Apples are Sweet

The ground remained hidden under the multiplex shades of orange that shifted every now and then when the blowing wind meets it and sweeps it up taking it to places. The air felt chillier than usual on that morning but that never stopped her from taking a step in the world outside of her warm and fragrant cottage. She rarely enjoyed the cinnamon burning on the stove early morning, but she never complained. The morning felt special in a way every morning does to someone who is introduced to the subject for the first time. 

She took a footstep outside the cottage and stepped on the leaves covering the ground. She crushed most of them on her way to the forest. The cold air felt like ice shards scraping against her skin and her eyes burned from the sting. She blinked furiously daring the salty water to make an escape. Her grip tightened on the willow basket that she held dearly in her right hand. The basket was special as baskets can get. It was handmade by her mother who often makes baskets, so much that one can be seen lying around almost in every corner of the house. She liked this one though, the one she held on tightly as she takes delicate and detailed footsteps to enter into the forest.

The leaves remained unnoticed underneath her feet. She halted watching the entrance to the forest and her eyes fell on the ground. She remembered the first time she had a leaf in her hand and actually saw it, not just give it a look but see it and notice every inch of it like a sculpture carved out of stone. It looked alive – the leaf, but how could it be when the tree it once inhabited abandoned it for a new and fresh one.

People are not much different from trees in that way, abandoning something when it gets old.

She traced very delicately the veins with the tip of her finger, but the leaf remained dead and unmoving in her hands. The leaf looked different from others or maybe she thought it did maybe because the one in her hand was chosen by her, so there has to be something special about it. Right?  The golden-brown shade of it looked like it was caught on fire and somehow the moment got frozen in time and the leaf remained like an old memory etched in someone’s brain, forgotten but not lost.

She shook her head and took another step. The forest already surrounding her and so did the people. She watched at the other villagers and sighed in despair. She didn’t make it early. She gripped the handle of the basket tighter. She kept her head down for the most part but every now and then her eyes would meet someone else’s, and she will smile back or give a swift nod. She kept walking and the people went back to the nearby trees with their baskets not lying far away from a hand’s reach.

She passed a giggling group of little girls playing a few feet away from the adults. The girls squealed when they noticed her walking by, and she grinned back at them. The pink dusting her cheeks became more prominent. It made her look almost human. The little girls pulled and pushed her trying to do a big spin, but it resulted in a huge fall and louder giggles. She dusted her brown ankle-length skirt and maroon blouse after standing up from the ground. Her golden-brown hair tied with a small piece of cloth behind the head remained intact, but a few strands escaped the shackles, and she gave them a quick tuck behind her ears and kept moving onwards.

The deeper she enters the forest, the quieter her ears heard. She breathes loudly to cut the sound of silence and smiled when she heard her breathing. She licked her plump lips and took a few more loud breaths. It is important to make sure that one is alive when one is breathing, otherwise a barren tree is only as good as a dead one. She took a few twirls when she knows that there is no one around, only the trees. It is not like they were going to tell anyone. Her steps quickened as the forest started to grow denser and they slid at the sudden stop.

“You are late.” The voice pointed out from a nearby branch.

“Fuck you!” she said, almost nonchalantly.

The pair of feet landed swiftly on the ground in front of her. “Tch is that the way to talk with a friend,” the voice teased.

She scoffed and took a turn, almost another twirl but more furious than the other ones and started walking back but not before dropping the empty basket on the painted ground. “Don’t forget to bring the basket with you.” She said.

She stopped in front of a huge tree and looked up staring at the plump red beauty hanging from its branches. She gave her lips another quick lick and raised one hand forming a strong grip on the tree and pushed one foot off the ground. She didn’t stop until she reached the top of the tree and gave a quick look around. She could see the outline of her village from there but not her cottage, maybe because it is not the biggest one in the whole village. Her hands moved swiftly plucking one apple after another and she didn’t stop until she bares the tree and got ready for the next one. She did the same to a few others until her basket filled to the brim with apples. She clapped her hands removing the dust after landing back on the ground.

Her eyes caught a hand moving towards her willow basket. “Hey, get your own.” She chided.

“Not fair, Samira. I woke up early in the morning, waited for you for more than an hour, carried your basket around for you and after doing all that you want me to get my own.”  The boy demanded in an overly dramatic tone.

“No one asked you to do those things,” she said. She bent down to pick a blood-red apple in her hand and twirled it around searching for something. “Do you think you can die from eating one?” she asked.

The boy laughed but one look at her and he knew she wasn’t joking. She rarely does. “We have been coming to this orchard since we were kids and munching on that fruit since forever. I think if that was the case, we wouldn’t be here having this talk,” he argued.

She frowned, deeper in thought. “What about the seeds?” She asked. “We don’t eat the seeds. Do you think the seeds are poisonous?”

“What is going on with you today?” He sounded irritated.

She barely shrugged and stood up, the apple still resting in her grip. “I don’t know, I heard this story from one of the girls. It went something like this, there was once a girl and a witch poisoned her with an apple and the girl went to sleep forever.”

“And?”

“What and?”

“And what happened afterwards? I mean to the girl. Did she wake up?” The boy asked taking another bite of the blood-red fruit.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It stopped listening after the poison and sleep entanglement. If something is poisonous it should kill you, not comatose the person. It makes me curious though, about apples, I mean?” She raises the apple and brings it to her lips. “Do you think I will die if I take a bite?”

He thought she was joking again, playing around like she always does. Her eyes looked serious and he wondered if she thinks about death more than often. He knows it is silly, but his heart thumped in his chest as she moved the apple closer to her mouth, baring her teeth and preparing for the attack.

Do you think I will die if I take a bite?

The voice echoed in his head and he lunged forward. The apple dropped right out of her hand and on the painted floor. It was a clear contrast against the orange shade but still matched the colour like a fading sunset from far away. She didn’t say anything.

His eyes blinked a few times before going back to her mouth, the one responsible for every possible adventure and more precisely exploitation in his life. He felt a hand touching him and his eyes jerked towards it. She took the half-bitten apple from his grasp and looking at the white flesh.

“I see you have already eaten this and yet, you are breathing fine.” She mused turning the half-eaten apple in her hand. “Huh, I guess apples aren’t poisonous anyways.”

Miserable, she thought and yet she moved the flesh closer to her mouth and took a big bite. She has become merciless and looking at the other apples in the basket made her greedier. She finished the apple and put the stem in his hands.

“Not poisonous,” she grinned.

“Not poisonous.” He repeated.

“Just sweet,” she added before moving onto the next one. “Sweet, sweet apples.”