars. Sweat gathered at my temples from the exertion.
Finally, I stopped struggling to peek over my drooping shoulders. Glumly, I admitted, “A riddler did this to me, okay?”
“A riddler,” the goat said with a laugh. His amusement quickly turned to rage. “A riddler! What did I tell you about Earth magic?”
“Goat—”
“Please don’t tell me you did this for that girl.”
My heart clenched. “I didn’t.”
“For the Crown Jewel then? Its power can’t bring you home.”
“And neither can a riddler, apparently.”
Goat shook his head at me. “Did you listen, at all, to any of the lessons I taught you? Did you?”
I ignored Goat’s huffing and pulled at the bars again, straining and groaning until my muscles popped and my hands stung from the effort. Goat remained silent behind me—didn’t make a sound, didn’t even snort—as I struggled to break free. This went on for another thirty minutes before I finally gave up. I leaned my forehead against the cool, metal bars and closed my eyes to the plush, green utopia just out of reach.
In the sudden stillness, it all came rushing back. The angry mob, with their venomous words and their burning rage; the freaky riddler with all her false promises of cleansing and renewal; and then my wish. Oh, what a beautiful wish I’d made to return home, only to end up an even weaker creature than I’d been at my arrival to this stupid realm.
“Are you finished?” Goat asked. He was curled up in the corner.
I huffed, blinking back tears as I recalled the events from the night prior. “She tricked me, Goat. That yellow-lipped riddler tricked me into making a wish, and it turned me into…into this.” And with that confession, I lost my will to be angry. “You were right, Goat.”
Goat harrumphed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”
I slumped back against the wooden cage. “Earth is a fickle thing,” I said, watching as the world blurred behind my tears, “A fickle thing, indeed.”
Lesson One:
Earth is a fickle thing.
Life didn’t last long on this little blue planet, despite all who depend on its care. The plants often died. The grass wilted. The flowers deteriorated in the dry heat. Everything needed something to survive, and I learned very early on that while I was trapped on the surface of this fickle world, I would need something too, or else I wouldn’t survive for very long.
That thing was called food.
It had only been my second day of life, and already I was failing at surviving it. Oh, how much Earth can change in only two days. Past me would surely laugh at my own naivety.
As I stumbled along, I noticed a hill of little critters and wondered if they were edible. The critters were these tiny red devils with sharp pincers and six legs. I’d never seen anything like it. I’d never seen anything like anything on Earth. All of the monsters were shrunken. All of the beasts were wild. And the mortals were nowhere to be found.
Perhaps I was in the wrong part of the jungle.
My immediate survival came down to a wild goat. I would’ve starved to death if it wasn’t for the little guy. Where I’m from, you don’t need to eat to survive. Where I’m from, there isn’t even any food. On Earth, it’s just about everywhere. Until then, I never understood how mortals died of starvation so often. I’d have to be one to know. Or perhaps a wild goat.
My stomach rumbled furiously, and it rocked me from the inside out—less like a punch in the gut, more like a searing strike of pain in my side. My body was digesting itself as it searched for nourishment from within. My vision blurred as I gazed up into the treetops and uttered the first prayer that ever fell from my lips.
“Mercy,” I groaned, toppling down into the mud. And to my shock, mercy responded. A deep, soothing voice answered my call for salvation. I took comfort in the voice, relishing in its smooth vibrato as it shared a delicious secret with me.
“I know of a place,” the trees called out.
“Hello?” I called back to the jungle. My blurry vision slowly cleared as curiosity overpowered hunger. “Who’s out there?”
“I know of a wonderful place,” the trees continued, “A glorious place where you can eat endlessly without worry. It’s called a farm.”
I salivated. A farm sounded scrumptious. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into one.
“But I would be no guide if I didn’t warn you to beware of humans,” the trees added.
“Hu…mans?” I tested the word out. “What are humans?”
All was still, for a moment—all but for the squeaking of rats at my bare feet. The voice returned in a whisper. “Humans are… well, they’re… see, that’s a tricky one. I mean, just look in a pond or something. You look just like them.”
“Me?” I knew what I looked like. Just this morning, as I drank from a lake, I’d caught my reflection in the gleam of its still waters. Deep umber skin, a sharp-cut jawline, puffy lips, onyx-black irises, and loc’d silver hair that reached my shoulders. I was once considered divine, but now I was just flesh and bone. Perishable. Human.
So that’s what the mortals called themselves.
“Yes, you,” the voice said. “Unless you see any other confused beings in this jungle?”
I looked around. It took me a moment to realize that was a rhetorical question. A mighty roar of laughter fell free from the treetops. I would have been affronted by the clear insult if the Earth’s tantrums hadn’t already struck me down to my humble knees.
“Specifics aside,” the trees carried on, “You should know something about humans before you meet them.”
My mortal need for food was replaced yet again by another hunger. Knowledge. “And what is that?” I asked.
From out of the bushes, a little white creature appeared. He had two curled horns on the top of his head, a pink moist snout, and four legs with shiny black hooves that clacked as he walked across the jungle floor and toward where I stood clutching at my protruding ribcage. I towered over the beast by at least three feet, and staring down with wide eyes, I was amazed at what I saw. Never before had I heard an animal talk. I briefly wondered if this was a bizarre occurrence, if perhaps I should’ve been more worried about my concussion, but the four-legged creature spoke before I had time to properly assess the severity of my brain damage.
“Humans are no-good, dirty fools,” the animal told me as he bowed his furry head to reveal a plump, red fruit pierced to his left horn, “who will do anything for a price.”
This offering felt like a price, ironically enough. But I was starving. And so I took the apple and relished in its juicy nectar, its flavor like light, dirt, and rain, all in one. Much like the soil and the vine and the air, the fruit tasted like the spoils of Earth.
“How do you know so much about humans?” I asked between bites.
The creature smiled, as if he’d been expecting that question. “Because I used to be one. My name is Goat,” the goat said. “And I will teach you all I know about the realm of man. Lesson number one: Earth is a fickle thing, as are its inhabitants.”