Essay : The Girl with the Red Apple

The story based on the poem I posted earlier.

The dogs howled in unison. They sensed her presence. The very familiar scent filled the stagnant air.

Apples. The smell of apples.

She stood in the middle of the backyard, facing the decade old mansion. The beautiful exterior of the mansion hid the ugly interior behind its walls.

Her body translucent, as light shone through her. On her alluring lips was the blood red lipstick that she always wore. The healthy glow on her dainty face was replaced with a lifeless hint of white. The shine on her long, straight hair was no longer there.

On her petite body was the long black lacey satin dress that he loved. He said he loved them… She was holding her favorite fruit on her left hand. Apples. And on her right hand, she was clenching a fruit knife so hard that blood drained away from her fingers.

Not for slicing apples though…

She was back for revenge. The bitter-sweet revenge she longed for. Revenge for that fateful Saturday night where he was caught betraying her.

He buried her body in the backyard. There was no grave nor a proper burial. She could never rest in peace, not until she killed her man.

*********************

She entered the room without a sound. The master bedroom. The very room her life was taken away from. Deprived to live.

She observed him taking off his bathrobe, with his familiar back view facing her. In between his fingers was the brown cigar he always smoked before retiring to bed. She longed to embrace her man in her arms once again, but could she?

He turned around and came face to face with the woman he once swore to take care of forever. He panicked.

Her red lips curled up, as she smiled and held her man close to her, close to her lifeless heart. She buried his face onto her chest, and traced the scar at the back of his ear lovingly. She knew every inch of her man’s body.

They were very much in love… Until he betrayed her.

And killed her.

And buried her, right in the backyard of his huge mansion.

How could he?

She held his face with her delicate hands. And without warning, she thrust the cold metal right into his heart. Crimson red blood splurged out from his wounded body. He let out a piercing yell as the blood stained the light blue interior of the room.

He struggled, ripping off a portion of her black satin dress.

She thrilled on his pleads for mercy and help. The helplessness glint in his eyes… so different from his confident self.

She stabbed, and she stabbed, repeatedly onto the same wounded spot. The heart. For he had injured her heart. She stabbed, till his body became still. Till his heart stopped beating. Till he stopped breathing.

She chuckled.

That was her sweet, sweet revenge.

*********************

The chambermaids found their master in the midst of a horrific sight. In his hands was a torn piece of a satin black cloth. And right beside his corpse was a shiny, red fruit, stuck with pins and needles. Just like how she felt when she caught him betraying her… The pins and needles in her heart.

It was the young mistress’ favorite fruit.

An apple.