A pretentious thing I wrote once

Its whole life, the apple had fought against all odds. It fearlessly stood against wind and rain, lay undetected even as dreadful worms sought it out, was warmed and loved and nourished by the sun and earth and air. All along, it dutifully clung to its mother, its parent, its tree branch. It became red and ripe and delicious, and then...it waited. Waited, for what seemed an eternity ??? waited for someone to find it, waited to be grasped with firm hands and plucked from the branch. Waited for teeth to sink into its flesh as it fulfilled its dream.

The days turned cold, and the apple saw its comrades start to fall, snapping from their branches and hitting the sidewalk with splats. Leaves danced to the ground and slowly turned brown, their remains swept away with the wind. And one day, the apple's worst fears were realized. A brown spot just to the side of its stem ??? a small one, to be sure, but it was a warning. Its time was soon. It silently suffered through the days after that, knowing that no one would love an imperfect apple. It was only a matter of time now. The most the apple could hope for was a swift fall, but alas, none was forthcoming. It was destined to wait out its last days in constant agony.

Finally, one merciful day, when it was nearly shriveled to a husk and had nary a red patch left, it felt itself start to give way. Internally, it thanked the merciful lord, and it braced itself as the stem snapped from the branch. It tumbled downward, spiraling towards the ground at a sickening pace, and then...

And then there was nothing.