And the apple had turned pale. She could see little shiny flecks
glint off of the side. And, still under the spell of the garden,
she was fascinated by the flecks and stared at them, not noticing as the
hand holding the apple turned pale and grew numb, not
caring as feeling left her feet, then her calves, then her thighs.
She stared. I could look at this forever. She paid no
heed to the gentle groaning sound as the waves of stone from her legs reached
up her right side to meet the wave of stone coming down from the arm holding
the apple. I could look forever. She stayed in blissful
nirvana as sensation disappeared from the right side of her torso, as her
breathing slowed, then stopped, as the numbness washed across her left
side and started up her neck and down her remaining arm. Forever.
The groaning got loudest as it reached her ears, then suddenly shut off
altogether. Her vision darkened and went black. Ever.
-*-*-*-
The garden had a new statue. On a somewhat tall stone pedestal stands a woman, all of bright white marble. Little shiny flecks glint in the sunlight as one walks around it. The woman is standing, her left hand on her thigh, as she stares down into a apple with a single bite taken out of it. The sculptor has done an amazing job; one can imagine seeing each little tiny strand of white marble hair as it cascades down her neck, or seeing a little drop of white marble juice hanging off her chin. On the pedestal itself, one can read an inscription:
Rebecca Katherine Lawson
Jan 24th 1982 -- Jun 17th 2000
Sun, 24 Sep 2000 11:40:52