The Apple

‘But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil,
thou shalt not eat of it:
for in the day that thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die.’

English lessons. Never have I been so bored, especially when it’s working out what the Bible means. All I can work out from this extract is that you should not eat an apple unless you want to die, and guess what? I had an apple for lunch. So whilst I was planning my funeral, Mr Keen blabbed on about what it ‘really’ meant, although my analysis made more sense.

I kept telling myself that this lesson could not be as bad as PE, which I had next, life just keeps on getting better and better. Not! As I was thinking through excuses as to why I ‘forgot’ my homework, the Student Receptionist rushed into our class with a note. She ran out as soon as Mr Keen got the letter. I just stared at the tatty green display board, to the left of me, when the note was put on my desk. It read:

Please can Anna Bailey come to student reception immediately. She needs to bring her bags.

Yes! I thought. I get out of PE. I stuffed my books into my bag and practically ran out of the classroom; hoping Mr Keen would not have the time to shout out the homework to me. Sadly I was too slow and had a two paragraph essay to write up on what I thought the extract meant. I hate English.

Student reception was busier than normal; all the revolting brown chairs were full. I was working out where I was going to have to sit when the Receptionist told me there was a taxi waiting outside to take me home. I opened my mouth to ask her why, but she told me to run along and not to ask questions. I’ve never particularly got on with the office staff.

The taxi drive home was long and boring. The driver was silent most of the time and had the most annoying hair style. Say what you want about my obsessive need to make his hair straight, but it was irritating me beyond belief. Once I got over my OCD I started to wonder why I was going home. Was someone ill, Mum had not been well for a long time? But why was I going home? Maybe Nan was ill, she’s been going to the hospital a lot. That’s when it struck me, Nan was dead!

The driver coughed to make me aware the taxi had stopped outside my house. I jumped up from the taxi too quickly giving myself vertigo. I walked slowly to the front door and pushed it open. The door was already open.

My eyes widened. The hairs on my back stood up. My mouth was dry. I did not move, not even to breathe. The house was cold, it’s never cold. The house was soundless, it’s never soundless. I do not know how long I stood there for, without oxygen. Long enough to faint. I felt my legs buckle, my head hit floor and the world go black.

When my eyes opened, dazed and disorientated, I stood up slowly. What was wrong with me? I thought. Paranoid, that was what was wrong. I have read too many ghost stories and they now manipulated my mind.

I walked into the kitchen to get a drink. I stopped. On the floor was a stain; next to it was an apple. I stared at the stain. It was red. Dry. Blood. I waited for the room to spin, like it does every time I’m near blood. Nothing happened. I realised I was breathing faster than normal in time with my heart, which was beating at a ridiculous rate. Like it was screaming out I’m hear, come and kill me.

I heard something. It was very faint. Normally the hum of the fridge would have drowned the noise out. I looked down to the blood patch. Something was different. Something was missing. The apple. I felt an icy breath down my neck. I went to move my hand, now shaking, to my neck, in vain to catch the cold breath. In my hand was the apple, a vile shade of red, nearly black.

A heavenly music started to play. No… it was a voice. It told me to eat the apple. I could not move my hand. The apple, so small felt like it weighed a ton. I hung my head down. Eyes still transfixed to the blood. A shrill scream came from behind me. It awoke me from the hypnotic trance the blood had put on me. I moved tentatively around.

He had insipid skin, black short messy hair, pure white teeth framed by deep red lips pulled into a smile. He breathed on me. His icy breathe made me shiver. His muscular body towered over me. His eyes were closed as his long fingers, like claws, reached out to caress my neck. His bitter hand drew itself down my arm until it was at the apple, which still sat in my hand. He stroked my hand for a long time, his eyes still closed, before he gently moved my hand to my mouth. His musical voice told me to eat. How could I refuse? I did what he told me to. As soon as my teeth tore at the skin of the apple, his eyelids flung open to reveal the most horrible eyes. They were a vivid blood rich red. The same colour as the apple.

The apple fell from my hands an in to the blood. I ran into the living room. The moonlight shone through the windows onto my parents’ bodies. Their souls long gone. I felt a hand on my neck. I was about to scream but he spoke again. He whispered it would disturb the peace. I could hear the smile in his voice. I closed my eyes. His lips kissed my neck slowly.

I won’t go into detail about me changing into what I am now, too much screaming and horror. Most of it I don’t remember, just being told thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.