The Flood (Part 1)

Warning: This story explores the idea that it would take a despicable, hard edged person with very few morals to sit safely on a ship (an ark) and watch everyone on earth be killed by a flood. G-d would have to choose a monster of a man to build the ark for only pairs of animals and his own family while He destroys the earth with a flood. Every neighbor, every friend, every stranger will die as Noah and his family sail safely to a new Eden. This story is not meant to offend, but if you prefer to see and think of Noah as a 600 year old bearded kindly prophet, then you might want to skip this story.

The thick stone was fastened to the wooden handle in such a way that the two things had become one. It was his hammer for building Yahweh’s promise. But right now, it was his way of enforcing his will over the people of his village.

“You stumble through our streets, Noah, drunk on your wine, defiling the girls of our village, preaching about our watery destruction, building that godless ark, mumbling about the voiceless voice of G-d... and we are to tremble!” Enosh leaned on his Shepherd's staff and looked around at the people whose terrified silence expressed their approval of what he said. He nodded. “You see. They are afraid of G-d’s earpiece. You have scared them all into silence.”

Noah gripped his hammer. Enosh’s speech would not last much longer.

“Noah. Son of Lamech, who worked tirelessly to spread G-d’s words to His chosen people, whose son now promises our total annihilation. Your father was a holy man. And you are a monster!” He paused again to let the crowd consider his words. “According to you and your slurred threats, every one of us in this village will drown in a great flood that will ignore you and your family and any living thing you choose!”

As he spoke, Noah stretched his breaths to collect his anger into his useful tool. “Enosh, let me fix what you say. The destruction will not be limited to our village, but that prophecy is not mine. It comes from the voice of Yahweh. The only destruction I can assure is yours, Enosh.” And with that the hammer was let loose like an enormous clap of thunder. The hammer met with Enosh's soft skull. In a flash, the twisted tree trunk that was the 650-year-old body of Noah was on Enosh, and then Enosh was no more.

He leaned into the dead man and whispered, “you should not have spoken my father’s name. And now you will never speak again.” He straightened himself, his bones cracking and moaning until he stood up and looked around at the pale faces of the sinners that surrounded him. The warmth of Enosh’s body rose and enveloped Noah. “Bury him like a Hebrew, although he will not be received as one.”

He turned to walk back down the lane towards her hovel, the hammer still connected to the thick belt around his waist. He dipped his jaw and focused his mind on the warm white curves and tender trembling of his lover who was waiting. For him. A lover who was most definitely not his wife, and that made Noah smile.

Suddenly something struck him in the neck. He looked down to see a pomegranate. He swung around with the hammer in hand. He saw the offender, but did not have the heart to punish the child: his grandson, Ashur. “Do what you want, child. Your father’s spot on the ark is promised. Yours is not.” He reached down and picked up the fruit and took an enormous bite from it as he disappeared from the child’s mongrel view.

*

He did not bother re-corking the bottle. Why should he? He was the one who brewed the wine, and he was going to drink it. All of it. Alone. He could not work at night, so he spent this time stumbling around town, arguing with the locals, getting into fights, and looking for brutal love. He had become a bit of a celebrity, both hated and revered. Very few ever wanted to talk to him. He was not easy to talk to. His wife was inured by his moodiness, but still she was glad when he would leave the house every night. The ark took everything out of him. His muscles ached, and his eyes were tired from squinting at the wood. He felt the heaviness of the task. He did not sleep well, but it did not matter. He was driven.

The rain was coming.

He enjoyed his fame. He liked walking through the town, knowing that everybody was whispering his name. He had been this way his whole life. He was a braggart since he was very young, but he had no reason to be so bold. He would threaten anyone with his fists and his mouth for no reason. This usually scared away the fights, but when he did get into a scrap he was usually the one sitting on top of the other boy, pounding him in the face until the boy submitted. Sometimes he kept pounding until he was punching the bloody earth. He was short, but he was built like a tree trunk. He was unbreakable.

Handling tools was second nature. He used them the same way he used his fists. He bullied the wood into becoming whatever he desired. He built homes and coffins and carts and toys. The people of this village depended upon him, making him essential even though they despised him.

In a rather absurd way he loved them all, but then again, he didn't know much about love. He had married his wife when she was not yet a teenager and began having children when he was much too old. They all seemed like babies to him. They were not rugged. They were not like nails. They were flowers. They could not withstand his battering. He hit everything hard.

Drunk, he stumbled through the village like a bored King. By the end of the evening, he was looking for one thing and one thing only, and when he found her he knew what he would do. She was maybe 14, but he did not know her age and he did not care. He had taken her a month ago and now she was his favorite. She had light curly hair and even lighter eyes. Her skin was like caramel. He often told her that she tasted that sweet.

Of course, he could not pick her voice out of a choir because she never spoke and he never asked her to. She knew who he was and so did her parents and everyone knew that it was her time to be with him. They all hoped that he might take her on his ark, even though publicly they didn’t believe in the prophecy. In the quiet of their dark homes, they prayed. The flood was coming, and he would have her as many nights as he could until then. That was all they knew. They took deep breaths and tried not to make eye contact.

She was sitting on a bench outside her parents’ home like a present wrapped up for him. He remarked that it was indeed his birthday. He was 650 years old. He looked like a storm with an enormous white beard of crooked lightning.

He approached her drunkenly but with a steady hand he touched her face. Throughout the entire experience, his touch always made her feel so soft and so safe. His hands could be such weapons but with her they were kneaded dough.

Maybe it was because in the back of her mind she hoped that he might save her. That was a reasonable explanation. But even as she thought those words to herself, she knew that the deeper truth was that she had fallen in love with him.

Did it matter that he never bothered to ask her name? Did it matter that he never seemed concerned with her pleasure or comfort or well-being? Was it because he was a prophet and a savior and the hand of G-d? He would come to her drunk, abuse her, and complain to her about G-d. But in the moment before he would tighten his fingers around her tiny neck, there was the amazing caress that was all she needed in order to feel the joyfulness of a childhood that she never had and the promise of a womanhood that would never be.

He looked down at her well-shaped face and said to himself that she might be the prettiest of them all, even his daughters. She shuddered when he spoke of them. She reminded him of all of them but especially his youngest. It was after she was born that he decided that he would find girls in town to use the way he had once used his wife and oldest daughters. All of them had had too many babies and were too busy tending to everything in the house. He needed girls who were not attached and would do whatever he told them to do.

He had once had that power in his home, but his home became a menagerie by G-d’s demand. This unfortunate child looked up at the sky and felt the light rain hitting her face. He knew she would be his last. G-d’s tone had turned so formal, separated from the honey with which He spoke to Noah in the beginning. The end was near. There would be no one else after her, and she felt that as well. He knew what she wanted. He knew what they all wanted. She wanted him to save her and her family. His face was still, but inside he frowned. That could never be allowed. The command was clear. He would take his family and only his family as well as the zoo that he had been slowly collecting. She would be left to the rain. That was to be the last rain for them all.

He grabbed at her and took her to the field behind her house in a spot that he had cleared. She knew to take off the smock and sit down in the dirt. He liked to see her like that. She looked so helpless gazing up at him with those hazel eyes. He waited for a few minutes before he overwhelmed her with his arms that were hard from G-d’s work.

She knew he wanted her to resist him which she did but each time he was with her she wanted him more and more. He had been like a knife inside of her the first time, but now they came together like two pieces of wood that he could join so seamlessly. She felt like his creation. She wondered what it would be like to give birth to his children, and when he was inside of her, she wished for it very much but he was careful. He would spill himself onto her soft white belly. He would say there were too many of Noah’s children in the world.

Months earlier there was a lightless night when he came to her more drunk than he had ever been. He had had a fight at home with his children. There had been an important discussion about the future after the flood. Noah had crushed the idea that any of his children could bring a spouse with them. G-d had made it clear that it would only be his family members who could join them on their journey. Of course, this meant that the family members would have to mate with each other if the earth would ever be replenished. This was an idea that did not sit well with his children who mounted a weak rebellion against him. He reminded them that any rebellion against him was a rebellion against G-d and that clearly G-d was not a god who would accept betrayal with kindness.

This led to tears and pain but eventually his wife stood beside him and told her children that they would do as they were told. She reminded them that their sacrifice was nothing compared to the sacrifice of those who would not be on the Ark. That caused a sobering response that spread throughout the children. That is when the oldest stepped forward and said that she would follow and obey not only her parents but G-d himself even if it meant that her father’s grandchildren would be related by blood on both sides.

Quietly, the older children thought of the babies they had been forced to carry. His babies.And they pretend it wasn't so. There was nothing else said, but the whole affair left Noah angry and eager to get drunk. To take the girl to the fields.

Noah took at least three bottles of his wine out into the field before the girl would show up, and when she saw that he was not coming to get her she went to the field alone. His drunkenness was a challenge to his strength, and the wine was winning. When she came to him in his way, she let herself think the one thought that she knew would cause him to squeeze her neck until she was almost no more. The thought grew bold in the shadow of his intoxication.

He hurt her more than ever, but she endured. She was not afraid. She was going to get what she wanted today. The thought was free and reckless. When he fell back onto the matted ground and his eyes rolled back as if floating in his own flood of wine, she straddled him and despite the bruises that made it difficult for her to spread her legs she put him inside of her and stayed there, rocking until he finished deep within her.

*

Nothing ever prepared him for the stopping of his heart, and yet it happened so many times in the past. It was G-d's introduction. Every conversation involved Noah's death. This one was no different. Recently G-d's voice was louder and more vexed. Noah swore that G-d was worried or scared or showing some sort of weakness of emotion. This seemed impossible. It was more likely that the emotions were Noah's instead. It was the filter for G-d's voice. Noah's fear.

“You.” Noah prepared himself for the whiteness that would be all he could see once he opened his eyes. “It is time. None but those creatures that you have collected and the seeds of your line. Everyone else must be left behind. I will not tell you how long you will be adrift, but there will be no safety. Your world will be lost. All that you will have left is that which you have built.”

And then his heart started and the world opened up again and the light was gone.

He looked down at himself and saw that he was somewhat naked. He remembered each bottle but he could not remember her. Were they together? The only clue was his lack of lust. He had spilled himself, but where?