text: Mud flew into the air. Puddles splashed the bushes on the side of the path. The horse’s breath poured out of its mouth in puffs of steam, and in the saddle a worried father looked down at his son, bundled in blankets and still shivering. They were riding deep into the woods. The stormy clouds obscured the moon, and Edward could hardly see the path in the lamplight, but there was little time. He could not slow down. Through the dead trees, the flickering lights of a house began to appear. Edward rode straight up to the door, dismounted, and rapped on it violently. The cottage occupant took his time answering. Cracking it open slightly, a single eye, full of spite, glared through. “Who’s there?” the eye asked. The voice sounded like snapping wood, and Edward winced at the sound. “My name is Edward, from the village of Haddonshire.” Edward then steeled himself and continued, “I have come to you for aid. My son is sick, and his fever grows ever stronger. Tell me your price, and I shall pay it, so long as my son may return home safe.” The door swung open, with the sound of the crudely crafted hinges creaking and popping. Inside stood a ghoulish man, with dirty gray hair. He was short, but his arms were long. “Come in. Let’s take a look at the boy,” and the apothecary ushered Edward to enter. “Put him on the table there.” Edward laid his son, Jacob, gently on the table, then looked around the cottage. Much of it was a mess. The furniture was crooked, and it seemed that the only things in proper order were the shelves of ingredients. Everything on those shelves was neatly stacked and made visible the familiar herbs and berries often used by the villagers, along with the dark and abhorrent ingredients for which this apothecary had been exiled. “Heh heh heh...” The apothecary chuckled to himself as he inspected the boy. It was not long before he grinned, showing crooked teeth, stained likely by some of his wretched elixirs. “The boy can be healed. Quite easily too. There will be no need even for any of those ingredients which your silly neighbors cast me out for.” Edward was relieved. He had feared the ingredients as well, but was more intent on saving his son’s life, but he knew the ways of this ghoul, and stopped him from reaching for the medicines. In a grave tone, Edward commanded, “Name your price first.” “Heh heh. Well, I suppose it’s fair to put aside your son’s life for a bargain. For you, the only one to show me any kindness during my persecution, the price is light. Due east from here is an apple tree in full bloom. Under it lives a fair skinned woman with hazelnut hair. Go to her, and request just a single strand.” Edward was slightly afraid and disgusted by the request. “What do you need with her hair?” “It is a necessary step of curing your son. Her hair pulls disease out of the body, but she does not give it out often, hence why I have none of it in stock.” With this the apothecary gestured toward an empty space on the shelf next to two bottles of snake venom. “If you tell her your plight, she is likely to give you what you need.” “Very well, we shall go to her.” Edward reached for his son, but the apothecary put his skeletal hands out. “No! Your son is likely too sick to travel. It is a wonder that he has made it this far. You must go and bring the hair here. I will treat the boy in your absence to keep his symptoms away.” Edward felt uneasy, but he also felt he must do what he could to save his son. “I will fetch the hair, but while I am gone, I do not want you giving my son medicines without me.” The apothecary swore to not treat Jacob, and Edward rode on the bearing he had been given. It was about a mile to the glade which sheltered the tree the apothecary had described. Edward dismounted and approached it. He reached out and touched the trunk, then suddenly from behind, he heard a birdsong voice say “Hello.” He turned around to a woman whose pale skin shone just slightly, providing just a little safety in the stormy night. “Hello,” he replied. “Are you the lady who lives under this tree?” “I am.” Her voice was as sweet as the apples that grew on the tree’s branches. “Why do you seek me?” “My son is sick of fever. He has not been able to eat or drink for a day, and he has grown exceedingly weak. I have been told that your hair could heal him, so I am here to ask you for just one strand.” The woman looked concerned at the request, “It is true. My hair is like the roots of my tree. It pulls what is in the body into me, and just as the tree forms the soil into an apple, I too can purify the disease in my own fruit. However, if the soil is poisoned the tree dies, and if your son is afflicted by poison, then I will die.” “I assure you; my son was struck by illness from a chilled wind. Now I plead of you, help my dying son.” Edward fell on his knees before her, and tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with the rain that continued to splash on his face. The sight of the beleaguered, desperate father moved the woman deeply, and she pitied him. “Very well,” she said, and with a slender hand she reached up and plucked a single strand of hair from her head. She presented it to Edward saying, “This is a strand of my hair, given willingly that life may be preserved. In return I ask only that it be given to your son without any other remedy. Go now, and return to your son.” Edward took the hair and wrapped it in a cloth and mounted his horse. In a rush, he raced into the woods, leaving behind the safety of the glade for the thick darkness. Again, he approached the lopsided cottage and did not even bother to knock. The apothecary looked up and immediately pounced upon Edward. “Did you get it?” Edward produced the cloth and revealed the hair. An evil desire entered the eyes of the apothecary, and he reached for the hair. Seeing the lust in his eyes, Edward held the hair away. “It was given to me in great trust, and I would not violate that trust by sharing this recklessly.” Edward stood tall so that he looked down upon the hateful figure of the apothecary, whose lust gave way to spite, but his frail form precluded him from considering attacking. “Now, have you administered any remedies to my son?” To this, the apothecary grinned. “I have given your son no remedy other than water. But hurry with the treatment. His condition has worsened considerably.” Edward looked to see his son now drenched in sweat. His veins were blackened, and he held his face in an expression of agony. Edward could not believe that the sickness of his son had taken such a drastic turn. Without thinking, Edward raced to the bedside of his son and produced the hair of the lady. He then lowered it into his son’s mouth, which closed around the hair as the lips of a thirsty man might close on a jug of water. The sickness receded, and as color returned to the boy’s face Edward withdrew the strand from his mouth. The hair was no longer hazel, but sickly and gray. On it were drops of bile and Edward dropped it in horror. The apothecary snatched it up immediately and set it on the empty shelf space next to now just one bottle of poison. “Heh heh heh. This strand has served its purpose and now I may use it for my own.” Edward prepared to object, but the spiteful mutant continued, “Oh, worry not, it is a dead strand now. It has no connection to her anymore. Besides, this was the price you agreed to pay.” Edward could do nothing but yield. Furthermore, his son began to awaken, so he decided to take Jacob back home. Grabbing his boy, he said nothing to the apothecary, for he suspected the apothecary of some form of wickedness. Instead, he departed for the apple tree to check on the health of the woman. The rain had subsided, and the sun was rising, casting the world in a gray light. It was in this dreary light that Edward saw the glade and was struck with sorrow, for the tree had withered and there sat under it a decrepit old woman. She sat hunched over, hardly breathing. By now Jacob had awoken, and asked, “Father, why are we here?” Dismounting, Edward approached the old woman and explained, “We are here to give thanks to the woman who saved your life.” He reached out and touched the old woman, who looked up, and in her eyes, he recognized the fair and noble lady. “What happened to you?” “When you were here, the apothecary must have poisoned your son, so that I could draw it into myself when you treated him.” The long night and continuous trials made Edward feel heavy and helpless. “I am sorry this has happened. The apothecary was too cunning for me.” His head sank, and he hid the tears welling up in his eyes as his son walked up beside him. “Father, is there anything you can do?” Jacob asked. The woman put her hand on her stomach. “There is nothing that can save me, but life can still be grown.” She lifted her hand to reveal a ripe and sweetly scented apple. She presented it to Jacob, “Take this apple and bake it for the apothecary. He will be suspicious of it, for he trusts nothing, so you must be sure to hide it, but when he eats it, then life will be restored to the forest.” Jacob took the apple and marveled at it. Seeing his eyes, the woman warned, “Do not eat the apple yourself, for it is not meant for you and the consequences would be grave.” “I’ll do it,” Jacob promised, and the woman smiled at him. The father and son then rode back to their home, where Jacob’s mother was overjoyed to see her son alive and well. Edward and Jacob explained to her the task, and she instructed Edward to slice up the apple while Jacob placed it carefully in half of a pie crust she had prepared, filling the other half with apples from the family’s stock. When the pie had finished, Jacob set off for the apothecary’s hut. When he arrived, he greeted the apothecary saying, “Hello sir. Last night you saved my life, and I wanted to say thank you.” Jacob then held out the pie. There was a lull as the evil man eyed it, for he was suspicious, just as the lady had predicted. After a moment, his face turned to a smile. “Heh heh. I am most humbled little one, but please, I get so few visitors. Will you join me in eating this delightful pie?” The two went inside and as the cunning villain fetched some plates, Jacob cut two slices from the half which was baked without the special apple. Passing one to the apothecary, Jacob prepared to eat his slice when the conniving voice said, “Oh, if you do not mind, that slice looks to me more appetizing. Would it be in your kind heart to offer it here?” Jacob obliged, and the plates were exchanged. Then Jacob did not hesitate to eat. The Apothecary felt satisfied and joined him. The pie was exquisite, and soon both wanted more, so Jacob cut two more slices, but this time from the side with the gifted apple. Again, the apothecary tested Jacob with switching the pieces, but when Jacob was again so willing to exchange them, the Apothecary did not watch to see if Jacob would eat first and took a bite. Immediately, he lurched over and hissed, “What have you done to me?” He jerked his head up and glared at Jacob, who jumped immediately for the door. The apothecary lunged after him, screaming. The two stumbled outside, one after the other. Jacob tripped on the path and fell. Turning over he saw the Apothecary shamble forward, coughing, reaching out, and changing. He took a step, and his foot sank into the ground up to his ankle. Another step sank his other foot as well. Crying and coughing, he reached out, his already lanky arms growing even longer. His skin hardened as Jacob looked on in horror, and soon the desiccated old man was transformed into a verdant young apple tree. Shocked, Jacob rose to his feet and stared at the tree. He then jumped when from behind the tree, a lovely girl of his own age appeared. “Hello” she said, giving a slight curtsy. “H-Hello,” Jacob stuttered. He looked back and forth between the girl and the tree, not sure which demanded more attention. “What happened?” “As life was given to you, life was given to me, and as this devil cursed my mother, she has cursed him too, and all wrongs have been brought into balance.” The girl spoke bluntly, showing little interest in the man stuck in the tree. Instead, she gazed intently at Jacob. Seeing his fear, her face turned to worry. “Do you suppose that by such desperate remedies for two lives gained, that two lives lost is worth the cost?” Jacob hesitated to answer. All he could do was nod. The girl smiled. “Thank you,” she said. To this Jacob smiled, bowed, and replied, “You’re welcome.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly, then walked home to share what had happened.