From Shamayim To Eden, Part 1

“What is this? Where am I? Am I imagining things? Am I imagined? Am I? What am I? Who am I? I am?

The creation, clad all in red, inspired. The first time he had felt such as foreign sensation. As if he had awoken from a deep dream, a memory of another place present with him. And now, something was coming into him that he knew he needed, but did not know why.

The other place, though that colored his understanding, was that home? It was a city he, or something within him, remembered. It was clad in living clarity, something that took the brilliance compassing the city, yet forming also the heart of the city, and split that brilliant white that was already infinitely colorful and flecked with the hidden-and-also-reveled tones into fully reveled-and-seperated secrets of crimson, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, pure sinngular tones, not intermingled one with another: Was that substance crystalline? Somewhat.


Cubic, but something deeper. Triply cubic?

It was more than cubic, and infinitely durable, enduring, and radiating.

This combined with other things: black, green, hazel, violet, and based on aural pavement rooted in crimson tones.

That memory was not part of what he was now experiencing. No. This felt like a different thing. A different place altogether.

Now, hearing and feeling the sensation of his own inspiration, the creature exhaled. And being, he opened his eyes and looked up from where he lay.

Was that lapiz lazuli he saw? It certainly looked like the stone from his home. But it was not nearly as….solid. It was a space, a genuinely open space above. Moreover, it overflowed with many other things. Not stones.

Wukwukwukwuk–JayJay—ReeRe—-Caw! Caw!

“What were those things, and what was that racket? Why am I hearing these things I have never heard before?”, thought the Creation.


The diminutive thing that looked of a kind with all the other creatures in the azure space above him passed near him and stopped, but didn’t.

The overhead creature, stayed as still it could, and yet, parts of it were moving so quickly, they were creating a sound on their own. Also, those parts were breaking apart the light he once knew from home, the way the hard stone of his city did with the Light of the city, into its six hues. While this was happening, the hovering thing moved yet closer, studied him for a moment. Was it floating? No, floating was what those white things in the azure space did. This was….

“Hovering”, the creation thought to himself.

The small, hovering creature moved so close with a protruding segment of its body that the creation, who was still on the ground, thought it might touch him with this segment. Then the thing did something he did not expect.

It stopped flapping and landed on his face, on the tip of his….nose? He felt eight very tiny pricks in the end of his nose. The thing cocked its head at him and with one eye, studied him for a moment. And the creation noticed a few things. This tiny creature, on some places of its body, shimmered like his home. Around the throat a red area like a ruby, while the back was like an emerald. The underside, however, did not shimmer, and it was a hue of drab gray-white. The eyes were unusually black and beady, with a touch of something not as dark as black.

“Brown”, said a voice, deep and enchanting, while simultaneously fearsome and good.

“That touch of something that is not quite black is brown. Remarkable creature, this flying thing. And that blue space above Us that looks like the lapizes from home is the Shamayim, my son. And that light is the Shemesh.”

The light emanating from the Shemesh in the Shamayim surrounded the outline of a image, equally red. Or was it white? Red with white, like something he had yet seen with his own vision from a distant memory and a luminescent, yet at the moment a shadow fell upon the creation’s face.

It was not something, it was someone. Someone like the creation. An older man.

And immediately, the creation knew. This was the Creator. The Father.

“My Father!”, he exclaimed.

“Hello, Adamah, my son”, replied the Father.

Adamah sat upright from the place whence he had lain. The Father had been on his knees, bent over Adamah, the knees of his robes covered in the dirt, yet not dirty. This connection with the dry land was the most natural thing to the Father. His eyes danced, and his voice at once sang and spoke with tenderness, sobriety, warmth, affection, and joy, coupled with depth of insight, knowledge and understanding. It was clothed and whole with nothing broken or missing. It was further complete in the way it spoke.

“Did I just awaken from a dream, Father?,” queried Adamah.

“No, my son. You have transitioned to this place. This is your new reality for the current season. We have had a situation at home and now we have some work to do. So follow Me, and we shall journey to the place I have prepared for you. And I will tell you when we arrive there.”

As Adamah stood from his place on the ground, he noticed everything felt different. Something had changed in Father’s voice. There was an urgency, and joy mixed with…

“Father, what happened?”

“Not yet, my Son.”

“Father, whatever it is, I am sorry it happened.”

The Old Man, who was walking alongside Adamah, turned to Him and embraced Him.

“My Son, there is much we will have to discuss, but for now, know that I adore you, and am grateful I can talk with you about what lies ahead, and at some point, we will discuss what happened before. But for now, things will get difficult, because you have to be ready…”

“Ready for what, Father?”

“You will know when it happens, Adamah. For now, let us focus on what we must do to get there….”

“Where, Father…”


Thus the two of them began their journey…

{to be continued}

Fiction Prompt, Using My Son's Vocab Words From Spelling Class

I was mowing my lawn when I heard the brazen crack of a Roman Candle report.  My dog, TeeJay, had told me he was wanting to play with some of my choicest toys, in the interest of exploration with matters of inertia and velocity.  I took it to understand that he was referring to my Nerf Guns, but did not think he meant my fireworks.
Leaving the lawnmower in the front yard, I raced around to the back yard, and saw TeeJay and Samantha playing with my Zippo and fireworks.  There was a partial length of 3/4′ EMT conduit which they had negotiated into the ground about six inches.
TeeJay had assured me there would be no harm in he and Samantha’s time together, though I had some reservations, and so I reluctantly agreed, against any misgivings or reservations.
The problem is, I was not sure if canines playing with explosives were insured under my Homeowner’s Policy with State Farm.  I further did not know the potential of dogs left to their own devices.  Of course, given my desires to set everyone I know up to succeed and not fail, I was not aware of the magnitude of the canine mischief quotient.
The interrobang was my idea at the end of that exclamatory remark.
“Ummmm… it a new invention of mine, master. I was hoping you would appreciate my thinking outside of the box of what can be done with gunpowder.”
Samantha’s face was mildly charred from the ash that blew back from the explosion.
“I can see that, sir,” I replied, “but you nearly gave your sister a full facial with your new invention.”
Noticing a hint of color underneath him, I reached to pick it up, and pulled out a full brochure for the Fort Mill Canine Pytrotechnic Association’s Annual Barn-Burner.  Smelling hints of patchouli and sulphur, I realized that he and Samantha had snuck out that night from the new dog houses we had built them a few days ago.  TeeJay had begun to grow adept at working with all forms of machinery since he and Samantha had just completed obedience school in Miami with our friend, Emma Golden-Benjamin.  The information on the brochure had mentioned Emma’s name, and things her organization had done to empower dogkind to provide a greater social presence, and also contained a great deal of language on how the sundry canine species could garner further appreciation from humanity while also negotiating the culture of shame that has traditionally marked the relationship between man and beast.
Given TeeJay’s and Samantha’s curiosities had been sufficiently nourished by this aspiring and dubiously-reputable organization, with much chagrin, I graciously communicated to them how we could best create a win/win to engage their newfound affinity in a safe manner.
To this judgment of mine they politely averred and covenanted to no more carry on pyrotechnic hobbies behind my back.
I concluded my lecture of my dogs by congratulating them on such a noble thing which they accomplished.