Comfort Me With Apples

I’m a mortal priestess, but a Tartarus death curse is killing me. The only cure is a Golden Apple from Olympus, which blooms once a century to purify a soul. But my soulmate—Zale, son of Poseidon—snatched my apple away. He fed it to my sister, Melora, just to heal a minor magical burn. I abandoned my final treatments at the Temple of Apollo. Instead, I drank a vial of Lethe poison, laced with water from the Styx. It silences all pain. The price? In three days, my soul will turn to ash. No afterlife. No reincarnation. In my final three days on earth, I let everything go. I gave my Healing Temple to Melora. My parents, the high priests, smiled in relief. When Zale drew the Blade of Olympus to sever our soulmate bond, I gladly offered my heart's blood. He stroked my cheek and praised my “generosity.” As if I’d finally learned my lesson. I pushed my son, Philon, toward Melora and told him to call her “Mom.” He cheered and threw himself into her arms, crying out that her lullabies were sweeter. I gave up everything. None of them even noticed I was dying. They just looked at me proudly. "Our Kressa has finally learned her place." But I can't help wondering... when I fade into stardust forever, will they even remember me?

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

There are three types of apples that fell into this world. The one that hit my head was the forbidden one. ************ In which an English country girl goes from being a waitress, to being the wife of the richest billionaire in London. “It is simple, all you have to do is get my husband into a hotel room, and you’ll get a hundred thousand pounds” she said looking the innocent girl in the eye, their eyes met and the girl cowered as she looked at the woman, processing what she was saying and how much she was offering. “You want me to seduce your husband?” The girl asked looking at the woman who stood above her head, like a predator threatening her prey. “No, all I want you to do is get him into a hotel room, leave the rest on me” she said looking at the girl who was shocked, her heart racing as she thought of what that woman was asking her to do. “Why would you want a girl to get your husband into a hotel room? And more importantly, why me?” “I need to get a divorce, and you need to stay away from my son. See, it’s a win, win, darling”

Anita," her angelic voice calls to me. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Her soft, delicate hands caressing my face, sparkling green eyes grounding me from the dark past I wish I could forget. "You're safe, it's okay." I bring my hand up, running my finger over the mound of scar tissue. The constant reminder of that night. The raised bump covers the bullet fragment embedded in my sternum. She takes my hands as more thunder rumbles and tears roll down my cheeks. "Breathe Anita," she says in a soothing whisper. My lungs were burning with the need for air and it was then that I realized I'd been holding it. I take in a gasping breath and recall the first time my eyes met her green eyes. My sister had been lifted off me and my eyes opening had startled her. The first time she touched me gave me strength to hold on. I held her hand tight, trying to tell her what happened, but couldn't get enough breath to form words. Sitting in the present going through the same as I had five years ago. "They were all found, Anita. They can't hurt you anymore. It's just a storm. All the doors and windows are locked, the alarm is set. It's just you and me." "Will you keep the light on tonight, please?"

Daddy brought me to Aunt Jenny’s party. As I was eating a piece of cake, I tasted a cherry between the layers and hurriedly spat it out. Once, I broke out in rashes after eating a cherry and nearly died, so I was deeply traumatized by that flavor even as a young child. However, Aunt Jenny looked heartbroken. “I hid a cherry in the cake as a little surprise, just like it’s good luck to get a bay leaf in a pie. How could you be so rude, Kenny?” Daddy did not even let me explain. He chased me out in the yard and made me stand there as punishment. Mommy said it had been more than a hundred degrees out lately, so she told me to stay home and not go out to play. Now I knew just how hot 104 degrees could be! My body was all itchy, too. I was finding it hard to breathe. I wanted to ask Daddy to forgive me, but he refused to open the door no matter how hard I knocked. He glanced at me coldly through the floor-to-ceiling window. He was not going to let me back in.

Just a hug. You're running away. Gets stuck in some trouble. A guy saves your life. Who also happens to be a really famous singer. Now, What if you hug him instead of taking an autograph? What if you both feel the spark? What if you get scared? But...what if he doesn't let go? ------ "You're stuck with me, angel." Asher whistled from behind me. "You'll wish you could take back those words." I said noticing a sort of sinking feeling in my stomach as I turned and looked at him. "What if I don't?" He asked leaning quite close to me. "You will. Everybody does." I said stepping away and continuing to walk. "Even if I'll want to, just hug me and I'll stay." He said making me stop and look back at him. He winked with that breathtaking smile. "Okay, Asherboy." I said back as a smile formed on my lips too.