The Weight of the World

The island, serene in its beauty, overlooked the horizon with elegance. Some say you could see, even feel, its presence in the ocean. Sailors and foreign ships often gazed in awe at its presence, not just for its beauty, but for the soothing effect it resonated with their souls through their strenuous travels at sea. Lucky tourists would return home, babbling with excitement about their visits and its sheer uniqueness. As you walked along the shore, the mesmerising waves painted strokes of blue on the sand, like watercolours. The picturesque imagery complemented by the little hermit crabs and their emerald swirl shells, crawling in glee. The golden sun often stood at its zenith, nourishing the exotic greenery that filled the island. Its warm glow enlightens the fragrant citrus groves and tropical blooms, which grow in abundance. The plants seemed to smile, basking in the light as if echoing the moment God said, “Let there be light.” The palm trees swayed in the gentle monsoon breeze—it was the pinnacle of paradise.

But with every turning tide, change was inevitable. Was it fate, or destiny written in the stars? Perhaps every catastrophic event had its reason, its lesson. Something ominous was brewing beneath the surface. The clouds darkened. The breeze became volatile, carrying a deathly presence that transcended, felt by all. Smiles from pretty faces turned into fearful statues. Animals sensed the change. The rabbits scuttled for higher ground. The birds of the sky hawked in alarm, beginning their migrations prematurely, hinting at what was to come. The mere peace and sanctity would be washed away by impending floods of terror and doom. What was about to befall Avril Island would change everything forever.

The island’s anguish commenced. In an intense crescendo of rumble and tectonic shifts, the ominous sounds beneath awakened, unleashing a thunderous roar. Screams, desperate cries echoed around the island. The devil’s symphony. From the mountainous craters that ebbed around the island, the eruption of lava ignited. The burst of fire—a gift from Prometheus, signalled the loss of paradise. The destruction of mankind. Within the ring of fire, the severance of sin and evil, or perhaps the manifestations of prophecies from fallen angels in full fruition. Was Avril the heart of this wrath, born from centuries of evil and meticulous planning? The island, grovelling in the pains of condemnation, now faced its judgement. In this ring of fire, the island was gifted with the fury of an ancient force, long dormant in forbidden caves, now awakened. Vengeance. Even Poseidon joined in unison with the volatility, his waves crashing with fury, flinging rocks of obsidian and granite from the volcanoes. The rush of water broke onto the beach, carrying the volcanic debris. They were alive. Vomiting specks of lava and clouds of ash that surged toward the island like swarms of maggots hunting the crevices of trampled carcasses. The path of destruction followed a route once decorated with vast greenery and exotic exuberance, now stripped of its soul and left to face hell’s fires. The remaining skeletal boughs twisted and glittered like brass coils, lifting their branches to the sky as if their very presence could beat back the darkness and command daylight to fall on their papery leaves. But it was the naivety of nature to believe in the return of light. Helios was long gone.

“Eve, Eve, where are you?” shouted Adam. In his cries, the distant voices of cryptic spirits lingered, whispering. They had overcome the turbulence of the abyss and reached the surface, rejoicing with malevolent glee. She was nowhere to be found, and his eyes blurred in the frenzy of chaos. The smell of ash—or perhaps the burnt flesh, was ever-present. Adam remembered his transgressions. An overwhelming presence of fear engulfed his very soul. The deceit and trickery of the serpent, the taste of the forbidden fruit, the entrapment… It all made sense now. The alchemy of the fallen angel. The opening of hell’s chest—the paradox box effect—all foreseen in its utmost fruition. “Such sweet taste of thy honeyed apples was not worth the pain and loss of my people!” “EVE!” he shouted again in desperation, running, panting, among the crowds as he valiantly climbed the hills of Nod. The burden of his transgressions bore down on him like Sisyphus with his boulder. He was cast away in his thoughts, the macabre environment a backdrop to his afflicted soul. All he wanted was to see his ever-loving Eve, to hear the enchanting nature of her innocent laughter once again, to behold her divinity and beauty as before. To turn the tides of time and find salvation—this was his deepest desire. But the sudden clouds of despair engulfed him, and in that moment, he heard it—the sound, no, the laughter of someone too familiar. Lilith? Her laugh was too recognizable to be ignored, yet she was nowhere to be seen. Was the pit of Hell opening, sending its chief jester to mock him? “Lilith! Come out and face me, you snake, you traitor!” he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. A mocking whisper pierced the air, “Go… see the face of your beloved Eve. Beyond the shadows… into the lair… hahaha”. Her voice sent chills to his spine.

And there, amidst the shadows, Adam saw her. Bewitched at the sight, he fell to his knees, his bleeding heart sinking into the abyss, For what he saw was not mirrored love, but the reflection of his own damnation.