Tale of an Apple

Once upon a time, there was an apple. It was a precious possession of a witch, for it was made into a poisonous apple, that was for Snow White, the beautiful little princess whom the empress wanted to kill. The apple was made into a big and juicy one. It looked delicious. However, the apple was not happy. It was supposed to be an apple that led a normal life. How could the witch make it into something else? Being added extra ingredient, the apple could not say a word but to suffer in pain. To tolerate the truth that hurt it so much -- it was bornt as a weapon, as a tool, as a hated object that no one in this world would care if it was rotten. One day it was finally given to Snow White. She took a bite and dropped dead on the floor. The prince came and kissed the princess. She woke up, threw up and the apple was freed. Everybody cheered for the couple, punished the witch and neglected the apple. But it was happy, for it could finally release itself from the prison that caged it for thousands of years. I once saw the apple in my dream. It was dancing and cheering--happier than anything else. It told me it lived in peoples' wildest imagination. The darkest part of it. I did not know what it meant. But it appeared in such a vivid form that I assume it grows in me. The apple grows in me.