Pomegranate Seeds ~ Editing in Progress

Chapter I

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ‘Kay, so first chapter. Yeah, its pretty short.  Dedicated to Imi for being epic.

The pitiful creature is crying again, wailing much louder than its tiny lungs should permit. I walk over to the homespun cradle it lies in, and untangle it from the mess of blankets. It sobs into my shoulder, one miniscule pincer-like hand entwined in my hair. I love it with all my heart.

Before it was born, I thought love was worthless. I loved Him, afterall, although I knew Him to be pure evil. Him. There are many names by which he is known to us, and many more are present in different cultures. The Devil, Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer… The list is endless. And it was Him that I loved. I still do, in spite of all I have learnt and all I fought for. Some loves can never be forgotten, for matter how many times the mind dispels them, the heart still nurtures them secretly, and allows the passion to grow.

I was just a wild rebellious young girl, at the time, determined not to be forced into a convent. I wanted to be free from service and devotion, to live my life on my own terms. So I screamed and fought, and ran off into the forest. I cursed God’s name again and again, lying face down on the sweet pine needles. That was how He found me.

He can take many forms, from a fiery demon to a handsome man. Always male. And always the same eyes. It was those eyes that I yearn for, those eyes that first captured me. Those dancing black eyes, with the flames protruding from the sockets.

I knew exactly who He was, and I knew exactly what He stood for. But I chose to ignore it, to disregard all I had ever been taught, because He offered me everything I’d ever wanted. Excitement; glory; pure, damn insanity. He was hopelessly, destructively irresistible, and before I knew I'd fallen deeply and miserably in love with Him. I succumbed to His charms and followed Him about pathetically, His loyal and devoted shadow. I couldn’t leave Him; I was bound him, as though chains had wrapped themselves about my limbs and secured me to Him. I was relentless in my pursuit, but as time went on the severity of what I had done, what I had become, began, by slow degrees, to dawn on me. And then happened. The final blow, which dragged me cruelly out of my lovesick blur into the harsh light of reality, was delivered.

I knew that I’d love it, when I first realised what was growing inside me. But He had taught me that love was worthless, that love brought nothing but misery and destruction to those who experienced it, and I was prepared to defy my emotion; to fling it into the flames to rejoin its father; to sentence it to the same fate as befell most of its kind. But the love I felt for it was different from the passionate, raging love I’d felt for Him. This was a stronger, more urgent type of love. I felt compelled to protect this tiny life force in any way I could. There was no way I could ever harm it, no matter what. My love for it is unconditional. 

I was afraid of it initially, afraid of my own decision to keep it alive, and nurture it in its progress. I had heard the tales, and knew, without a shadow of doubt, just how dangerous my child could be. I was afraid for myself, and afraid for it. I was afraid of the prejudice and disdain it would encounter throughout its life. I was afraid of God’s wrath, of the torturous punishment which awaited me in the future. I could not look forward, but I did not want to look back. And so, I focused on the present. I somehow purchased a derelict hut from an elderly peasant, and frail, dying goat from the market. I restored as much of the goat’s health as was possible, and when its nipples grew heavy with the rich substance within, we were rewarded with its milk.

I look down at it once again, whimpering softly in my arms. It doesn’t look like a human child. Although its basic form is humanoid, it has claws instead of fingernails and skin like ebony, as though someone has coated it in coal dust. There are long scratches all over its body, snowy white against its dark skin. It took it seven days for it to open its eyes. When the long eyelashes it was born with began to flutter open, I was terrified they would reveal ruby pits of fire. But they’re not like his. Nor are they flashing pools of jade like mine. They are wholly different and wholly unique; calm sapphire skies, tranquil and beautiful.

Its hungry, but the jug is empty. My body did not react in the same way as it would have with a normal baby, and I have yielded no milk. I must rely on my goat to feed it, but despite her recent recovery, she is older than is desirable and cannot be relied upon to produce little more than a half a jugful a day.

I have been meaning to name it for some time, as I want it to have an identity separate from “His child”. At first I tried naming it as one would a normal baby, toying with my parents names: Godwyn and Ellen. But I could not bring myself to name it after the two people who cast me out of their lives when my need was greatest. So then I tried naming it after its eyes, its most striking feature; Azure, Sky, Lapis Lazuli…

None of them seemed to fit. It needs a unique, exceptional name, to make it stand out from the world, something that it make great. It doesn’t need to mean anything; in fact it is preferable if it does not. I only wish for it to carry no weight. I don’t want to name it for or after something. I want it to have the opportunity to define the name for itself. I don’t want it to be bound by the preconceptions and fallacies which can be associated with the more commonplace of names.

I gaze into its peaceful eyes. I have the perfect name.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: That’s a lie; I have no idea what to call it. Any ideas would be greatly appreciated as its essential for the next chapter.