New York Fruit


My body was pulled forward as I felt the ship come to a halt. Arbitrary sounds flooded into my ears like water into a breached ship. Once I got out of the barrel, my nose reminded me of the brown stuff Mamma puts in the garden—manure. Is this really New York?I thought to myself. The whole city was pushing me back out to sea, drowning me in its depths; however, I know how to swim. No matter what I would make it through. Go home t… go home… said the thoughts in my head. Just as the pulling stopped, I felt a cold hand yank me back, like a bird swooping for a doomed fish; the tearing of the fibres in my shirt shot into my ears. I tried to get up, but the more I tried, the more skin I felt tearing, burning my leg like if it was lit on fire. Before I knew it, I couldn’t feel anything but the breeze of the air, a hair dryer blowing into my face. I remembered what Mamma told me back home: Mamma said America would be good to me. Just before I turned 3 again and tears built up in my eyes, everything went black…


A single ray of light warmed me up as the blur in front of me cleared. I felt the energy pulsing through me. I tried to move, but I wouldn’t obey. All I felt was a pin in my back, like someone had been trying to pierce through my skeleton. Without knowing, my hand reached back. Suddenly, my legs came to life; with pain. I thrashed out at the my prison, hoping to meet my mamma again. I remembered my mamma’s last words when I stepped on the boat: America will be good to you. My legs started to die again. My eyes bulged as the world turned into a pure white. A figure watched down on me through the light. His cold eyes froze me in place. He prodded at me, as if he was checking if I was alive or not. Everything went dark again. A panel moved like a door, and the light attracted me as if I were a bug. A man waited outside. “Welcome” he said as his hand extended towards me. Seeing another human being shut my mind off, as I ran into his hands, missing his cold blue eyes. He squeezed me so hard, the air inside of me felt like it was squished out like a fly under a swatter. The devil of the darkness came upon me again.


The street. Mulberry Street. The crowd is fog, closing in on me so I can’t see . I make a dash for my ‘cab’, and as I feel the comfort of the seat, my pocket seems to loose all its weight, as if I were suddenly an astronaut in space. I reach out to grab the squirmy little kid, but he too disappears… disappears into the fog. Although I know there is no hope, I rush into the fog scanning peoples faces like a guard making sure that no criminal entered his master’s gates. Finally, the fog clears, and I see the boy running as fast as he can. Then, he suddenly disappears—a bird flying into the safety of its tree. I turn to where I saw him last—nothing. Now trudging back to my cab. As if the day couldn’t get worse. There is no cab. The light rain above my head quickly worsened, and I was drenched in torrential rain. Everything is lost. Miles away from home, and everything I had, was in that cab. I was warned not to come to this street—Mulberry Street; but when I was told I acted like a little kid. Defiant and stupid. Now, like a little kid, I wish I had listened. Listened to the warning about Mulberry Street.

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