Sarah Tunde's torn flesh wept crimson trails down her arms, each laceration a memory of her fifteen-day journey. Once a corporate executive who measured success in quarterly reports, she now measured it in steps through this ancient forest. Her Armani suit, a remnant of her former life, hung in blood-stained tatters from her emaciated frame.
"Just a little further," she whispered, her cracked lips barely moving. The forest seemed alive, its twisted branches reaching like arthritic fingers, scraping against her skin. Each step sent shooting pains through her feet, the remnants of her Italian leather boots offering little protection against the forest floor.
Her mind drifted to Tomiwa, her six-year-old son, the only bright spot in her life since David's death. The cancer had taken her husband swiftly, leaving her to balance single motherhood with her executive position. When Tomiwa had seen the story about the mythical blue apple on his tablet - the fruit said to grant immortality - his eyes had lit up for the first time since his father's funeral.
“Mommy, if we had that apple, no one would ever leave us again.”
The words had broken her. She'd taken a leave of absence the next day.
Now, after countless miles and sleepless nights, there it was - floating like a bioluminescent jellyfish among normal red apples, its ethereal blue light pulsing softly. As she plucked it, the air erupted with angry buzzing. The guardian bees emerged, their stingers gleaming with an unnatural blue sheen.
Sarah ran, her body moving on pure adrenaline, each sting feeling like a hot poker against her skin. The swamp appeared ahead - a choice between certain death and probable death. She dove in.
The crocodiles moved like living submarines, their ancient eyes fixing on her with prehistoric hunger. She fought through the murky water, her muscles screaming in protest. The largest reptile's jaws clamped down on her left arm with the inevitable force of fate itself. She didn't scream - she couldn't waste the energy.
Three days later, she stumbled through her front door, one-armed and forever changed. The marble floors she'd once been so proud of were cold against her cheek as she collapsed.
"Mommy!" Tomiwa's voice brought her back to consciousness. “I was so scared! Ms. Chimma said you were on a business trip, but you never called!”
Sarah pulled out the apple with her remaining hand, its glow illuminating Tomiwa's face. “I brought what you wanted, baby.”
Tomiwa's nose wrinkled in confusion. “That old thing? Jimmy at school showed me this new VR game yesterday. Can we get that instead?”
Sarah stared at her son, then began laughing - a broken, hollow sound that gradually transformed into something genuine. Of course. Of course this would happen.
"Pizza first," she said, pulling Tomiwa close with her remaining arm, “then we'll talk about that game.”
She left the apple on the counter, its glow dimming like a dying star. Tomorrow, she would have to explain her absence to the office, deal with her injury, and face countless questions. But for now, she held her son, understanding finally that immortality wasn't found in mythical fruits, but in these small moments of love - even if they were fleeting, even if they changed as quickly as a child's wishes.
The blue apple sat forgotten, its light now barely visible, a reminder that the most dangerous journeys we take aren't through forests or swamps, but through the landscapes of our own desperate hopes.
