Apples

This was from a short writing activity I did with my student publication group, Exhibit. We reinvented a fairytale of our own choice. Take a guess at the fairytale and give me your thoughts!

source from wikimedia

The apples I sold were picked weeks ago. Big, yellow and green, with tinges of red. Fuji apples shipped from some family farm. They tasted quite sweet on nice days. The little girl came by today, staring blankly at my last basket. That will be three dollars for a pound, I told her. She looked up and scowled at me, ungrateful. When I looked away, she swept up my basket and ran into the woods behind me. I yelled after her to stop, but she ignored me. Not again. She was quick. My old legs had to pause for every five minutes. Each step I took, she threw a bitten apple at me, leaving a trail of bitten Fujis, taunting me.

Then the trail stopped.

A bitten apple, its color redder than the others, rolled to my shaking feet. Squatting down, I saw her eyes staring once more blankly at my basket. She lay there, choking, arms stretched out, her white, bony fingers curled tightly into a fist. I immediately crawled to her side and sat her up, hitting her on the back. Time to go home, I whispered, when she spat out a piece of apple and fell limply into my arms.

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