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Short Story / Orchard
He was hungry. There I was an apple among many, dangling on the tree. The Orchard, as usuall, was plentiful. He stood for a bit, carefully inspecting each apple with his eye. He glanced at me and stared. I was nervous, becuase I knew that on the outside, I was beautiful, shiny, unbruised… But I knew the truth. I, within, was rotten, spoiling, decaying. He once again roamed around, every now and then glarring back at me. I hoped he would keep walking forget my gleam. I knew I was poison… and with one bite I would seep my toxin deep into his very soul and he would never be the same. I was unworthy to pick, unworthry to hold, even to admire. There he came, why wont he leave?
Oh, I felt the soft touch of his rough hand… careessed me. He yanked me from the only place I knew. And I was his….
He slowly admired me… and with evey touch, I spoiled more. For I knew that if he ever tasted my insides… he’d throw me away, like i’ve seen so many others trashed, forgotten. But, i guess I deserve that, right? I was not pretty enough, did not ripen soon enough, and my time passed and now, i’ve decayed…
He drew me close. I felt his breath and with nervous yet with the anxious dersire to be completely his… he took a bite. I waited. He chewed. He smiled. What? How could this be…? Why does he like me? I’m spoiled, rotten, disgusting! “Throw me away, I will surely poison you!”.. I screamed but he ignored my plea… He devoured me completely.. and I was yet longing to be dropped… I thought surely, he is done with me now he shall abandon me. Was I not what I thought? Can I fullfill someone? Can I be loved? Am I beautiful inside and out? How can he love me, when I feel so unworthy of love?
This man, he took my insides, he dug deep and the seed of my life, he held in his hand. Loved me for what I was, and for what I had done. I had fed him, with my whole self. He planted a new me. A fresh, growing, living breathing me. To start a new…. with him.
Why is it that they see in me something myself I can not?
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jlcampbell reviewed Version 1 -
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A muse? A prose? A short story? Not poetry, but I’m no expert to that. I like the portrayal and the the metaphoric reference, but I’m bothered by the fact of misspells in something so small that take away from the flow of the reading. Yes, we all make them… we’re human, but if you have a computer, then you can use a spell-check program and clear up 75% of the “glarring, unwothry, careessed…etc. You have the potential… seem somewhat familiar… show all that you can be. Best of luck and write on!
J.L. Campbell
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MeGgiE reviewed Version 1 -
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I think I would call it a short story. :) Nice symbolism, I really liked it.
The_August_Kid reviewed Version 1 -
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Original indeed. I’ve never seen a story from the perspective of an lifeless object. Nice twist.
I did happen to find a few typos here and there. Including, “usuall” and “becuase.” But definitely nothing big. Just a slip of fingers.
Nicely done.
lordzael reviewed Version 1 -
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This was kind of confusing. it seemed as if you did not know exactly how to arrange what you wanted to say. Yet, it was good. And I got the deeper meaning. I liked that you felt her pain, although she had what she seemed to want. This was good. but it needs more fine tuning. A Prose of Blogging is the best classification for it.
November 24, 2006
Deleted User
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This is what is called flash fiction. And interesting that you chose to write from the perspective of the apple. I myself have a similar story called “The Apple” who also has a personality but it is from the perspective of the one who wants to pick it. Anyways, I enjoyed this piece and thought it was a lovely metaphor and lovely too that he did not discard her. Nice job with this!
Trickst3r reviewed Version 1 -
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It seems that the more I review, the more I find myself reading about love and those whom lack the decisiveness to understand said emotion. A well written, fleshed out romp into what I can only coin as a simple role reversal of the snake in the Garden of Eden; reflecting how times have changed, keeping with a downtrodden trend of worthlessness.
Keep writing. Sometimes you’re unaware of what you’re writing until it’s on paper.
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