31 Short Horror Stories for Halloween

Bad Apple

My daughter was a bad apple. She took after her worthless father. The only problem was I couldn't divorce her like I did him. I often considered putting her up for adoption but then, what would the neighbors think? Probably that I couldn't raise a child. I had seen them, those snippy women with eyebrows so thin they looked like a wrinkle, turning their noses up at me when I got my divorce.

I wasn't a home maker, apparently. I ignored them. I held my head high but I would not give those snooty women the satisfaction that I was a failed mother. My own mother came to my rescue, of course. We had a proper mother-daughter relationship. She was always there for me.

I sent my girl to a boarding school. It was expensive but the peace of mind I had knowing I wouldn't have to raise her was worth it. Six months later, and she ran away. I did what I could to find her; file the police report, make a website, do a few rounds on some TV shows. I knew she wasn't coming back. She was a bad apple. They all meet sticky ends.

I was actually relived she was gone and my own mother was the only one I could confide the feeling in. She understood. She understood that my daughter was a bad apple. She helped me cope; she funded a two-week cruise for me and my best friend. We had a blast and when I came home, it was to a wonderful surprise. My mom had hired someone to landscape the backyard.

It looked like it belonged in a movie. Apple trees were planted there, and the walk-way was made of stone, and the grass was just perfect. I loved just lounging there. I hired a gardener to look after it because the apple trees would need special care that I was too busy to give them.

Unfortunately, the man was utterly incompetent. The trees began to die. Branches would fall off and I'd have to have them hauled away. More often than I'd like to admit, I was almost struck by one. The apples began to rot on their branches. I had an expert called in and he said there was something wrong with the soil, its composition. I was poisoned.

I don't know how soil can actually be poisoned but I hired a crew to fix it. New soil was to be brought in but they had to get the old stuff out first. A crew arrived and began digging. They dug, and they dug, and they found it. The source of the poison; a rotting corpse. She was still in her school uniform. Her belly button ring twinkling through her ribs because she had pulled her blouse up like a little slut. See? I told you she was a bad apple!