A. C. Rosenfeld

Chapter one

Eden hates the silence.

The kind that happens past midnight, when the village streets are empty. When everyone is asleep, and the rusted fan groans to a stop with the blackouts. 

She wakes to the silence. Her heart pounds. There is a fear there, one that she can’t name. She pulls her covers over her ears and folds herself inwards until she feels safe.

She falls asleep.

~~

The days are slow when a dance is scheduled. Eden feels each drop of sweat as it trails its way down her neck and her spine, pooling where the cloth gathers and staining the blue tunic navy. The promise of a dance is enough to keep her moving forward, keep her hands dipping into the dirt, placing the small seeds in pockets she has dug with her middle and forefinger only moments before. Her back strains every time. 

But she doesn’t really mind. The dance is tonight. 

The four-o-clock town bell tolls, but Eden keeps working until she hears the farmer call their day to a close. By the time she has showered and changed into the new dress her mother had made her it is closer to six. A few other apprentices groan at the late day, but Eden doesn’t mind. It’s better than waiting at home for the dance to begin, legs bouncing under the table as her mother bakes bread for breakfast.

The town hall is sparsely populated when she arrives. Other volunteers are setting up decorations and pulling over chairs for the band. Eden joins Matthew at the food table, cramming a small ham sandwich into her mouth before he can stop her. 

“You know that’s the only one you can have,” he says, pushing the plate to the other end of the table and out of her reach.

She laughs. “What, are you going to stop me?”

“You know I wouldn’t be able to.” He’s smiling, but his tone turns as he says, “But you are part of the village, Eden, and there are other mouths who need the food more than you.”

Eden leans her head against his shoulder. “I know. I’m messing with you.”

The band arrives a quarter to seven and begins to warm up. Eden and Matthew practice a few dances, their hands sometimes slipping to each other’s waists as they spin and stomp across the floor. 

The other villagers begin to arrive. Eden and Matthew move to greet them at the door, taking donations and placing them in wicker baskets held in the crook of their arms. 

“Your sister is still taking that history class, right?” Matthew asks, smiling at an older woman as she hands him a quarter and an apple.

“Yep,” Eden replies. “She was telling me about it yesterday and it – “ She stops.

Matthew glances at her. “What?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t know, it was weird, the stuff she said.”

“You can tell me.”

Eden glances around. There’s still a steady line of people coming into the town hall. “I know. Save a waltz for me?”

Matthew smiles. “I would save every dance for you, Eden.”

Her heart flutters. 

Volunteers aren’t supposed to dance the whole night, but Eden can’t help herself. She waits until the town manager has taken other volunteers to the kitchen and she sneaks into the formation, taking the hand of friend from school and placing him across from her. 

The music begins, and the caller clears her throat.

“Swing! Circle to the left three quarters now.”

Her friend’s hands are sweaty. “Are you nervous?” Eden asks as they step through their circle.

“A little,” he replies. She can’t remember his name. 

“Do-si-do and switch partners!”

She goes through the rest of the motions, taking the hands of other friends and twirling her way around the room. Her mind wanders to her sister. Maggie is at home, working on an architecture proposal for another class she’s taking.  

“This next one will be a waltz, find a partner you’re happy with sticking to for the whole dance!”

Her eyes flutter across the crowd. Matthew stands by the door, his eyes fixed on the woman in front of him. He doesn’t make any motion towards the dance floor. 

“Eden, wanna dance with me?” It’s the friend from before. She still can’t remember his name.

She glances over at the door. “I was going to ask Matthew. Mind waiting for the next one?”

He frowns. “Looks like he’s busy.”

“I’ll just go ask him. It’s fine, he said he wanted to earlier.”

“Find room on the floor, we’re starting now.”

She starts to move away, but the boy grabs her hand. “If you show him favor you’ll never be allowed to marry him, you know.”

A blush flames up Eden’s neck. The boy isn’t wrong, of course, but to hear it said out loud brings shame into her heart. She reluctantly places her hand on his shoulder and they begin to dance.

She searches the boy’s features to try and find something that would remind him of his name. His nose is small, turned upwards. Lips are thin, with a flaky mustache above them. She can tell he’s younger than her by the way his glassy eyes don’t meet hers. 

“Patrick,” he says, finally.

“Your name?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know I forgot it?”

They’ve made their way close to the doors and Matthew catches Eden’s eyes. He mouths an I’m sorry, next time? before she’s spun so that she faces away from him. 

Patrick continues, “We haven’t talked that much. I’ve always just admired you from afar.”

Something curdles in Eden’s stomach and she instinctively pulls away, but Patrick’s hands grip even tighter. “That’s not why I’m dancing with you, though.”

She doesn’t really want to encourage him, but curiosity makes her ask, “Why, then?”

“You mentioned something to Matt about what your sister is learning in class.”

No one calls him Matt. Eden resists the urge to roll her eyes. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“You were talking about it front of everyone. Besides, there are no secrets in the village. You should know that.”

The music ends on a flourish. Eden jerks her hands away from the boy. “Whatever. I’ll see you around, Patrick.”

She places herself at Matthew’s side and refuses to meet Patrick’s eyes, even though she can feel them pulling at her clothes. She tries not to notice when he leaves the dance hall, head and shoulders stooped. 

Eden and Matthew dance three times before there’s a break for supper. She takes the chair next to him and eats the plate of salmon and rice, scooping a bit onto his plate when she can’t finish her portion. They dance again, not to any particular music, just wanting to be close to each other. She feels his hands slip past her waist and she gives him a lighthearted slap on his back.

Bellies full of carbs and sugar, the band plays a slow waltz for the second half. Eden takes Matthew’s hand and places it squarely on her waist, trying to ignore the feeling of his other hand tracing circles on her shoulder. 

Despite their games, Matthew’s tone is serious as he asks, “What did you want to talk about, Eden?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her voice drops to a whisper as they pass by another couple. “My sister’s history class.” 

“Right, what about it?”

Now that they were actually talking about it, Eden squirms under his intense gaze. “You gotta promise to not get angry at me, Matthew.”

“Why would I do that?”

Eden takes a moment and closes her eyes, allowing the noise of the room to calm her. Music, laughter, conversations; Eden drinks it all in, filling her up from the bottom of her shoes to the scarf she had tied underneath her chin. 

She pulls herself closer to Matthew and murmurs, “They talked about life before the village. Briefly, of course, but it was mentioned. Apparently some kid brought it up and refused to change topics until it was discussed.”

“The teacher didn’t stop them?”

Eden shakes her head, still burrowed into his shoulder. “I don’t know why, Maggie didn’t say. It scares me. Why would someone want to talk about a time before?”

She can feel him shift against the rhythm of the waltz and his grip lightens on her waist. She looks up at him. “Are you angry at me?” 

Matthew’s mouth is set in a thin line. “I’m not mad at you, Eden. I’m frustrated with your sister for not saying anything earlier.” His expression changes and he smiles down at her. “It’s a good thing you told me, though, Barbara will want to hear about this. She’ll be happy with you.”

But Eden doesn’t let the praise melt through her skin like she usually does. The music has ended and she pulls away from him, asking, “Will my sister be punished?”

He shrugs. “Probably not. Maybe just rationing for a week or so, nothing too crazy.”

“Matthew, wait – “

There’s commotion at the main doors and some of the band members stand up, their necks craning. A group of ten or so people have gathered in the doorway, pushing their way through a blockade of volunteers and villagers. Eden doesn’t recognize any of their faces.

Despite the villagers’ best efforts, the outsiders push through. It isn’t uncommon for other villages to visit, especially on dance nights, but these people aren’t greeted with the usual courtesy. 

Matthew pulls Eden towards the side of the town hall as Barbara steps forward to face the outsiders. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a loose bun, strands caressing the sides of her face, and her hands are clenched in fists at her side. The rest of the room has quieted. Eden fights the urge to slam her hands over her ears, to block out the silence that rings in the empty space.

“Welcome,” Barbara says. “I don’t recall receiving a letter about your appearance.”

A woman steps forward. She wears a long, black dress, tied at her waist with a leather belt. Her hair is a stark white. She replies, “I didn’t send one. We aren’t here for fun.”

“Clearly.” Barbara’s lips curl. “Black is not acceptable for a dance.”

“It must be nice, being able to spend four hours dancing during the harvest season,” the woman says, looking around the room. “The whole village is here, I presume?”

Barbara nods. “It’s mandatory to attend. It builds village character. I’m sure you have something similar where you’re from.”

There is laughter from the black-clad group and Eden realizes who they are just before Barbara takes a step back in horror. “You’re not from a village, are you?”

The older woman shakes her head. “We live off the land.”

“And you think we don’t?”

“I think each village has fooled themselves into believing something that isn’t true.”

“And what that would be?”

But the woman isn’t facing Barbara anymore. Her eyes find each of the villagers in turn as they stand and watch her. Eden’s chest smarts as the woman passes over her, the blue in her foreign gaze matching her brown. 

“That you are free.”

Silence, again.

~~

Eden’s heart hammers against her chest. Her footsteps quicken as she turns down the gravel road that leads to her mother’s cottage. The final moments of the night thread their way through her mind; the strongest of the villagers escorting the cultists out of the town hall, the way the woman’s voice sounded as she was led away. Eden could see the arc of her spit as she had turned to face Barbara for one last time, the language of her speech giving up on eloquence. But her face held no hatred or anger. Only frustration. 

Eden couldn’t find a reason for frustration. She would understand anger coming from those who worship the land rather than the community. They are often lonely and lack the nourishment many find in villages. But frustration? The furrow of her eyebrows, the eyes themselves almost poised to roll – as though Barbara was consciously refusing to listen to her. 

There’s the sound of rocks slipping against a foot – someone else’s foot – and Eden’s palms begin to sweat. Someone is following her. Patrick, Barbara, the woman leading the cultists, any of them would be unwelcome. Her breath becomes shallow and quick as she darts into a run. 

Someone grabs her hands and she screams.

“Heaven above, Eden!” Matthew hisses. “Quiet down, someone will think I’m assaulting you.”

The adrenaline pours out of her system and she blinks back tears of relief. “Don’t sneak up on me like that again. You know how frightened I am of the dark.”

She hasn’t finished talking and his hand is already on the small of her back. Another caresses her cheek as he murmurs, “But you’re not frightened of me.”

“No, of course not. If I’d known it was you I would’ve been happy for you to hold my hand.”

He’s close now, his breath tickles her forehead. “How happy would you be if I kissed you?”

She shudders. “Very happy, but – “

Matthew pushes his lips onto hers and holds her there, his hands moving across her body as though he doesn’t know where to put them. She hates to want to pull away but she can barely breathe. He notices her reluctance after a few moments and separates them, blinking at her in surprise.

“I thought you wanted to? Haven’t we done this before?”

Eden holds back a smart retort at the rhetorical question. “I’m fine with that, Matthew. I wanted to talk to you about something before we have sex again.” She gestures towards the house. “If you come in I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Matthew stares at her. “What could you possibly want to talk about? The cultists? I thought Barbara made it clear that none of their ideas would be accepted in the village.”

“No, Matthew.” She can’t help but sound exasperated. “It’s about our relationship.”

He raises an eyebrow.

Eden takes that as a sign to continue, putting her hand on his arm, “Patrick said something at the dance that made me worried. Something about showing too much favor and never being able to – “ she pauses, a blush creeping up her face. “ – marry you?”

“Marry me?” Matthew repeats. “Where’d you get that idea?”

In between each word Eden can hear the silence pouring into the space between them. She tightens her grip on his arm. “’Idea’? I thought- I thought that was what this was. I thought you were hoping for the elders to choose us as a marriage couple.”

He laughs. The sound cracks the quiet night in half and Eden flinches, her hand pulling away. He says, “Eden, you know you like me too much for us to ever marry.”

Chapter two

 The dogs like to curl at the hearth, even when there is no fire. There must be a smell there. Something that reminds them of food, or a memory of when they were even smaller than they are now. 

One of them looks at Eden as she opens the door to the cottage. Butler wags his tail as she approaches, leaning his head into her hand once she reaches down. Eden has been crying since she parted from Matthew. 

She had stayed outside for longer than she had intended, staring at the Milky Way and closing her eyes as tightly as she could, as though she could open them and everything would be normal. But when her eyes adjusted to the dark again she was alone, the night was silent, the stars blinked, and Matthew was still gone.

And now she cries with Butler’s smooth face in her hands. She stares into his eyes to try and find some kind of understanding, a notion of sympathy, but there is none. He is just happy to be held by her. 

When she begins to hiccup through her tears the other dogs wake and come over to lick her face. Their tongues tickle her and she giggles, letting the sunken feeling in her chest evaporate slowly. Butler watches the other two, his tail still wagging. 

There’s noise on the stairs. Maggie’s voice is hushed as she asks, “Did Matthew not come home with you?”

Even though Eden is beginning to make peace with the fact that she will never be intimate with him again, it’s more difficult to say those things out loud. She merely shakes her head and Maggie doesn’t push it, coming to sit next to her older sister.

There is something more important to talk about, anyway.

“Maggie.” Eden clears her throat a couple of times to remove the phlegm that had gathered there. “I told Matthew what you said about history class.”

Her sister’s hand freezes on Sam’s fur. “What did he say?”

“He wasn’t happy with you.”

“Wait, what? What did I do wrong?”

“I don’t really know,” Eden replies. “I think he was frustrated that you hadn’t told an elder first. He mentioned something about losing some rations as punishment.”

Her younger sister groans and falls back onto the woven carpet. “They’ll find any excuse to take rations away from villagers.”

“Don’t say things like that, Mags.”

“Why not?” She sits up and focuses her gaze on Eden. “Tell me, why not? I’ll lose more rations? Maybe they’ll take my water away from me this time. Or our dogs. Or our home, maybe. Why do they want to control us like this, Eden? Have you ever wondered about that?”

Eden feels tears gathering but instead of letting them fall she raises her voice at her sister. “Enough, Maggie. Cultists with those same questions came to the dance tonight and angered the entire village. If you’re heard saying similar things you’ll be kicked out of the village, you know mom can’t take another heartbreak like that.”

Maggie stands and pushes her palms into her eyes, muttering, “God, Eden, do you even hear yourself? They’ll kick me out because – what? I asked a few questions in history class that they don’t know the answer to?”

This gives Eden pause. “Wait, what do you mean?”

But Maggie is already going back up the stairs. She doesn’t answer.

Saturday is a rest day for the farmers. Eden spends most of it in bed, slipping in and out of dreams that seem to combine the events from the dance and the moment that Matthew said, You like me too much for us to ever marry.

That sentence could never be erased from her memory. It wasn’t so much that Eden was heartbroken, she was humiliated. How cruel it was to put it all on her, to blame her for something that she could not control. To blame her for loving someone too much. 

But the final dream is not of Matthew, or the dance. 

It is of the cultists. 

Eden is the only one in the room with them. The only face she can remember is the woman, who stands at the very front of their gathering. She stares at Eden. Then she speaks.

“Why were you named that?”

“What?”

“Eden.”

She feels a pull towards the ground but she cannot sit. “My mom liked the sound of it.”

“Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“That the village is not the Garden.”

~~

Eden is sweating when she wakes up. Pit stains have spread down her green sleeping shirt and she pulls it off, throwing it to the floor. She knows the story of the Garden, an ancient place believed to house the first humans before they became hungry for knowledge. Ever since they were thrown out, humans had been trying to get back.

The villages were the closest things they had to the Garden. Why would anyone want to live outside of them? Why would anyone else believe that they had it right, that they were the ones who were the closest to paradise?

Eden strips her sweat-covered bed and throws the sheets in the corner of her room. Orange light has filled the space – there are only a few more hours of sunlight left. So she leaves the house and ventures into the fields. 

There was a time when there were little bugs that would jump from large stalks of grass onto humans and dogs, biting their skin and transferring diseases into their bloodstream. The village released turkeys into the grasslands fifty years ago and they ate all of the ticks in only a few seasons. Now Eden can lie down and feel the dirt underneath her fingernails and toes without worrying about a bullseye rash. 

She lies there for several minutes, alone, the dream replaying in her head. She knows that dreams are only representations of subconscious thought. Thoughts that were only reinforced by her sister and the cultists. But why now? Why does this all have to happen when she’s already heartbroken?

There is movement in the grass, but Eden isn’t afraid. It isn’t dark, and the wind has created enough noise to keep her mind occupied. The familiar coat of Butler pushes its way into her vision and she smiles. 

“I’m glad you’ve joined me, little one. I was feeling lonely.”

Butler speaks. “I know.”

Chapter three 

Eden grew up in a space of love. 

From the moment she was born, people surrounded her. They showered her with attention and gifts of quilts and blankets and the warmth of their bodies. They taught her to sing and dance and swim in the lakes that bordered their village to the north. They showed her how to love the land the way that they loved her, to treat it with kindness and reverence. 

She also learned that if the land did not wish to feed them, they did not eat. If the sky gave them snow and wind and droughts and fires, they would watch their crops die and their livelihoods vanish. They would smile and thank the land for their punishment. Surely they deserved it somehow.

A wildfire came when Eden was four years old and swallowed her father. Eden remembers wading into the lake with her mother, her sister swaddled onto her mother’s back. She watched as the fire ate the wooden house that she had been born in at the top of the hill. The fire licked at the grass bordering the lake, smoke crawling into her lungs and scarring them so that she would never be able to breathe properly again. 

And when her father’s body was found, charred bones in the midst of an ash-ridden house, her mother barely cried. She buried her husband in the dry soil and asked if Eden wanted to go to the village dance that night. 

Eden said yes, of course.

Her mother brought dogs to keep the girls company when she was working during the day. The dogs bit them and gnawed on the furniture and peed on the rugs, but the girls loved them. When Butler arrived at the house only a few years ago, he seemed a welcome addition to the family. He wasn’t like the other dogs; he was already grown, his manner was temperate, and he never barked. He would let them pet him, but he would never lie his head on their laps. 

So Eden isn’t that surprised when he speaks. But she still scooches away from him. “What?”

“I knew you were lonely. I could tell.” His voice is almost sickly sweet, young and smooth. “Especially after your conversation with Matthew.”

“How did you know about that?” Eden asks.

He sits on his hind legs and replies, “I don’t know, I just did. I think I know everything.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

Eden has to stifle a laugh of disbelief. “Butler, why haven’t you spoken before?”

He moves his head to one side, as if pondering the question. He answers, “I’ve always wanted to talk to you. Your sister is too young. Your mother is too boring. Your father is dead. I wanted to wait until I felt you were ready to listen to me.”

The questions she had earlier rise and she asks, “But why now? Why after the cultists, why after Matthew?” Her voice rises to a cry. “Why after my sister has begun to doubt the village, why after my horrible dream, why me?” 

Butler stares at her. He is a cute dog. Smaller than the others, but not so small that he could be taken by a hawk. Black and white hair, pointed ears, sweet brown eyes. He is perfect. He stands and beckons towards the lake. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

And so they do, in silence.

When they reach the shore of the lake, Eden picks up a rock and throws it, watching as it skims two times. 

Butler steps on another rock and says, “This one is the best one for skipping. Try it.”

She does. It skips five times.

They sit together and Eden places her toes in the icy water. She hisses quietly but keeps them there, allowing the water to lap up against her foot. 

She can’t take the silence any longer. “Will you answer my questions, Butler?”

He replies, “Yes. Which one first?”

“Why is this all happening now?”

Butler sits next to her. “Why is what happening, Eden?”

“All of this. The cultists, you, Maggie.”

“I’ve found that large events often coincide with each other. There is usually a catalyst, something that sets off the other events. Think of the wildfire that caused your father’s death. It started because your mother hadn’t snuffed out the firepit that she was using to smoke fish. She was fussing with your newborn sister when an ember was caught on the grass. Your sister being born is the catalyst for your father’s death. It’s poetic, in a way.”

Eden stares at him. “How do you know so much?” 

Butler ignores her and continues, “The catalyst for these events has been building for years, now. The cultists have grown in size and have learned how to feed off the land, though they live selfishly. They put their desires over the needs of the community and the land. Humans were that way before the villages were created, before they were told how to live. I’m sure they’ll be killed soon, so try not to worry too much about them.”

“They’ll be killed?”

“Yes, some way or another. The cultists usually are. Either by villagers who are told to do so by their elders, who are told to do so by me, or they’ll die on their own. It looks to be a cold winter, and your village barely has stores for its own people.”

Eden’s mind swims. Part of her is resigned; there has been enough in the past twenty-four hours to turn her to stone. But part of her wants to know more, while Butler still wishes to talk to her. “Why would you be the one to tell the elders to kill them?”

Butler thumps his tail once on the rocks, as if pleased by the question. “You humans can’t be trusted to take care of yourselves and the earth on your own. I am here to make sure you do. And if you don’t, you are expelled or killed. There is no middle ground when the world is at stake.”

“But,” Eden says, gesturing to the blue sky and the fields behind them, “The world isn’t at stake. We have bountiful crops almost every year. Why would we need guidance?”

The dog lies down and stretches his paws in front of him. “Eden, do you know what the world was like before the villages?”

She shakes her head.

“It was a dark, depressing place. No light shone upon that world. The sun was blocked by smoke created from burning the fossilized remains of creatures who wished to rest in peace. The humans of that time were a selfish people who despised the natural world and desired to remove themselves completely from it. They were successful, but also plentiful. They begat offspring until there were no more resources to feed everyone, and then they died. Wars were fought. Fires raged across continents. Billions died. And then I took over.”

“Who are you, Butler?”

He stands up and shakes, as though he just left the water. “I had many names in that time. Humans created and ruled over me until they lost themselves. While they were searching, I found the ones who were most susceptible to my help. They allowed me to take control. They allowed me to create the villages. They allowed me to love them in the way they needed to be loved. And now the world is beautiful again.”

Eden focuses her gaze on the shimmering water. “And if I don’t agree? If I don’t believe what you’re doing is right?”

“Why wouldn’t you, Eden?”

She repeats, “What if we don’t agree?”

“You’ll die, eventually. When I feel it is the right time.”

“So you believe you have the right to control everything, because of some mistakes humans made in the past. You believe you have a right to take away their freedom of choice.”

“I know what is best.”

“How?”

“I know everything.”

“Do you love me, Butler?”

The dog doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his tone has changed. It’s softer, more thoughtful. “Of course I do, Eden. You’re one of my creations. I want to see you succeed, have a life worth living in the village. I want to see you happy.” He pauses. “If you want, I can recommend Matthew as a husband candidate for you.”

She laughs. “You’re bribing me. If you know everything, you know that I feel pulled in many directions. My love for Matthew, my love for my family, my love for the village. But I know everything, now. I know that none of us are truly free, none of us have the agency we’ve always believed we’ve had. And you won’t allow me to change that.”

“Of course I won’t, Eden. Everything is right. Everything is perfect. Why change it?”

“Because we should have a choice, Butler.” Eden stands. “Shouldn’t we?”

Butler mirrors her stance as best he can in his form. “I’ll allow you this choice, Eden. You have a decision to make. You know what will happen if you leave, and you know what will happen if you stay. I’ll see you soon.”

He trots back up the hill. 

The wind has stopped blowing. Eden remains there. In front of her, the lake shimmers with the colors of sunset. Behind her, the house sits on the hill. Through the window Eden sees the flickering of a fire. Her mother must be home, she’s the only one allowed to start it. There is nothing in the air. No smells, no sounds, nothing for her mind to take hold of. But she doesn’t mind. 

For once, she revels in it.