A hillside plagued with death orchards. The wind never stirs here and birds don't chirp at anytime. There is no day, no evening. There are no porches to swing on and enjoy those afternoons in. Just this cracked and bountiful, only in torment hill side. But there, down by that tree over there.
The lid on a worn yet, cared for, wooden box stood open. Blonde hair falling over the shoulders of the girl gazing into a very bright interior. Eve was crying and smiling at the same time, looking down into that box. In her left hand she held tight an old frayed blue ribbon. With reluctance she placed the ribbon inside the box and lowered the lid so very carefully. She then wrapped a leather belt around it so as to keep it closed. She was alone.
Eve rose to her feet and turned west, towards the darkness - towards him. But there, see, over there. Down the slope a ways a little shack stood all by itself. Not more than a sturdy tent, really.
With her belt bound box and loose blonde - almost white - hair and her peace gate, she made her way down the slope towards hut. David's hut, she knew that.
She paused by a crude and splintery post in the ground just short of being clear of the twisted grove of twisted trees. Her right hand reached up to grasp the post, the sign above to high for her to read: NO TURNING BACK.
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