Hazel walked out of the school, her binder kept close to her. The streets were deserted, nobody else seemed to leave school. She could feel the earth shake, feel a rumble beneath her feet.
The grass in front of her house was greener than the others. The grass in her backyard was even greener. When she dug, she found out why.
Blood makes the grass grow a little greener.
As she dug, dug in the backyard and the area around it, she found things she never fully understood, never understood why they were down there. Roots but no plants, stones but no buildings, pages but no books. Pages in a different language.
The skulls she dug up didn't look like any animals, didn't look like any humans. The skulls were what stumped her the most, but the blood had to come from somewhere, right?
The apple trees in the back bloomed despite the season. The apples were the color of blood, they smelled like iron, everything smelled like iron. When she picked the apples, the dark red liquid would drip onto her hand. It smelled like iron, tasted like iron.
She ate one every day. Maybe it was just sap. Hopefully...
Hazel planted what she could, planted in this soil made of the blood of something. She planted her apple trees, planted flowers, planted seeds. Everything tasted like blood when it came up. When she sold the fruit, nobody else seemed to notice. The red liquid filled their mouths, but all they said was "sweet, not bitter". They didn't taste the iron.
She brought an apple to school one day, brought an apple for lunch. Leo didn't have a lunch, so she handed it over. She could just get more at home. He tasted it, he smelled the iron, his eyes widened with that internal spark.
"Hazel, where'd you get this?" he'd ask, a fake smile plastered on his face. He was scared.
And he should have been.
"I grow apple trees," she replied. "I've been growing apple trees for...for...for a long time... I'm not sure for how long..."
She could never remember when she started, could never remember where her family went. Did she ever even have one?
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Hell is Real
FanfictionThe crows gather on the trees and buildings. You start counting, 1, 2, 3, 4, but there are too many to count. They gather as one, they fly off as one. That is why they will survive and you will not. Their feathers block out the light. X X (Plot base...
