The Arsonist of Eden

The Garden of Eden was burning. Or more like, the Garden of Eden had burned. Now it was a smoldering graveyard of ruined roots and rotting fruits. The gold gates were crooked, like torn wings of an angel who couldn’t keep evil at bay. I walked through them, undeterred by the smoke. It coiled around my polished oxfords and wound, snakelike, around the blackened stumps of trees. It seemed to be searching for survivors.

I hummed to myself, thumbs tucked in my suit pockets. The tune to that old children’s song seemed apt in a place like this. Or was it a new children’s song? Hard to keep track of human times.

“Ring around a rosey…”

I stepped on a fallen branch. It crumbled into ash beneath my heel. I’d need to find a shoe shiner after this, wouldn't want to track cinders in the office. Perhaps I could clean it off in the river? I walked toward the sound of running water, except this water was hardly running. It was limping… at best. The stream that had fed the Garden for centuries had turned black and thick, inching its way beneath an old stone bridge that was smeared with soot. The smell of it all was incredible: the world’s biggest campfire. I made a mental note to come back sometime with marshmallows.

Then again, what fun would roasting s’mores be without him?

I rubbed my jaw, realizing I’d forgotten to shave that morning. Too much excitement for that. I crossed the bridge, entering the decimated orchard. Seemed like just last millennium that I was here, strolling beneath trees so green their leaves might have been made of faceted emeralds. The branches had snagged wisps of sunlight between them, casting the shadow of a young, well-dressed man in my wake. As for his shadow… he was too full of light to even have one. It had been one of his most obnoxious features.

Everything reminded me of him: the campfire smell, the crooked gates, the orchard that had been razed to the ground. I searched my pockets for a cigarette. Forget the marshmallows, now I craved smoke. I needed to hold it in my mouth and swallow it and remind myself what flames taste like. I know they’ll say I started the fire to get revenge on them all. He might even believe them. He might believe that I couldn't stomach another look at his golden face and magnificent wings.

But he’d be wrong. I was just doing my job.

“A pocket full of posies…”

My fingers found a stray cigarette, and I squatted beside some embers to light it. I put it to my mouth and inhaled deep and long before continuing the tour of my handiwork.

I’d gotten near the top of the hill, the peak of the Garden. I passed through the rose bushes where a single scarlet blossom had survived the blaze enough to retain its shape. It was especially satisfying to grind the flower to dust in my fist. I straightened, brushing myself off (which only ended up spreading the ash). At least the suit and trousers were dark enough to hide it.

I looked up from my smudged hands to the center of Eden and the heart of the destruction and… a-and…

The cigarette fell from between my lips.

How the Hell?

Standing tall and immaculate in the labyrinth of ashes was a tree. Its trunk was gold, its leaves were smooth. It was untouched. Ripe, fat pears dangled from the branches. Taunting. The pear tree was mesmerizing, beautiful. I knew in a second this was the forbidden tree, the one that had pushed humans to fall, the one that my coworkers and I joked and jeered about, the one that had made me who I am and him… well, kept him lofty and proud. The same angel I’d always known.

But it wasn’t possible, this place wasn’t heaven, it was earth. And everything inside the Garden walls, absolutely everything should have been--

“Ashes, Ashes…”

I gritted my teeth and picked up the cigarette, making sure it was still lit. The tree might as well have been a skyscraper in front of me. I reached up to the lowest branch, to the nearest leaf, and pressed the lit end of the cigarette against it. The gold glow yawned across the leaf just before it burst into flame. I stepped back.

The fire gnashed its lovely teeth against the wood, eating it up until the closest pear was engulfed. It was a war of gold, the flames against the tree. Two fierce beauties battling for dominance. And the fire would win. Fire always wins.

Something plopped onto my head. It rolled down the brim of my fedora and fell freely past my face. A raindrop. The sky showed its own fangs as water poured down. It put out the gentle embers and the golden flame. It drenched the blackened earth and scrubbed the bridge clean. It soaked through my coat and burned my skin hotter than any blaze could. I scrambled backward, fumbling for the only other thing in my pocket - a cellphone.

I punched the buttons, willing it to work before the water drowned out my chances. It rang for an agonizing time as the pear tree stood in front of me, unmarred and basking in the rain that saved its stupid life.

A woman picked up on the other end, and I pressed the phone to my ear. “Boss? We gotta problem.”

I don’t know if she heard me or not before the line went dead. I swore and ran toward the crooked gates, wondering if he would be laughing right now. Or worse, if he’d shed a tear and told me I could have been better.

But he’d be wrong once again, I’d tell him as I stumble through the ashes I created. After all, my dear:

“We all fall down…”