Monday, October 28, 2013

Bleeding Hearts Of August

Bleeding Hearts of August

The farmer handed his son a bucket and told him to come along with him today to the orchard. "Pick as many as you like", he told his son.

The young man wandered away from his father and to the trees by the lake where the wind blew strong.  With that strong wind, not much fruit would stay on the trees. The strong ones would hold and await to be plucked from the branches.  They looked good, so ruby red like beating hearts growing on a limb. Yet, there was something sad about them. Almost as if they could feel, they would weep. All they had to look forward to is someone coming along to see them as a worthy enough crop to take them away from the only home they've ever known  to be consumed. That was their life, these ripe and tasty virgins.

He reached out, but to take something so sweet seemed almost somewhat sinful. How could he take their perfection away? Even if he wanted it, he couldn't be the one.

His eyes turned to the fallen apples on the ground. Rotted and filthy. Common whores, feasted on by so many. The deer, the bugs, the vermin all had their turns with the sweet fruit and turned it into an undesirable rot. These damaged goods were not his taste.

His father came along and grabbed a ripe apple off the branch. "There is nothing wrong with taking one for yourself", he said as he took a bite.


"I'm not hungry", the son replied. He gave the bucket back to his father. Another would come along to take the virgins and the whores, but he would not be the one to touch either of them.