05 Moonseed by Rachel Crane I saw some grapes by the bank, Bluish-black on a twining vine. Teacher told me not to partake. The dangling delectables with hungering exterior enticed me. My mouth watered for a taste. Wasn’t my fault I wanted them. I grabbed a grape and ate it, grinned at Teacher’s gasp. My teeth pierced the fruit’s flesh, juice oozed off my chin, but the seed-blade stabbed me back. Down it traveled, tearing, torturing, conquering, cutting— mutual piercing from our duel. The fruit bested me.
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