The Garden of Eden

I come from a time now immemorial. When the Earth's soil was of a lifefull green tone. As I walk the Valley of the Shadow of the Garden, I see nothing but the endless streams of sauce, the pasta stretching over all there is like tendrils from a parasite. Food isn't a problem: I can reach and grab as much pasta as I want while stuffing breadsticks into my mouth for it never spoils, yet my body has recently been rejecting it. There is still water, somewhere. Where I walk now once was a coastline; the sea tinted with red. Tomato red.

We were fools. We were so certain of our own reality, that we knew it all, conquered all aspects of life... Then the true, unspeakable nature of the darkness manifests in the inoffensive form of an Italian restaurant. Inside those kitchens they boiled, poured, tasted, stired the bringer of doom. Those feeble of mind worshipped the sauce after it took over. Called it Armagnocchi, the Red One. They make sacrifices and serve the flesh bathed in the sauce.

I still beg to the one true Lord for mercy, as I understand this is the End of Times and it is the False King. I will not abide to the sauce's call. I repugnate the sauce, I mock it.

I stand still at the late beach. I breath in the holy wind of the Earth, untouched from the Devil's and I shout with all my will and strength.

“I prefer Sushi!”

"The gardening", they called it, when they were alive. Feels like it's only been a few days, but in reality this has been our world for multiple years. I've stopped keeping track of time after 2 years.

Imagine my surprise when the world around me slowly transformed into what it is today. Every day the ground was a little more saucy. Every day more homes were overrun by bread sticks. Every day pasta was more and more relevant with daily conversation.

I've been eating the obvious, pasta and breadsticks, before I loved those foods but now, I've lost the appetite for it. After losing my house to the chaos, I was forced to sleep on the squishy, cold, wet pasta.

I've been walking for days now. I think I'll settle into a home soon. Maybe it won't be so bad. Tonight I'll sleep in a house.

As the night approached, I walked into a rich neighborhood, you'd have to assume millionaires lived here. I spotted a house, it was built with squares, meaning there'd be plenty of rooms. I broke open the door by kicking it a few times. I walked in and went to find the bedroom.

I walked up the stairs, opened the first door to the left. Bathroom. Kept going, opened the second door. Small bedroom, I doubt it's the master bedroom. I go to the last door and open it. Inside I see a big bed. That must be it. There seems to be a mannequin on the bed, seems like someone who survived for a bit was here. Well, I'll just push it off I guess.

As I touch it, it feels cold and I push. And then he wakes up. It was a person. Not a mannequin. I was shocked, I had no idea what to do or say. I'm sure my vocal cords would be basically non-functional at this point, because of how long I didn't speak. He looks at me and goes: "a person?"

(Thank you for reading, this is the first time I've replied on this subreddit and also the first time I really put in effort into writing anything. Please leave any suggestions you have in the replies because I do want to improve in writing. Thank you!)

I found it. I finally found it!

Ground zero, the first Olive Garden, the one that started this four decade long nightmare! I'd heard stories of what the world was like before humanity went one leap too far, and meddled with forces beyond their comprehension.

I'd like to able to say I yearn for the world to be like that again, but I have smaller ambitions. I just want my friend back, anyone who tries to drink the sauce doesn't stop, they just lose themselves, drinking more and more sauce for days until they're submerged, and I don't know what happens after that.

I tried to warn them! But they were desperate, water has only been getting scarcer and scarcer since the sauce started rising again.

I know I'll never get them back, but I can make sure the oceans of sauce never rise again, and that the forests of breadsticks and endless fields of pasta never destroy another town.

At least that's what the stories said, and stories aren't always true.

I just hope they are, as I stand here, lighting a torch.

I only ordered a water, I was thirsty. It turns out the unlimited breadsticks applied to that order too, even if the water was free, so now too were the breadsticks. Scientists had been studying microplastics and radiation for years, but those were only the trees in the forest of what would become unlimited breadsticks. We never could have seen the exponential growth that came from the sticks, and we tried to eat our way out when we could, but sometimes you can only really carbo load so much. Our best squatters and body builders ended up sinking into the mass of bread and being lost, while the rest of us tried to ride it out. We’ve finally reached the edge of the atmosphere, and olive garden continues to produce breadsticks. Soon I will be on the edge of the atmosphere with no air and no one to share these with. When you’re here, you’re family.

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