This is a creative writing piece I wrote many years ago for a a writing workshop. Writing is an art of it's own, much like a painter, only instead of using a paint brush we use words to describe what we want you to see. Our sense are the colors we use to paint our pictures. The lesson was to write about a type of fruit without naming what it was.
I called it God's candy because when my children were little that's what I called fruit.
God’s Candy
By Connie Rife
I know that I am not much to look at.
If you didn’t know what I was you might mistake me for a bug…and step on
me. On the other hand, you might avoid stepping on me at all thinking I could be
the pea size turd of a rabbit left behind.
The truth is I was born to be this way. I have a purpose, and believe it
or not I will give you pleasure if you plop me in your mouth. However, I understand if you feel a little
skeptical, after all, how can something so ugly…taste so good. I have followed the path for which I was created,
and in return I have been concentrated into pure natural sugar which gives you
natural energy and fiber to boot. I have
been known by some to be called “God’s candy”.
My story begins with the predestined crop that grew before me. I was born in the spring popping through the
flesh of my vine developing into a tight bud. I was soon joined by other buds
and as we clustered close to one another we became family. As I felt the warmth
of the Sun envelope me I was filled with such joy that I let go and burst open.
As I watched the same thing happen to my sisters beside me I saw what beautiful
flowers we’d blossomed into. We stayed that way throughout the summer enjoying
the sun and the rain until we grew to maturity, losing all our childish petals
along the way. When I reached the age of
perfection my skin was tight and smooth to the touch. My shape was round and
very voluptuous, I was ready to burst forth from all my juicy sweetness.
It was at the this peak of perfection that the life I knew was pulled
apart. The pickers came along and plucked us from our vine. Then picked each
member of my family from the comfort of our clustered home and placed us on
paper trays; there we laid in wait in the hot August Sun without any water for
two or three weeks. I can’t even remember, but we were there until our time of
purification was over.
A man stood before
us looking down with pleased eyes and said only one word, ”beautiful!” I felt hard, dry and parched. As I looked at
my sister’s lying beside me we were no longer the tight baby bud, the flower of
our joyous childhood, the plump voluptuous juicy body of our maturity. We’d
become old and ugly, dark and shriveled to less then half our size.
The man looked at
me as if he could hear what I was thinking. He grabbed one of my sisters and
cut her in half. He plopped the one half into his mouth savoring the taste of
her sweetness upon his tongue while he held the other half between two finger
looking at the thick dark goo he was tasting in his mouth. He smiled again with
great pleasure saying only one word again, “perfect!
I always knew deep
down inside that my destiny was to give something of myself. That there was
something inside growing so sweet that it was ready to burst forth, but I was
too busy looking at the outside to see that what really mattered was inside.
Have you guessed
by now what I am? I’m not going to tell you, but I hope the next time you take
the pleasure of looking deeper into all of God’s creations and seeing that
everything has a purpose Taste me; go ahead just plop me in your mouth…Ah! Now
you understand that my outside taste as good as the inside, my purpose has been
fulfilled for now you experienced the beauty of me.
