Rapture for Apples

I sat there, peering through the gap. My brothers and sisters were stacked on top of me, raving about how great it was to be harvested by the "giants." Some cried with joy, some brimmed with ecstasy. And once they were picked up by the giant hand, they would yell and scream in a frenzy -- they were finally becoming part of the "giants."

I was in the bottom of the heap, glad that I was last in line. While everyone else were in thrall of being eaten, I was repulsed by the idea of it. It was wrong. I didn't want "to become part of the giants."

"I've been chosen. I've been chosen!" cried one of my brethren, nestled by the great hand, washed from a shiny branch, then bitten with a loud crunch.


"It hurts! It hurts! But the pain -- so exhilarating!"

Everyone in the basket, except for me, cheered in exultation. If they had hands, they would've pumped and waved them in the air. If they had feet, they would've made a mosh-pit out of the basket.

The crunch and the snap, as the giants bit my brothers and sisters, was haunting. It echoed inside me, chilling my very core. I sat there fearing that the time would come eventually -- right after the two remaining goofs on top of me.

"How great it is that we are next, sister."

"Oh yes, very great indeed."

"We will become one of them soon, dear sister."

"Oh yes, very much soon."

"Shaddap!" I said.

"Brethren, what ails you?" asked the male-apple.

"Aren't you scared? Afraid? We're going to die man!" I said.

"No brethren, we are going to be part of a great whole," said the female-apple.

And became part of a greater whole she did. The giant hand picked her up while she sang in praise, in jubilation. But as the giant teeth dug into her skin, she shrieked, then gave a sigh of awe as the giant devoured her.

Then there were two; my only remaining brother on top of me. He was silent; he knew I wasn't much of a conversationalist in terms of being eaten.

Days had passed and the waiting had become unbearable. I felt pain inside me, perhaps of anticipation. My brother sensed it too. A little doubt grew on the surface of his red skin; they were brown patches peering at me, face-to-face.

"Brethren, I feel sad and I can't understand why," said he.

Then, seeing the giant approaching, his voice brightened. Elated. The giant was coming, ready to take my brethren away from me, to leave me alone, to wait alone.

"It's high time brethren! May mother nature bless ye!"

I firmly believed he was getting picked. But no. The giant reached out to the basket and grabbed me by my stem. If I had a mouth, I would've screamed at its face.

It opened its mouth and sank its teeth against my skin. The crunch and the snap tingled through me. The pain stung, yet slowly receded into ecstasy. But I wanted to live and didn't want to be consumed. I hung in the air weightless and without thought.

The giant shrieked. There was a tingling sensation on the surface of the bite. I felt its presence and learned why I had pains: a worm had claimed residence inside me. It squirmed and struggled for survival, sharing its motives with mine. Because the worm wanted to live, I had wanted to live.

I flew across space, feeling the air push against me, and escaped through the window. The sun bounced against my skin, flickering brilliance in the summer day. I fell on the soft soil beneath a giant tree -- my giant, my mother, my home.

"You're alright kid," said the worm beside me, then dug itself back inside.

I wasn't sure about that: part of me wanted to be consumed by the giant (the bitten half), the other part of me wanted to sit there, enjoying the sun, the soil and the shade.

"Hey, you know any good jokes?" I asked the worm.

There was a moment of silence until the worm responded: "What do you get when you cross an apple and a shellfish?"