by Tony Evans
Oake spent most of the daylight climbing up the thick vines that wrapped the two hundred meter tall Priscilla tree. The slippery green moss that covered most of the tree provided a beautiful emerald façade that covered the gnarled, ugly bark underneath. His progress was slow and steady until he got to the top of the tree, where the fruit grew.
Oake shimmied out on a branch so high above the jungle floor that he was unable to see the ground. Overcoming his fear he stretched out with his knife in hand straining to reach the fruit. The fruit was as big as a man’s head, oval shaped with hard black leaves peeling away from a red-yellow center that brought fire to the imagination.
Behind him he could hear the cracking and creaking of wood as the branch he laid upon was about to give under his weight. But he was lucky. He was able to cut the fruit from the branch and reach the safety of the vine wrapped trunk and climb back down without incident.
Oake wrapped the fruit in a brown cloth and hefted it up over his shoulder like a sack. The needle points that grew from the tips of the leaves surrounding the fruit poked through the cloth, through Oake’s clothes and into his back as a reminder of the sin he carried on his back.
A nine day trek through the jungle brought Oake back to his village.
As he entered the village perimeter and headed for the village center the sound of blaring horns alerted the entire village to Oake’s arrival.
Villagers sprouted from their simple huts in their usual state of hunger and filth attracted by the spectacle Oake made of himself. They wanted to see the bad fruit and they wanted to see the punishment the elders gave to him for disobeying and retrieving the fruit.
Oake climbed onto the large round tree stump the village used as a platform for ceremonies and laid the fruit bare for the whole village to see.
Amongst gasps and whispers Oake searched the crowd for the village elders.
There were three and they made their way through the crowd. They stopped short of the tree stump, horrified at the mere sight of the fruit harmlessly lying on its side.
Ruli, the speaker of the village elders spoke for the group, “What have you brought to us, Oake? Do you love your village so little that you willingly bring sin into our midst?”
“No! It is not sin, but truth.” Oake shouted with vigor.
“The fruit is deceitful, Oake,” Ruli said mournfully. “Step away and we will be rid of it,” Ruli pleaded and held out his hand for Oake to take it.
But Oake stepped away and looked over the worried crowd. The stories he’d been told as a child of this evil fruit swirling in his head, but all, he knew in his heart, were lies. “I know that you’re all afraid,” Oake spoke to the people. “I was afraid too, but I’ve seen the truth. It came to me in a dream. The fruit is the way and the door. It is a symbol of our ignorance. We should eat and rejoice at the shackles we have thrown down and move forward toward a future where false sin leads to true impediment no more. I see a future where our huts are made of stone and metal and reach far into the sky. Where food is no longer hunted but given abundantly. A future where we all rest at night on soft clean cloths and worry of nothing and no one. The fruit will give us all these things.”
Ruli shook his head in dismay as the gathered crowd looked to him for a rebuttal. Ruli had heard similar words spoken before. They came from his younger brother so many years before. There was nothing to be said then to turn his brother from his path and even with his many years of wisdom Ruli knew there was nothing to be said now to turn this young one from the same path. In fact he knew that one must be sacrificed to bring resolution to this debate; at least until the next young one tested the fruit.
Ruli’s throat constricted as if the words refused to come out, “You sacrifice only yourself in this. If you must, then eat the fruit and we will all see the truth, if any.”
Oake took out his knife and cut the fruit in two revealing bright green meat surrounding a pink center dotted with purple seeds.
Oake picked up one half of the fruit and held it to his nose. The sweet smell filled his nose and removed any lingering doubt that this fruit could be corrupt.
He took a great bite from the fruit; the juice spilling out over his lips and down his chin. The rich full taste of the fruit was enough to bring a smile to Oake’s face and all he saw was light.
Ruli did not turn away from the sight as most did. He wanted to see, to remember clearly those demons that come and take those that test the fruit.
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“Inbound!” said the controller.
“Finally,” replied the operator. “What is that, like one every forty years or something?”
“Better than nothing I suppose,” the controller said shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll pull the KTT logs, can you get him prepped and ready for transport?”
“Sure thing. Designation?”
“O-A-K-E,” the controller read the letters methodically.
“Got it.” The operator shook his head as he entered the data into the computer. “I swear, this has to be the least productive farm yet.”
My Soul to Keep
