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Flowering. Approach. Part 28: Rebuttal

by Thavien Yliaster 2 months ago in Series
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Tricky Questions. Trick Answers.

"Flowering" is a series, just like its artwork, that is a work in progress.

Reader discretion is advised: This series contains death, violence, and sexual content. Flowering is not a lighthearted series. Flowering is meant for a mature audience. It is not my intention to mislead those who read it, thus misleading the perception of the series itself, leading your hearts astray.

Please, "take this lesson to heart." - LaRha and Wetah

By Timotheus Fröbel on Unsplash

“I am alone,” he lied, “when I am not with you,” he told the truth and a lie. “I am not alone,” he spoke truthfully, “when I am with you,” he told the truth.

“You are alone?” She squinted at him, feigning a sorrow for him in her voice. “You are so young. No one of your age should be alone. It is dangerous here.”

“You are dangerous,” he pointed at her. “You grabbed me, yelled, shrieked, and now you take my food.” She breathed in sharply, biting her lip. “You are dangerous to me.”

“I am sorry, I was hungry and I remember you dropped an apple.”

“She does remember. This means that she could already know where we live,” his heartbeat leapt faster than a rabbit being chased by a wolf. “Would you like another?” His voice was trembling and shaky at best.

Her eyes widened, her mouth began to water, even though she could feel her gut saying, “Ew, not another apple. I need meat, I need grains, I need a feast, not another apple,” she was in the case of ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and right now she was certainly the former.

“Yes! Yes please! Do you have one on you right now?” She bowed again, as if apologizing for her neediness.

He patted his clothing, there was a small shiny, red apple within his pocket. He had picked it up before having entered after saying goodbye to his sisters. Looking down at it in his hand, he saw a bit of his reflection within it. Turning it around, he saw that there were a few small holes in it, yet it did not concern him, as he didn’t plan on eating it, but instead he planned to use it as bait.

Looking up at her, he tossed it into the air. Trying to not slip and fall over within the cold waters, she caught it, rinsed it in the water, gazed upon it with eyes bigger than her stomach, and bit down. The juice ran down the sides of her cheeks, the length of her wrist, and off her elbow into the river. The sounds she made were that of gratefulness, enjoyment, and almost those of love. It was as if the apple had a new flavor of nectar beneath its skin.

“Mmmm, mmm, mmm…” She bit down time and time again. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Slight tears of happiness came to her eyes, “How can I repay you?”

“Stay in the river?” She looked at him confused, he began again, “Stay in the river, and do not leave until I am gone. Do not leave until you cannot see nor hear me. I cannot have you near me.”


“You are dangerous, and you cannot convince me otherwise.”

“Stay in the river?”

“Stay in the river,” he turned to run.

Within the blink of an eye he was already pushing through the foliage and nearing out of her sight. For one so fast, he seemed to run light footedly. “He’s swift like a deer. He stayed away from me, as he could sense fear.” Finishing the apple in short, quick bites, she threw the core on the forest floor, “If I’m lucky they’ll take root and a tree will be there bearing fruit next year.”

Turning to the traps, she pulled them out of the water. Seeing them unempty made a smile on her face spread with glee. Dumping the shiners and pinchers out on the side of an embankment, she ended their untimely demise with a branch, to not deal with them flailing in and pinching her hands. Leaving the traps on the embankment, she picked up her meal within her dress, waiting to scrub it back at her domain in the small valley.

“He’ll place bait in them tomorrow, and I’ll have more to eat hopefully.” She walked back to her log through the forest, having the water dry off of her with each and every step. “At least now I know now that he's curious. If possible I can use his curiosity against him. I'll just feed him small pieces to lure him in. Children always love a good story. Maybe he'll even let his tongue loose and tell me something that he normally wouldn't.”

Running back more fervently than an eagle could dive upon a bass, he zigged and zagged, just in case she had wanted to take her chances of catching him. With the strength of a steam locomotive breaking inertia, his arms pumped as he flew across the forest floor. Leaves were picked up from the winds he left. He wasn’t slowing down at all, no matter how much it hurt his body. He couldn’t afford to slow down. He felt like she was right behind him, breathing down his neck, ready to throttle him and eat him. He couldn’t stop. He promised to return. “I told them I’d return. I LOVE THEM!”

Breaking out of the foliage, his mother greeted him, “Back just in the knick of time.” She looked upon him queerly, “Why were you running so fast?”


About the author

Thavien Yliaster

Thank You for stopping by. Please, make yourself comfortable. I'm a novice poet, fiction writer, and dream journalist.

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