The Poison Apple Tree
A Fairy Tale
Everyone knows the tale of Snow White, the evil step-mother, the woodsman, the poison apple, and the prince. The Prince’s kiss awakened Snow White from her poisoned slumber, he defeated the queen and they all lived happily ever after. But where their story ends another begins, Snow White and the prince left the apple in the forest.
A poison apple made with bitter magic and touched by Snow White’s pure love. An apple with seeds, and as seeds are meant to grow one small black seed grew. The seed grew and grew into a tree with black limbs the colour of starless night, white blooms the colour of sun bleached bone, and crimson fruit.
The animals of the forest knew to stay away, but men have always had less sense than the creatures of the forest, men stole apples from the tree. But a tree that grew from a poison fruit can only bear the same. The hearts of trees are not as men, and in time the little apple tree sorrowed for the deaths of men, who’s bones lay beneath her black branches and poison fruit. A tree can sorrow even though a tree cannot cry.
In time men grew wise, they saw the sun bleached bones and left the tree alone on her hill. The apple tree grew lonely, and envious of the other trees in the forest, trees that bore nuts and fruit that were visited by humans, and animals. She wished each day to be different than she was.
One day a group of boys came whispering and kicking the bones near the tree, daring each other to touch the tree, throwing stones at the perfect apples hanging from black branches. One bold boy with dark curling hair, and silver blue eyes, dragged behind him silver axe. ,He raised it and swung it towards the tree. The axe cut deep into the wood, past the black bark and deep into the white flesh of the tree. And the tree bled crimson sap.
The boy shouted in triumph brandishing the axe in the air. As he did a single drop of crimson sap dripped from the, fell on his hand. The other children looked on in horror as the boy cried out and dropped the axe to the earth. The tree’s blood burned his hand and though he rubbed his hand on his tunic the sap remained. The boy cried and the other children scattered running home as fast as they could.
The tree looked on in sorrow, she had no comfort to give. She was a tree with poisoned fruit and a wound that bled, what comfort could a tree give. The boy curled on the moss covered ground, crying.. “I’m sorry. Please don‘t let me die.” he cried to the tree. The only reply was the laughter of leaves in the wind.
To be continued….
this is a piece of writing that is all me.. a part of my heart.. please be gentle and please remember it is mine. If you liked it please leave a comment.. I'm working on finishing the story and taking it from the scattered pieces in my head into written words, its a slow process.