After months of planning and researching, I finally feel confident enough to start posting this story. It helps that I have been in Alaska for the past few days and I have begun to pick up on the flavor of the people and attitude here, making it much easier to write the sections of the story based in Denali (where I actually visited) and such.
So, without further ado: Timshel, as requested by BadAssTwilightGirls.
I felt a slight breeze drift across the somewhat tundra that I was standing in. It lifted up my hair, sending the strands floating into the air to be accented by the sun. I saw the reddish parts gleam in the light before muting back to their original brown state as the wind died down. Even my hair sparkled in the sun now, good grief.
I could see the oil rigs bobbing up and down in the distance, across the sparse field that I stood on. They were a disgusting olive green, a dirty, muddled color, not the beautiful green of the fruit that they tried to emulate. Pity that olive green was associated with this filth, not to mention the khakis that the military sometimes wore. I saw them continue their never-ending cycle of going up and down and up and down as they pumped the raw blood of the earth to the very surface. But they weren't my main focus; I was peering at them out of the corner of my eye, only nonchalantly. Rather, the spectacle in front of me was far more interesting to watch.
The blazing inferno sailed higher and higher around the scrabbling vampire, whose eyes were wide with fear and panic. He tried to leap between two flames, but a vine made of dirt and rocks suddenly reared up, grabbed him by the leg, and threw him back to the center of the flames. He tried to escape another way, preparing to jump out again. Icy missiles flew towards him, threatening to impale his diamond hard skin into the ground. The vampire whimpered as he listened to a wind suddenly kick up, whistling louder and louder until the fire was in the center of a maelstrom of wind, snarling as it sent the fire burning higher and higher as it greedily gulped down oxygen.
A voice carried over the winds: "Do you see now, Edward? Do you see the power that I have, the power that you so stupidly disregarded as lower than your own? Do you see what I can do now?"
"I'm sorry!" he screamed, his golden eyes rolling. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. He had been broken completely. Good. But not good enough, not for me. I felt a smirk tug at the sides of my mouth, my lips parting into a toothy smirk.
"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Edward," my cold voice rang out over the storm of elements, the storm that I so easily controlled with a twitch of my fingers. I watched the earthen spires curl around again like the tendrils of an anemone, waving in the wind. My icy missiles had buried themselves deep within the earthy vines I controlled, glistening like little gems before I melted them into the dirt and rocks.
The wind magnified my voice again, blowing my whispers to Edward's (damn that name) ears. "Goodbye, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. It wasn't very nice knowing you."
The fire suddenly somehow bent into the center of the flame, its sides still burning outwards but its tips sunk deep into the center of the circle. The oil rigs bobbed on, oblivious to the torture that was happening a mere two-hundred yards away. I raised a hand gently; the gales whipped themselves into screaming whirlwinds, drowning out the sound of Edward Cullen's screams as he burned to ash. The fire and the wind died down, and soon all was still.
Finally. Some silence.
I watched the oil rigs chug on, gleefully slurping up the blackened blood of the planet.
I smiled, and laughed to myself quietly. I carefully bit my lip, making sure that my sharp-ish teeth didn't pierce my diamond-hard skin.
Yes, it was time for life to begin, wasn't it?
"Do you remember when you read us the sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis and we argued about them?"
"I do indeed. And that's a long time ago."
"Ten years nearly," said Lee. "Well, the story bit deeply into me and I went into it word for word. The more I thought about the story, the more profound it became to me. Then I compared the translations we have-and they were fairly close. There was one place that bothered me. The King James version says this-it is when Jehovah has asked Cain why he is angry. Jehovah says, 'If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.' It was the 'thou shalt' that struck me, because it was a promise that Cain would conquer sin."
Edward's death was surprisingly liberating. At first, I thought it was just something that needed to be done; I had always imagined myself killing him, but not with this layer of satisfaction. His ashes now mixed with the earth and blew away in the wind. No doubt that Edward would have wanted his ashes to be made into some bullshit monument, a giant marble or something version of himself, with the ash strengthening everything and ensuring it lasted longer. The narcissistic bastard; no one wanted that except for him, and his tiny little brain just thought that everyone loved him as much as he loved himself.
The stupid faggot.
And I don't say that offensively, mind. Everyone could see his disgust towards women and his, ahem, inclination for men. It was disturbing, actually. He was known as the playboy, but not among his own gender.
I originally thought I was meant to kill him. I was meant to destroy him for trying to destroy me.
Samuel nodded. "And his children didn't do it entirely," he said.
Lee sipped his coffee. "Then I got a copy of the American Standard Bible. It was very new then And it was different in this passage. It says, 'Do thou rule over him.' Now this is very different. This is not a promise, it is an order. And I began to stew about it. I wondered what the original word of the original writer had been that these very different translations could be made."
When I approached them about his destruction, they outright laughed at me. I was shocked, to put it mildly. They expected me to destroy him from the moment that they assigned me to him. They wanted me to kill him from the moment that I met him. It had been a given that I killed this vampire.
Needless to say, I was furious. What did these shitheads know about what I thought? Yes, they raised me, fine, yes, they knew me better than I knew myself, especially her, but seriously? And what was with all of the bullshit feelings that were suddenly welling up within me? They were primal, foreign, unwanted. I hadn't felt something as strongly in my entire life as I did at that single second.
I watched the oil rigs pump up the black blood buried deep under the tissue of the dirt. The inky black blood that reminded me of the blackened promise I had to make myself, that I was to do this horrendous task, that I was to kill another soul.
When did it become so acceptable to murder, anyways?
"My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too- 'Thou shalt' and 'Do thou.' And this was the gold from our mining: 'Thou mayest.' 'Thou mayest rule over sin.'...
Samuel said, "It's a fantastic story. And I've tried to follow and maybe I've missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?"
Lee's hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. ... "Don't you see?" he cried. "The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel- 'Thou mayest'- that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For it 'Thou mayest'-it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' Don't you see?"
And yet, the choice was there for me to decide. To kill or not to kill, that is the question.
"Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?"
"Ah!" said Lee. "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I'm well prepared. ... Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, 'Do thou,' and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in 'Thou shalt.' Nothing they may do will interfere with what will be. But 'Thou mayest'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he still has the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it though and win." Lee's voice was a chant of triumph.
Adam said, "Do you believe that, Lee?"
"Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, 'I couldn't help it; the way was set.' But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There's no godliness there."
But it was now my choice. I have ascended. I have become. I shall. I will. I did.
"...I take my two pipes in the afternoon, no more and no less, like the elders. And I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing-maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed-because 'Thou mayest.' " -East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Some insight into the title is here as well. All of the italicized action belongs to John Steinbeck, from his rather amazingly written novel East of Eden.
Chapters for this will be much shorter unless my muse screams at me. Updates will also be much more sporadic.
~Shriayle