Topiary animals craned their necks at the sound of her feet on the cobblestoned path. Green shoots shot up from the rich soil on either side of her, delicate flowers budding and blooming into existence just for her. Up a gentle slope there was an orchard of trees, their low-hanging boughs laden with brightly-wrapped presents and cakes. A silver stream that sparkled like diamonds wound its way up the hill and among the trees. Fluttering faeries sang, giggled, and danced in air was full of delicate floral scents carried on a cool, soft breeze.

Just ahead, the path split and circled around a tall white statue of a winged angel, its arms spread out in a gesture of welcome. As the young girl’s face lifted up to see its own, it looked down at her.

“Welcome,” the angel said to the girl. “Welcome, to the Garden of Earthly Delights. All that you see here is yours to enjoy.”

“Why would there be an angel in a garden of earthly delights?” the girl asked.

“Um, er…” the angel said.

“You’re Satan, aren’t you?” she asked. It stared down at her impassively, saying nothing. “Come on, you might as well admit it… it’s pretty obvious.”

“…I might not be,” it said.

“Yes, you are,” she said. “Look, your horns are even showing.”

“What?” it said, slapping at its head to try to feel.

“Yeah, and they look like this,” the girl said, putting her thumb and forefinger up to her own forehead in the shape of an “L”.

“I am not a loser!” the angel said.

“Whatever,” she said, turning and walking back towards the gates. “It’s like you’re not even trying anymore.”

I wasn’t listening to the snake. I was listening to the tree.

The fruit called to me… it sang to me. God made man from dust and breath, but He didn’t put any music in us. He didn’t think to. When He put the tree in the garden, He didn’t realize how it would sing. God sees everything else, but He doesn’t see music, for the same reason fish don’t see water.

People have asked me about the fruit. They ask it all the time, actually, when they first get here. I understand… the way it’s written down, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. It looks like the snake talked me into it way too easily.

That’s God again.

He was telling the story, of course. He didn’t know about the music, didn’t know what it did to me. Living in water, He didn’t realize how thirsty we could get.

Sometimes people are angry with me, even after I explain.

They think I ruined things for everyone. They think it’s my fault that they suffered. They’re not really mad, of course. The worst part’s over by the time they meet me. But they still want me to know that they blame me. There’s nowhere else to register a complaint, here, and not much to complain about.

It’s just a habit that some people carry with them.

Nobody ever thanks me. Nobody ever asks me if it was worth it.

If I could go back and do it all over again, I think I’d do the exact same thing. I like to say that I would have spent more time in the garden first, but I know that’s bullshit. I ate the fruit because I couldn’t help it, because it sang and because it offered relief for a thirst I didn’t know I had before I heard it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.