The Evening at the Orchard

The farming of apples is a practice that dates back to 8000 BC. The truth which lies further beyond those years has long been faded by sunlight. Countless days of digging kept the workers busy. Grinding mud with bare hands. Crawling against the walls of sand and roots. Dirt floats in crumbling piles to the hands of people, working, who shed the earth onto a bigger pile. A grave for the masses. A feast for the crows. A home for the rats. But nonetheless a grave. 

In the shadow of Ur, the sacrifice of numbers filled the soil with flesh. Rot. 

Rain of acid blessed this soil for 7 days, followed by drought. 13 to 21. Only more death. 

The graves had to expand as the workers burying the dead had fallen. Themselves buried by the soon to be dead until one day it must have stopped. This is not known. Much is not known. And at the same time, much is known about what followed. Travelers unbeknownst to the land’s history came to barter with goods and treasures. 

By then the Kassites had taken control of the lands. Farmers had attempted to cultivate the land for centuries and only found failure. These lands have always attracted merchants and travellers out of necessity. Survival was only possible through commerce. 

This time, travellers from the east brought seeds. A sweet and sour bite red as blood. Apple. 

Many tasted the fruit and bartered their possessions for as much as the travellers had carried. But the farmers exchanged their cattle for thousands of seeds. And this time, the labor bears fruit. 

Wealth and sodom infest the lands of the apple orchards. The lands are ploughed and harvested, while its fruit are cut and piled. As far as the eye can see, rows of repeating apple trees feed the insatiable desire from souls across the horizon. An enterprise. 

Greed and sloth fed the sheer vanity of the people harvesting these lands. Grown on the dead and feeding from its cursed blood, the apple trees sprouted glistening red orbs of sweetness. Ripe and quick to rot. At which state it is still consumed for its delicate purity in its flavor. 

Scholars of intellect demanded merchants to bring back this fruit, introducing it to the broader world and life of the commoner. For scholars receiving an apple from its brightest pupil signified the dearest of appreciation from a son to the father. For commoners the apple signified prosperity and procreation. 

A wave of time has passed and plagued by a distant torment, the new people of these lands became reclusive. Only a handful of trade routes were kept open. No life made itself heard. Sleep. 

A deep sleep was rumored to have happened. The feast was over. The curtains had decided it was time to be closed. But a glowing flame is believed to have kept the orchard running. 

And running it stayed for as long as they have existed. In ever smaller batches the merchants and retailers have continued to find a way to provide the “Genesis” to the masses. 

Genesis Orchard is the name of its home. And it has become a phenomenon.

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