Sins of the Father rewrite

I rewrote "Sins of the Father" for my final project in Intermediate Fiction Writing. Since nearly everything is different, I decided to put it up in case any of you got bored over Christmas break! It's a happier story... but still, not that happy!

Chapter 1

Even now, thirty years later, the memory of receiving the sign reflects onto the mirror of my mind as clearly as if it had just happened. I was five years old and Abel was nearly two, and we were reclining around the low-set table after a meal of goat and lentils, listening to Father’s ursine voice recount the now-familiar story. The firelight flickered against the mud-and-straw walls, reflecting the sadness of Mother’s eyes as she held Abel to her bosom.
“God created the Garden of Eden as a perfect home for your mother and me. He took us out from among the Lazara and set on us the sign to mark us as his own seed, the beginning of a royal priesthood, a people for his own possession, a holy, fair-skinned race among the dark savages. All we had to do was not eat from the Tree of Knowledge.” The nostalgia in his voice melted into bitterness. “But the Lazara became jealous of us, and banished us from the Garden. God gave us this place away from the Lazara for a home and cursed them for their sin. Even now, all who enter the Garden’s sacred realm without the sign are slain by serpents. And one day, the Garden will be ours once more, and the Lazara will be destroyed.”
As if on cue, a presence silently entered the hut behind me. Sensing it, I turned from the table and beheld him for the first time. A shrieking sound filled my ears: I was later told it had come from my own mouth. The figure consumed everything else in my field of vision, and even now my other memories dim as I recall the utter dread that gripped my soul. God-- more appropriately, the incarnated God-Beast-- had the head of a snake, the horns of a goat, the mane of a lion, and the body of a bear. I couldn’t take my eyes off the monstrosity. He stood just inside the door, his head brushing the thatched roof, waiting for my cries to subside.
Bowing to the creature, Mother nevertheless tensed when he finally drew air to speak. A blast of hot, sharp-smelling air filled the tent, and the sound of his voice was how I imagined dragons would sound, if they could talk.
“The hour has come for the firstborn to receive the sign of the serpent.” Stepping over to the fireplace, the God-Beast crouched and thrust his right paw into the hottest part of the flames. The hair melted, the flesh began to sear, and in a moment, his long claws glowed red-hot.
“Let the firstborn son of Adam take his place beside God to receive the sacrament.”
I ran to Mother, thinking that she would protect me as she always had. Yet this time, she held me at arm’s length and whispered, “You can’t deny him, dear child. Do what he says and you’ll be fine. This is a moment you’ll remember the rest of your life.” The encouragement seemed forced, however, and her distressed expression did not match up with her words. Yet I had to go.
I stepped forward, head lowered and visibly shaking. The odor of seared flesh filled my nostrils.
“What is your name, son of Adam?”
“Cain,” I replied in a very small voice.
“Cain, what powers does the Sign of the Serpent impart?”
“The power to enter the Garden and have dominion over every living thing,” I recited.
He firmly clasped my shoulder with his unburned paw. “You have been well-instructed. Now receive the mark.” As he spoke, he raised his charred, smoking paw and touched a glowing claw to my forehead. Then all went black.

Chapter 2

Four years later, the God-Beast returned to give Abel his sign. I watched the entire rite, secure this time in Mother’s arms. The serpent-head took shape on Abel’s forehead, and by the time God had finished his meticulous work, a snake’s body lay slithered down the side of Abel’s face and neck, terminating in a coil on his chest just like mine. Tears dripped onto my hair from Mother’s eyes as she looked at the result.
After a few more years, Abel began to accompany me on secret midnight treks into Lazara territory to explore the land that we planned to reconquer one day. We climbed out of our room’s window after Mother and Father had gone to sleep, shirtless to ensure that the sign would protect us from harm. Our ankle-length calf-skin pants kept us warm and our sandals protected us from hazards underfoot in the darkness. One night, trudging through the forest under a full moon, we found it.
At the time, Abel was entreating me to turn back. “Cain, this is farther than we’ve ever explored. Let’s get back before Father and Mother wake up!”
“Wait, what’s that over there?” I had just glimpsed a large clearing in the direction we were headed.
I took off running towards the open space, unheedful of Abel’s complaints that he couldn’t keep up. Reaching the clearing, I knew at once that it was the Garden. Trees and shrubs of all kinds were planted in concentric circles, and the ground was carpeted with luxuriant forest-green grass. As I surveyed the grove from its border with the forest, Abel by my side, I noticed that the Garden was under siege by encroaching saplings and weeds.
Nearby shrubs began to rustle, and I heard a distinct hiss. Abel said, “Father always said the sign will keep us safe from serpents, right?
I replied, “Yes, but watch your step anyway.”
We began to walk, dodging serpents with every step. As we progressed, a feeling of invincibility began to wash over me. I began to step on the heads of serpents and kick them for sport. Soon, a desire to see the Tree of Knowledge stirred in me, quickly becoming irresistible. Staring longingly towards the center of the Garden, I said, “Let’s find the Tree of Knowledge!”
We made straight for the center of the grove, running past row after row of fruit-laden trees and shrubs. Finally, we neared the hillock in the midst of the Garden where the tree stood like a sentry, lustily proffering its ripe orange tespry fruit.
The smell-- oh, how could I ever forget that smell!-- grew stronger as we approached, pulling us to its very trunk. A soothing, ethereal song seemed to pulse in the air around the tree. I chose the most perfect tespry I could spy, and a somber feeling reminiscent of the one I had when Abel received the sign washed over me. I glanced at Abel to see if he was ready to eat his tespry. He nodded solemnly, and we ate of the fruit.
I only remember the first bite. A moment later, the moon seemed to break through the tree branches and illuminate the Garden with white light. At the same time, the tespry juice began to course through my limbs, empowering me. Yet when I tried to walk, dizziness overtook me and sent me reeling down the hillock, coming to a rest beside a pile of cobras that remained undisturbed. I could hear Abel giggling, and he too was soon on his back. Both of us became mesmerized watching the stars move through the tree branches. Finally, God came and spoke to us, quietly whispering his secrets, the mysteries of the universe.
Somehow, we made it home before daybreak. My memories of the previous night were shrouded in fog, yet both Abel and I knew that we had been changed. Mother and Father soon noticed the change as well. Our appetites grew man-sized overnight, and each of us grew about five palm spans in the months that followed. We quickly became expert hunters and trappers, and I soon matched Father’s ability to harvest the lentils, bitter vetch, emmer wheat, figs, and almonds that grew on our lands.
Later that autumn, after the yearly sacrifice, Abel and I decided to return to the Garden. We snuck out our window again and began to jog silently on the path towards the stream that separated Lazara territory from ours. We made record time; we did not need to take any breaks because we had grown stronger and our sense of pain had dulled since eating the tespry. In fact, I felt everything less: life had become more like a dream than reality. As we finally neared the stream, we spied a boy about my age in nothing but shorts crossing the creek, coming directly toward us. I was shocked, for he had dark brown skin and long black hair. He looked up, his eyes widened, and he slipped on a rock and fell backwards into the water. At that moment, I understood. We had encountered a Lazara.
“Hello,” I greeted reservedly as I slowed to a walk. I was nearly at the creekbank, and Abel had also slowed just behind me.
“Who are you? Where have you come from?” he snapped, once he had regained his footing.
Taken aback by his defensiveness, I replied, “I’m Cain, son of Adam, and this is my brother Abel. We live back there,” I gestured behind me, “about a quarter-day’s walk away. Who are you?”
“My name is Arpeh, son of Joses, son of Hesped, of the tribe of Lazara. I have heard tales of your father Adam: he was once a Lazara. Now, we call him the White Serpent.” He added, “I see that you two are also white like your father, and carry the mark.” Though as wary of us as we were of him, Arpeh seemed willing enough to talk, which was a good start.
Still standing on the bank, I replied, “Yes, the Sign of the Serpent gives us the power to enter the Garden of Eden, which is actually where we’re headed. Would you like to come?”
Fear flashed Arpeh’s eyes. “The Garden is cursed. Many of my people have been killed by the snakes that dwell there.”
“The mark will keep us safe. Anyway, we don’t have much time; would you like to at least run with us for a while?”
After mulling over his options, Arpeh elected to join us, and we took off without further dalliance. Although I kept up, his endurance was impressive, and Abel had to yell at us several times to slow down. After a while, Arpeh admitted to me that he had planned on exploring our land that night. I didn’t hold it against him; after all, Abel and I were doing the same thing on his people’s land.
When we neared the Garden, Arpeh called a halt to the jog.
“This is as far as I dare to go. I hope you find what you are looking for in the Garden. My people will be excited to hear that I met the sons of Adam. We must meet again soon.”
I replied, “That’s a good idea. Let’s meet seven nights from now, back at the stream.”
Nodding, Arpeh turned and was gone. I walked the rest of the way to the Garden with Abel, wondering what exactly it was I had returned to the Garden to find. Inevitably, we found ourselves at the base of the Tree of Knowledge. I ate, yet it took two fruits this time to have the same effect as my first bite. Abel took only a bite or two. Though the God-Beast did not come to us, I saw visions of the future. I saw Arpeh die, I saw Abel’s murder, and I saw my own fate. When I finally awoke, I was screaming.
I remember the long trek home that night, my heart heavy with dread. It was the first of many such nights. The feeling lingered and bled into the following months, never totally leaving me.

Chapter 3

Arpeh, Abel, and I met up again, but we spent nearly the entire time arguing about whether the Lazara were right in banishing Father and Mother from their land. He said, “Your Mother and Father thought they were children of God because they were born with white skin. But other Lazaras have been born with white skin, too. Your parents are just crazy people, and they worship an evil god we rejected years ago.”
He was right about the Lazaras rejecting God. Father and Mother were not yet born when the people decided to replace the God-Beast with another, no doubt weaker, god. According to Father and Mother, this was the reason why they were chosen to start a new race of people.
Furious, I replied, “God is not evil. He’s just angry because you rejected him! If you submit again to him, he’ll probably let you enter the Garden. Would that convince you that he’s not evil?”
I knew this was a lie, that one who entered the Garden without the mark would die. Arpeh replied, “Maybe I’ll try to enter the Garden, just to see if you’re right!”
Part of me wanted to take it back. If Arpeh tried to go into the Garden, he would most surely die. But a bigger part of me was calloused to the Lazara, even Arpeh.
On our return, Abel was completely silent. Finally, I inquired what was bothering him.
He responded, “I just can’t believe you tried to make Arpeh think he could enter the Garden! Just think: if he dies, it’s your fault!”
Suddenly defensive, I lashed out, “Why do you care what happens to a Lazara? They’re not real people anyway! Let him die!”
“You don’t mean that,” Abel said softly. His words burned in the part of me that still felt. I remembered the vision I had of Arpeh and Abel at the Tree of Knowledge, and I wept silently as I walked. I desperately hoped the vision was a lie.

Chapter 4

Father was becoming more and more eager to kill Lazaras and take their land. He could see in my and Abel’s growing power the fulfillment of God’s promise to bring the Lazaras to justice. Apparently, God had come to him in a vision and told him that the time was almost ripe for him to destroy the Lazara and return to the Garden. Every night around the table, he would animatedly describe the plans he had begun laying. The conversation would go something like this:
“First, we’ll wait for the dry season, when everything is ready to go up in smoke. Then we’ll sneak into Lazara City with torches and set fire to their temple and as many homes as we can. We’ll also catch a pack of wolves, nearly starve them, then release them on the Lazara as they rush out of their burning houses. We could come back a few days later and do it again to finish the job. What do you think of that idea, Eve?
Mother: “It sounds dangerous and risky, Adam; but we must do what God tells us to do.”
“That’s just the problem. He hasn’t told me exactly how he wants me to destroy the Lazara. And there are over a thousand people in the City. I’ll keep working on it.”
So it went for weeks, until finally he settled on a complex plan involving torches, foxes, wolves, drums, beehives, honey, and bears. Regrettably, I have forgotten the exact details. We all began work on the preparations, building traps and holding pens and ox-drawn carts and making torches. I was always shocked at Mother’s passive acceptance of such violent schemes. I do recall that the date of the attack was only a week away when Abel and I decided to return to the Garden for good luck-- and a third experience of the tespry.
We had just entered the Garden when I saw it—the body of a boy. Although I had never seen a human corpse, I knew instantly that this one had long since expired. His flesh was rotting and snake-infested and a rancid stench pervaded the air. My worst fears were confirmed as I drew near to glimpse the remains of the face: it was Arpeh. I had foreseen it in my vision.
Abel exclaimed, “What did I tell you? This is all your fault! You should have never told him to come here!” He began to sob as I stood by awkwardly, the fear of the vision returning. I had known this would happen! Why hadn’t I done something? I had just let him die. A fellow human being. An acquaintance. A potential friend.
Confusion, regret, and dread warred within me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it. Blinded with tears, I staggered off towards the tespry tree to clear my muddled emotions. Abel remained behind, grieving. When I reached the tree, I ate ravenously until a dozen tespry cores lay at my feet. The fear within me died, along with everything else. I felt nothing. The God-Beast finally appeared, just as I was turning to go. He was walking towards me, a sneer across his serpentine visage.
The eyes of the beast shone yellow as he spoke, “The tespry tree can do nothing for you now. You have the knowledge of the future; you must now decide what to do with it. You can try to stop Abel’s death or you can run away and hope it doesn’t happen, but you can’t change fate.”
The vision still lingered in my mind, and suddenly it came rushing back. I fought the images, trying to escape the horror. Rage suddenly bubbled up within me from some unknown fount as I thought about how my life had been wrecked by this creature. “You knew all along that this Garden would ruin our lives, didn’t you?! You knew it when you set the mark of your curse upon us! You knew it when you planted this tree all those years ago!” My voice, which had deepened over the preceding months, seemed to echo off the very stars. “Go! I renounce you! You’re the Father of Lies! I renounce this Garden and I renounce the hate of my father!”
A deep laugh issued from the creature’s mouth, becoming more malevolent as it fed on itself. “You wish my visions were lies, but you’ve already seen otherwise! Go ahead, run. Begin your wanderings, cursed son of Adam!”
I fled, tripping over saplings and snakes as I sought to escape my past, my future, and the Garden. Yet it all rushed in around me and smothered me as I ran. His menacing laugh echoed in my head as I fell to the grass in despair, utterly out of breath.

Chapter 5

I had fallen, as providence would have it, on top of Arpeh’s corpse. Yet I awoke to the feeling of being dragged by the arms—by Abel, as it turned out. I smelled like death. Feeling a wetness on my exposed feet, I noticed we were crossing the stream.
“Abel, I’m alright!” I called out. “Let me go.”
Unfortunately, I was unprepared to be let go at that exact moment, and I fell limply into the cold tide with a great splash.
Rather than rising, I let the water rush over my body for what must have been only a moment, but seemed an eternity. The cold sharpened my senses, and the gentle force of the water seemed to wash away the smell of the corpse and my fear of the Beast. I finally rose, and began to run towards home.
“Let’s go, Abel.”
Catching up to me, Abel said, “I’m sorry for dropping you, brother! I thought you meant for me to let you go right then.”
“It’s alright; it really is. Thanks for bringing me this far.”
We ran like we had never run before, side-by-side, following the narrow road that led home. We made it home just as the first rays of dawn lit the skies.

Chapter 6

That very day, Adam took us boar hunting. Wild boars had been killing the sheep and goats, and he wanted to practice his spear-aim before the big attack only six days away. The only things he now talked about were his plans and preparations for the conquest: the bear pens and fox pens were filling up, and we had just captured an entire wolfpack. Even Mother had lent a hand in the preparations, and planned to drive one of the ox-drawn carts.
We were walking across a clearing with spears in our hands, tracking two boars, when Adam brought up the conquest. “In a few days, we’re going to kill a lot of Lazara. Are you boys prepared to do that?”
After the previous night’s experience, both Abel and I knew we could never kill a Lazara. I was about to respond noncommittally-- out of fear of Adam-- when Abel spoke up.
“Father, we can’t kill the Lazara. We’ve met one of them, and he was just like us.” His voice broke, but he continued, his voice growing in emotion. “I can’t go along with any of your plans anymore-- they’re so hateful! Give it up, Father. Let it go. If you must hate to serve God, give him up too.”
I began to back up several paces, searching Adam’s face for a portent of his coming wrath. I saw it in his disbelief. Glancing between me and Abel, he said, “Is this a joke?” Grasping Abel’s right arm, he commanded, “Look at me and tell me right now: are you really going back on your own father?”
“I’m going back on your hate, Father.”
Adam’s face reddened and the veins in his forehead showed through his skin. Clenching his jaw, he looked over at me and asked, “Are you in on this, too?”
I lowered my head for a moment. I knew what was coming.
But this time I acted.
I looked up and quickly said, “Watch out, Abel.” Simultaneously, I raised my spear and flung it towards Adam’s chest.
The spear glanced of his shoulder impotently: he had dodged it just in time. His face was flushed with rage as he drew his knife and slit Abel’s throat in one smooth, swift motion, as if he were sacrificing a goat. Abel grabbed his neck, and the bright arterial lifeblood began to spurt through his fingers, following the body of the snake onto his chest and flowing down his torso. Without a second glance at Abel, Adam focused his wrath on me. I reached for my knife, but before I could draw it, he had flung his spear at my head. My reaction was too slow by a fraction of a second. The sharpened flint tip tore into my forehead and nearly penetrated my skull. Nearly blinded by blood and disoriented, I began to run. I could hear Adam’s heavy footfalls racing to catch me. The will to live and the sharp taste of blood propelled me back across the clearing and through the woods. But Adam kept pace, his disturbing silence broken only by his increasingly heavy breathing. Encouraged, I roused myself to a long burst of speed, and his footfalls finally receded. Though torn by the desire to go back for Abel, I kept running towards home. I knew that he would be dead by the time I returned.
Mother was feeding the wolves when I broke out of the forest into the wheat field. I stumbled across the field, weak and out of breath but calling to her. She ran to me and began to help me towards the house.
“Son, what happened? Did a boar do this to you?”
I could barely bring myself to tell her, but she had to hear it from me. I stopped halfway to the house, still breathing heavily, and looked at her. “Mother,” I said solemnly, “Abel’s dead. Fath-- Adam killed him. Abel told him we weren’t going to help him attack the Lazaras, and he slit his throat. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry, Mother.”
The horror on her face said it all: her worst fears had come true. She removed her arm from me and stepped back, burying her face in her hands. It was the picture of grief. A choked wail of despair issued from her lips. I embraced her and wept as well.
Adam was probably getting very close. I cut short my grieving and asked Mother to come with me. I had to flee: Adam would be ready to tear me apart.
She responded, “Son, I made a vow a long time ago to God and to your father. I can try to change his mind, but I can never leave him.”
I entreated, “Mother, you have to leave! You can’t stay with him! He killed his own son, he may try to kill you!”
Indecision contorted her face as the power that God and Adam held over her wrestled with her instinct of self-preservation. I noticed at that moment that she was with child. She stared off into space, as if listening to a far-off voice, then looked at me, hopelessness in her eyes. She was resigned to her fate.
“Mother, don’t do this! Break the curse and come with me!”
“Go, son. Here, I’ll give you food for your travels.”
I quickly cleaned myself up and packed everything I thought I would need to survive into my leather sack: a bowl, unleavened bread, almonds, dates, a blanket, a wool coat, and an assortment of flint knives.
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“I’ll first warn the Lazaras, then… I’ll go somewhere far away, where I can be free of the curse of the beast.”
“You have his mark on your body, Cain; you’ll never fully escape him. But I hope you find peace.”
“I hope the same for you, Mother, and for your future children. Please, don’t let the curse fall upon them!”
She lowered her head, and with a heavy heart I embraced her and walked out the front door, the first steps of my wanderings.

Chapter 7

I walked for years, wandering towards the rising sun. Avoiding other humans, I slew wild beasts and crossed raging rivers. My beard grew long, my skin became as tough as leather, and my muscles grew as taught as a drum. My forehead healed into a jagged scar that obscured the head of the snake. Sometimes at nights, I heard the voice of the beast, ridiculing me and telling me to end my own life. I had to plug my ears to keep from giving in. My failure to save Abel’s life ate at my spirit.
One day, I climbed a mountain and came across an ancient garden around its summit. Day-old flowers grew among weather-worn, intricately hewn stone walls, and whimsically-shaped shrubs grew at the feet of trees a thousand years old. The greatest of the trees appeared to be a tespry tree, or something very similar. I plucked one of its fruit and tasted it. Immediately, every part of my body seemed to grow a little younger.
On the summit stood a house with walls of marble and precious stones, and primeval vines ascended the walls to form the roof. I climbed the steps leading to the structure and came to a stop at the door. I was about to call out a greeting when I heard the voice of an old man behind me. The lilting sound of his voice was enchanting. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cain. Welcome to Mount Zion.”
I turned to catch a glimpse of the man. He stood clothed in a white robe at the bottom of the steps. His beard was perfectly white and much longer than mine, and his eyes held a type of mirth I had never encountered. I was speechless.
“You’re wondering who I am, of course. I’m what you’ve been seeking, Cain, though you didn’t know it. I brought you here so that--”
“You brought me here?”
“Yes; in fact, I have used everything in your life to bring you here so you would receive the prophesy.”
“What prophesy?”
Smiling, the man ascended the steps. He stood in front of me and placed his soft, wrinkled hands on the top of my head. “Cain, son of Adam, you have eaten of the tree of life. I replace your curse with a blessing: your seed will crush the head of the serpent, and through him, death will be swallowed up in life.”
Though I wanted to stay, the man said I must leave the mountain and find a place to end my wanderings. So that is exactly what I did. I write this from that place, a home of warmth and love within sight of Mount Zion. In the middle of the night, the voice of the beast still sometimes comes and tells me that his curse is still upon me. But I remember my blessing and the tree of life of which I ate, so I simply turn over in my bed and go back to sleep.