I am Eden
The war never ends. For two thousand years it has been going on and on, never ceasing, and one side never having an advantage over the other. For the children who had been born during those two thousand years never saw a morning, never saw a break in the perpetual storm that rages over the Earth, curtsy of the Goörns, one of the races who came flying out of the void and onto the Earth where they searched for two thousand years and two thousand nights in a vain attempt to locate the child of Eden, the last of the Tooravar race . . .
The Humans searched too . . . they all did. It was a race against time, the two sides battling with each other for a trace of the one who will bring light to a world of eternal darkness and evil, the one who will end everything, and finally bring peace to the land.
My name is Eden.
And I am the keeper of Light . . . the last of the Tooravar . . .
It all began when the Humans found the gate. They had heard of a place where storms were brewing endlessly in the centre of Africa and they swarmed there like vultures, all curious to get a glimpse of the large stone gate that sat silently in the middle of the storm. Everyone had their ideas of what had brought it to be there, some had said aliens and magic whereas others thought that the gate was of some biblical meaning.
Of course they couldn’t help themselves and after years of strain they finally managed to open the gate, not wide enough so that it was fully open—or fully closed—but it was enough for the races to come flying out of the void . . . and onto the Earth.
The first to come were the Tooravar. A distinguished race, they had been stolen from a world filled with peace and serenity, where their bald, naked skin and large devil-like wings fit into the environment. But not here, here on Earth they were brought to a land of sand and heat and they were never allowed to leave, the Humans had wanted to live alongside the new race in their own world, and when one of the Tooravar had enough they lashed out.
That was how the war started. The Humans were fast to grab their weapons of mass destruction and hunted down the Tooravar until they were reduced to nothing but dust on the hot tar roads. Some mourned the death of a new creation; others cheered and celebrated victory. They didn’t pay thought to the gate in the desert.
They didn’t notice the Goörns until it was all too late.
The other race had come in a flurry, they were much stronger than the Tooravar had been and bore razor sharp claws and teeth, and magic that oversized the Humans. They had seen the fall of the race before them and decided that the only way to survive on Earth was to fight. And so they fought, they fought and never stopped.
It was halfway through the war when the Humans realised that the only way to seal the Goörn’s power and ultimately defeat them would be to close the gate, it took them the other half of the war to realise that in order to close the gate they needed someone of Tooravar blood.
And that's where I come in.
I don't know if the other two races know of my existence, I’ve been hiding from them for the last millennium whilst I worked silently and alone so I can make my way to Africa, where home stood waiting. I don't want anything no object or possession, I don't care whether the Goörns or the Humans win, all I care about is getting back to my home land, the land of mountains and blue sky and peace, a peace which I have not laid eyes on for two thousand years.
Right now I am sneaking across the plains. Although it is night the desert sand stings my feet where they were wounded from crossing the mountain ranges bare foot. I would have flown had I the wings, I was only a hundred years old when I was captured, just a child, the Humans had tortured me until I told them where my family were hiding out. They cut the wings from my back, and even when I had told them, locked me in eternal darkness.
It was fair enough to say that I was the reason my race fell and the reason the war started. I killed them. I killed them all.
I shake my head and banish all memories from my mind; right now I need to focus because this is where the hard part comes as the war is occurring right in the centre of Africa—and in the centre is where I need to go.
Keeping silent I press myself against a boarding wall which they—the Humans or the Goörns, I do not know—have made stretching across the desert. Patrolling atop of the wall are soldiers, their shadows are cast against the sand and I crouch down, hoping that my own shadow would be mistaken for that of an animal. I slither across the ground on my belly until I arrive at the end of the wall and there is no coverage for at least two metres.
Taking a deep breath, I push myself up from the ground and run.
I don't think I’ve ever run so fast in my entire life, by the time I get to a crop of trees and engulf myself in their shadows I feel like my lungs are on fire. I turn my attention towards the wall, trying desperately to ignore the pain shooting through my legs, and see two Human soldiers pointing directly at me. The sand is still fluttering the air where I have disturbed it from my run. As the Humans come towards me I press myself into the side of a tree and try to stop my heavy panting.
A figure passes silently ahead of me and my inside squirm as they recognise the blood of the ones who killed my family and tears well up in my eyes. I duck my head and remind myself to remain silent, because if the Humans were to find me I know that they would force me to close the gate, and then I’d never be able to get back home.
Suddenly, there is a rustling of leaves directly above me and Human shines a flashing light to the source of the noise. I catch a glimpse of his fearsome face just before something black launches itself at him and claws the Human’s throat out in one swift movement. Within seconds the Goörns are swarming into the area, and the sound of whizzing bullets and horrid cries fill the air. I close my eyes and pray that they haven’t seen me. The Goörns want basically the same thing as the humans—they want the gate fully open so that their powers increase, but if I do this I must connect to only one world and one world alone. Either way, if I get captured I lose.
And if I die the war will never end.
I wait until the screaming dies down before I take my chance. I know now that the gate is somewhere nearby otherwise the Humans wouldn’t have chosen this area as their base, and the Goörns would not have attacks it.
I am creeping amongst the shadows, keeping my distance from the fighting, when I hear the click of a gun and before I can react, something burning hot sinks into my left arm and I fall back immediately and holler in pain, darkness clouding my sight.
Almost suddenly there is a noise from above me and I try to crawl away but something grabs my ankles and I am dragged across the ground, I dig my fingers into the sand but the hands go free and then I am splattered by blood. The darkness eventually disappears and I am aware that standing above me are several Goörns, they all cock their heads in union and stare at me with odd curiosity.
For a moment the Earth stands still . . .
. . . and then the Goörns spring into action, they hiss to each other words which are not clear to me and bring me to my feet, one of them drapes their cloak over my body so that it is concealing us both and I quickly lash out, trying to slam my fists against the side of its head but it blocks my attacks and points to the wound on my arm. I stare into its pale eyes and nod.
Quickly, the pair of us race away from the battle scene sticking close to the shadows, and I briefly wonder if the Goörn knows who I am, and, if it does, how long would the hospitality last until I’m caught in chains, a single light blaring into my face and they are forcing me to do and tell them things I do not want to do or tell.
I am thinking of this when a shadow passes overhead and the Goörn falls from my side and the cloak is pulled from my head. I glance towards the sky and see a shooter plane flying over, for a second there is hope that they haven’t seen me but a spotlight shines to where I am crouched and my fears are confirmed. My heart slams against my chest and I will myself to move but I don’t—it is as if I am glued to the spot by the light.
Suddenly there is something cold on my arm and I glance down to see the Goörn who helped me, a thin thread of life still in it as if wallowed in a pool of its blood. For a moment I am reminded of my father as I watched him die. The Goörn suddenly pulls me close and whispers to me, in my very own language: “Run.”
I don’t stop; I don’t hesitate to ask the Goörn questions, I don’t try to discover who he is and why he is choosing to help me. Instead I spring from the sand and I follow his orders and my father’s last words to me . . .
And I run.
So what did you think? If you found anything that, in your eyes, should probably be fixed up or makes absolutely no sense please do tell me (because, you know, it is an English essay, and A+ look good).