Feeling a little better about this piece. Wrote in memory of my Granddad who sadly passed away recently. And I'm not so big as to admit that I welled up writing this.
But read into it what ever you want.
5. Rot
He's like an apple at the moment, he looks okay, quite shiny, clean, fresh looking, but inside he's rotten to the core. Riddled with worms and holes. The once rich, sweet flesh of the insides is now bitter, brown and off. But he's still getting on with everything. It's like nothing's wrong. Although we all know what's wrong, that a Crow has pecked at him, a shadow has taken him.
The skin of the apple is starting to show signs of decay. Just little holes here and there, brown and rotten holes, but if you turn the apple over it's like they're not there. He doesn't pretend it isn't happening, but he can feel his stalk waning, so tired from it all. But he's still there, seeing friends, seeing family, one last trip, one last chance. So tired.
It's looking bad now; the skin is puckered, no longer shiny and clean. The holes are bigger too, all over, can't hide from it any more, can't turn the apple over and show a better side, it's all rotten, from the inside to the out. He's weak now, can barely stay awake, his stalk, connecting him to the branch is so fragile, but just a little longer, stay a little longer.
It snaps. The apple has rotted its self to the stalk and has cut away from the tree. He'll be buried in the ground soon, decomposed in the soil, but he knows his seeds will carry on living, growing on and up until they, one day, begin to rot.
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