The Red Apple I Ate

The sun is shining so brightly that it hurts my eyes. The maid has opened the curtains and forced me to awaken. I grumble and roll over, muttering a foul curse under my breath. As far as I’m concerned, all the servants could die and my father along with them.

But then I thought, Who would cook my meals, wash my clothes and spoil me rotten? and so I am content to curse and grumble as Glenda helps me dress.

Now, don't think too poorly of me. I am only sixteen after all. I deserve to be treated as a princess, with all the wealth that my father has and all the land that is in his possession, why shouldn't I be spoiled?

When I was eight I killed my mother, slipped some poison upon my sewing needle and pricked her finger during my lesson. How clumsy of me. Father was paying too much attention to his wife when I should have been the only one he was concerned with.

The funeral was sad but his mourning was much more depressing for me. He didn't buy me a single thing while he was mourning his wife's untimely passing. I could have killed him for that.

But I didn't.

The mourning passed and on my fourteenth birthday, he brought home a wealthy heiress that he had had the gall to marry while visiting England. He didn't ask my thoughts on the subject...he just wed her and brought her to my home. You can imagine how I felt. She had to be taken care of and quickly.

Unfortunately for me, fate smiled on the woman for a year and a half before I was able to arrange a fall from her horse. Her young son, my half-brother, Father’s only son, still lives. I can't bring myself to murder a babe.

So, here it is. Next full moon I turn seventeen and Father has promised me a grand ball to celebrate. He has gone to England to purchase me a royal gown and he has taken his year and a half year old son with him. Good riddance to both, I say.

"Glenda,"

"Yes, miss?" I loathe her. She is pretty, as maids go, and she has intense respect for me, which bothers me. I feel as though her respect is spiteful, as though she honors me only to fool me. I hate being a fool…thankfully I am not one. As I watch her straighten my down comforter with ease, I frown. Her smock is doing nothing to hide her curves; her golden hair is pinned atop her head in a far too fashionable manner. I have seen her hair unbound. It is long, hanging past her knees and it has waves of curl. My black hair is straight and dull, not nearly as long as hers.

"I command you to cut your hair!" I snap suddenly. That isn't what I intended to say but it will do just as nicely since telling her to jump out of the window wouldn’t be plausible.

"Yes miss." She whimpers and I smile. Yes, this will definitely be a great day. I turn my back on her and leave my room.

:: :: ::

"Who is she?" I hiss as Glenda moves close to my side, her hair hanging to her shoulders and curling about her face in a most becoming way. It wasn't the first time my clever plans had failed so I don’t let it bother me too much. Some things just weren’t worth the hassle of stressing or trying to outdo what should have been a perfect cruelty. At least she had obeyed me quickly.

"Your new stepmother, miss." Glenda replies with a knowing glance in my direction.

"Why do you look at me like that?" I demand suddenly, tearing my eyes away from the beautiful redhead who has dismounted a lovely horse with the aid of my father. Stepmother indeed!

"I know the secrets within your heart, miss." Glenda replies.

"It was you!" I shout.

"Of course it was me. Your father needed a child. Actually, he needed a son. I didn't expect him to remarry so quickly after Anna's death, though." Glenda looks out the window once more.

"I will kill you."

"I have no doubt you will try, at that, miss." Glenda smiles and I stare at her in mute anger. "If I had been permitted to ride with Anna that day, she never would have fallen. But, unfortunately, I was held up that day by your father’s demands of cleanliness."

"No doubt you would have kept the poison from my mother's finger as well, had you been here then! You feel you are some sort of angel of mercy, do you?" I demand.

"Angel of mercy?" I see the smile dancing in her eyes.

"You will get yours in the end, Glenda!" I swear. "But I have need of you now. Keep my secret and keep your life, if only for a short while."

"As you wish, miss." She replies as she curtsies and walks away, her hips swaying seductively and her blonde hair bouncing attractively. I am not about to let Glenda outdo me again. Now that I have discovered my enemy, I shall keep her close.

Very close.

:: :: ::

"It is lovely," I agree as I hold the dress against me and look down at it before tossing it aside. "Who is she Father?"

He sighs, his brown hair tied back at the neck and his golden brown eyes darkening. Father is too handsome for his own good. He looks like he is thirty rather than sixty plus. Maybe if I scar him...

"A clever ruse on your uncle's part." Father states and I vow to have a 'word' or two with my uncle Tryenis. "He wouldn't even hear me out on my argument. She is a spoiled and cruel woman, cold and heartless."

"Then why is she here?" I ask.

"Because Tryenis had us married, that's why." Father shouts.

"Annul it Father."

"It was consummated before witnesses." Father states and I begin to think of ways for the redheaded woman to die. "She is from Ireland and is loud and obnoxious. I'm sorry, dearling, that she came just two days before your ball. I tried to leave her behind, swore that I would return for her, but..."

"Uncle Tryenis wouldn't listen." I finish for him as I glare at the wall behind Father. How should I kill her?

"Speaking of me?" Comes the Irish lilt of Father's newest wife from the doorway. I shift my glare over to her and am surprised that she doesn't squirm uncomfortably under my hateful stare.

She has her red hair braided and coiled about her head. I am willing to bet that she has more hair than Glenda has...had, I mean. If that wasn’t enough, she has the greenest eyes I have ever seen and skin so pale that I feel I will go blind if I continue to stare at her.

“You’re not welcome here!” I shout, hoping to shake her façade.

“Neither are you, dear.” The woman states and I look at Father. He turns and faces her, fury the likes of which I have never seen before erupting effortlessly.

“Get out, damn devil! You shall not speak to my blood that way!” Father snarls.

“Indeed?” The woman moves closer to me and I distinctly smell wildflowers. She has perfumed herself! The audacity of the woman!

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I am Caryn Shamrock, of course.” Caryn smiles and I see the evil so familiar to myself in the smile. “And you are Scarlett Rose…but I feel I shall call you Snow White.”

“How dare you!” Father shouts again.

“Purity masked in a name.” Caryn looks at my Father. “It fits her.”

“Yes…yes it does.” I agree and Father looks at me, calmer but still raging. “It is all right, Father. Let me have some time to get to know my new stepmother.”

Father seems none too happy to leave and I am none too happy to see him go. At last I have discovered a worthy adversary.

“What do you know of me?” I ask at last.

“I know of two deaths and I know of a spoiled brat. What more is there?” Caryn sits upon my bed, glancing down at the discarded gown for a moment with a raised eyebrow before returning her gaze to mine.

“I am far more complicated than you make me out to be.”

“Stay out of my way, stepdaughter, and I’ll let you live.” Caryn states.

“You have the audacity to come to me, perfumed no less, and threaten me with death? I am Scarlett Rose, this is my house, that is my Father and you are nothing more than a fly I need to swat.” I growl lowly in my throat and hope that the Irish demon feels threatened.

“Swat away, Snow White, but know this. I will be doing some swatting myself.” Caryn stands and purposely trod on the amber colored silk laying at her feet before leaving my bedchamber. So, I have an enemy that knows my story. Well, it will definitely make killing her more of a challenge. But I like challenges…almost as much as I like killing…but not quite.

:: :: ::

Well, challenges are highly overrated. I am running. Can you believe it? Father has lost all reason and has forgotten I exist. It wasn’t this bad with Mother or Anna. I guess I should have left one of them alive and happy.

That Irish whore has won the battle. There is nothing else I can do. At my ball, no less, she defeated me. I felt the knife at my throat, saw the assassin in the shadows and would have died had Glenda not saved me.

That golden haired wench is with me now, reminding me of a debt I do not wish to owe. Caryn did smile so sweetly when I missed the knife by mere inches. Father was deep in his cups and missed the whole incident.

We are going to uncle Tryenis’ home since that is the only place I know of to go to. Damn that wretched woman and her Irish heritage!

“Scarlett,”

“Don’t call me that!” I hiss as Glenda breaks into my thoughts of rage and revenge. They were the best rage filled thoughts I had had in a long while. Now she had broken my stride.

“We are being followed,”

“I care not!”

“It is important that we discover who is following us and why.”

“Don’t you think that it is probably the assassin coming to finish the job?” I growl. “Because that’s what I think and we can both agree that what I think is all that matters.”

“It is more than one person,”

“Then it is more than one assassin!” I shout. “Are you being daft on purpose?”

We continue on in silence as Glenda falls further and further behind. I am finally forced to stop and confront her.

“What are you doing?”

“It isn’t assassins, Scarlett.”

“Thinking again?” I move toward her. “I told you who it is and I am always right.”

“Except for when you’re wrong, which you are in this case.”

“Am I?” I feel my palm itching to slap her but I clench my hand into a fist at my side. "Fine," I whisper harshly.

I know that assassins don't follow us. None know the woods as well as Glenda or I. It was by royal decree that anyone found in the forest without permission would lose their head. It was, I convinced Father, for my own safety. In truth, the forest is mine by rights and none other than I shall tread its needle littered ground.

"Quiet," Glenda hisses.

I am tempted to snap at her or scratch her eyes out. It appears to me suddenly that I could easily kill her now...but I know I need her.

A twig snaps to my left and I sigh loudly. "If you are going to kill me, kill me. I tire of games and I am not a skittish colt that you can frighten."

"You are not alone," comes a deep voice to my right. "Yet you speak as though you are."

"Come into the light, sir, that I may see who threatens me," I growl.

"And there you go once more," he replies, still in the shadows. "Referring only to yourself. Is your life the only one that matters then?"

"Indeed it is, sir," I reply, raising my chin a notch. "Do you not realize whose forest you trespass in?"

A deep laugh touches me. "Indeed I do, lass. At the risk of losing our heads, no less."

"Then you shall let us pass?" Glenda asks.

"It is not his place to decide such a thing," I state.

"I shall let you pass, serving wench, but your friend...I am not so certain deserves such a courtesy."

"Do you dare?" I lunge forward but Glenda halts my mad dash into the shadows.

"Please sir," Glenda says as she squeezes my arm in warning. I am shocked into silence. She dares to warn me? "We just wish to pass through here safely."

"Safely?" the man laughs again. "I thought this was her forest."

"True enough, sir, but we are in grave danger,"

"Which is why you are heading away from Rose Manor," the shadows shifted as a man materialized.

NOTE: As often happens with me, a story starts out wonderfully and I stop writing it. When I return to it, I am afraid of destroying it. Therefore, I am opening this up for public viewing and would love to hear reviews with ideas of how I should proceed. Thanks.