A Harmless Fruit

She watched from the opened door as the men left for work, whistling as they walked in a line through the woods. Her beautiful smile waned slightly when she was certain they could no longer see her. She appreciates them more than she can ever express, but she couldn't ignore her lonesomeness. All day, she would busy herself with chores, clean the scant abode until the imagined dustmites ceased to exist. Some days, she would sweep the floors twice or thrice; she just needed something to do.

Sometimes, she wished they had cable.

From out of nowhere, a happy song filled her heart and she started humming. Soon a wordless song burst through her lips and she found herself dancing in the living room, playfully waving the feather duster as if it were a scepter. She passed by a mirror and stopped to smile at her reflection. Vanity crept to the surface for a moment, and she decided to look away, but not before noting how spending so much time indoors had taken its toll on her complexion. "You're white as snow," she imagined someone saying.

A knock on the door stirred her from her reverie. She wondered who it could possibly be. They never get visitors in these parts. At once she was suspicious of the potential visitor and excited at the thought that something different would happen to her that day.

"Who is it?" she carefully asked.

"Just a peddler, my lady," the crackly voice from the other side of the wooden door partly bellowed.

A peddler? She thought it even more strange that someone peddling wares would find themselves to her home. It was, after all, quite out of the way from any nearby village. "I'm sorry, but I'm not looking to buy anything."

"Oh, but what am I to do with these delicious apples?"

Apples! She didn't understand why but she suddenly craved an apple. She didn't even care (or notice) that it wasn't the time of year for them to be ripe enough to enjoy. She just desperately needed an apple.

Despite her uneasiness, she opened the door to find an old lady calmly standing there. There was something both menacing and disarming about her. But she found herself looking through the old lady and directly at the cartful of red, delicious apples that sat behind her.

Her suspicion briefly returned as she reminded herself that the men always warned her about talking to strangers. "I don't know--"

"Come now, dearey. They're so tasty."

She waited a beat before stretching her hand out to receive the crimson fruit...

Word Count: 424