Chapter Text
I figured if I held my breath long enough and sucked my stomach up under my ribs far enough and powdered my face pale enough and gave myself enough razor burns and plucked the hairs between my eyebrows until my eyes watered and painted my nails girly enough and squeezed my jeans on tight enough and demolished my natural beauty enough I'd be pretty enough - emily curtis, in the absence of the sun
The Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being…
…And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” …
…Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man.
And the Lord God didn’t tell this woman jack-shit.
But Adam told Eve not to eat from the tree regardless, so she kept her distance. She was a helper – she existed to serve, to obey. It was not her place to ask questions or to step out of line. She was created from Adam’s rib; she should be grateful.
So, she helped, she served, she obeyed. Every frustration, every question she had was buried down deep inside of her. She let Adam take whatever he wanted from her.
You are made from my rib, woman. You are the bone of my bones, the flesh of my flesh. Be grateful.
She would smile and she would bite her tongue, and she would spend her days with the animals that the Lord had named. She watched the sun reflect off of the iridescent scales of the fish in the river, watched with curiosity as the bears swooped the beautiful fish up in their claws. She sat for hours watching the different varieties of birds, with brightly coloured feathers, soar above Eden – looping, gliding, going wherever they feel, over the towering garden walls into the great unknown and back again.
Eve didn’t envy them, she told herself. She was happy here.
Perhaps if she said it often enough, it would become the truth.
One day she met a serpent. At first glance, there didn’t appear to be anything special about this particular serpent, but Eve soon found out that this reptile was far more talkative than any of the other creatures that resided in Eden. She didn’t mind – Adam, to be completely honest, was a bit of a bore, so she was grateful to have somebody else to converse with.
Tell me, Eve… The serpent hissed. The reptile in question was curled around Eve’s shoulders, basking in the bright sun. Did God really sssay “You mussst not eat from any tree in the garden”?
Eve ran a finger down the snake’s scaly spine. “No, not quite – Adam said that we can eat from any tree, except for that one.” She gestured towards the tree of knowledge, that was fuller and greater than any other tree in the garden. It grew in the centre of everything else, and no matter where you stood in the garden it was always at least partially visible.
What happensss if you do?
“Well, we die, apparently.”
The serpent hissed a hiss that sounded remarkably similar to a scoff. “Apparently”? Did the Lord tell you thisss?
Eve ducked her head sheepishly. “No, not exactly. The Lord has never spoken to me, only to Adam.” She sighed. “Everything I know is what he has told me.”
The serpent twisted around so that its yellow eyes stared straight into Eve’s green ones.
Not everything. It hissed. There are thingsss you know that the man doesss not.
Eve was about to argue, but with a moment of thought she realised the serpent was right. There were things that Adam hadn’t taught her, things he didn’t know – things that she had learnt from the garden and taught her herself, about the animals and about the plants, and about nature and about life. Sure, Adam knew the sound of God’s voice, but she knew the sound of the babbling brook where the new-born deer drank. She knew the sound of her heart racing as she flew through the trees on the back of a horse with a chestnut-coloured coat.
The Lord forbade Adam from eating from the tree of knowledge, hissed the serpent. The Lord never forbade you from doing ssso.
Eve blinked at the serpent.
“Are you saying that I should eat from it?”
The serpent flicked out it’s tongue.
I’m sssaying you should not let the man dictate your decisssionsss, The snake settled more comfortably around Eve’s shoulders. If it helpsss, I promissse you won’t die if you eat the fruit.
This startled a chuckle out of Eve. “Okay,” she said. “What harm could it do?”
Eve walked towards the tree, the serpent still resting on her shoulders. With a deep breath, she reached up and quickly plucked one of the tree’s ripe fruits from a branch. The serpent hissed encouragingly.
“What are you doing?” Adam’s voice was nothing louder than a whisper, but was so harsh in tone it made Eve flinch. “That’s forbidden.”
“For you.”
“For both of us.”
Eve sighed. And, if the serpent could have rolled its eyes, it would have done. Eve was…. She was tired. She was tired of Eden and it’s great, looming walls that surrounded it. She was tired of only having Adam for company – Adam, who projected his own limitations on to her, who took and took but never listened, who never stopped reminding her that she was made from his rib, that she belonged to him. She was tired of being told what she could and couldn’t do, say, eat. She was tired of this pregnancy – this lifeform that she was carrying had her undying love but my word, it took a lot of her energy. She was tired.
So, without another word, and before she could chicken out, Eve took a bite of the fruit.
It was all rather anticlimactic really – the snake hissed in support and Adam spluttered in panic, but Eve ignored them both as she chewed. It tasted alright. No better than any other fruit in the garden, but not worse either.
How do you feel? hissed the snake.
“The same as I have always felt.” Eve replied. “Adam, will you not try some?” She held out the rest of the fruit to him. He stepped forward hesitantly.
“The Lord prohibited us from tasting it.” he said. “He told me we should die if we were to disobey.” Eve didn’t point out Adam’s lie – that there was no us or we when He declared the fruit to be forbidden. Only Adam existed at that time. Instead, she just spread out her arms and said:
“And yet, here I stand: not dead! Even after having tasted this fruit.”
Adam couldn’t argue with that. With some trepidation, he took the fruit from Eve, and ate the whole thing (minus, of course, the single bite Eve had eaten herself). The effect on Adam was almost instantaneous – he felt a rush of something rush through him, and whatever it was it gave him a headache that throbbed just enough to make him clench his eyes shut. When he opened them, it was not Eve’s expression of concern that caught his eye but rather the bareness of her body – how could she walk around like that? With her chest and her… her private parts on show for anyone to see – does she not have any shame?
“Eve! You’re naked!” Adam hissed.
Eve looked down at her body, then at Adam’s. Adam promptly covered his penis with his hands, and Eve rolled her eyes.
“Yes, well spotted.”
Adam narrows his eyes, before looking around frantically. “We must clothe ourselves, so that we might have dignity.”
Eve did not understand the urgency – they had been naked all this time, why was it only now a problem? Still, she was a wife. She was to do what her husband said. Therefore she and Adam fashioned makeshift clothes out of striking green fig leaves that itched her thighs.
“Cover your chest as well,” demanded Adam.
“Will you cover yours?” Asked Eve.
“No.” Adam shook his head. Eve had many questions she wished to ask about this hypocrisy, but she bit her tongue and covered her chest, concealed her body as shame began to wash over her.
When the Lord arrived, He was furious.
“The serpent – it deceived Eve!” cried Adam in desperation. He tore the serpent away from Eve’s body and tossed it away from them. But despite Adam's excuses, the Lord still punished them.
He punished Adam with painful toil, the serpent with crawling on its belly, and Eve’s punishment was not the pains of childbirth as many believe, (she had always known that this baby she had no choice but to carry would bring her pain, but she believed the life it would bring to be worth it) but was that her husband would rule over her.
But she was already used to that.
So, Eve and Adam were banished from the Garden of Eden. The angel of the Eastern Gate stood on the wall and watched them leave, frowning at the clouds that were gathering overhead.
“I’m sorry,” the angel said politely. “What was it you were saying?”
“I said, that one went down like a lead balloon.” said the serpent. The serpent’s name was Crawly, but she was thinking of changing it.
“Oh, yes, I suppose so.” the angel, whose name was Aziraphale, said nervously.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about, to be honest,” Crawly shook out her wings. “What’s so bad about knowing stuff?”
Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “It must be bad,” she reasoned, “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been involved.”
Crawly grinned.
“Anyway,” Aziraphale continued. “It’s best not to speculate – You can’t second-guess ineffability, I always say. If you do Wrong when you’re told to do Right, you deserve, um, to be punished.” They sat in silence, watching the first raindrops fall down.
Eventually Crawly spoke up, looking at Aziraphale with curious yellow eyes. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”
The angel flushes. “Um,” she said, looking rather guilty.
“You did, didn’t you? It was flaming like anything!” Crawly goaded, humour in her voice.
“Er, well-”
“It looked mighty impressive, I thought.”
“Well, I-”
“Lost it already, have you?”
Aziraphale mumbled something unintelligible.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” said Crawly, craning her head closer to the angel.
“I gave it away!” Aziraphale spurted out, and instantly slapped a hand over her mouth. Crawly’s joy was palpable.
“You what?” Crawly’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open.
Aziraphale squirmed. “I had to, they looked so cold, and she’s expecting,” the angel rubbed her hands together distractedly. “and not to mention the vicious animals and the storm, oh my, so I just figured, where’s the harm, take the sword – don’t bother to thank me – and do yourself a favour and don’t let the sun go down on you here.” She gave Crawly a worried grin.
“That was the best course, don’t you think?”
“You’re an angel,” Crawly drawled sarcastically. “I don’t think it’s actually possible for you to do evil.”
Aziraphale didn’t notice the sarcastic tone and sighed in relief. “Oh, I do hope so. I really do hope so.”
They watched the rain for a while. It was still fairly light, and it was making Aziraphale’s blonde curls go frizzy.
“Funny thing is,” Crawly said after a while. “I keep wondering whether the whole forbidden fruit thing wasn’t the right thing to do. A demon can get in real trouble, doing the right thing.” She nudged the angel with a bony elbow. “Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?”
Aziraphale spluttered for a bit. “No! No, that wouldn’t be funny at all.”
Crawly looked up at the rain, feeling it run down her face.
“No,” she said, sobering up. “No, I suppose not.”