apple 137

it was warm and stuffy. fat, grubby worms were feasting on juicy leaves and sweet, ripe fruits. eating their heart out like there was no tomorrow. eating before it was too late. or so they think. life's too short for them. so they grab what they can. they might be dead the next minute, eaten by a bird or crash landed on the ground.

suddenly. a gush of moist, warm wind catches a tree by surprise. shaking the branches with all its might with the worms hanging on for dear life. some managed to burr a hole in the apples as an escape route. others got tangled in the harsh whispers of the wind and were falling. falling...and falling...they know in them that this is the end. and they close their eyes and accept their fate as was written for them.