Ch. 6: The Edge of Eden

That child… a copy of me.
Blind with meaning. Overflowing with humanity—yet stolen from reality.
Created in greed, in solitude. Born from the same original sin.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The poet lay motionless—became stone. No blood. No bones. No skin.
It was as if the humanity he sought had taken everything organic—his lineage ripped away.
The world collapsed around him. This metamorphosis was heresy. Forbidden knowledge. Not meant for me to witness.
Stripped away from the audience.
All I bring is misfortune.
I am the Messiah of Misfortune. Blood stains my hands, crucified by thoughts of redemption.
I came for repentance. To retrieve what made me human. But it seems I can’t even sustain life.
His face twisted in anguish, in despair—a poor beggar’s fate. Treated cruelly.
And yet, the doll was too human. He saw her as an angel, not a person.
Deluded by power, the hierarchy overflowed with false essence and counterfeit consequence.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The boy reached out, touching the statue.
“Father? Is that you? You feel different.”
His metal visor clicked against the stone. His mechanical legs scraped the floor.
“I’m ready… for more work.”
He saw no new world. He was simply blind.
“I swear it doesn’t hurt. Make me human.”
Tears welled in my eyes. Misfortune had touched their family.
I had poisoned their bond. His visions were of me. OF ME.
I am the curse.
I took a step forward, the floor groaning under my weight.
“Who’s there? Father?”
I couldn’t answer. Only whispered,
“Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I grabbed the rope and fled the shack.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

For a moment, I remembered the silence—the calm of space, its nonjudgmental void.
How I floated without thought, how nothing mattered.
But now I was a stain. A dark spot. The cold void spreading, eating at others.
Is this what humanity means? Imbalance in harmony?
A soft whistling floated from behind the shack.
Not bird-like. Woman-like. Mother-like.
I followed the sound, ignoring the screams from the broken window.
Blinded by ignorance, I only wanted the dark nothingness again.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

I crossed a bridge, tall sharp plants brushing my skin.
A swamp followed, thick with fog.
Before me stood a white, ghostly figure—a mother, whistling as she rocked a cradle.
It was calming. Like my misfortune might be cured. Killed off.
A simple sign read:
Morrowmire — DO NOT ENTER
But it was exactly where I had to go.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The fog. The trees. The ground. Dense.
Sight, touch—even breathing—was difficult.
It felt like I was trapped again—not in metal, but in an organic cocoon.
Then fireflies gathered outside the trees, blinding everything.
Every sense felt fake.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

I saw the family again. The dog. The children. The wife. The man. But they were distant.
It was as if my desires had come to life.
I reached out. He reached out. Our hands touched, like mimes.
The golden retriever barked. The children played tag. The wife smiled.
But I heard weeping.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

A little girl stood there. Red and black umbrella. Dressed in red.
“They’re all going to die.”
I stared, horrified.
“Who?”
She pointed at everyone.
“You wanted to know what the metamorphosis is?”
She hugged a teddy bear tightly.
“It’s death. You’re all sacrifices… for me.”
Two parental figures stepped forward.
“Come now.”
She dropped the teddy bear into the mud. I reached to pick it up.
Then I looked back—
It was death.
Bodies turned to metal statues. Like those from the cursed planet Earth.
I gripped the teddy bear and ran.
Ran from everything.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

Flashes of warfare.
Soldiers dying.
Medics saving lives.
Is this the balance I wanted?
My desire—to stop being ignorant—
Flashes of a farmer, a battlefield, a girl.
STOP.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

I won’t be your slave. Your poet.
I won’t be nobody. Your villain.
But if I must—
“Repent, you say?
For my sins, I crucify myself.”

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

Everything cleared.
The eye of the storm.
No more war.
No more death.
Only a tree.
A rope.
A slipknot.

I look at my hand. The rope from the poet—gone. I drop the teddy bear.
Simply, I walk up… to repent for my sins.
Let me see Eden once more. Take my original sin from my corpse when I’m done.
I stand there on a rock. The rope hangs before me. Behind me—a cliff, the blue moonlight glowing off exposed skin.
I look forward.
She stands there. Teddy bear in hand… crying.
She says it again—
“They all die. Death. Because I am. I am. I am what I am.”
I fit the rope over my head…
I spit out words:
“If I am to repent for others… how can I, if I can’t repent for my own bones?
You’d know that more than anyone.”
I jump.
It turns black.
For a second.
Then—nothing.
I’m on the ground. Lying on a mound of statue corpses.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

Their stone hands clawed at me. I pushed back. So much death.
Death. Death. Death.
It’s the only thing—
“Hey mister…”
Something crawls up my metal back. Onto my face.
It’s a fox. We’re looking eye to eye. I flick him off.
“Sorry—got a little close there. But would’ya look at that—you got emotions!”
I stare in disbelief.
A gold fox. One… two… three… eight tails.
“You counted my tails! I had nine, till some bitch stole it.”
He blinks twice.
“Did you know you’re completely burnt?”
He smirks—
“And you wanted to ‘repent’ for everything? Ain’t that kinda cowardly? I’m not one to talk…”
He circles and lays down—
“But someone was thinking up some commotion over here. Ya think this would help?”
He spits out a rope.
I blurt, surprised—
“That’s my rope! How could you possibly…”
The fox laughs.
“I’m a thief. Usually from dead men. But I think of it the same—you seemed harmless. Didn’t even want to be here.”
This young fox… his witty attitude. So unique.
He grins again.
“Mister, ain’t you gonna talk?”
He panics slightly.
“Don’t tell me you’re brain dead already…”
I mutter,
“No… It’s just… everything felt so surreal. Nightmare-ish…”
The fox goes braindead, tongue out.
“Did you see yourself? Oh wait… I’m not burnt.
You talk of sadness—but can’t see kindness in the world. Maybe that’s how you were raised…
but could ya live a little?”
I glance around at the corpses. Trees spurting blue bark. Glowing fireflies.
“No… look at me… I’m real.”
With tired eyes, I stretch out my arm. I pet the fox.
He looks back, grinning.
Then starts laughing—
Like bubbles rising.
I do the unthinkable.
I laugh atop a mound of corpses.

— ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ —

The water is dark—ink… Xalume. Blood of generations—undried.
The statues are of so many past lives. Echoes of earlier evolutions. It’s cold.
But this fox…
“I know… metal man. Just stay warm—you should be better at that than anyone.
I mean, look at you! You’ve let so many tell you how to live the ideal life.
I see it in your eyes. But define the ideal—it’s subjective, ain’t it?”
I keep laughing.
Because he’s right.
The poet… Everything did seem narcissistic.
But that doesn’t mean… that my sadness…
Means I can’t live a little.
He was right about everything.
But he couldn’t control it. Couldn’t live.
He was an extremist of pity. An extremist a blind man could follow.
I was so blind.
My laughter turns to tears. I pound my metal chest.
The fox grins proudly.
“I’m Enmu. A kitsune! A master of illusion.
Any day I could see you’d been manipulated. Count on it… count on me.”
I glance at his missing tail.
“Where’s your other one? Aren’t you supposed to have nine?”
He stares. Then, quietly:
“Don’t ya know?
Us kitsune have a hefty market price. Especially the tails.
Poachers wander in here, desperate. Ignoring the signs.
I was blind—just a cub.
He picked me up and cut my tail clean off.
But I bit his hand and got away.
I don’t really trust anyone anymore.”
He smirks—
“Sorry. I’m used to it now… these corpses. Statues.
If I couldn’t laugh…
If I couldn’t filter out the pain…”
…
“I’d be in a place much worse.
I hide behind jokes. Because I’m a coward.”
He looks down.
“Maybe I’d become drunky! Would you believe it? A drunk kitsune…”
He laughs, but it fades.
I stare.
“Hey… braindead.
I don’t wanna talk about it.”
I ask, “So why don’t I see those illusions anymore? That’s what they were, right?”
It reminds me of the visor dreams.
He perks up again.
“That’s my work. Heh heh heh. I’m a kitsune. A poacher’s prize. But behind my flashy fur—
I can stop these bugs…”
He eats a lustrae firefly right in front of me.
“From ever harming you.”
I smile. The thought of him protecting me… it’s sweet.
But deep down, I know—
I’m saving his sanity.
There isn’t much life left here.
I stand up and walk away.
He doesn’t follow.
I laugh again and flick my hand.
His tail wags.
“I’m on my way!
Mister!”
His sly grin rekindles.

[End of Chapter]