Chapter Twenty-One

A year has passed and Miranda and Floyd visit Alice's grave. An unexpected twist leaves their future up to the reader.

Time can move so quickly when you’re finally happy, and even more so when you’re happy in love.

Seasons come and they go, and before you know it, an entire year has passed before your eyes.

This seems to be the case with me, as I find myself standing in front of Alice’s sad grave stone on the one year anniversary of her death.

Floyd hugs me from the side, rubbing the large swell of my belly as he sighs.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” he says. “It just feels like so little has happened since then.”

I nod, sadly.

“I miss her,” I say. “I keep wishing she could be here for things.”

“I miss her, too,” says Floyd, kissing my cheek. “I wish things had ended better. But I guess everything happens for a reason. If she hadn’t died, we probably wouldn’t even be alive, much less together. And of course, this little darling would never have had a chance to be.” He rubs my tummy firmly. “Things have strange ways of working out, and they’re all for the best.”

I smile sadly, gazing down upon the tomb stone, wishing I could have at least said goodbye.

“Hey, babe?”

Floyd lets go of me.

“My grandma is buried in this cemetery,” he says, “so I’m gonna go find her and pay my respects. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“That’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll just be right here.”

We brush lips briefly, and then Floyd is slipping away down the road.

I gaze out across the cemetery, where the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees.

As I look, I notice that a single tree, not too far away seems to be different from the rest.

It is unclear just why it is different until I move closer and realize that dozens of bright red apples are hanging from its branches, swaying gently in the wind.

The closer I move to the tree, the better I can see the apples, their skin a bright, glistening red which seems to entice me completely.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve climbed half way up the tree.

All I want is just one apple. I am so hungry all of a sudden, and the brilliant, tantalizing color of the apples seems to draw me in, hypnotizing me.

At last, I find a branch where I can sit comfortably and let my legs hang over, which I do, tilting my head back in the breeze.

As I do this, I notice right above my head, the biggest, reddest, most delicious-looking apple I have ever seen.

Reaching up, I pluck it from its branch, turning it over in my hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say aloud. “It almost seems a shame to eat you.”

But the apple looks so juicy, I could hardly understand not eating it, and so, with my eyes closed, I bring it to my lips.

That heavenly aroma tickles my nose as I open my mouth, letting my teeth tear into the sweet, sweet flesh of the apple.

I toss my head back, closing my eyes once more. The flavor of the apple is like none I’ve ever tasted before… So sweet and so perfect…

And as I eat, I realize that it’s less of a flavor and more of a sensation. A feeling.

The wind gusts through my hair and I swallow a bite, reaching for another. And then another, and another.

Before I realize it, I’ve completely finished the entire apple, core and all, and I lie back against the tree, my head feeling fuzzy and drunk.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes again and rest my hands on my belly.

Something was unusual about that apple, and suddenly, I just feel…

I feel….

I just feel so angry at that b***h, Miranda for getting me killed. But what goes around comes around, and I’ll have my revenge… All in good time.

I shake my head.

I blink.

I sit up.

What on earth was that? Did I just think that? That couldn’t have been me…

All of a sudden, my stomach lurches in pain, as the baby kicks and kicks my insides.

I scream, trying not to fall out of the tree as I clutch my belly.

“Calm down, sweetie!” I whimper. “What’s got you so worked up!?”

The baby kicks a few more times, before finally calming down. I rub my belly, breathing deeply.

“What was that all about?” I say softly, my heart pounding.

“Hey, Miranda!” Floyd’s voice calls to me from far away. “What are you doing up there!?”

I can’t seem to get down as easily as I got up, and in the time it takes me to get my feet back on the ground again, Floyd is already walking up to me.

“I hope you didn’t eat any of those apples,” he says, taking my hand and leading me away from the tree and back toward the car. “That’s the fruit of the dead, you know. There’s no telling what kind of weird things might happen to you if you eat that. Who knows. You might end up getting possessed or something.”

My belly leaps again.

And again.

And again…