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- Herausgeber: NJ Cooper
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In this short story entitled Take the apple, Adam!, an idea wrapped around the tragic condition of humanity is brought before the readers. Through the roller coaster of the storyline, and the vivid descriptions and analogies, the readers are invited to follow and feel together with the characters, finding at least one familiar aspect of their own life experiences.Every reader can find his or her own message in the story, having a lot of thoughts and ideas to take away from these pages. The bigger the vessel, the more one can draw from the fountain. For every author the main mission and motivation behind writing stories should be to fill everyones vessel to the brim
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Seitenzahl: 66
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
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Take the apple, Adam!
A short story by N. J. Cooper
Colophon
Take the apple, Adam!
N.J. Cooper
©2022 N.J. Cooper
All rights reserved.
Author: N. J. Cooper
Contact data: [email protected]
ISBN: 9783985101429
Introduction
The story you are about to read is basically built around a dream the author had in his youth, a very troubling and concerning dream. Some aspects of the story will seem like a pleasant and happy chain of events, other scenes will for sure seem nightmarish, filled with tragic and shocking turn arounds.
Even though the book brings series of realistic and detailed descriptions regarding events, places, objects or feelings, the readers are advised to keep in mind that the waters they are about to navigate belong to the ocean of the fictional genre.
Through the gloomy and shady lefts and rights of the action, beyond the thrilling ups and downs of the characters’ feelings, the readers are invited to follow the storyline and witness the fate of each person from the story, so without prolonging unnecessarily the introduction with heads ups and mood settings, feel free to slide down the “rabbit hole”. Enjoy!
Take the apple, Adam!
It was a cold, dark, late autumn night, the kind that dampens the world in silence usually at the beginning of November. It was after eight p.m., and the streets of Dreadmarkt were getting darker and darker, as the sun’s last rays slipped away under the black veil of the night. The last wandering souls were in a rush to hide from the cutting cold, which settled in after a fairly hot day. The dark sky had billions of sparkling stars, flickering in the vast distance, each one of them seeming restless and sad for not being able to heat up the cold-crippled world. The most they could do was to offer their small amount of light, like an “I’m sorry for you” message, for whoever looked at them. While the night wrapped in complete darkness the entire picture, suddenly the street lighting turned on. The lights, along with the lamps from within homes all over the city brought a slight feeling of comfort, in contrast with the darkness from before. Nevertheless, the emptiness of the streets, and the increase in intensity of the cold, kept the uneasiness floating over Dreadmarkt.
In this picture that resembled a modern age, static painting, with yellowish rays scattered all over itself, the only moving thing was a crooked figure in a too large, green jacket. In the weak light, the green color of the jacket looked more like a shade of brown, mixed with tan spots. This crooked and bent figure was a poor homeless guy, known by everybody in the city as Adam.
Now we all know the origin of this name. According to the Bible, it was the first human name, a name of noble sounding. Arguably, it is a name that fits a prototype man, somebody with perfection reflecting off of him, mighty and strong, a flawless being. When God created Adam, He created him to be perfect.
Our homeless Adam, in contradiction with what his name suggested, was far from perfect. His stature was smaller than average, excessively bent forward so most of the time he was walking around with the aid of a cane. His face was dark and dirty, even his mustache and beard were unclean, not to mention his hair, which hung in naturally formed dreadlocks, all the way to the level of his shoulders. His clothes, rugged and stained, were mostly misfit sizes. He used to wear all his clothes on himself, that way eliminating the need for a physical wardrobe. The green jacket offered a good cover for the rest of the clothing pieces he was wearing. Because of the too many layers of clothing, in some places the jacket looked stuffed, especially areas like the shoulders and his chest. His pants were also a good two sizes bigger, worn out blue jeans, stained with who knows what, so they looked more like urban camouflage pants than a pair of blue jeans. His cane was made of a stick, to which he attached a cut out tennis ball, in order to protect his hand from splinters. He was pulling beside himself a banged up trolley case, which had its top side broken off. All his fortune was inside that trolley. His food that he gathered from trash bins, a couple of cigarette ends, a yellow metal box with coins and wrinkled money, the small amount he managed to beg from strangers that day. There were also a pair of shoes, and a copy of the book ‘Treasure island’, a book he never read, he just used it to keep his photographs in it. Anyway, he was a deplorable figure, everything about him was repulsive and disgusting. Not to mention his smell that reeked in a good ten feet radius around him so hard that even the dogs avoided him. His entire being was a terrible sight to behold. In fact, the only thing that was curiously somewhat nice on him was the color of his eyes. He had dark blue eyes, which seemed to have their own source of light, shining in blue shades even in complete darkness. Some people said that it was because of the glue vapors he used to inhale, others said that in his sorry ass state of being, he sold his soul to the devil. In reality, Adam did not give a damn about the devil and he was too weak and too poor to acquire glue vapors or other drugs. The color of his eyes was the one and only thing that nature had blessed him with. Not too much, some would say.
On that November night, he was walking down the main street of the city, towards the usual place where he used to spend his nights, during the colder period of the year. This place was near the marketplace, between two multi story building blocks. Those blocks, being built in the late sixties, had those old fashioned heating furnaces made from cast iron. The furnaces, along with the water recirculating pump, occupied most of the space of the basements. The heating system’s pipes were going up to the upper floors, almost touching the inside of the walls that faced the open space near the market. This was a great safe haven in freezing, cold nights for the homeless people of Dreadmarkt. Usually those who were hanging out during the day in the nearby area, they were the ones who could get there fast enough to claim these sleeping places, where the heat was still significantly radiating from the thick, cast iron pipes, through the wall. Curiously enough, the architect who designed the two buildings seemed to have cared for these poor homeless souls, because across the open space, the other building had a similar heating system, placed like in a mirrored position. This way, at least three people could find refuge from the cold on each side, next to these warmer walls.
