Once Upon An Apple

The ancient tree in the Valemont orchard had stood as a silent witness through the ages, its roots delving deep into the earth long before the first stone of the Valemont mansion was ever set. It had outlasted the planting of the orchard itself and the rise of House Valemont to one of the most affluent noble families in the kingdom.

In its vastness, the tree was a marvel. Its girth was such that three grown men, arms intertwined, would struggle to embrace it. Its sprawling branches extended across the orchard like guardian arms, and each spring, its delicate blossoms rained down, blanketing the ground in soft, white petals reminiscent of freshly fallen snow. This was no ordinary tree; it was an apple tree, ancient and resilient, an emblem of endurance that seemed to defy the very notion of being felled.

Through the years, many had attempted to claim its wood. Axes left mere scratches on its tough skin, and saws dulled against its sturdy limbs. One particularly determined gardener devoted three full days to hacking at a low-hanging branch, only to throw down his tools in defeat on the fourth morning, for the tree had simply grown another branch in the same place overnight.

Ultimately, humanity resigned in the face of nature’s indomitable spirit. The tree continued to thrive, an ancient sentinel of the orchard, its leaves rustling softly as hundreds of apples dangled among the boughs, waiting to be plucked.

Apple was one of them. She was unaware of her uniqueness. For Apple, apples were people. Families made up from trees. Grass was friendly. Flowers were curious. Birds were loud. Furthermore, humans were incredibly peculiar beings who walked on two legs for far too long.

Apple had watched them all her life. The enormous stone house beyond the orchard belonged to a family she knew. There was a tall, dark-haired man who was constantly escorted by servants. He was dubbed Serious Human by Apple. There was a lovely woman who frequently walked through the gardens with flowers in her hair. Apple called her Flower Human. There was a boy who seemed to be permanently carrying books. Apple called him Book Human. And there was a smaller girl who frequently sneaked into the orchard despite being told not to. Apple liked that one. She was entertaining.

Apple had watched the humans for years. And she had reached one very important conclusion. Humans were weird. But princesses were amazing. Apple had first learned about princesses from listening to servants talking beneath the tree. Apparently, princesses wore beautiful dresses. They lived in enormous castles. They ate delicious food. They had servants. They rode horses. They attended fancy parties. And, most importantly—they had princes.

“I want to be a princess.”

There was just one problem. She was an apple. It was inconvenient.

One summer afternoon, Apple hung from her branch, and the smaller human girl sat beneath the tree. The girl was reading a book. Apple leaned as far as it could. She could not read the words, but she could look at the photos. A princess in a lovely pink gown stood beside a handsome prince.

Apple just stared. She then looked at herself. She was round, red, and attached to a branch. This was unacceptable.

“I want to be a princess, too.” a tiny voice can be heard.

“What?” the girl beneath the tree looked up.

Apple froze. The girl stared at the branches. Apple remained perfectly still. Apple cannot reveal the secret—the secret of plants and animals. Secret of a whole new world humans could never process. The girl narrowed her eyes.

“...Did an apple just talk?” the little girl muttered under her breath. Confused by what she had thought she heard—but was quite unsure of.

Apple said nothing. The silence dragged on for several minutes until the little girl eventually shrugged and returned to her book. Apple waited, before she then whispered to herself, quietly. Quiet enough that if you would have missed it if you had focused too much onto your little fun book or just, the words carried softly by the afternoon wind.

“I want to be a princess..”

The leaves rustled above her. It wasn’t a normal breeze. The ancient tree had heard her. Apple called this one divine tree her Mother. For as long as Apple knew she was alive, she had started living as one of the juicy fruits grown and blossomed from the branches of this very tree. Apple was not aware of this. She simply kept daydreaming of a magnificent life as a princess—a human one at that.

“I’d have a dress.” A leaf fell.

“And a castle.” Another leaf.

“And cake.” A flower bloomed unexpectedly among the branches.

“And a pony.” The ancient tree stayed silent. Apple put more thought into it. Maybe the Mother tree wasn't really sure of what the little red fruit was wishing for.

She widened her eyes and exclaimed, “And a prince!” The whole tree shuddered. A dozen blossoms fell from the branches.

Apple gasped, “Mother?” The old tree trembled gently.

Apple the fruit smiled, “I knew you’d understand.”

She rested comfortably against her branch. She decided that tomorrow she would become a princess. Unfortunately, Apple misunderstood an important point. Trees could grant wishes. However, they did not always provide them in the way that humans expected. And the ancient tree listened carefully to her wish.

That night, the orchard became unusually quiet. The moon rose above the old branches. The wind stopped moving. Deep beneath the earth, ancient magic stirred. Something that had been asleep beneath the tree for centuries awoke. The old tree kept a promise. A promise given by a little girl many years ago. A promise Apple had never heard. A promise she had never remembered making. And somewhere deep within the ancient roots, something whispered: I remember.

Apple slept peacefully in the branches. Completely unaware that tomorrow would be the last day she would spent as an apple. And the first day of her life as a human girl. A very, very perplexed human girl who wanted to be a literal princess.