Dressed to Kill

 

The fall of 1978 would be remembered for generations.

 

I loved the story of the princess woken by a handsome prince. Each year, on Halloween, I became that princess.

I walked alone, trick-or-treating, while groups of guys mocked my dress and made lewd comments. Girls threw rotten apples poisoned with hatred and intolerance.

Mrs. Halloran, who was always kind to me, held a bowl of candy but pulled me aside. She gave me a bright, red apple and a smile.

Our neighborhood lost 27 kids that year. Poisoned. All but the boy in the Snow White costume.

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

August 8 prompt: Poisoned Apple In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story with a poisoned apple.

 

 

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