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The Almond Tree

Based on the brothers Grimm fairytale, "The Almond Tree" explores the life of a 50s housewife spiraling out of control when she accidentally-on purpose kills her stepson in jealousness. Exploring the dark parts of living in middle class society in 1953, "The Almond Tree" takes the stereotypical 50s stereotype and tosses it out the window. But what does the boys sister Marjorie have to do with this? And what's up with that particular baby bird who was mysteriously born the moment after the boy died? What about the ghostly singing that haunts the town? Would you be willing to find out?

Midnight_Raven123 · perkotaan
Peringkat tidak cukup
4 Chs

Past the point of no return

Rose hummed uncertainly as Marjorie wandered off into the distance. One would assume her sweet vibrations of the tongue and air leaving her nose was an act of happiness, as she hummed amazing Grace while salting the beans with salt pork instead.

But those who knew rose knew that she never hummed unless she was incredibly nervous. She might have though other people would be relaxed by her sound, but in reality people around her were tensed with suspense.

The seraded knife sliced difficultly between the thick, white squares of meat. The smell that drafted from the kitchen was sweet while both savoury to the nose of the blindfolded observer.

The loud steps of the boy on the pavement outside startled rose, her hand slipped and she spilled the majority of water from the water jug into the pot of beans.

Smacking her hand on the table, she untied her apron while rushing to the thick freezer.

She hurriedly checked to make sure the rubber cover was off the layers of sharp metal sheets.

The door opened behind her and she felt herself fly up to her feet as little John walked by her into the hallway. His eyes straight forwards acting as if rose didn't exist.

Rose sighed and picked up her clean, white apron. This apron was only for show, she never spilled anything on it, and she most likely never would, food, at least. The string of the apron dragged against the floor, and yet she didn't lift it up. The plastic counter was drapes with the nice and clean apron. It sat prettily on the counter.

Suddenly John was behind her again, his eyes stared into hers as she gave a scream of fright and suprise.

"Mother."

Said the boy calm and flat, like a soda that had been opened beforehand.

Rose assumed the face appropriate at the deathbed of a dear friend, and placed a shaking hand on her hip.

"What is it you should want? child."

She shuffled her heeled feet nervously behind the counter. Her face did not change, neither did the boys.

"I would like an apple."

Being 12 years old now, he had learned not to show any emotion for fear to trigger an emotional outburst of rose, and yet, this made her more angry.

She intook a sharp gasp of breath through her nose and motioned to the freezer.

"I have one in there."

Her voice was beginning to show emotion.

John moves only his eyes to the freezer before bringing them back to rose, as if she was steel, and he was a magnet. His eyes had to come back to her in the end.

After realizing why he was waiting, she walked around the bar counter and heaved open the lid. It burned on her arm muscles as if they were keen on collapsing but she continued to lift.

The boy leaned over the side, he popped his neck directly beneath the metal sheeths.

His hand had barly reached the apple, when rose brought down the lid on his neck.

The effect was instant. The unerving crack that insured from his body gave her a shiver that traveled all through her body.