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Apple In the Market

We were all tightly clutched together neatly among st so many; whom were so cold and frigid. None was left different from another; we all were the same. Fright is all we ever felt since this all began.
We have been separated from so many others outside of ourselves, as we were drenched in an enlightening luscious green. All of our longing actions were timed from dusk to dawn and all had to stay motionless and without a sound fore what we were battling for- what sacrifice we thrust among st our own was rash, but brave. No one could understand our pain or even help to ease it with the slightest fragment of pity. All who have tried have failed and we are left to rot in the mitts of our differences.
I have remained so constricted from the world I have had a dearth for and now it’s so distance and hope seized from my heart. Before this massacre of such eagerness for power all began, we were joyful. Where did sanity go? I have longed for the day where we all can live the way we used to; the way it was intended for all.
***
11:05- ten minutes before the bells of horror screamed- how could they be laughing? It had been no more than three weeks since the first law and now the tyrant reigning that nightmare has set us even further away from normality and deeper into poverty, by putting us in a certain box pushed away from the wonderful red world at the east side. We not only could not sit where the red ones were, we were stamped and marked like diseased animals urging the healthy to keep their precious distance. He did so by granting us stamps marked, “Granny Smith Apples- Five cents.”
It just so happened that my wondering eyes glanced at a shiny red apple with a grin so wide, it could not have been torn. They had no sticker, no cancellation, nothing! They were out in the open for the world to gaze in awe. Not even the Gala’s! No other, but us.
Actions speak louder than words, but only can they speak with a thought controlling them. I shut away the green landscape as far as the eyes could see all and saw the back of my skin as water teemed. My mother then reached for my stem and we clutched. The heat of her love dried the tears which had swollen not only the heart beneath my skin, but the eyes that saw the truth. I looked her in the eyes and pulled my smile as far I could and as believable as it could have ever been. She mouthed, “We will be okay, son.”
I rocked to and fro in understanding. ”Dong, dong.” The clock stroke 11:15 and stroke with a breeze of sharp silence.
The tyrant waltzed casually up to the door and flipped the sign from, “closed” to “open.” I caught a glimpse of the monster. He was not too positive in height or strength, but looks are more than deceiving. He had no expression on his face, but his minions did; fear and wilt. He had hair as black as his heart and a mustache bigger than his ego- extending from one side of his lip to the other. From birth, he was evil.
He then sat himself down behind the only cash register found in miles of that town. I stayed as still as possible, but fear took over and I began to rattle. The routine was nothing too abnormal. The front door of the store ripped open and a young German girl appeared in the crevasse. She looked shy and nervous. Her pigtails were tucked behind her tiny ears and she uttered a sweet question. Who knew innocence could be so fearful? “Um, where are your yummy, yummy apples?” she asked in a lisp.
He chuckled a bit and pointed towards the produce. One little apple’s whimper turns into another’s melt down. We all were in total, undivided, uncountable fear at that point and time. Her tiny feet clashed against the concrete and she skimmed at the shiny pocket change in her hand along with a tiny list. An apple up front screamed back, “I see it! She needs four red apples and ah! One green! I can’t take the chance! We are all going to die! No one is safe!” He began to hyperventilate and he rocked back and forth.
Everyone tried to stop him, but it was too late. He threw himself off the ledge. No one looked over the ledge; we were too afraid of the results. We just closed our eyes and prayed she did not take us. I had clear view of the monster, but I could not tell what she was doing. She grabbed the richest red apples, the creamiest caramel, and turned over to come to us. She swung around the little brown basket and I breathed so heavily that my mother does not even know what to do.
She shut her eyes so tightly and she mouthed a prayer. The girl was hovering over us. Her itchy fingers wave over each apple. Her eyes met mine and her smile appeared. I cried so loud inside; it felt real. I pushed myself as far back as possible and tears dropped from my eyes like flies. Her hand reached down and she whipped them around my body. Her tiny fingers clutched me so tightly; so harshly; so cold. I gripped my mother’s stem as she cried out, “No! Not him! Not my baby! Please!” It was too late.
We slipped away and she set me down in her tiny basket. I rolled over to bars and I screamed back, “Mommy! No! I love you! Please, don’t leave me!”

I cry so hard. My eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bottom of the rack. I see figures of apples underneath. They hid the differences away and somehow; were never caught. Why did not we roll off from the open and enter the safety of darkness? Asphalt, to me, never seemed so soft. I have never felt so scared; so decimated for how I was. I knew where I was going and how I was leaving this world. At least I leave with the pride of whom I was and that will never be taken away.
May God have mercy on my people and let the demented evil poisoned the tyrant’s body and soul drag him to mitts of hell fore I am not what these words may deceive- no. I am not simply an apple; I am a chunk of history that has devastated this world for all eternity. This was the hiding and I am a Jew.




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