Hey there friends, it’s your friend plotdotgif again with something new. To give myself a bit more experience in the writing field, I’m going to trawl through my favourites folder on DeviantArt, pick an image and then write a short story integrating that image into it. I’ll also be crediting their artist of course, so be sure to check them out after you’re done. Now without further ado, let us begin.
(Golden Apple from 10,000 Villages, Redondo Beach by Peaches614)
Legends are dangerous things.Some bedtime story you might tell a young child to help them sleep might be harmless enough, but that’s not what I speak of. What I talk of is those legends of promise. Prophecies, tall tales of buried treasure, whispers of forbidden magics. These are the things people die for. What they kill for. Such is the story of the accursed beauty I hold in my hand. This golden Apple, its glittering outer skin barely containing the swirling void of eternity. I slew many for this prize. Man, woman, child, beast. Listen and I shall tell you why.
Once this land was not the bleak and blackened wasteland you tread upon with unwashed feet, child. Once there were many people of this land. Once the hills were green, the soil rich and the water clear as the air. You could stand on a hill and see village after village of peaceful settlers stretch across the horizon. In one of these villages stood an apple tree, bent double laden with round and ripe fruits like an elderly monk. It was when one such monk stood under the tree one day that he noticed a glimmer in the leaves. He was astonished by what he saw. A golden Apple, yes, the one I hold in my hand now child, was hanging from the branch. It was as if it were spun from golden glass, yet he could see the delicate flesh inside swirling with some ivory fog. He proclaimed it a gift from his god and dared not touch it, proclaiming to all that would listen of this miracle. But thieving hands oft meddle with miracles.
In the dead of night some nameless guttersnipe stole away with the Apple. Whether or not he wished for that one in particular or one of more mundane make none can say, for the child was ignorant of the monk’s proclamations and devoured the glassy fruit like a snarling pig. When the child was found it was savagely beaten by those wishing to witness the miracle, only they found that their blows had no effect on the young child. Not an attack by man, beast nor weapon could harm it and a new miracle was found. But the Apple the child had devoured was still with him in his hands, and the idea of invincibility made some warriors jealous of the young brat.
While the child’s skin was tough, its strength was weak and a bully cornered the youth and stole the Apple away. Then it was revealed the curse that lay upon the fruit. When that warrior partook of the godly meal the child, having many years left in its life, aged all of them at once before dissolving to ash and blood in the street. The warrior was horrified at first, but after being exiled for his sinful action that horror was replaced with indignity. And soon after, thoughts of revenge. One day he returned with a band of fighters intimidated into serving him. The townsfolk were slaughtered. Some were spared, only to be enslaved. The warrior had become the warlord, and our world began to change.
It was by this time that word of that golden Apple that promised immortality had spread throughout the entire valley. At first it was single challengers, overconfident in their duelling skill or simply wishing to die to a worthy challenge. A few were successful in stealing the Apple and a few foolish ones tried to sell it off to the highest bidder. Their auctions only attracted more evil hearts, like flies to fresh dung. But some began seeking a higher power to claim this prize, or asking why the gods had created this apple in the first place. Was it a test? A trial? A gift to humanity’s brightest soul?
There was no answer.
Not god nor devil spoke nor gave a sign they heard. They never had since the Apple came to be. Only man and its magic remained, the Apple the only divine presence on this earth.
And so the wars began.
For a thousand years before I found this Apple and a thousand years yet more, blood has washed through the streams and rivers of this valley. Fire has turned all vegetation to ash and stained the ground black forevermore. The skies have darkened from sinister magic and the hearts of men and woman alike are tainted and bruised. But this Apple, this mockery of good, shines on. It is as accursedly perfect as the day it grew on that ordinary tree, so long ago. Warriors and mages and sages and thieves all come here to this valley, seeking the Apple, their goals all the same.Some crow and flatter themselves with talk of nobler aims, to rid the world of its presence or to hide it away. But once they hold it in their hands, all that will have been forgotten as they bite into its glassy flesh. I will not pretend like I did not do the same.
So now you know the sins I have committed. And the blight that is this Apple. But you may ask why I tell you all of this so freely? Well my child, I shall tell you. When I saw you hanging from your neck by frayed rope I knew you had no desire to live, while I am already dead. Immortality in this world is the cruelest kind of death. But we have a duty. A duty to bury this Apple along with ourselves. Take this spade. You will dig the hole, child. Make it narrow and deep. They will never find us. And then, only then, when this miserable and glorious Apple no longer poisons the minds and hearts of the world, then maybe the gods may return to us and deliver our salvation. Or our damnation.
Well, that was depressing.
So, what did you guys think? Yea? Nay? Eh? Be sure to leave a comment or something sharing your thoughts. Thanks for reading!