The Holy Fruit II

Finally, …

                She was walking, knee-deep in a rug of water. Her feet were enveloping in sand, so she made good pace. She had left the 4^th tree and was nearing the 5^th with a spring in her step. Her reflection was pleasant and warping along the waves beneath her.

                What a lovely day, she thought. The light was booming and ambient but had no source. The sun was nowhere, she had no shadow. Her limbs were flat and blocked in lazily with pale colours. The trees were without texture and the leaves were barbarically huge, leaning over the sea like umbrellas. The fruits were hanging from threads, waiting to be tugged and sucked dry.

                Then, crawling in through the vapid, creamy clouds�"something…

                She ignored it. The first fruit was a spectacle, a sphere wrapped in dancing colours. The orifice on its top was like a pair of lips pursing and chewing. She told hold and squeezed, but what came out was no fluid. It was thick, horrible and chewy. It wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t let go. Her eyes were bolted shut, her arms stiff, her legs bolted. The water was crawling up like a numbness.

                More- spitting and drooling along her face. The shadow was falling over her now, her eyelids were blotched with darkness. Then…