And Then There Was Man and Woman
As she retilled the earth, the sound of breaking branches caused her body to tense. She whipped around in time to see Adam stumbling through the bushes, his fingers clutching at bloodied fur. His reddened eyes absorbed the scene before him: Eve, the sharpened stick and what was left of God’s ruined gift. Her shoulders squared, she glared back at him and said, “This earth will no longer bear me any fruits.” Adam closed his eyes against her voice; his heart-beat increasing even after all he saw was her refracted after-image. The beads of sweat were streaming down her dark, bronzed skin, trailing the curves of each rolling hill only to rush off each peak in combined momentum following each breath. She looked like a ripened berry and all he longed to do was bite her head off. “Eve, can you make the fire?” She stared at him with flat, black eyes. Her sharpened tilling stick hit the hardened dirt with a muted thud. “We were created to be their shepherds, Adam. Not their predators,” Eve whispered. A deep rumble sounded in Adam’s chest before he said, “There were a lot of things God intended us to do.” Eve rounded the partially burnt firewood and brown, stiffened grass. She grabbed two rocks that she had found around their makeshift home and began scraping them together. “I am your keeper. However, I never stripped you of your choice,” she said. Sparks flew from the rocks until a small flame ignited and danced on the dead earth.
Candice Horde is a recent Magna Cum Laude graduate of Texas Tech with a dual degree in English: Creative Writing and Technical Communication and Rhetoric with a minor in Chemistry. She currently writes as an entertainment journalist for Entity magazine and a TV critic for Tell-Tale TV.
Read God’s Gift: Thalia, also by Candice Horde