The Forbidden Waterfall

A Chapter by J.J. Robles

The gasping tall pine trees wallowed over me as if becoming a shield from any type of intruders that would dare to engulf me. My eyes fell upon the luminous waterfall that seemed to shower happiness and life down toward the mirror-like stream. The fishes of vibrant and distinct colors swam carelessly in the stream as if nothing in the world could appear to hurt them. Those fishes distinctly resembled all the people in my village. So filled with bliss and assurance that everything would fall in place. Filled with ignorant bliss. Oh, how I wanted this bliss. I wanted my mind to stop wondering off into different worlds that were better than the so-thought fantasy of my own. I wanted my thoughts to be normal like the other people. What is the definition of normal if normalcy is just an excuse to keep your mind from expanding to glorious places? I let my fingers lightly stroke the cool stream as I let my mind wonder. The sun brushed its warmness against my back making my muscles relax. This was the only place I could let my mind unwind. The village wanted and made sure of keeping your mind to a certain limit. My senses pleaded me to stay but my chores were not yet completed. I arose from the bed of grass that I had laid on and hurried along through the orange and green trees. It was only a few sprints away from my home so I made it before anyone from the village had noticed my absence. To my arrival I had discovered everyone doing their exact same chores as to when I had left. The little children ran around inventing new ways to entertain themselves as they had no care in the world unlike the young adults. We had obligations to fulfill. Each young adult had his or her own specific chore according to one’s trimester. Over all there were three trimesters before becoming an adult. The first trimester ranged from eleven years since birth to thirteen. The second trimester ranged from fourteen years since birth to sixteen. The third trimester ranged from seventeen years since birth to twenty. I was just in the middle of the second trimester. My chore as a young woman in the second trimester was to harvest all sorts of fruits and vegetables. I found the nearly full basket of sweet strawberries I had hidden behind a rock and began picking again. Once or twice I would look up at the giggling young women who conversed cheerily to each other as they continued on with their own chores. I was without a companion. Maybe it was because I preferred the solitude. No, I knew why I had not a companion. I was the one and only daughter of the Great Mother whom helped establish this new world. The first Grigori to set upon earth before the rest arrived. The one to convince Him that humans were remorseful of their sins and deserved a second chance. The fallen angels were sent here to help restore order to the world in which was a selfless cause since they were to stay there and be re-judged when their time came once again. Almost all Grigoris fell in love with a mortal and mated with them so that their descendants were now a hybrid of two races known as a Nephilim. They were different than mortals in only one certain way. The Nephilim inherited sorcery from the Grigoris. Even though they were different, Grigoris taught them to be equal with the humans so as to not cause discrimination. It may have been perceived that the Nephilim had followed that rule but I knew otherwise. When I was young, the young Nephilim would tease me for even though I was a Nephilim as well, I was not, as some say, blessed with sorcery. There was no indication that I was a Nephilim except for the fact that my mother was a Grigori. Not even the Elders, which were a mixture of the few Grigoris left in the world and the wisest Humans, had the slightest indication the hatred the Nephilim had towards the Humans. It pains me to say that even the Great Mother, my mother, did not notice it either. I did. I knew the exact hatred and cruelty that this world was becoming even though they believed that this world was pure. When something went wrong in the village or if the harvest was not as fruitful as before, the blame would go to the Humans. I am pained to say that I am not exaggerating nor telling a fable in which everything is a lie to entertain. It is not and poor to those who find it the least entertaining.

My body was dreary as I hauled the last basket of picked strawberries to the crate where the young men carried it for storage. My loveliest and only companion was now setting as to let the grey moon take its place for awhile. I rinsed my muddy hands in the pond where most of the young women were now at. I was almost finished when the sound of a falling crate made me turn my attention to the dropped strawberries on the ground. Not only was I the only person watching but so were all the other young men and women around me. Most Nephilim young men and Nephilim young women began to laugh. My attention fell to the poor young Human young man who tried to salvage any strawberries he could. Instinctively, I raced to his aide and began to help which only brought more laughter from the crowd. The young Humans crowded away starring with a sorry expression. The young man became enraged as soon as he noticed that I was helping him. “I don’t need help!” he spat as he almost had most of the salvaged strawberries safely back into the crate. I backed away not wanting to anger, or as he may of thought, embarrass him more.

I arrived at my mother’s and I’s domicile only to find her absent. This day might have been the day of the Elders’ meeting at the village sanctum. Placed at the door was a basket filled with fresh fish, fruits and grounded nutrients. I placed the heavy basket safely on top of the rough counter and began to light a fire in the small den in which we prepared the daily meal. I was in the moment of preparing warm fish stew before I had realized that the bucket that was always filled with fresh water from the pond had been empty. I placed the ingredients back into the basket and picked the empty bucket off of the ground to fill it up from the fresh pond.

The night was lightened by small glowing trinkets in which my mother called glistening hopes. The moon also was helpful in keeping the night lightened. The other domiciles also had fires made out of sticks of wax on the outside as to illuminate the entire village. The pond was not difficult to find for it was merely in the center of the village. I began filling the bucket when I became aware of the crowds of people that were huddled around the village sanctum. I placed the bucket next to the pond and began my way to the shrouds of people. I heard whispers of despair and sorrow; of worry and fright. I made my way to the front of the crowd in which the villagers were asking the Watchers to inform them of the situation. “Legna is here and might know?” a villager cried out. Most of the villagers’ eyes were set on me. “I know nothing of what has occurred,” I replied. “You are not aware of the recent death next to the forbidden waterfall?” asked an adult woman Nephilim who was in front of the crowd. “There has been a death?” I asked more astonished than they had been. “Not only was it just a regular death but that poor human girl was slaughtered!” one of the Watchers joined in the discussion. I almost felt my legs overcome me. Never in this village since the beginning of times had there been a death committed by another person. It was unnatural and confusing. Perhaps it was the reason for the late Elders’ meeting. “It is impossible,” I whispered solemnly to myself. “But it is,” came a voice as high and strong as the incarnation of He. My mother’s tender hand settled on my shoulder assuring me that life as the entire village knew it was about to drastically change. My eyes slowly followed hers and stayed there as if some invisible force had held them. “My dear Legna and my dear villagers, we are about to experience a force unnatural to us. A force that I know so clearly in my past,” my mother began. Her grace movements reflected on the footprints that were left behind. “What is it Great Mother? What horrific news do you bestow on us?” asked the Nephilim woman. The crowd began to whisper loudly again as my mother stood silent. Her mouth was drawn to a thin line as I noticed that she was contemplating the idea of telling the whole village. “I am troubled to declare that an Incubus is the one who slaughtered the little girl,” she said loudly as so that everybody in the crowd could hear but as she spoke the last part of the sentence her voice dimmed. The muffled whispers of fears had turned into loud cries of fear. I stared off into the crowd as my eyes led to the forbidden waterfall in which I always went to. I felt my gaze slowly wonder upwards to the peak of the tall trees which once, not too long ago, had been defined as comfort and security. “The Incubus village is far from here though, Great Mother. Why would one of them trample over countless of other villages filled with creatures unknown to us just to slaughter a poor girl?” asked one of the Watchers. “I fear that I am unaware of the reasons the Incubus did what he or she had done. We just need to know that the fate and punishment of that creature lies on the hands of Him,” my mother answered. At first I was unsure of the soft cries that came from the back of the crowd until a booming voice pushed the crowd away. A man with a short beard holding the hands of a shaking woman stumbled their way towards my mother and I. “We cannot let that creature get away with this!” growled the man. “It took our daughter,” sobbed the woman. My mother stared at them with compassionate eyes. I was still in shock about the whole situation. Why was it happening now? “They are right Great Mother. What if this happens again and they kill another of our children,” a Human man spoke as he put his arms in a protecting manner over his young son. More Human adults began to agree as they began to whisper. “It can also kill a Nephilim too. Incubuses are stronger,” the father of the dead child cried out. The Nephilims began to agree as well. “Dear villagers, I advice you all to remain calm. We cannot fill our heads with thoughts of revenge. It shall corrupt our peaceful nature,” warned my mother.