Day 9: The Things We Buried

31 Days of Visual Horror Prompts

Something about an old, abandoned orchard gives me the creeps. Maybe it's the twisted trees, the branches reaching for something, or the thought of what might be hiding beneath years of fallen leaves and rotting fruit.

Or maybe I've just watched too many horror movies.

Either way, I'm not wandering through one after dark.

For today's visual horror prompt, we're heading into an orchard that has been dead for forty years. The trees haven't produced anything worth picking in decades, and the people who live nearby have pretty much left the place alone.

Except for one little problem.

Every October, thirteen apples appear on the branches.

Thirteen perfect, bright red apples.

Now, I don't know about you, but I would have some serious questions about that. Dead trees aren't supposed to grow fruit, and they certainly aren't supposed to produce the exact same number of apples every single year.

But apparently, the people living nearby have decided it's best not to ask questions.

Which, honestly, might be the smartest thing anyone in a horror story has ever done.

Unfortunately, something has changed this year.

There are fourteen apples.

And the ground beneath the trees has started moving.

Well, shit.

I love the idea of taking something beautiful, like an apple orchard in October, and turning it into something completely horrifying. We associate orchards with fall festivals, apple cider, pumpkin patches, and all those wonderful things that make autumn my favorite time of year.

We don't usually associate them with porcelain hands pushing their way through the dirt.

At least, I hope we don't.

What I find especially creepy about this image is that we don't know what those hands belong to. Are they reaching for the apples? Are they trying to escape? Or are they offering something to whoever happens to wander into the orchard?

And why are there thirteen of them?

Maybe the orchard was planted over something the town wanted everyone to forget. Maybe someone made a bargain years ago, and the apples are part of the payment.

Or maybe those aren't apples at all.

There's something wonderfully disturbing about a place that looks peaceful from a distance but holds something terrible beneath the surface.

It makes me wonder how many things we walk past every day without realizing what might be buried underneath.

Of course, my imagination probably doesn't need any more encouragement to come up with horrifying possibilities.

But that's the fun of writing horror, isn't it?

Taking something ordinary and making someone look at it a little differently the next time they encounter it.

Every autumn, the orchard produces exactly thirteen apples, despite the trees having been dead for nearly forty years.

This year, there are fourteen.

And something beneath the roots has started counting.

What was buried there, and why does it want one more?

You can take this one in whatever direction your twisted little imagination wants to go. Folk horror, supernatural horror, an old family secret, or something completely unexpected.

Personally, I think the scariest part would be discovering that the people in town already know what's buried there.

And they've been waiting for the fourteenth apple.

Happy writing, and whatever you do, don't eat the damn apples.

Savvy Word Slinger