EXERCISE Different Perspectives: Forbidden Fruit

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Cammysnek, Dec 7, 2014.

  1. [​IMG]

    It sits there. Juicy, ripe...and unattended.

    A fruit sitting atop a pile of other fruit, surrounded by other produce at an outdoor market. Asking to be stolen.
    Your challenge is to follow that stolen fruit. Describe the sights, sounds, smell of the scene all around it, but keep the fruit always in your sight. Does it go into a pocket? A bag? Carried by hand? Is the thief chased? Is the fruit dropped? What kind of fruit is it? Its story is here to be told.
     
  2. The child was small, almost too small to see over the edge of the produce bin. It was the smell of the sliced open watermelon that lured her in. Street stained fingers clung to the rough wooden edge of the bin that kept the fruit from rolling away. Her eyes widened as if doing so might help her take it all in. The sounds of people racing about their business in exhaust spewing transport and on weary feet made her eardrums vibrate roughly.

    She swiped at her nose with the back of one hand and almost lost her hold on the bin's edge as someone ran into her unseeing. "Watch where you're going!" The angry voice far above her head panted, but it was already being carried off in its speaker's anxious wake. The child tightened her grip. There was smaller fruits in the bin. Apples and plums glowed like an aura of seduction around the glistening red of the melon. She should take one of them.

    She could here the owner of the stand haggling over walnuts in the shell with a local chef. She recognized the voice of the chef. It was deep and friendly. He gave her a cookie sometimes when she lingered near his shop. She would never steal from him. But, the fruit seller was mean. His face as red as her prize but not so sweet and beckoning. Her mouth watered and almost drowned her baby teeth before she remembered to swallow.

    She was so hungry. She wanted watermelon. She had never tasted it but instinct told her it was sweet and cool and so very juicy. Straining onto her tiptoes, she reached for it, tried to drag it to her. It was too heavy and she was too weak, too small. Hungry desperation took over. Soon the chef would leave and the seller would notice her.

    Straining once more, she plunged her fingers into the exposed center. Whimpering, she wriggled her fingers as deep as she could and tore the watermelon's heart away. Clutching it to her chest, she raced around the corner and hid herself behind behind empty crates, wriggling in like a little mouse.

    The front of her thin top was wet and stained red. The juice ran down her wrists. Now, with her prize, she hesitated. What if it wasn't as tasty as it looked? Carefully she lifted the misshapen fruit to her mouth and bit one tiny bit away. Her teeth flashed in a starved little grin at the taste and bit again, filling her mouth and feeling the juices coat her grubby chin. Each bite was better than the last. She licked the dribbling juices from her thin little arms and sucked the remnants from her shirt.

    Her hands were empty but her belly was full, and her memory seared with the pleasure of that forbidden treat.
     
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