Lilith - The Weaver’s Last Judgement Chapter 2

I walked into the house on Halloween night and found Adelaide sitting on the living room couch, stuffing Jolly Ranchers into her mouth. Atlas was in the kitchen, eying the crockpot. He turned and motioned to my clothing. "What happened to you?"

I glanced down and discovered I was covered in mud. "I was in the mine. I fell."

Atlas still didn’t know about the Weaver or the demons. Since coming home from the hospital, fragments of memory had pieced themselves together like the jagged shards of a broken mirror. I knew that if I told my husband about what was happening to me, it would only scare him.

"What were you doing in the mine?" he asked.

"I was just checking out that crystal vein you showed me before I disappeared.” I walked into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I'll dish up the roast, and we can have a proper dinner.”

A few moments later, dinner was on the table, and the three of us sat down to eat. Adelaide cut into her piece and took a bite. "I'm already full," she said.

"You've had too much candy," I teased.

"That's true," she admitted.

We finished our dinner and then shared some more candy. Adelaide went to her room to play video games with her friends. I took a shower and then Atlas and I settled in the living room by the fire. Despite only having fragments of memory of my husband, I drew tremendous comfort from being beside him.

"How did you fall down in the mine?"

"I thought I saw a person in there, but it was just my imagination."

"Are you sure there wasn't someone in there? I've been thinking about getting a security system."

"A security system for a cave in the forest?" I giggled, running my hand along his arm.

"People have been known to steal from other people's mines," he said, staring into the fire.

"It wasn't a person. It was just me psyching myself out on Halloween. I wanted inspiration for a painting, but instead, I got a bruised ass."

"If you want to go in there again, let me show you the best path so you don't hurt yourself."

"Next time I go in the cave, I’ll definitely take you with me," I said, kissing him on the cheek. I had no intention of going in there again any time soon.

I was exhausted and needed to go to bed before I passed out on the couch. In our bedroom, I slipped under the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp.

I woke sore all over at four the next morning, pulled myself out of bed, slipped on my bathrobe, and went down to the kitchen. While waiting for the coffee to brew, I contemplated what the Weaver wanted from my life. I felt like an empty shell, unable to hold any water. When the coffee finished brewing, I made a cup, sat in my chair, and stared at the dark fireplace.

"Are you there?" I asked the Weaver, but all I heard was silence.

All the secrets of the universe were available to me since I died. But since the Weaver came into my life, nothing mattered without Her guidance. My reality felt like a spinning wheel of fortune, and she’d become the way for me to focus my perception. When she was silent, I was lost in endless probability.

By the time Atlas emerged from his bedroom, my coffee had turned cold in my hands, and the wall clock had ticked away an hour.

"Good morning," he said, sitting beside me. "How did you sleep?"

"I don't seem to sleep anymore. I hope I didn't wake you."

"It's fine. It's all just a readjustment." There was distance in his eyes. "Tim Riggle is coming over later. You remember him, right?"

"The one with the dirt bike?" I asked.

"Yeah, him. We're going to ride around on the trail today. I thought you should know, just in case you got worried or something."

A wave of emotions washed over me, too jumbled and confused to comprehend. "I'm going up to the attic," I announced, standing from the couch. I looked down at him and smiled, but the distance in his eyes had only expanded.

Up in the studio, I faced the painting that had been tormenting me for days. But I was determined to conquer this canvas and shape it into something that could impress a multidimensional superstar. However, my sore butt from the demon hunt the night before and my sleepless middle-aged body were only giving me insecurity.

I grabbed a big wad of black paint on a scratchy old brush and swirled it around on the canvas. When I finished expressing my frustration, I put down the brush and stepped back. Surprisingly, the new black marks had achieved what I’d wanted.

At six in the morning, I woke Adelaide, ensured she got ready for the bus, and saw her off in the predawn darkness. I waved goodbye from the porch as the school bus departed.

Atlas had already gone out to tend to the sheep. I changed into work clothes and went about my duties on the farm. While mucking out a stall in the late morning, I heard Atlas talking to someone in the driveway. I left the barn and stepped into the daylight where Atlas and Tim were on their dirt bikes. Atlas waved before the two of them revved off down the gravel driveway and disappeared into the forest.

A surge of violent emotion rose within me, threatening to explode. Gasping with confusion, I turned toward the house and went inside. I prepared sandwiches for lunch and left them out for Atlas and Tim. Up in the studio, I paced the floor, fuming like a tiger in a cage.

"Why am I so angry about this?" I asked the Weaver. I received no reply. No matter how hard I tried to focus on my art work, I couldn't quell the thundering in my heart. After an hour of intense anxiety and making my painting 90% worse, I set down my paintbrush and ventured back outside.

I started tracking Atlas down in the woods, determined to ensure he wasn’t hurting himself with his idiot friend. I followed the sound of motors echoing through the autumn forest and found the two of them as they were rounding a corner near a grove of hemlock. I waved and they stopped right in front of me.

"What’s wrong?” Atlas asked.

"I made you a sandwich," I said, pointing in the direction of the house. "One for Tim too. They're inside." Crossing my arms, I turned and stomped away.

Later that evening, Atlas approached me while I was in the kitchen making dinner. "What was up with you today?" he asked.

"I was worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I’m fine. I've been riding dirt bikes since I was fifteen years old."

"But you're not fifteen years old anymore.”

"Thanks for the reminder," he replied, his shoulders slumping as he left the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," I said, regretting my words. "I didn't mean it like that." I sighed and bent down to check the sweet potatoes baking in the oven. After squeezing them to test their softness, I tossed them onto the counter and inhaled their fruity floral scent.

"What am I doing here?" I asked the Weaver, hoping for an answer.

"You're traveling the Tree of Life, my dear. Or have you forgotten already?"

"What's going on with me and Atlas? I don't understand our relationship. It's like I don't even belong here."

"Perhaps that's something you should figure out," she chuckled and her laughter faded into silence.

I made dinner for my family, but everyone sat in separate rooms. I ended up alone in front of the TV, attempting to connect to something in my reality. Instead, I witnessed versions of myself that instantly transported me to other dimensions. I felt myself slipping away from my own existence, like a skipping pebble across the water's surface.

By the time I reemerged into my life on the sheep farm, it was already 10 o'clock at night. Adelaide was in bed and Atlas was snoring softly in the darkness of our room. I crept into bed, feeling confused. No matter how many dimensions I slipped through, none of them could help me make my own life easier.

I slid into bed and fell asleep but woke in the dark, looking down at the bed from the corner of the ceiling. My limbs were bent at odd angles and my fingernails clawed into the paint. In the glow of the moonlight through the curtains, I watched Atlas’s chest rise and fall under the blankets.

The scent of his body filled the room, inciting my lust. I screeched, diving on top of him. My jaw opened and my sharp teeth descended. He woke screaming, and I pinned him down. My clawed fingers wrapped around his throat, my eyes pierced his, and I opened my mouth.

From his throat, I sucked the velvet white stream of his essence. He tried to move and speak, but he could do nothing. My fist clenched tighter, and I lowered my fangs toward the throbbing vein pumping under my fingers.

A raspy whisper rose from his lips. “Anastasia. Why?"

My claws pierced his flesh, drawing blood, and the tang of his scent drove me mad. I screeched again and slid my tongue over the seeping wound.

The door to the hall flung open and light filled the room. "Mom?" Adelaide asked in a groggy voice.

I looked up at her and then down at her father. Gasping in shock, I scrambled off of him as my body returned to its natural form. Pushing past my daughter, I hurried down the hall, stumbling from one wall to the other. Atlas called my name behind me.

I ran downstairs without responding, pulled on my rubber boots, threw on my coat, and flung the front door open. Atlas yelled my name as the door slammed closed behind me. I looked down at my trembling hands in the milky porch light. Sheep baaed in the darkness and wind whistled through the trees. I shivered from the cold, my mind racing.

"What's happening to me?" I asked the Weaver. "What have I become?"

"What have you always been?" she whispered as the wind blew through my skin.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't think you're taking this very seriously," she said as I stumbled through the barnyard. An owl hooted in the distance as I made my way into the forest. The black sky above was a haze of clouds mixed with faint stars.

"Anastasia!" Atlas called. "Where are you going?"

"Don't you think it's time you told him?" the Weaver asked.

"Told him what? That I may be insane? That I'm in my own single-player role-playing game with a sadistic spider as my game master?"

"You aren't committed to this initiation any more than you're committed to him."

"I didn't ask for this. I don't even know who I am!" I yelled into the night.

"Anastasia!" Atlas’s voice echoed in the darkness. I turned around and saw the beam of his flashlight flickering through the tree trunks. I remained silent, not wanting him to find me. The light turned a corner and pointed at me, illuminating my entire body. I put my hands up as if caught in the act.

"Are you all right?" Atlas was in his overalls and jacket, his naked chest showed underneath. A trail of blood slid down his neck to his clavicle. "Are you sleepwalking?" he asked, scratching his head.

I stepped closer, anxiety building. "I was having a nightmare. It all started in the Grand Canyon…" I quickly told him a truncated version of the events of the past week and my relationship with the Weaver. He stared at me with awestruck eyes.

"I think what happened in our bed tonight was probably the next demon on the tree," I said.

"What demon?"

“Lilith, Adam's first wife. She wanted me to eat your soul."

"Me specifically?" he asked, touching his chest with his fingertips.

"It felt that way when she was inside me," I said as we continued through the forest back to the house. "I know this all sounds crazy, but nothing has been normal since I got home."

He stopped on the trail and turned to me."When you went missing, we thought we'd lost you. And then when the hospital told us you were alive…" He shook his head, looking at the ground. "I don't care how crazy any of this sounds, I just don't want to lose you again."

I wrapped my arms around him, taking in the scent of his skin. The temptation to lick up the trail of blood on his neck crossed my mind, but I held him tighter and let myself sink into his weight. In that moment, I fully committed to our lives together and the work the Weaver wanted me to do.

"I'm glad I'm home too," I said, ready to make new memories with him. "And I'll try to resist eating you in the middle of the night from now on."