The Peach

The little girl woke up, frantic. She wondered where she was. Squinting her eyes, she looked around as the surrounding came into focus, but nothing was familiar.

She stood up gradually, almost unaware of a peach in her grasp. There was a soft glow around it – it was magic, she could feel it though she never quite understood; does it ripens with each kindness and sincerity, or bruises the each cruelty and indifferences? Does it inevitability change itself whenever a friendship is formed? Perhaps the magic within was not understanding it at all.

As her circle expanded and more friendships blossomed, her peach grew larger in size; both ripe and sweet. There were some imperfections, but still, the glow in it became brighter and brighter each day. It was sacred, and, so she safeguarded it with her life.

Until one day, a bully came, masked under the sweet charm of a little boy, took a huge bite out of the peach, threw it carelessly into a pile of mud and left. Almost as quickly, the little girl rushed to pick the sacred fruit up, only to realised that there were bruises all over. And the soft glow that once enveloped it was so faint that it was hardly noticeable on first glance.

Convinced that the magic will forever be gone, the peach remained hidden. Years came and went, and one day the little girl had a moment of clarity. That all the times she has been looking for magic, she forgot to believe in magic itself.

Just one day, the little girl may take a leap of faith and maybe the magic of the peach would return.


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