Apples to Sweet

Lysander had to get out of that room.

Even when he hung up with Lavender, the hairs on his arms were still tingling. He was sure that someone was watching him. He must have looked like an idiot as Lysander peered furtively around his own bedroom. He decided that he needed to get out, get some fresh air from the moldy house. The trick was not looking like he was sneaking out.

Luckily, Lys did not see anyone including Charlotte even though he still felt like he was being followed. When the heavy door thudded shut behind him, the author let out a sigh. Even though it was cold and drizzly, it was better than in there. Why the hell did Grandfather want him to live here?

"He's not begging you. He's dead," Lysander's mother had said worriedly as Lysander stuffed clothes into his battered suitcase. The day was actually sunny and that light illuminated his room through the basement windows.

"You read the letter, mom. Grandpa never wrote to me and then he writes this to be delivered after he died? Plus, I need to get out."

The hurt look on his mother's face had told him that she did not take it the way he had meant. He stopped, turned to her and wrapped his arms around her small frame.

"I didn't mean it like that. I love you and love being here but I have to...you know...move somewhere new. I gotta get writing again if I'm going to make this work."

"I know," she sighed into his shoulder. "There's always the company your dad is at?"

"Mom."

"I know, I know."

Lys remembered fondly the last lunch they had before he called the taxi to take him to the train station. The thunder boomed in the distant and he looked up at the gray sky. That time felt so long ago.

Lysander contemplated going back in and trying to find an umbrella but he could not bring himself to go in. Not yet.

Pulling the collar up on his jacket, Lysander quickly trotted across the drive way towards a tiled path that lead through some trees. It was time to do some exploring.

***

One thing was certain. Whispering Pines estate was much larger than anyone had let on. The path that Lysander had taken went through a manicured lawn that the grass was starting to get long. It weaved between the few trees which must have been beautiful and a great place to read or write if it had not been raining.

The path split a few times and he made random choices because none of them had signs. After about a half hour of randomly taking paths, backtracking, and trying another, he finally reached a clear that became an open field. The path slopped downwards for about a quarter mile where it reached a creek and an ancient looking covered bridge that connected the other side. The perfectly place trees told him exactly what he was looking at.

"So this is the orchard."

Lysander continued walking the path though he had become much more alert. The rain had picked up a bit but by now, his jacket was soaked and he did not care. The sun would have started moving towards the west if he could see it though his phone said it was one in the afternoon.

The author finally stopped at his side of the bridge, peering into the dim light. The bridge was a dark red though the paint had begun to peel a long time ago. It still seemed to be quite solid and large enough for two trucks to pass each other. Probably so that they could pick apples and bring them back. From what he could see, the apples looked pretty healthy so he had no clue why the grass looks unkempt around it.

"Charlotte said not to enter the orchard," he thought to himself as he peered ahead. Of course, the thick foliage of the trees had cast dim shadows but the ground appeared to be dry.

"Why can't I go? It's so stupid. The bridge is in good quality and it looks like everything is well taken care of."

Lavender's words came back to him. This was his place. What right did Charlotte have to tell him where he could and could not go? The place was in his name. He was the owner.

Straightening in jacket, he strutted across the bridge and into the orchard. For a few moments, he felt giddy though it was nice that the rain was no longer hitting him on the head. The air felt thicker, more muted except for the sound of the water hitting the leaves. It was actually quite peaceful.

Lys took a few steps in and hopped to pull an apple from one of the low hanging branches. He took a bite, the juice running down the corner of his mouth. The young man was shocked on how good the apple tasted.

"Wow," he said to himself. "This apple is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it."

Lysander started and spun around looking for the voice. The neat rows of trees were empty of anyone he could see.

"Uh...hello."

There was silence. The hairs on his arm started standing again and he took a step back towards the bridge.

"Do you think that it is too sweet or tart?" the feminine voice came. There was a sultry smoke to her voice and it sounded as if it was coming all around him.

"It's...it's actually quite well balanced. It's not quite like a granny smith but not a macintosh apple. These would make good pies." Lysander continued still backing towards the bridge.

"Oh, you must try my cooking apples then," the voice continued now sounding like it came from his right. Lysander spun and saw no one there.

"Cooking...apples?"

"Oh, yes! They are tart but when they are cooked, the temperature pulls out this golden sweetness to it."

The voice was now on his left and the panic started to settle in. The strangest part was that it felt like he was being hunted.

"That's...nice. I'd love to try it some day."

"They are on the further part of the orchard. Why don't you go pick some?"

"Thank you but I need to get back."

"Already? I don't get company that often, especially someone who feels confident to just snatch one of my apples."

"I..uh...I'm Lysander Culfre. I own this property now."

"Oh, silly. That's not the name of the owner. James Culfre owns this place."

"I'm his grandson."

The voice went silent as Lysander scrambled under the awning over the bridge. He gasped in surprise struggling to understand why he felt like he just escaped.

"Grandson."

The voice seemed to be close yet far and now Lysander had had enough.

"Thank you so much, I apologize for any offense. I'll be going now!"

Lysander took off sprinting back towards the path and forest. He only looked back once and knew the fear was getting to him. He saw a large figure perched in the dark shadow on top of the covered bridge. It looked like a spider.