Sometimes I can’t resist a #writingprompt – so thanks to @nomoreblacktea on Twitter for the below.
Under The Apple Tree
“…Looking for a short blonde laying under an apple tree eating an orange…” No way to spend the day, he told himself. Dreams like that never made any damn sense. Too many symbols meant they symbolized nothing. The pictures hurt his brain. Apples – the forbidden fruit. Evil? An orange – the last thing his mother had given him before… Don’t think about that Davey that’s what makes the monsters come you know they will you keep those bad thoughts away. The girl – an older version of someone he’d known. That’s what itched at him. If only he could get a longer look.
He continued walking. Sweat dripped down his neck. The brown bottle of pills clicked in his pocket. When his feet started to hurt as bad as his head he told himself it was a waste of time. But the images. The symbols… Then, just outside of city limits, he found her -
And the picture that developed in his memory was of the two of them; they were teenagers, children really, two babies sitting on the trunk of his father’s rusted Impala, huddled close because they loved each other and because the night was foggy and cool and, above them, a few brave little stars struggled through the fog and cloud cover and shone like shimmering pinpricks of triumph, her hand was warm and moist and tiny within his own and her eyes were the kind a boy could share a secret with, dark blue and full of something wonderful, and he had to whisper to her in a trembling voice with too much pleading, as if she was magic and could will his dream to come true simply by wanting it for him…
“Leslie?” he asked.
“I want to hurt them,” he’d told her. “I have to.”
“Don’t do it,” she’d said, all those years ago.
Now she smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you, Davey.” Specks of orange pulp stuck to her teeth. “You know why?”
Davey shook his head.
“’Cause I should’ve listened to you, should’ve helped you do it, should’ve helped you hurt them.”
Her eyes hadn’t changed at all and while staring into them his head cleared. Tranquility filled him. Nothing hurt now.
“Let me show you where the guns are,” she said and gulped down the rest of the orange. “I can smell the gun smoke already.”
So could he.
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