The creator of all's Arc

Chapter 12 of 13

Noah led his family and the animals down the wet ground. They walked until the land leveled out. Ahead lay a still, dark lake, its edges crusted white with salt. The great ark stood far behind them on the peak, empty now, a dove circling its roof. The creator watched Noah kneel and press his hand to the firm earth. He watched the old man weep with relief. Then the creator made his choice. He spoke, and his voice moved through the clean air. "I will not curse this ground again for what man does. The heart of man is bent toward wrong, even in the young. But I will not drown the world for it." He knew the flood had proved nothing. Killing the wicked did not fix the wickedness. It only emptied the earth and left him more worn than before. To seal the promise, he bent light across the sky. A wide band of soft color arched over the salt lake and the mountain. The pastel light shimmered above them, gentle and half-clear. Noah's sons looked up. Noah did not. He kept his eyes on the ground he trusted again. "This bow is my word," the creator said. "When I bend it in the clouds, remember. No water will cover all the earth again." The words bound him. He could no longer reset the test by force. Whatever these few built, he would have to let it stand. The thought frightened him more than he expected. Noah rose and got to work. He cleared a patch of ground near the lake. He built a raised bed of logs, filled it with dark soil and aged dung, and pressed grape cuttings into the rich mix. The creator watched him tend it for months. Vines climbed weathered poles. Heavy clusters of grapes hung down in long rows. Noah pressed them with his feet in a stone basin. Purple juice ran out the wooden spout below. The juice became wine. Noah filled his cup and drank. He drank again the next day, and the next. The creator saw the honest man he had chosen sink into the cup and stay there. Noah's hands shook. His sons found him asleep in the vineyard, his robe fallen open, the empty cup tipped in the dirt. The creator felt something cold settle in him. He had spared this man from a curse. He had made a promise never to flood the world again. And this was the man he had bet the future on. Noah had faith enough to build an ark. He did not have the strength to face an empty world sober. The test had not ended with the flood. It had passed to Noah's three sons. The creator turned his attention to them. His chosen vessel was drunk in the dirt, and the whole world would grow from the choices his children made now.