Seckel Pear Farms

(Song to be played at highest volume possible in picture in picture mode while reading story.)

Muffled screams and a wobbling metal chair could not be heard by the press people. Janel Braga, 34, peered around the shed. Her hands and feet had been bound together like cords of firewood. A cloth stretched around her mouth to the back of her head. Sweat saturated her shirt. She hopped up and down, trying to find something, anything to release her from her confinement.

As Janel attempted to search for the sharpest thing to slice through her restraints, her former COO, Millie Dyer, 29, fielded more questions from the press.

“Yes, Janel has abruptly left the company. I’m honored to take her place and field questions. Seckel Pear Farms will continue with me as the interim CEO.”

Janel sought a pair of shears. She actually had to scoot to turn herself close enough for the blades to sever the rope and cloth binding her. By hopping up and down, she still didn’t catch the attention as the shed stood far away from the cameras and news people. Thankfully though, it sat far away from Millie.

A push here, and a tug there, got her closer to the shears. As she sat in the high-back yellow seat, its paint chipping, she pushed back tears. Every movement had to matter. As the actual CEO of Seckel Pear Farms, she had to break free. Janel needed to show these people how Millie had tried to murder her, failed, and then knocked her out with drugs. Millie then tied up Janel in a maintenance shed, and held a conference to present Janel’s invention of a seckel pear tree that produced a platinum-colored fruit. The uniquely-colored fruit had been Janel’s brainchild. She had cultivated it to be even stronger against fire blight. Millie noticed this, and confronted Janel about it.

“You’re not taking my idea,” Janel warned Millie hours before the gathering. “This platinum seckel pear will revolutionize not just this farm in Newark, Delaware, but farms around the globe,” Janel declared. Millie had tussled with, drugged, and confined Janel then dusted herself off and put on a black with sky blue pinstripe pantsuit. A white blouse completed the ensemble.

As she finally found the shears, she struggled against them. Janel also scraped her hands, causing blood to spurt out in little rivulets. She screamed, but without shedding tears. No one heard her yelp to come to her rescue, as the cloth muffled the sound. She saw the pills Millie had used to knock her unconscious.

In the same moment, the seckel pear tree got its moment in the limelight. The platinum leaves and fruit looked like drops of the precious metal in the sunlight.

“This tree will be resistant to all kinds of insects, and will produce more fruit at a lower cost than traditional seckel trees.” She smiled, knowing she had double-crossed her former friend and confidant.

Janel started moving more rhythmically. She hopped once to her left and up and down, and once to her right, and repeated the process. More blood flowed, and the slices came dangerously close to her wrists. She wrapped her hands around the cloth to soak up the blood. As far as her wrists were concerned, she had gone across the street and (thankfully) not down the road. Blood still saturated her arms and hands and sweat leaked from her pores. Her hair looked like a tarantula's nest. A tiny bit of light trickled into the shed. It provided just enough illumination for Janel to see. Little specks of dust hung in the air as she tore through the cloth.

Millie took the next question. “Yes, from the Daily Delaware.”

“Will Ms. Braga return within the next few days?”

Millie's smile disappeared. “She is actually dealing with serious business away from the farm right now. She will not be back for a while. In her absence, as the interim CEO, I’m glad to offer more shots of the tree.”

Janel could feel the greasiness of her sweat and blood. The toil caused her to do everything, but shed tears. Through the pain, she was like an Amazon warrior fighting for her own existence. At last the cloth around her hand untethered. The bloody rags descended to the floor in a flash of white and red. She quickly undid the rope around her feet and ripped the cloth tied around the back of her head and mouth.

“Aaargh!” She screamed.

“Did anyone else hear that?” a reporter queried.

Millie continued to smile and look smart. “Are there any questions concerning the tree?”

“We would like to know what that scream was,” a newswoman asserted.

“It was probably a bear in a trap. We keep those around. You can’t be too careful with bears and pears!” Millie blurted nervously.

Janel escaped from her hellish shed experience and stormed towards the cameras, and Millie, of course. She held within her hands the bloody cloth that had fettered her wrists. She moved like a jackal preparing to attack an antelope. Her face had the twisted look of a ferocious wolf, hungry for the hunt. She edged closer and closer until she came to the place where Millie stood. Cameras flashed like fireworks as the reporters and their recorders captured this historic moment. She tackled Millie to the ground.

“You drug me, then you tie me up in my own shed, on my pear farm?” Janel asked coldly, squeezing Millie’s neck.

“Ha! Someone has been off her drugs and woke up in a mess. Please, Janel, change from those clothes and take your medicine!” Millie exclaimed through a chokehold.

The sight of the blood tipped off some reporters who called the police and paramedics.

Janel closed her eyes and exhaled. Her voice was still low, cold and sharp as an ice pick. She picked up herself as Millie writhed on the ground, gasping for air. “If I may have the floor.” Microphones and cameras shot in front of her face.

“I created the platinum seckel pear. It is my own botanical skills that produced this plant you see before you. I literally sweat and bled to have this tree be a part of Seckel Pear Farms. This woman is no longer an associate of mine. She stands as an attempted murderer who tied me up and left me to die.”

“How do we believe you?” A reporter gulped.

“Ask her any question about the pears this tree produces. I had yet to fully explain the process and what would result. Ask her about whether it is cold-hardy or frost resistant….”

The cameras turned to Millie. A look of total terror and exasperation crossed her face. “I….” Then, she darted away from the cameras and flashing lights. Two Delaware State Police cruisers and an ambulance pulled up to the opening of the orchard.

The cold steel of justice wrapped around Millie’s wrists and she was taken away in one of the cruisers.

Janel walked through the press as if parting the seas of confusion and bewilderment. She showed her scarred wrists and hands to the medical professionals. She spoke with the deputy sheriff and explained what had happened to her.

She had the opportunity to go down to the station and fill out some forms. She opted to just let Millie’s behavior in front of the journalists, the bloodied hands, and the sleeping pills she was drugged with speak for her. Janel clung to her platinum seckel pear tree, and encouraged even more pictures and video to capture her creation for circulation on the Internet.