Does it counts as stealing, if you pick fruit hanging over a garden wall? What if you've already paid the price, before the flesh even touches your tongue?
I was walking past the big old houses on Lygon Road and a fruit tree with these incredible dark red leaves caught my eye.
The garden had a high wrought iron fence around it, but the tree was overhanging into the street. Getting closer, I saw that the escaped branch had one perfect plum hanging from it. It was so dark that it was almost black, with a gloss to it that glinted purple and blue in the light, like a raven's feathers.
No one else was around and the windows of the house were all dark. I grabbed the plum - it came away so easily in my hand - and I, with a surge of childish glee, ran around the corner to eat it.
I was lost from the first bite. It was incredible! The taut skin burst under my teeth and flooded my mouth with sweet, fragrant juice - as sweet as honey from a rock. The flesh was cool and soft as velvet, the same deep wine red as the leaves.
The plum was gone before I knew it, leaving me feeling oddly bereft. It must have been all the sugar that made my lips burn a little and left me so thirsty.
I wiped my mouth and carried on with my day.
I kept thinking about it, though. Over the next week, I tried buying plums from the market but none came close. I must have been around all the greengrocers in Edinburgh but everything I tried tasted like ash in comparison.
One night I couldn't sleep and decided to walk instead. I already knew I was going back to the garden, even though I wouldn't admit it to myself.
While I was away, the tree must have been cut back. The branches no longer hung out over the road and I couldn't reach them through the iron bars. The gate was ajar and all the windows of the house were still and dark.
I stood, paralysed under the streetlights, for what felt like an age. No cars past and all the houses around me were silent. I was just about to give up and walk home when a fox screamed somewhere behind me in the dark. The sudden burst of adrenaline must have given me courage, because I dashed through the gate and up to the hanging boughs of the fruit tree.
One plum was hanging over the path, gleaming in the electric lamplight. I snatched it and ran. This time I had to pull a little harder, before it came free. I dashed down the street, heart pounding, and sank down into the shadow of some bins to eat my prize.
It was even better than the first time and disappeared all the faster. Again, it left me with a raging thirst and a powerful desire to go back for more. I rocked on my heals, clutching my hands in my oxters, fighting the idea that I could steal another plum. Nothing had happened, had it? No one had noticed.
This time, it was the sudden shriek of a police siren in the distance that made me jump. Feeling guilty and ridiculous, I hurried home.
The next few days were torture. Nothing would quench my thirst and everything I ate tasted of dirt. I couldn't sleep at night and when I nodded off during the day I would wake with the sweet taste of the dark fruit in my mouth. I stopped going to work - I couldn't concentrate and didn't care.
It was late at night when I cracked. I rushed through silent streets back to the house and its garden.
The tree was bare. No leaves, no fruit, just skeletal branches. Grief stricken, I pushed open the gate, not caring this time about the wail of its rusty hinges.
I walked the path in a daze, reaching out to touch the dry bark. I stood there for a moment, before the faintest whiff of fruit reached my nose.
At first I thought it a cruel hallucination. I growled in frustration and punched the trunk. My knuckles split on contact with the rough wood. Blood the colour of my lost fruit instantly welled up and ran down my fingers. Where the drops landed on the tree they were greedily absorbed.
In pain and shame, I turned from the tree, licking blood from my stinging fist. When I had arrived I'd been sure that the front door was closed. Now it was wide open. I could see an entrance way, paved in white and black tiles and striped with harsh white light from the streetlights. Beyond that another internal door, with frosted and intricately patterned glass, also stood open.
And on a wooden table, just at the very edge of the light, a bowl of dark fruits.
I was rooted to the spot. Hunger, thirst, and fear warred inside of me. There was something wrong here. Taking from the tree was one thing, but entering the house and stealing the fruit? But the memory of the sweetness haunted me and my throat was so so dry.
I had crossed the threshold before my mind caught up with my body. Doubts rose again, as my hand hovered over the bowl. But now the scent was strong in my nose and my much abused willpower couldn't cope anymore.
My fingers touched the sable skin of the fruit and my mind fell into darkness.
But anyway, my master will have my skin if he catches me gabbing like this. Will you buy my orchard fruits? Sweet to tongue and sound to eye, come buy come buy...
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
izzy806
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
