Fruit Market (beginning)

In a small town, on the corner of a common street, resided a small food market. The market constantly had customers, all who lived in the area, and sold many types of food. The most valued and sold was the fruit. The market held beautiful fruit. Shiny, red apples, soft pears, strong oranges, perfect bananas, and ripe grapes. Although all the fruit were well catered for by the market’s employees, there were larger problems in a smaller terms.

           There was a war. The clever apples and tough pears waged against each other in hopes for a close victory through the war. They had been fighting beyond the expiration date from several months ago. There was a cause for the war, but the fruit’s generation over the year had lost the reasons. The apples took shelter in their own community, in the left corner of the market’s fruit’s section. Then the pears resided in their own section, next to the apples, separated by a wall between their sections. The apples were more acknowledged, knowing to how to use their knowledge to inflict the pears, create strategies for offense and defense through their technology. The pears were barbaric with brute strength that helped them with their struggles against the apples tactics. Both sides had their own advantages and disadvantages. The only reason the new generations of apples would continue on with the war was because they felt that the war was just culture, and a way of their lives by now. Just another way of how things had to be.
       
    Mac shuffled his way across the center of the apple box. His red skin shone with a hint of green in the light, his stem was small, and his leaf a natural green. Mac passed several other apples, all of different colors. There was green, golden yellow, and bright solid red. The apple community was very diverse and well structured. They had a political system, laws, and even their own walkways paved for them to step on. Mac pondered on how his great grandfather was doing, hidden in the back corner of the town. Mac walked his way across the town, saying hello to every other apple that passed. Once he had reached the end of the walkway, there was just the wall. Mac looked up the wall, seeing that it reached beyond the possible limit of any fruit to climb. A small hole in the wall was covered by some old apple leaves that were left behind by a few apples before. Mac approached the leaves, looking around to check to see if anyone was watching, and then brushed them aside. He walked into the dark hole in the wood, and then covered the hole back up with the leaves. Mac turned to see a dim light around a corner. Mac followed it cautiously, not wanting to make too much noise. There were slight creaking noises every few seconds, and Mac turned around the corner. Mac stepped into a compact room, illuminated by one small candle. In the corner, next the the candle, sat an old apple in a rocking chair, Mac’s grandfather. As Mac walked toward the old apple he noticed his features becomeing more noticable. His grandfather was a golden color, having brown spots all over him. He also had dark cirlces that showed bruises and cuts. His history showed not only through his scars, but also through the defined lines around his face. The old apple’s eyes brightened, and mouth curved upwards weakly once he saw Mac cross the small room.
    “Hello, my dear Mac. How are you this afternoon?” croaked the old apple. Mac smiled back caringly, glad to see his grandfather’s passion for life still risided inside of him.
    “I am fine, grandpapa. What about you?” Mac responded politely. The  older apple just sighed with a slight smile.
    “I’m doing alright, thank you. How is everything outside of the walls?” The old apple wheezed. Mac was afraid to tell him about the war. He himself did not even know why there was a war that waged on continuously between the Apples and the Pears. The war had been going on months before Mac’s generation, and nobody knew why. The war was seen as just a way of life, almost as if it was a custom for the Apples and Pears to hate and fight eachother.
    “Everything is doing well.” Mac lied with a smile, although the guilt rested in the back of his mind. His grandfather coughed and gave a happy look, his wrinkles seemed to be deeper every time he smiled. Mac and his grandfather had a tight bond, knowing eachother for more than a week or two. Mac’s grandfather had been alive for about three weeks, being older than all the apples. He was wise and Mac helped him live on longer by settling him in the corner of the box, so he would not get thrown out.