Excerpt: Escape from Eden

Time stands still. It is dark, dark as the first night that stretched to the far corners of Earth. A mist rises from the ancient garden as the Spirit of God passes by, inspecting His sleeping creation--a ritual He has performed for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years.

And then, something moves in the darkness. It is what we would call a falling star, something white-hot streaking across the blackness, barely glittering in the surface of everything cool and dead.

And then--a splash.

Creation still sleeps. There is nothing yet to awaken in the stillness, the darkness, the endless water. Nothing wakes but the Beast itself. Slimy coils glittering in the light of the first heavenly bodies, millions of miles away from the tiny, water-blanketed rock in the Solar system. The coils gather themselves up, breaking the surface, heaving themselves into the shallows, onto what will soon be dry land. Onto what will soon be mountains covered with deciduous forest, inhabited by snakes and spiders and fresh growing things.

The Beast raises its head above the water, and looks around. There is nothing about, nothing but darkness. Even the stars were obscured from here, hidden by the thick blanket of cloud that rose up out of the water. There is nothing here, no life, no death, no animal voices to shatter the stillness with a cacophony of laughter and mating cries. God has no power here, not yet. Here at last is one corner of the universe that His finger still has not touched.

And the Beast saw that it was good. At least for the moment.