My brother, who was far wiser than me, called me over and thought of a plan. We were to retrieve a fabled apple. The apple, buried in legends and myths, was thought for more than a It was a misty morning. The skies were dark, the streets abandoned. Everyone seemed to isolate themselves into a certain part of the house and hoped to die. I feel everyone’s suffering. To toil in a memory of anguish and pain caused by an unstoppable plague is barely conceivable.
My brother, who was far wiser than me, called me over and thought of a plan. We were to retrieve a fabled apple. The apple, buried in legends and myths, was thought for more than a millennia to do wonders, create miracles, and to avert the inevitable.
That night, for the sake of our humanity and the faith of our fellowmen, we set out for our King and country. We walked endless summer days to cold winter nights until at the break of dawn, we finally arrived at the land of the legendary apple. The magical evergreen was stunning. Trees bend and sway, as if dancing in the wind. The sky, bright with brilliant hues of pink, complement the ground’s simple green. As we tread past the surreal dreamscape, the apple tree slowly came into view. But as our smiles filled our emotions, the ground shook. Using our final moments of strength we struggled to gain our destiny.
I stood from below, gazing at my brother’s valiant climb. The ground shook even stronger but my brother’s will outgrew the tremor. Battling his fear and overcoming his thoughts, he snatched the fruit from the graceful embrace of its branches and came down.
We began our journey back. It wasn’t as difficult as before for we carried with us hope. We walked with pride. We came as heroes. We came back as brothers.
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