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Eve

27m read

Eve

by April Laufer Published in Issue #14
DeathMourning
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Eve looks up from her task. There is an eerie quiet all about her. For a brief moment, she closes her eyes, trying to identify the thing that made her interrupt her work. A vibration in the air? A tremor in the earth? She looks around to see if something has happened. Scanning the horizon, the landscape is the same: the trees stretch upwards, clouds skitter across a blue sky. She can feel the sun toasting the air. But something has changed. Though there is a warm breeze, a shiver seizes her body. 
She notices a trembling in the ground and for just a moment her legs wobble. When the trembling stops she looks around her once again. She looks down at the ground. She takes a breath. When she looks up, the sky is unchanged, the air still. Yet something is different.
She wipes her hands against her clothes and starts walking. She has not seen anyone all day. Not Adam and not Cain or Abel. 
This is not an unusual occurrence but still . . . 
She walks in the direction she remembered seeing them take that morning. Occasionally, she looks down at the ground in front of her as if she expects the earth will heave again. She notices a snake curling off into the grasses. She stops. As it slithers quickly away, she stares vacantly at the spot where the snake had appeared.  
For a moment she is unable to think of where she was going. Another slight tremble in the...

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