A very, very short story inspired by my walk from Praia das Maçãs (Apple beach), in Portugal, to Praia da Adragas, while eating an apple. I am not claiming that this is well written or remotely edited…

I started my life as a small thing, bringing smiles to the glancing eyes of those creatures around me. Soon my youth faded and I noticed a change: I started to swell unexpectedly. Still though, I was quite happy growing rosy on the end of my mother’s arm, alongside my brothers and sisters.
That is, until the car came. I was snatched away and chucked into the vehicle with the rest of my brethren. Behind me I could hear mother crying. Those around her also began to shriek.
You didn’t stop though, it was as if you couldn’t hear our screams. Or, maybe, you didn’t care.
We travelled for many miles, passed from hand to hand, boxes constantly shifting. Some of us became terribly bruised. I was lucky; I remained unscathed in that respect.
When the movement ceased, I started to gain hope. Perhaps this was it now? We could live out the rest of our short lives without worrying who was going to get lost next.
No. Of course it wasn’t over. I was the first to be selected.
We walked for hours. I clung to her side, occasionally swinging more freely when she felt too hot to have me close. I grew more tender as time passed and the journey wearied me. She kept me warm though, even as she stopped and (presumably, for I could not see from that angle) smiled at the view.
Eventually, we halted.
I waited as she looked at me.
Suddenly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, she tore at me and then proceeded to devour my flesh.
This creature cast aside my innards and what was left of my dignity.
I fell into the shadows of a prickly ancient.
As a youngling, I had been taught that looks matter if you want to get anywhere in life.

Looks can betray you.

And… Looks can be deceiving.
The ancient one was kind. They did not know my mother or any of our relations, nor did any of the ancient one’s friends who were so much taller than I. Despite this, they still accepted me as one of their own.
They gave me nutrients. They sheltered me from harm. They made sure the water never managed to truly wash me away.
They, as a forest, nurtured me to a new type of health.
I began to understand that I wasn’t truly scarred; my life was still just beginning. I had to suffer in order that I may now grow into something that I had never expected.

Let me know if you enjoyed this. Or if you didn’t. I don’t think it will stop me from writing more in the future though…