Apples Of A Different Tree

by Rune

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Human
Length: 1128

Michael, a working man at his grandmother's farm, wishes to see his two deceased sisters the night before their funeral. His wish is granted, but there's a twist: it's in the form of colorful ponies.

Michael, a working man at his grandmother's farm, wishes to see his two deceased sisters the night before their funeral.

His wish is granted, but there's a twist: it's in the form of colorful ponies.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-10 23:38:43 UTC

Sweet Cider

"Eeyup..."

Michael sat down on the porch, looking over the freshly cleared apple trees. The rumble of trucks still sounded off in the distance, bringing with them the last batch of apples, and the end of Michael's work. The large man gave a groan as he stretched himself over the small chair, squinting his eyes at the setting sun. "Work's all done," he said, retracting his limbs with another groan. His muscles ached and creaked with every movement- no doubt the result of how hark he worked the past few days.

"Hey, Michael!" Another man, looking around to be Michael's age, walked up to the porch and leaned over the railing. "That was all of it, right?"

Michael nodded. "Eeyup."

"Great," said the man, taking a step onto the dirt path that led from the barn. "Same place, same time?"

After taking a moment to run his fingers through his blonde hair, Michael nodded again.

"I'll try not to drink too much tonight!" After a mischievous smile and a quick thumbs-up, the man set off down the path. Michael closed his eyes, letting himself go limp in the chair. The past few weeks had been nothing but work for him, and it was the first time that he felt completely worn out. Even his first day working on the farm hadn't put this much pressure onto his body. It was work that had to be done, though. If not, he would've had to work tomorrow, and that-

Michael shook his head, standing up and wincing at the pain that came with it. Looking at the orchard one last time, he smiled, and then entered the old farmhouse. He took around the living room and kitchen, having detected the sweet scent of pie but no living presence in sight. "Ya' there, 'ma?"

"Just in the back!" responded the elderly voice.  Michael nodded to himself, moving into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. He pushed past the bottles of cider, reaching in to the back and grabbing a blue can labeled "Bud's Beer." He opened it, taking a long sip of it as he made his way to the living room. He threw himself against the couch, spilling a little of his drink along the way, and let his body relax as he took a sip from the can every now and then.

This routine only lasted about a minute, as he quickly grew irritated at the silence and decided to turn the television on. As the device flickered to life, he took one glance at it, and went "Hm..." A man seemed to be panicking about... something, but he couldn't be bothered to listen to much of the rant. The various voices bounced throughout the room as he returned to his routine of sipping beer.

"Boy..." came a voice from behind the couch. It caused Michael to flinch, but after turning to see the speaker, he sighed.

"Granny?"

She paused for a moment, looking over the man before squinting her eyes. "I've seen it enough times, Michael. Enough is enough. I won't let it happen it again."

Michael, concerned, began to stand up. "What d'ya mean, Granny?"

Granny took a step forward, craning her neck to look her grandson in the eye. "I mean the way you've been actin'."

Michael let out a sharp breath. "What...?"

Another step. "I'm bein' honest here, it's the exact same way your father acted when your mother passed away."

The reporters from the T.V. seemed to resonate through the room as Michael found himself speechless. He looked wide-eyed at the old woman, letting his jaw go agape as took a step back.

"My husband too, after his mother passed on." She continued on with her verbal assail, getting even closer each time she spoke. "It's the same thing every time. Ya'll go all quiet-like, start drinkin', and then one day you're gone."

Michael felt his heart-rate go up at the mention of his father and grandfather. Still, he clenched his fists together, managing to at least say "Granny, I'm twenty-six-"

"Your father was thirty two." she shot back, "You're never too old to just up an' leave."

Once again, Michael was left with nothing to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Gritting his teeth together, he clicked his tongue and started to the door.

"Wait-"

He let the door shut behind him as he squinted his eyes off into the setting sun. With haste, he started making his way down the path, even though he hadn't the faintest clue of his destination.

---

Michael stumbled and wobbled with every step as he tried to do something that resembled walking, which brought great amusement to his friend.

"Oh, man, you looked messed up!" He laughed, almost falling over on his face but managing to grab onto Michael's shoulder at just the right time. "S'pose I ain't much better, though! Man, we just a couple 'ah messed up guys!"

Michael gave a smirk, he too leaning in some of his weight on the man's shoulder. "Might be, Chris."

"Yup! You an' me, man...!" Chris brought himself back upright, taking a moment to balance himself out before catching up to Michael, who had continued to stumble on. "Just two guys tryin' to make the best of things!"

With another nod, Michael wobbled over to the start of the path, saying "Ee-...*hic*...yup."

"See-ya tomorrow man!" Chris gave a final wave before clumsily staggering down the road, leaving a surprised Michael behind. "Tomorrow..." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Hope Granny's- *hic* -asleep..."

It took him a while, but after doing everything he could to make his way across the orchard in a drunken stupor, he finally made it to the front door. Much to his relief, he found the inside had been shrouded in darkness, something which an elderly person with poor eyesight would not stay up in. Pushing the door open, he tottered his way through the living room and up the stairs, which then led to his bedroom. He jumped onto the bed, groaning. "What- *hic* -am I doing...?"

He reached over to his night stand, grabbing a picture from it and bringing it to his face. It contained two girls, one around twenty and one looking about the age of nine. Both had big smiles as Michael stood in the middle, wearing a smile similar to the two beside him. "The day before the funeral, got- *hic* -drunk..." he whispered, setting the picture back on the nightstand. "I just wish-" He covered his eyes with his hand as tears started flowing down his face. "I just wanna' see y'all again..."

With a sigh, he turned over in his bed, wiping the tears from his face. "Just- *hic* -one last time..."