Those helpers of the man that had rejected him had come to be known as The Fallen Ones. These cast-offs were broken creatures, perched on the edge of starvation, they were filthy things, unkept and unwashed.
The one who had become king of all the Fallen Ones approached the servants. The servants had never seen such a creature before. But they had never known fear, either. They did not know to beware of him.
“You should eat from that tree over there.” The fallen one said.
“But we were told not to.” The woman said.
“Didn’t the owner of the mansion tell you to enjoy anything in the garden?” He asked “Didn’t he say that all this was yours?”
The woman nodded her head, considering this. “Yes, he did.” And the man agreed with her.
“And isn’t that tree over there in the garden?” He continued.
And the man and the woman nodded.
“Then doesn’t it stand to reason that you should be allowed to eat from that tree?”
And this is why they ate from the tree that they had been told not to eat from.
When they did, everything changed.
It was as if an extra dismention was simply added to the world. Things were exactly the same, except that nothing was the same anymore. The man and the woman looked at each other. And they looked at the fallen one.
And they realized that they were vulnerable, and they realized they were weak. They realized that they had stepped out, from under the protection of the man who had made everything. If that man could not trust them, then surely they could not trust each other. And if they could so easily be lured into this great betrayal, was anything safe? Was anything secure.
They hid from each other and they hid from themselves. They hid to hide their vulnerabality. They hid to hide their new understanding. They hid, most of all, to hide from the man who’d built the mansion, and they both wept.