The Apple TreeA Story by Strawberry EvilA monologue of a boy”Do you remember, when we stole apples from that old gramp's tree, from the enclosured yard?” I swayed my hair off my face. ”I brought you roses. They didn't have blood-red, so I took the white ones. I hope they're just as pretty to you.” I smiled and held the bunch of roses in my arm. ”Again that boy is here”, someone whispered. I didn't care, they always did that. ”It was quite easy at school today, no one asks where you are anymore, or what happened. The teacher gave our group work to me today, those pictures you drew are awful.” A laughter escaped my lips. ”Yea and no one acts like they feel sorry for us anymore, and that's good. We don't like pity, do we?” I was silent for a while. ”You know, me and Pete planted our own apple tree. The apples from that didn't taste that good... I guess it's because you aren't there taking care of the tree. We got a lot of apples this summer, even tough grandfather said that the tree would never give any apples.” What use is this gonna make... My hands were shaking, a little less already than after the accident. I didn't really have the slightest idea about why they were shaking. ”Me and Pete miss you a lot, like crazy. We don't talk much anymore. Pete doesn't like to talk, he gets uneasy right away. Hanging around the city isn't the same anymore, without you.” My eyes felt like they were gonna burn. ”I miss you, Marie.” Tears burned my eyes and fell to my cheeks. I laid my hand on the cold gravestone. Marie Aho 1993-2009. I stood up, put the roses to the ground and forced myself to smile. ”I'll come here again tomorrow. I love you...” I turned around and started walking away.
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3 Reviews Added on November 8, 2015 Last Updated on December 2, 2015 Tags: apple tree, boy, love, death, grave AuthorStrawberry EvilTurku, FinlandAboutI love writing. Poems, stories, lyrics... It's the way to express myself and.. well.. be me. I love writing both poems and stories. more..Writing
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