silly me. must have left my rose colored ring on the old garden table in grandmother's apple orchard. and though it has now come upon us the hour of the sun's descent when all the wasps gather inside the rotten apple caverns on the ground i must run quickly through the garden gate with the setting sunrays blinding my eyes. the sweet scent of ripe fruits greets me and i hop from grassy island to grassy island, by a mere miracle avoiding the violent stings from the hungry insects. and amongst the branches of the apple trees i catch a glimpse of glittering jewels that are encased on the ring once belonging to my mother. my small hand reaches for it but before it can get a hold of the heirloom a strong hand grips around my wrist and violently pulls me in another direction. a giant of which i can only see the silhouette against the dying sun is slowly squeezing my arm between his fingers and i see nothing more. pink apple blossoms whirl around me and before i lose consciousness i begin to wonder why there are blossoms in the middle of a hot summer night...