(September '16) Prompt #2- "Apple"

[Kris]

September's 2nd prompt is "Apple"

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[Krysis]

Green, yellow, red. Go and stop? No. Apples. Nothing but apples, as far as the eye could see. Bushels of them, barrels of them, though the bundles of apples hadn't worked so well and sacks had to be arranged instead when the ties had been insufficient. The storage of the apples was proving to be a challenge, and already the entire crew was sick of the sight, smell, and taste of apples.

What choice did they have? At least the other crops had survived for six years, long enough for the apple trees to really start to produce. Then the potatoes had failed first. Like something had just come along under the surface and harvested from below.

Then the above-ground crops had wilted and collapsed, days before the first peas, cucumbers, squash-- It seemed like the lower the plant, the quicker it died. Dissection of the plants had found no reason for it, no infection or infestation that they recognized at least. It was like the water had been sucked out of the plants. The crops themselves were just missing.

Surveillance of the phenomenon had been even more bizarre. Watching an ear of corn melt away on the recording had made Elesbeth’s skin crawl as she groped for the hand of the only other woman that had survived the crash. They were scientists, sure, but not of any discipline that could help them with such a circumstance.

Eles specialized in psychology, and Merida was the medical doctor that had been needed by the colony they had never made it to. Captain Jameson had died in the crash, and the astrophysicist, Matthi, had fermented everything he could get his hands on rather than tell them where they had ended up. He spent his days staring at old charts while the remaining four survivors struggled with the strange blue soil and the machines that kept the toxic air from killing them. Roberto and Philberto, the twin engineers, had proved invaluable in this effort.

The crops meant for the colony had been used to sustain the survivors while they called for help, but after seven years, rescue seemed unlikely. Survival was also in question. They would never be a thriving colony, after all. None of them could have children, Merida was too old and Elesabeth-- The miscarriages had been used as fertilizer, ironically enough, for the apple trees.

The mysterious way that the other crops had vanished made the four very protective of the apple trees. They slept among them, spent all their time surrounded by the four hundred and eighty-two gray-brown trunks. Eles even went a little crazy about it, singing and reading out loud to the plants. She had to be sedated at one point, and carried back to their little shelter, to her bunk. The delicate little redhead had been sobbing over one of the trees, telling it the hopes she had once held for her children, and calling it by the names she would have given to the infants had they lived.

Philberto stayed with her, and in the morning, Roberto was gone. Just gone, like the crops had vanished before. His clothes and blankets still remained where he had laid down. Even worse, his hair and bones remained, dry and clean, like whatever had happened to him had not even disturbed his sleep as it stole his flesh and organs.

The passionate Latino twins had been very close, and Phil keened over his brother’s bones for hours. After that, the survivors did not sleep with the apple trees any longer. Roberto’s grave bore his picture, a snapshot sealed in glass. The laughing brother, with his flashing eyes and soft black hair, would not have recognized his twin, though they had been identical when the picture had been taken. Phil’s hair turned white that night, and his gaze wandered constantly, looking for the one that was gone.

Matthi, drunk on apple cider, tried to comfort him a week after the event. Whatever he said, out of the hearing of the women, resulted in Phil breaking his jaw. The violence did seem to release Philberto from his grief, however, and he just went about fixing the machines as they broke down on a regular basis. It also kept Matthi from speaking, while the bone healed.

Eles grew round once more, from the night that Phil had stayed with her when Rob had died. This child, she didn’t want. It would always be a reminder of what they had lost. Naturally, since she didn’t want to keep it, there was no sign of a miscarriage. Seven months later the fetus was still healthy.

Stoic old Merida pursed her lips every time she looked at Elesbeth. A diet of just apples should not have been good for any of them, but the redhead was thriving. It wasn’t natural. The superstitions of her ancestors, the wild sons and daughters of Africa, had been a topic of study in her youth. Half-remembered fables came back to the elderly lady as her hands shook with weakness, and Eles blithely tended the trees.

“We’re all going to die here.” Merida finally announced one evening. It was a topic that had been nibbling at their thoughts for years, forgotten only for short stretches, when things were going well. It had never been voiced.

The meal of roasted apples, with freeze-dried apple slices and unsweetened applesauce had been a silent one before her statement.

The silence was unbroken until Phil asked, “Can you pass the salt?” and Elesbeth broke into fresh tears. They hadn’t had any salt since the second year.

The four survivors could not bear to speak to each other after that. Meals became solitary affairs. Another crop of apples ripened on the trees, this time spotted and speckled instead of solid balls of color. Green, yellow, red. Stop and go? No; just apples.

A different harvest came soon after. Elesbeth’s screams gathered all four of them together for the first time in months. Merida growled at the redhead to be quiet and get on with it. Phil held her hand in the infirmary, just like any expectant father should do. Matthi grimly assisted the doctor. They all felt it was a turning point. Turning from their silence and towards what, it was impossible to say.

The baby, a girl, was perfectly formed. Squalling and red, she was cleaned up and laid against her exhausted mother. It wasn’t until hours later, when the redness didn’t fade, that Merida started to worry. What did the others know of childbirth? Precious little. Less about what was natural for a new baby.

The child was still red that morning. Red skin, with yellow hair, and green eyes that stared too steadily for the doctor’s comfort. When Eles named the baby “Apple”, Merida backed away in horror. Her hands, trembling and weak, made all sorts of gestures, warding off evil.

Hastening from the new mother’s room, as fast as her aged limbs could carry her, Merida almost bounced off of the astrophysicist. He was staring at a wall, speaking to it with impassioned tones and dramatic gestures.

“You mustn’t tell any of the others.” Matthi rasped, taking no notice of the woman that had almost run into him. “Mustn’t tell them, Jameson. Mustn’t let them know.”

Merida asked quietly, “What must they not know?”, further frightened at finding the drunkard consulting with an invisible dead man, even though the man in question had been their captain.

Matthi turned to Merida’s voice, his bloodshot eyes lighting up with amused surprise. “Can’t you guess? The previous colony asked for a psychologist for a reason, though it doesn’t seem to have done us any good. They all died too, less than five miles from here.”

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author's note
Thank you, whoever picked this prompt. That is the strangest thing I've written in years and it was lots of fun, though I feel like I should also apologize for the wandering tone and lack of resolution.

[CompanionEevee]

High up on a grassy hill, there lived a lone apple tree. It had been there for many years and had seen many people come and go throughout its long life. A bird lived in its branches, using fallen twigs and leaves to make its nest. It was currently fall, the middle of October to be exact, and the tree's branches were bearing fruit. The tree stood there in the darkness of the early morning, wondering what the day would hold.

The tree began its day before the sun had risen. It shook its leaves to get the morning dew left over from the cool night off and checked the apples hanging from it. They seemed to be ripe and healthy apples, ready to be picked by any people that came by. The tree hoped that people would take the fruit. It didn't want its gift to be wasted. As dawn approached, the tree was ready to take on the day.

At the crack of dawn, the tree was greeted by a jogger that jogged from his place to the tree and back for exercise. The jogger visited the tree daily and it was grateful for the company, though it knew his visit would be short, as it always was. On a whim, he decided to take an apple to have as a snack when he got home. The tree shook its branches with help from the wind to wave at him as he was on his way.

Early in the morning, the tree watched as cars and buses traveled on the roads to get people to their destinations. Not many people came around at this time and it felt somewhat lonely. It wished it wasn't the only tree planted on the hill it lived on. Its branches swayed in the wind as it thought about what being in a forest would be like. Would being surrounded by many trees be better than being a single tree on a hill? It wasn't sure it mattered how many trees there were. It just knew it didn't like being the only tree there.

Around noon, two children and their mother had come to have a picnic beneath the tree. The pair ran around it wildly, playing while the mother sat on the blanket she set down. If the tree could laugh, it would. It always enjoyed watching children run around and play since it could not move itself. When the children had finally gotten tired, they sat down on the blanket themselves and the trio began to eat their lunch. The mother reached up and picked two apples from the tree's branches for the children at their request and it was delighted, happy to give what it could to the two playful children.

In the early afternoon, when school had ended, more children had come to visit the tree. They climbed up it and sat in its branches. It held as still as it could, trying to support all the children so they wouldn't fall. It was not an easy task, but the tree somehow managed to keep the children from being injured due to broken branches. The children, unaware of the tree's efforts, picked apples and ate them. The children eventually got off it and went home to do their school work and have their supper, taking their apples with them. The tree's branches swayed in relief that the children did not get hurt.

During the late afternoon, a young girl came by with a stack of books. The tree remembered her as another one of its regular visitors. The young girl always came here to read until it started to get too dark to read or she was called back home. It was curious about what sorts of fantasy and wonder the girl was reading about now. She sometimes got up and excitedly acted out parts when she had really enjoyed them. It enjoyed the short plays she'd put on. Eventually, a buzzing sound went off. The girl checked her phone, quickly packed up her books and hurried home. With a shake of its branches, the tree waved goodbye to her as well.

Around the beginning of twilight, a couple had climbed up the hill to watch the sun set. The pair were cuddled up together and leaning on the tree as they looked towards the sky. The tree's heart softened at the sight. It made the tree wish once again that it wasn't the only tree on the hill. Maybe one day, someone would plant another tree there. As the sun finished setting, the tree watched the couple get up, share a short kiss, and walk back down the hill together holding hands. It hoped they had a nice time.

At night, when the full moon was still rising in the sky, a boy had come to visit the tree with his parents. The night sky was clear of clouds, perfect for stargazing. The tree watched with interest as the boy set up his telescope while his parents set out chairs under it. It wondered what the boy had seen when he excitedly motioned to his parents to come look at what he had found. They laughed as the boy bounced in excitement and the father got up to look through the telescope and see for himself. The tree looked at the telescope curiously as the boy and his father talked about the stars. Eventually, they had packed up the telescope and left to put the boy to bed. The tree had more questions than answers.

Once everyone had left, the tree did its best to look up at the sky. It was puzzled. What was so interesting about the stars up above in the sky? The twinkling stars and the bright moon shined down on the tree. All it knew was that the sky twinkled at night and the sun shined warmth and light upon it and all the other plant life around the town. It continued to think about the sky for a while, its gaze not moving from the stars and moon for a minute.

A few moments passed before it decided that studying the sky probably wasn't very important to a tree and it was time for it to get ready to sleep. Winter was coming and it would be sleeping for a few months soon. The end of October was when the fruit in the tree would fall and stop growing, preparing the tree for its slumber until spring came again in late March. Its branches settled down as the wind died and morning dew would start gathering on its leaves soon enough. The tree watched over the town from atop the tall grassy hill which it lived, wondering what the next day would hold.

[Kris]

The snake has been punished and the apple tree still bloom, as meant to be so, for all eternity. In the lost paradise, between the four rivers, the cursed crawler is still crying off his days. It's meant to be so, until the dawn of new creations, but some says even god took pity, and allowed him to reincarnate as human.

And maybe then he will have a chance with Eve. The woman he was willing to burn all creations doing for. He ripped her eyes wide with truth, but condemn her to death. She was punished because she ate the fruit, with labors pain, when she carries her own fruit within her.

Did that snake maybe, just maybe, wanted to be born within her? be part of her, as he was made a new. Some says he was a pure Cherub. Winged soft being with the letter "ל" (Lamed) decorating his forehead with pride. With cloudy blue eyes, and soft lips. That being tempted the woman that was not meant for him and soon has fallen from grace.

His wings chopped, as Adam and Eve wore too, forced to exile. And Lilith, the beautiful harlot, the beautiful witch, shade tears for her first husband, as her bronze skin shinning at his disgrace. All for one woman, and a man-- snake between.

It is ironic, how this exotic woman was replaced for trying to be equal, for not meeting Adam's standards. She was chocked by him and thrown out, only to be replaced by a woman who betrayed his trust and caused him to lose everything.

The apple from which the demoness fed, has not rotted away. In fact, it wished to be pressed into her juicy lips and be fed upon. It is seems that paradise wanted her, and not Eve. And her belly bore fruits, children by the many. She has not suffered the punishment of the lord, and ravished man to enjoy herself being full and content.

Loved by many, and yet forgotten by the one she wanted most, she paced along the dark soils from which she was crafted. Again, ironic, that her origin, that should have been cursed, made from bad soil, of bones, blood and death, and it was in fact, Adam that suffered the curse of the ending, despite himself being born from the purest of sands.

She learned to whispers, she learned to cry, scream, fly. She spotted the crawler, and from time to time took pity, but not too much. Getting too close to someone has not proved to be beneficial to her, and besides his heart was belonged to another, to a woman that had decided to remain simple, pure, and ignorant to the world. to remain with her husband despite the lies.

Good old Lilith, and the cursed snake. The only being to remain in even, but even the latest has been chosen to move on, in a new form. Was she the one to remain by the apple try and preserve it, the job meant for her beloved first husband.

The sun smiles at her, as the stream of life allow her to walk among paths of dreams, she is reaching beyond, despite all the efforts to be locked. Poor, misunderstood mistress, that only ever desired love. Like the moon to be pregnant and full before she starves herself, to make room for the next meal, the next fruit, the next love.

Love, not lust.

Love... honest love... Just to be loved.

She lament the snake, the god of love, that has failed to grow beyond simple desires. To notice true love and care. She also lament her first husband, for not understanding her, and giving up too quickly. She also lament herself, her fate, to be forever the guide, but not the one to step forward into adventures.

Her wings have healed and grown big. She became pure, despite her origin. She believes it is time to set forward and find her own path. Yet she also wants to remain true to herself. Lover and fighter, warrior and healer, dawn and dusk, lust... and love.

Love...

She is loved.

Under the apple tree, when the fruits reach for her lips, to be swallowed and eaten. She is full, and ready. Ready to draw the sky in red, and the dreams of many to enrich.

To pass, along with the others. Paradise has been deserted for so long, there is no reason for her to stay there. She speaks. She sings. No longer cries, but praises, with glee. She embraces her fate, she has been pushed down so much just to raise higher above everyone and everything.

Dark raven hair, brown full eyes, from dusk to dawn, her legs will travel distance in time, and never be settled, because her heart desires too much. She can pass between time and space, her alone, with wisdom saved for those who can remember the lost and the damn.

And she had been damned for so long, but has never stopped to believe in what she wants.

As she reached the end of the world, she sees the snake's shading. The poor thing's soul has blown away without clear aim, unlike her.

Ironic.

He wanted to open eyes, but hers has been opened wide all along. Like the moon. Like the glowing moon in the dark, with stars marking the road.

And as she fly to grace, on her own made charms and spells, she scream out to the void, to all those that wronged her: "Thanks for who you are and thank you for leaving this scar. Thank you for this void in my heart. Lost was I by your side, thank you for deserting me!".

There are still echoes carrying by the time, can you hear them beating in your heart and soul?

Those that did wrong and right. Damned and saved.

They are whispering again. and again. and again. For all to hear, even those that cannot.

"Thank you for deserting me!"

[m139]

Part Twelve of the September Story
Previous Installment

They had been traveling down the mountain for over half a day now. Long ago, the last bit of faded white had disappeared from view. Once more, all around them was the quiet stillness of nature.

It had been strange leaving that complex. There was a part of them that had been glad to go, and a part that almost wished they could have stayed, particularly for Miranda. The day previous they had explored the rest of the building, and even some of the surrounding ones. They had not found anything of importance, or at least, not anything that worked. There was a radio, but, although Paul fiddled with it for almost half an hour, all they got was static. But neither he nor Miranda really expected anything different: who would even bother using a radio nowadays?

Indeed, most of the searching was unnecessary. They moved from room to room, occasionally finding some wrapped food that was no good after ten years, or perhaps a faded picture, but nothing of real importance. And they were not even looking for anything important. Well, perhaps Miranda was subconsciously looking for something of her mother's. But nothing surfaced. It seemed like the only one that this scavenging was any good for was for Lyra, who occasionally let out little shrieks of delight as she plucked out some beautiful shiny thing from the rubble and rubbish surrounding it.

For Paul and Miranda, thought, it seemed as if the physical findings- or lack of them- did not matter much. Rather, it seemed as if they were looking for something else: a distraction. Now that they had made their decision, the counter arguments were coiling up like a snake preparing to strike. Perhaps they were wrong. And perhaps, even if they were not, they would be dead before they even reached the center.

Who knew the answer? Certainly not they: all they could do was smile when Lyra prattled about something she found, or haphazardly turn over a piece of ruble to discover the dirt behind it.

And today, much like yesterday, the same feeling hung over the two adults. There was a dread, and there was apprehension. All the breaks so far had been as short as possible, for to sit meant to think. There was almost no talking, either, for neither wanted to talk about the fears they hid under thin covers in their minds, and neither could forget them long enough to seriously engage in Lyra's dancing talk.

But soon enough, it did come time to stop for a bit of a while, as it is necessary to eat to maintain motion. And so, they came to rest on a ledge-ish area, with their backs to a bit of a cliff, where they could overlook the valley below. As Paul took off his shoulder pack, and began distributing some of the meager bits of food from the roots they had dug up as they passed them on their way down, Lyra walked towards the edge, followed by Miranda, who was a little afraid the young one might fall off.

But she need not have worried, for Lyra soon stopped, and instead stood pointing at a tree that was on their same level, on what might be called their path, only some few yards away. "Look!" the little girl called out, "Auntie, it's just like the one on my necklace!" She proudly held out the locket she had found in the rubble, which now hung around her neck. The tree in front of her did look almost exactly identical to the well etched engraving that she wore.

"It is indeed," said Miranda, smiling at the simple judgment of the child. While she doubted that this tree was actually the model, for it would have been quite smaller ten years ago, it was kind of amusing to think that it might have been. As if whoever the author of that work was could actually predict what was going to happen. That ten years from now, amid all the destruction, this young tree would make it through, and begin to blossom...

Lyra looked up at Miranda, "Auntie, what kind of tree is it?" she asked, holding up the pendant in her hand.

Looking at the supposed source of this imitation, Miranda responded, "I think it's an apple tree. But I'm not sure. It's been a long time since I have seen one."

"An apple?" asked Lyra, "What's an apple again?"

"It's..." for a second, it was almost if Miranda herself had forgotten what exactly this idea of a fruit is. Then, suddenly, memory flooded her, and she finished the sentence just begun, "It's a fruit. It's about this big," she held out her hands just so to demonstrate, "and is crunchy to the bite. The skin is red, or even yellow sometimes, but the inside is white. Except for the seeds, they are black."

"Oh, that's an apple! We had them once, once..." Lyra paused as she tried to place the time. For some seconds, her brow was furrowed in thought, then, in the next, it was released, and she prattled on, "Once some long time ago. It there any now? I like those potatoes, but apples sound good."

"I don't think they are in season." Miranda responded. But her words fell to the wind; Lyra had already scampered off to try her luck.

Miranda smiled as she walked up behind the girl, who was looking this way and that in the hopes of seeing some fruit in the trees. "I told you," the elder again repeated, "It's not the season for apples. You won't find any."

"No," responded Lyra, darting behind the tree once more and towards a low hanging branch, "but there are flowers!" She broke off a bit of the branch, and hurried back to Miranda, "Auntie, will you weave some in my hair?"

"Of course, Lyra." Miranda responded, "But first we better get back to your Uncle, I think he's waiting for us."

The rest of the meal break passed a bit less tenseful then the events of the morning and the previous day. Even Paul had begun to smile.

Indeed, it looked like the afternoon was going to be lovely. The weather was nice, there seemed to be no one, crazy or otherwise, around, and they were still far out from the rest of the destruction. Indeed, for a moment, there seemed to be a holiday mood in the air.

It was then that innocent Lyra asked Miranda a question as they began to clean up.

"Auntie," Lyra began, "Can you put one of the flowers inside my necklace? I think it opens, but I can't figure it out."

"Sure," said Miranda, and kneeling, began to work at the clasp.

With a little bit of work (for there seemed to be rust or age that was impeding the hinges' movements), the clasp came undone. And when it did, Miranda gasped.

Inside the locket, there were no pictures of people or any object inside. Instead, sketched into the gold lining were two images: on the right, there was an apple, and on the left, a snake.