Prologue

            Prologue   

How contradictory a color’s representations can be? Green has always reminded culture of life through the vision of nature, yet in a universe where good and right has begun to slip into a dormant slumber green takes on a whole other meaning. Suffocation. Poison. The dripping venom from a viper’s fang. Reality often overlaps blurring the distinction of each aspect. Red contains similar characteristics when being held in comparison. Love.  Passion. The dedication and threads within a heart. Then there’s the other side of the fence with the relentless thought of pain which comes along with the sighting of a scarlet droplet of blood.

            So which is correct? Are they all? Or is it only one which happens to be masqueraded by all the others?

             The orchard blooms with an array of apples when the crisp wind hits the branch. Some are already rotten by now and wormy with holes, but others are fresh with youth and beauty: much like how humanity adapts to life.  There is one apple that stands out among all the rest and only because its unusualness catches the eye and draws it nearer for a closer glance.

            Perhaps it was the fruit which contained all the knowledge of good and evil with just a bite. It’s glossy and flawless finish hiding the overflowing juice which shrouds the core. The inner lying myth was that if this fruit were eaten then you would become even more omniscient than God and therefore God himself: a potentially tempting offer for a sinner of any kind no doubt. Forbidden it was though and nonetheless it clung to its branch in mockery and dripping with sweetness.

            This sin was the very first of its kind and had already been committed. The glistening bobble appeared to have lost its threat and no longer taunted. It took but an instant to snatch it from where it hanged. Its perfection and beauty mesmerizing it was almost a shame to indulge. The apple drew closer towards an open mouth. Teeth rested across the straight boundary line between life and love or suffocation and pain. As soon as the skin had been punctured, juice spilled in. The first bite had been taken and the fate of the decision had yet to unfold.

            Who knew what this story was like - that is if it was even one at all? Was it an ordinary image or the climax of a hidden plot? One could only know if one were there to have seen that piece of apple swallowed or the half green and half red apple role free from the hand of a young girl named Sierra White as she lay unconscious on the hardened ground.