Story originally submitted for Clean Fiction Magazine’s Window into the Multiverse Contest Spring 2025, the main rules is that it had to start with “Through the window I saw…” and be only 1500 words. Although it was not selected, it’s still a story dear to my heart.

Breaking into Eden

Through the window I saw the cherubim standing between the two trees in the center of the beautiful, forbidden garden. I was about to be the second woman ever to enter. Like I’d planned, Enoch’s warriors pursued me down the narrow path to apprehend me for stealing Cain’s stone, but their horses were slowed by the thorny bramble.

Good. I slid from Clarnor’s saddle, and he gave me a worried whinny. 

“This is the only way to save her.” I stroked his side. 

He huffed horse-breath in my face sending my curly bangs flying about as if saying he still didn’t approve. 

“Come now.” I motioned for him to follow me into a dense thicket.

Clarnor snorted and stamped down the foliage to make himself comfortable. He ducked his head. His eyes fixed on the flaming sword defending the opening of the hedges.

The clamor of hooves grew louder as I gripped the nearly foot-long thorns to climb the tree closest to the garden. About fifteen feet up, I settled on a sturdy branch by the decoy of myself I’d made to lure the warriors into the garden. I untied it from the trunk and held it out on a long stick in front of the flaming sword. 

The general pointed at the decoy. “Get her!”

“Wait! General, the Garden!” The man behind him yanked on his reins, but with the incoming horses behind and dense thicket beside, his own was forced forward. 

I lifted the stick, using my thighs to tightly grip the branch underneath me, and cast the decoy over the hedges into the Garden of Eden. 

The general plunged ahead after it. Ember’s flying, the sword slashed at his horse, and he tumbled. The cherubim appeared beside the sword. The two fought the soldiers, but I couldn’t watch. This was my one chance.

The battle raged, but I refused to look down. With my arms outstretched, I balanced along the branch until it began to dip under my weight. 

Creator, help me save her. Don’t take her from me. From all of us. We need her.

I leaped.

My feet cleared the hedges, and I somersaulted in the lush soil.

Crouching low, I searched the area. I had actually done it. I’d become the first person since Adam and Eve to enter. Fear and excitement roiled in my chest. 

A quick glance behind me revealed the cherubim and the sword were nearly finished with the warriors. A few retreated down the path.

I sprang into action, pumping my feet, willing my spirit to push my body past its limitations. 

I glanced between the trees. According to Grandma, the blue globes were the fruit that got her banished. The plain looking brown and green ovular fruits, those were the ones she never got to taste. The fruit from the Tree of Life. The fruit that would save her. 

I couldn’t fail.

My fingers brushed the bumpy skin of the fruit, but a supernatural force knocked me onto my back.

I laid there, eyes fixed on the pale blue sky. My empty lungs and fingers burned.

Something in the back of my mind told me I should run, but what was the point? I had failed. 

My fingers dug into the rich soil, clenching into fists. Grandma Eve had said God, whom she had walked with in this garden, was merciful and kind. I gritted my teeth. What a lie. 

If He was so kind and merciful, why would He take her from me?

“Stand,” four voices spoke as one. 

I gulped, willing the ground to swallow me. How could I face this being and live?

“Stand,” it repeated. “Do not be afraid. I was commanded to return you.”

Involuntarily, I found myself standing. Still, I couldn’t meet the creature’s gaze.

It took a step closer, its upper set of wings closing in around me. 

I cowered, squeezing my eyes closed, and waited to be burned by those wings.

But as the feathers caressed my shoulders and wrapped around my back, a cool peace enveloped me. 

As suddenly as the cherubim surrounded me, it was gone.

I blinked, suddenly finding myself back outside the garden wall. Clarnor made his way to me through the bramble. Heat from the sword’s flame wafted toward me even at this distance.

What had I been thinking?

“Come on,” I sighed and lifted myself onto Clarnor’s saddle. “Let’s go say our final goodbyes.”

I had failed. There was truly no saving Grandma. Sobs churned in my stomach and poured from my lips, streaming from my eyes and nose. Now that all hope was lost, I had to surrender and grieve.

But I couldn’t let her know. She didn’t need to worry about me when she couldn’t even keep down broth. 

Clarnor whinnied with concern. I patted his neck and nudged him into a trot. He continued to plod home, understanding my need.

On the outskirts of Eve’s manor, which Adam had built for her, I dismounted and went to the central fountain to wash my face.

“Phisal?” The voice belonged to a young boy, but when I had left, only Grandma Eve and I had been here.

I wiped my face on my sleeve, squinting as a headache formed.

“I’m Ithnos.” The lad held out his hand. He wore a roughspun tunic that went to his calves. “I was in Enoch City when I saw you ride in, upset those guards, and steal the statue’s stone. You had said in your speech that you lived in the south with Eve, everyone’s mother, so I thought maybe I could live here, too.” The boy shrugged, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

“Won’t your family miss you?”

Ithnos bit his bottom lip. “I don’t have a father, and my mother tried to murder me. I’ve been living on the streets.”

I sat on the fountain’s wall, cupping my hands to take a drink. “I came here about twenty years ago, when I was about your age, looking for the same thing. But Grandma Eve can’t be your mother. She’s…” I took a deep breath.

“I know. I went inside and met her. Did you know she tells the best stories? But she can’t see or walk. But maybe she’s just sick and will get better soon.”

I didn’t have the energy to try to deal with him and his probing questions. I rubbed my temples. “Look, Ithnos–”

“Oh! Grandma Eve said you could make me food. I haven’t eaten for a few days, well, except for the broth you left for her.”

“You did what?” I pushed Ithnos out of my way, ignoring how he fell on his rump, and ran into the large, stone dwelling. Didn’t he understand who he had stolen from?

“Grandma Eve!” I ran to her bedside and knelt, gripping her wrinkled, dry hands.

“You’ve returned, my daughter.” Her voice shook as the centuries she’d lived caught up with her. She smacked her lips. 

Gently, I raised a glass to her lips, and she sipped some of the cool liquid. 

“There’s a young boy here who needs a mother now.”

“You can’t take him in, Grandma. You…”

“I know,” she smiled and her cloudy eyes twinkled. “I will get to step back into life.”

“No, Grandma. I… I failed. I couldn’t retrieve the fruit. I’m sorry.”

“Foolish girl!” Eve attempted to lift herself, but could only raise an inch on her elbows. “I told you not to attempt that. You should be dead!”

I bit my lip to keep back the tears. “I just wanted to save you. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“My dear girl, don’t you see? This is God’s mercy, his kindness. I died that day. I could no longer walk with my Father in that paradise. But now—” Grandma was overtaken by a fit of coughing, and I helped her sit until it passed. “—But now I get to truly live.”

I hung my head as more tears dripped down. “But if you go, I’ll be alone.”

“No, no, my dear. God has brought you Ithnos. Raise him as I have raised you, and use this home to nurture others whom this world has rejected. You are not alone. My Father is still watching, and don’t forget the promise. One is coming … to crush …”

Her hand squeezed mine. 

“Grandma Eve?”

“…The serpent’s head.” Her breath left her.

“Grandma!” 

I held her limp form tight against my chest, replaying her last words over and over in my mind.

Ithnos quietly entered the room. “She’s gone then?”

I nodded. It was all I could do.

“I’m sorry.” He hugged me as I cradled her. 

His small, gentle form lit a wick of hope inside my chest. “Ithnos, you can stay here. I’ll be your new mother and make sure you aren’t alone.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed me harder and sniffled. “Thank you. Mom.”

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