The Bitten Apple

The crisp sultry air gave way to a dense haze of golden light, as the sun settled along the horizon. Mary brought her lantern that evening, knowing the sun was sure to set before her return. She held her petticoat in hand while she tramped up the steep hillside. The patchy grass, now more akin to hay bales, brushed up along her black boots, as she paved her way. She trudged past the old wooden fence line that marked the perimeter past the east end of town. A bead of sweat formed across her hairline as she pressed on. Catching her breath, Mary peered out from the hillside back toward the town that was nearly quiet. The towns folk took refuge in their homes and were hushed as they prepared for the souls of the departed to return. All Hallows Eve was soon to arrive with the darkness drawing near.

Mackenzie Pass, a town that originally formed with the start of the new world, was now home to some three hundred residents. All who settled in the town made their homes in a manner that prided themselves on their Celtic heritage. They took up roots in this new land and lived among the falling leaves of harvest time. Autumn brought forth the final days to churn the efforts of their labor into plentiful days for winter, and preparations for a new growth the following spring. The towns folk lorded over the mire and wisps of every fragmented moment breathed by its residents. No one felt completely alone under a blanket cover of gossip and small talk from those that lived in the company of each other.

Mary never could understand the idle talk; she wasn't amused by it in the slightest. The temptation to do so was never of interest to her and Mary avoided the inclination to listen as others spoke unstrained among themselves. Mary's studies and the efforts she gave to her appearance intrigued her most. Each strand carefully placed atop her head, wound in a bun that she maintained. Cleaned and pressed, she wore her dresses modestly, drawing no attention to herself apart from the simple pleasures of her coveted perfume that she conservatively dotted on her wrists and just below her ears on her neck. Mary's days were spent working the farm tirelessly with her father and other siblings, until she passed the threshold of nearly womanhood. Only then did she aid her mother with the housework, sow seeds in their vegetable garden, and roll dough for loaves of bread.

Mary kneaded the dough with precision, speckling the flour into it and pressing forth with each stroke of her hands, she found accomplishment in her work. She could recall the days when she draped her hair under a cotton toque as she cooked. Mary day dreamed of a life apart from the one she knew in reality. She dreamt of a day where she was waited upon by her own Cook. Mary's well-stocked kitchen would provide an open canvas to make supper for guests. Mary would be seated on one end of the table and her dutiful husband opposite to her at the head of the table. They would be hosts to a myriad of people that came to admire their home and fawn over their fine China dishes and silver utensils.

Mary would scold their children as they slurped their soup. She would patiently redirect their manner then summon the governess who would waltz the children up from their seats and take them to their rooms. Mary would look across the table at her dear sweet husband who would talk of business with guests and in private, he would dote upon her with dresses made of silk and make plans of traveling to faraway lands by steamer. The moments of quiet satisfaction would be plentiful and undaunted. Mary sank deep into the longing of what could be but was always pried back into the reality of the dredge that was her life.

Then one day she saw him; handsome, astute, and with high standards of propriety. Mary looked from across the one room schoolhouse as he introduced himself and sat at the wooden top desk. Edmond was his name and he came from the most affluent family in town. The family had moved to Mackenzie Pass not long before his final year of grammar school. Mary knew Edmond was destined for finer things, a world of culture and adventures beyond her wildest imagination. The next year he would be away for his studies at university, a military academy; a world she'd never know herself. He sat with his back straight and his chest jutted out with a presence of that which sat apart from the humble. She wooed at the sight of him and willed herself to know him in a way she'd never known another before.