“It’s gorgeous work,” Marin told Paul, his voice gentle and comforting.Reluctant to be apart from him, Blake peered over his shoulder, observing the effigy—it was much like the others that crowded the garage, the same person and serene expression depicted.But there was somethingso—something that Blake couldn’t put his finger on—that separated it from the other attempts.There was a roughness to it, a clumsy, novel sincerity to it that the others after it had lacked.
“It helped so much to have her here with me,” Paul said while Celeste approached him as well.Blake shot them a desperate look, begging with his eyes for them to stay away.“It felt like I wasn’t alone up here all the time.I talked to her for months… and eventually, she started talking back.”
Paul smiled, eyes alight with memories.“I don’t care if I was crazy, because I finally had my love back.My sweet Laurel… she was exactly like herself before Morgan died.All sunny smiles and happy days… she didn’t remember a thing aboutthat baby,” he scorned.“Nothing about being sad…”
He took the picture of the carving from Marin’s hand, gesturing for the others to follow him.Without a second look back, Paul stepped out of the stuffy garage and crossed the driveway to enter the orchard.Dim little spots of sunlight dappled his skin as he traveled into the trees.
Back in the garage, the three others stood frozen in place.Blake felt dirty, like there was a thin sheen of oil and sawdust adhered to his skin—like three showers wouldn’t be enough to get him clean.
Jaw trembling, he took in a small, shaking breath, about to suggest leaving, but Marin followed Paul, disappearing into the dark grove behind him.Trusting his judgment, Blake followed behind the merman, Celeste not far behind.After several moments, they caught up with their guide, keeping quiet to catch the low tones of Paul’s rambling.
“I got greedy,” Paul said as he went deeper into the orchard.The ground beneath Blake’s feet grew soft, the unkempt grass rising up to his shins.The further he advanced into the shadows, the more the foreboding sense ofwrongnessin Blake’s hindbrain crested.“I couldn’t only talk to Laurel.I had to touch her, too.And one day—”
He froze in the middle of the grove, a rigid line to his silhouette.“And then one day she was real again.”
Paul continued to stand unwavering beneath the dark canopy of tree limbs, staring straight ahead at something that none of them could see.
“She was so beautiful, even more beautiful than she had been before,” he reached up with both arms, extending them to the limbs of the apple trees.“Her ears were little peaks, like an elf’s.Her eyes were this rich,unrealshade of green, but before they’d been brown.There was such joy and innocence in her those first few days, but…”
The slight tremor which had overtaken his fingertips ceased, and he brought his hands back down to his sides.“But then she started to remember.”
Paul tilted his head to the side, voice losing its reverent affect.“You’re all young, so you wouldn’t know what it’s like.To lose someone.”
Blake frowned, taking a step backwards—the dyspathy within him began to wane, replaced with a surge of hot disdain.
“Don’t be so damn sure,” he said under his breath.
Paul ignored him and continued to speak.“But to lose someone twice… to see the light go out of someone’s eyes all over again.To see the joy sucked away as they become afuckingshell.Again.”
Paul went on, his voice wavering as he spoke.Blake couldn’t tell if it was with rage or with tears, but he knew Paul deserved none of the catharsis.He curled his hand into a fist, itching to beat the bastard raw.
“I had to watch her choose to die all over again,” Paul sobbed.
He began to move, abruptly storming deeper into the orchard.That warning prickle formed again at the back of Blake’s mind, telling him not to go, but once more Marin was following behind Paul, already being sucked deeper into the dark orchard.Despite himself, Blake continued on.He rounded a large tree and—
And—
Light fell into the small clearing, the dusty beams partially illuminating a single grey-limbed apple tree.It was smaller than the others around it, but despite its place in the shade, its boughs were heavily-laden with green and pink apples.
In the thickest part of the tree, right at eye level, a face was carved into the bark.
It was a horrible thing, mouth wrenched open into a silent scream.The eyes were twisted up in horror and pain, the bark swollen where tears had lashed down the face.Upon the trunk Blake could see suggestions of a body, arms pulled upwards into the limbs of the apple tree, gnarls along the trunk showing rises of naked breasts and the jagged curve of a hip.It was too natural to be an actual carving, but too uncannily human to be a trick of the eye.
Moaning in pain, Paul reached out to caress the face of his wife, knees buckling as he rested his weight on the tree.
Blake’s chest swelled with fevered horror as the tips of white fingers wrapped around the side of the tree, drumming there once.For a moment, the wind picked up, carrying with it the sound of girlish giggles.They hung and twisted in the air for a moment, silvery and malicious, before the fingertips disappeared back behind the tree.
“M-mr.Aberley,” Celeste spoke up after an uncharacteristically long silence.“How long… how long was the pygmal—was yourwife—?”
“Four days.”Paul interrupted them.“Four days before she went back into the earth in more pain than she could imagine.On the fourth day she came back here, back to the same tree that she had hung herself from.I should never have let her come here.Never have let her make that choice.She said all she wanted was to see Morgan again and then she—she—”
He straightened abruptly, back working almost whip-like as he turned to face Marin, approaching him in several rapid strides.Marin shrunk into himself, limbs trembling as he held his ground, dropping his gaze to the grass with a startled cry.
Blake dove between Paul and Marin, who stood flinching behind him.Paul pressed against Blake, exuding much more strength than Blake would’ve thought his slight frame would have been capable of.
“Back off, man!”Blake shouted, trying to fight against Paul’s considerable power.He reached over Blake’s shoulder, grasping at Marin with claw-like fingers.Blake pushed back, desperate to keep him away from Marin, rage coiling up in his muscles like a snake about to strike.
“How much doyouhave left then, before you go back to the earth?Before you pay your dues to the devil for trying to take back your life?”
