The Green Apple

The Green Apple
As light began to shimmer on spider webs covered with dew drops, ice puddles and the windows of small wooden houses, an old man sat on an equally old and rusty metal food container on his porch looking out as dawn broke over the village. His bright eyes scanned across nearby houses, looking for excitement.  A yellow hew of a candle flickered up in a room in  the opposite house, his eyes darted to the light, he squinted and leaned forward, the rusty container creaked harshly suddenly giving way, crashing loudly to the wooden floorboards which sounded worse than a banshees scream as metal spikes shredded his flesh .
 The window opened on the opposite house and a young boy climbed out, dropping to the ground he ran towards the old man. His run was labored as one leg was shorter than the other. The young boy reached the man and started pulling his ankle to drag him from the wreckage.
“Go away, lad” said the Old man. “I said GO AWAY” he repeated as the young boy continued to pull his ankle. 
The boy was making everything ten times worse as the movement made blood gush from his wounds. Pushing his hands off the floorboards he managed to ease himself above the spikes, not letting any emotion show on his stern face he kicked at the boy still pulling his ankle.
The boy recoiled in alarm and ran down the porch steps, holding his hands to his chest where he was kicked. He silently watched as the old man slowly tilted his body forward, tucking his bony legs beneath him, kneeling and then standing. He wobbled a bit before reaching for his wooden walking stick leaning against the side of the wall.
The old man’s hands contracted and released by his side as the throbbing of his behind became more intense as the cuts had stretched violently when he moved.  Glaring daggers at the young lad, before he turned to hobble inside his house the boy loudly said, “Hello my names Amrit.” Smiling up at the old withered man, the boy thought to himself “Mum doesn’t like him, he looks scary. I like him, he looks cool, and I’m hungry”.
The old man opened his mouth to say go away a third time but not before he noticed the young boy was standing funny.
“Your name suits your appearance.” he sneered, trying to scare the boy away "What happened there?" gesturing to the boy’s leg.
"It means 'the nectar of immortals', my mum chose it" Amrit said smiling broadly up at the old man. 
He frowned; creases appeared up his old forehead, making up his recognizable complexion.
"What’s your name?" Amrit pushed.
"Go away Amrit. Your mom is looking for you." gesturing to the open window at the Amrits home.  A pale faced woman with too much makeup on and curlers in her hair stared from the window, her half painted lips moved up and down but no sound came out.
"I think she’s scared of blood."
"Amrit, just.....fuck off." 
"what’s your name?"
"Go away."
Amrit turned to his mother, "MOM, this is my friend 'Go away'. His bum is bleeding!"
Giggling Amrit waddled up the steps and grabbed the old man’s hand. "Mom will take you to the hospital. What’s your real name?"
The old man stood very still and straightened his back, "the brats getting on my nerves" he thought "if his mother wasn’t here i would cripple his other leg."
Glaring at Amrit he frowned and sighed," You can call me Sir."
A loud creek came from the front steps. The pale faced woman grabbed Amrit, "Don’t you dare touch him." she screeched with venom in her voice. "Through your own perverted actions you have injured yourself, I’ll be dammed if you haven’t learnt that you deserved it.  I will take you to the hospital, only because I don’t want to be the one responsible for you to die, you will pay for the tetanus shot and my petrol, there and back. Both of you get in the car now, NOW" she screamed and pointed to a large silver jeep parked on the curb. 
"Sir, you go first." 

Three hours later
The young nurse outside the door was talking loudly to Amrit "Your Granddad will be OK. He has had a tetanus shot and he’s all banged up. it will take him a while to heal." The last part was directed to the mother "Mr. Jones,  Sonny will recover in two weeks approximately. He is old and needs care i urge - " 
"WAIT, WHAT?! He is not my father or my child’s grandfather, he’s a cree-"
"Mom, Sir is awake!"
Amrit rushed into the room with a wide grin.
“Why did you like to my son, you sick old man.” She spat. Her arms tightly crossed across her large chest.
“I never liked fucking hospitals, or women." Sonny replied. Looking straight at the bitch of a woman.

Miss. Jones features changed in an instant, her arm swung back, her body tilted forward, like a python in makeup ready to strike. Two passing nurses saw this display from the other room and ran at her from behind. She was about to release the fatal blow, as her hand sliced through the stale air of the hospital room the two nurses grabbed he waist, pulling her back. The force behind her swing missed and she fell forward onto the bed rail, taking the two men with her. They all crashed into the bed, making it slide to one side violently across the polished floor. The noise had woken slumbering patients in the room and they were looking at each other quite dazed and confused. The silence was short lived by Amirts outburst of laughter seeing his mother sprawled on the ground. The joyous giggles broke the stillness and the nurses quickly stood up off Miss Jones, but she didn’t move.
One nurse bent down and pulled up one of her eyelids. “Quick get a wheelchair, she has been knocked out, quickly, quickly!" Amirts laughter subsided as his gaze switched from his mother, to the nurses brining in the wheelchair, the hushed whispers crawling their way around the room and the finally up at Sonny whose grin still lingered.
Amirt backed away frown his mother’s limp body in the chair. "Boy, stay with your grandfather, your mother has had a head injury. You can see her soon. Your mom will be ok son." said a nurse as the others accompanied the wheelchair out the room. The nurse bent down and put both hands on Amirts shoulders "Want a nice big green apple, I’ll be right back!" the man left quickly and closed the doors behind him.
 The hum of the ventilating machine took over the room again as the excitement had subsided for the other patients. They went back to sleeping, reading, watching The fuzzy small box T.V above a teenage boy masturbating whilst sprawled on a hard bed with a cast on his leg covered in signatures and peace symbols at the opposite corner of the room, next to the heater.
Sonny took in a silent breath of stale air and blinked twice, looking around briefly his gaze then fell on Amirt who was swaying on his longer leg whilst he balanced himself out on tip-toe on the other. He was staring at a spot on the shiny floor, his eyes glazed over, misery pulled at the corner of his mouth, making him pout. This completion didn’t suit a boy of his excitable nature, it looked wrong, like a mask that was too big for a face.
Sonny studied the boy for a while; he looked well taken care of. His hair was cut short to his scalp and danced like reeds in a storm; brown eyes looked out from large eye sockets whilst his nose curved up playfully. His pale blue pajamas were covered in 'Tomas the tank engine' and were crumpled up around the ankles when he had shoved his feet into trainers to aid Sonny as soon as he had fallen.
Sonny coughed to break the constant hum of the air conditioner, which really got on his nerves. This made Amrit look up; he tilted his head to one side and leaned his chest forward, and peering up at Sonny he smiled broadly, almost like he had seen a chocolate bar at the top shelf of the kitchen he knew he could reach.
Reaching toward the metal railing on the side of Sonny’s bed Amrit grasped the cold metal in-between his palms and pulled towards himself. The bead screeched as the metal wheels changed direction. The bead slowly moved across the floor in agonizing high pitched squawks inch by inch. Sonny sat still watching the young lad tug at the bed. A thin grin curled his lips as he realized that the sweet boy simply wanted to make people happy, he was kind-hearted. His innocence hadn’t been wracked, but growing up would most defiantly change that. Sonny stretched out his arm and softly laid his large palm on Amirts head, flattening his messy hair.
Amirt stopped tugging on the bed and looked up at Sonny. His tongue shot out and licked Sonnys wrist, who pulled his hand away and frowned at the boy before poking his wrist and wiping it on the bed sheet. “You’re a queer lad, aren’t you?” said Sonny, sitting back on a puffy white pillow and crossing his arms gently across his chest.
Amirt smiled, his face crinkling up into innocent glee. He shuffled towards the bed, grabbing the iron raining with both hands; he pulled himself up on to the bed. Crawling up to the pillow he curled into a ball and rested his head on Sonny’s shoulder.
Sonny was still all over. No one had ever shown this much physical affection towards him before. Not even his late wife. Sonnys mind raced and he closed his eyes, this show of sudden affection was bringing back memories he didn’t want. “What if Miss. Jones saw this? I will get accused of being a fucking Pedo once again. That is not a reputation I need.” He was about to insist Amrit to get of the bed and ask about his mother, when Amrit seemed to read his mind.
“I love my mom. She is annoying to other people, and kids at school say that their mommies and daddies say naughty words about her, I say the bad words when I’m alone, she is trying to be a good mommy, but can you be a good mommy without a good daddy?”
“What are you trying to say, Amirt?” sonny frowned, glancing down at the boy, curled up at his shoulder, whose eyes were questioning like big dark moons.
“Can you be my daddy?”
“No. Amirt, I cannot, your father is your biological parent. I cannot replace that. By the way I don’t like your mother, and even more so you.”
“Your mommy and daddy were angry at each other too then? I am angry too sometimes, but I then talk to my mom. Do you talk to your mommy? Do you talk to your daddy?”
This struck Sonny by surprise, he had known Amirt would ask this when he started whining about his insolent mother, but the manner in which he said it was surprisingly intelligent and touching for a boy of his nature. His thought went dry and tears pricked at his eyes. Leaning back on the pillow he breathed out and closed his eyes, taking a raspy breath in he began to talk.
“My mother and father are long dead. They were worse than your mother. You have to understand, in my childhood, growing up was much different than it is for you now. I am an old man now. My mother had four other children to care for, not my brothers and sisters, but adopted children. She had a kind heart, but she was so stupid and weak. This is reality, this is life. You give yourself up to be used and you will be fucking used.” Sonny opened his eyes and looked at Amrit to make sure he was hearing this, for this is valuable information.
“My father beat my mother, me and our dog. He would never touch the adopted children. This would infuriate me. I hated all four of my so-called brothers and sisters. To take out all the boring shite, my father died of a brain tumour when I was Twelve. Three years later my mother killed herself. That meant I had to go to into foster care, along with the other cunts.”
“Life is pain. There is no “life” just existence.” Sonny whispered, mostly to himself.
Looking down at his hands clenched together on his lap he discharged the anger brewing inside him.
“That’s sad, to not have a mother.” Came Amrits muffled reply, his head pressed into the fabric of sonnys hospital gown sleeve. 

(Part three will be here soon. Please feel free to tell me your thoughts, what you like/dislike, basically constructive criticism or something like that. )

Author Notes: Please tell me if you are interested in the story and if you would like part three, cheers.

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