Apple Tree Grave

Little Stephen Parker was cycling through the sunny countryside of Maine. He was a young boy, about seven years old, just having fun in the summer sun, a carefree child who didn't know what true horror was or meant quite yet. That was until he came upon an isolated apple tree, it was no taller than he was and it had obviously been planted by somebody from somewhere he'd never truly know. The tree was barely a tree yet, but it was growing up just like Stephen was and at the same height too. The boy named his new tree friend Harold and he would pick tiny apples from the growing tree, which was growing out of a large rectangle patch of short grass beside the much taller grass that surrounded it. The rectangle patch was long like a human coffin, Stephen's own mommy or daddy could lie down inside it and still have room to wiggle their toes. That made little Stephen giggle. He was too young and naive to question what was down there, perhaps the gardener (whoever he or she was) had planted lots and lots of apple seeds, but only one lucky tree got to grow up like Stephen did. This little boy was lonely though and didn't have many friends.
"The other kids in school think I'm weird!" He cried to Harold the tree, "they're always picking on me." There would be no reply from the tree, but Stephen was a child with a wild imagination, he'd speak in a strange wooden voice pretending that was the tree. Talking to himself back and forth using his normal voice (as himself) and the silly wooden voice (for Harold the talking tree.
"Maybe. You. Should. Take. My. Apples. To. School." Harold (Stephen doing a silly voice) would suggest.
"You really think so?!" Replied Stephen (speaking normally).
"Yes. Take. My. Apples. To. School."
"You think the other kids will finally like me?!"
"Yes. The. Other. Kids. Will. Like. That."
"Oh goody!" Stephen would exclaim excitedly, "you're my best friend, Harold!"
"You. Are. My. Best. Friend. Too!"
"Yippee!" Stephen would pick ten different apples and put them in his bicycle's front basket, then joyfully cycle home in the lovely summer sun.
"Mom, dad!" He sang, upon climbing off of his bicycle and entering their cozy little farm house.
"What is it Stevy?!" His mother would call, running downstairs to hug her son.
"Mommy! Mommy! I made a new friend today, mommy!"
"Oh really!" His mom wept, she knew little Stephen had been struggling to make friends with the kids in school.
"Yes Mommy, his name is Harold, Mommy! Harold!"
"Harold?" She questioned the name, that surely wasn't a kid's name, "how old is he dear?"
"I don't know, he's an apple tree!"
"What?!"
"He's an apple tree, mommy! Look!" He showed her one of the tiny green apples he picked from the tree, "I brought it home just for you and the other kids in school too!"
"Oh well, that's nice!" Mommy laughed, she was relieved Stephen hadn't been talking to some creepy old man, "I'm sure the other kids in school would love the apples!"
"Yippee!" Stephen exclaimed excitedly, running upstairs to tell daddy the good news.

The next day in school; Stephen was suddenly the coolest kid around. Everyone wanted an apple, but he only had ten to give out.
"Please get us more apples, Stevy!" The other kids cried, some of them were sucking up to him, "we'll be your best friend!"
"Wow! Really?!" Stephen jumped in excitement!
"Yes, really, really!" They all sang, it was beautiful.
"Oh my gosh, yes! Yes! I'll get you all apples!" Stephen was the happiest little boy in the whole wide world.

That weekend, Stephen visited his best friend Harold the tree. It had already grown an inch or two, possibly three in the time the two best friends had met. More tiny little apples were growing on the branches now too.
"Hello Harold!" Stephen waved at his tree friend, before climbing off his bicycle, "my new friends loved the apples!"
"I am. Glad. They. Like. Them!" Harold replied.
"They sure do, buddy! Mind if I take more?!"
"Oh. Yes. Take. Them. All!"
"Thank you, Harold!" Stephen picked off more and more apples, filling his basket to the brim, "doesn't it hurt you?"
"I. Have. Already. Been. Hurt. Stevy." Harold replied sadly.
"I'm so sorry!" Stephen tried putting one of the apples back.
"No. No. Not. That. Silly." Harold laughed.
"Oh..." Stephen was confused, he didn't know what Harold meant, "what hurt you?"
"Why. Don't. You. Bring. Your. Friends. Over. Next. Time?" Harold suggested, "they. Might. Know."
"How?" Stephen asked.
"I. Can. Tell. You. All. A. Fun. Little. Story."
"Ok!" Stephen cheered, "that sounds fun, next time, we'll all come!" He smiled, before climbing back on his bicycle and returning home with all of his new apples.

"Is Harold really an apple tree?" Daddy asked Stephen the moment he got home.
"Yes, daddy, he sure is!" The boy replied, cheerfully, showing off his new apple collection, "my friends in school are going to love them!"
"Are you sure they just don't want your apples, Stevy?"
"What are you saying, that they're just pretending to get free food from me!" Stephen cried, then ran upstairs crying like a toddler, before slamming his bedroom door behind with a loud thump!
"Debby, what do you know about this Harold the tree?!" Daddy stormed into the kitchen to confront Stephen's mother.
"It's a real tree!" Debby stressed, "I saw him playing with it, look!" She pointed outside the window, on a tall hill upon the horizon stood a tiny apple tree, just barely visible from where there house was, "I saw him go up there, he talks to himself, pretending he's the tree. It's cute!"
"So... Harold is just his imaginary friend?"
"That's right, Kyle. Now stop worrying, ok? I love you!" She kissed him on the cheek then continued her cooking. Kyle wasn't entirely convinced, there was something else going on, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

That Monday, all the other kids in school were lining up to eat Stephen's apples.
"You're so cool, Stevy!"
"This is awesome!"
"Let's be friends!"
"I love these apples!"
"You're the best!"
"These taste so good!"
All the kids praised him, but Stephen couldn't help but wonder if his own father was right all along. Maybe these kids only saw him as a free lunch. So that's when Stephen decided to tell everyone in school about his magic tree friend.
"The apple tree I'm getting these from is named Harold!" He told everyone on the playground, "I talk to him." Most of the kids laughed mockingly, but some were genuinely intrigued.
"You... Talk to him?" One of the girls asked.
"That's right, yes I do! I do!" Stephen nodded, "and he's my best friend. He wanted me to invite you all to meet him, what do you say?!"
Half the school laughed, but at least twenty other students cried; "ok!" And agreed to go visit this talking tree of his. Maybe these would be Stephen's true friends.

On Saturday, they all gathered around the short apple tree, it was standing a little taller than Stephen now, as it was growing little by little everyday. They were all thoroughly unimpressed, it was just a tiny little thing that only had small apples dangling off it.
"Not quite the majestic tree you said it was." A kid named Mikey snorted.
"Harold's my best friend!" Stephen cried.
"What's that big long patch it's growing out of? it looks like an unmarked grave!" Jerry scoffed.
"NO IT ISN'T!" Stephen whined.
"It kinda... Looks like one." A girl named Cindy said.
"No it doesn't!" Stephen wept.
"You said it talks!" James snapped.
"It does talk, it does!" Stephen nodded, "hello Harold!"
"Hi. Kids." Stephen said to himself in that silly wooden voice. A couple of the kids laughed.
"See, I told you! He really does talk!" Stephen cried (speaking in his normal voice).
"Ok, sure!" Mikey entertained Stephen's delusions, "what's up, Mr Tree?!"
"Hello. Mikey!" Stephen replied (speaking as Harold).
"Growing anymore apples?"
"Yes. You. Can. Pick. Them!"
"Stephen said you'd tell us a story!" Jerry groaned.
"Ok. Jerry. I'll. Tell. You. A. Story."
"Do you have to talk slow like that?!" Mikey snapped at Stephen, "we'll be here all day!"
"I'm not talking, it's Harold!" Stephen cried (returning to his normal voice).
"No, it's you." Cindy said, "you're speaking as him."
"That's not true!"
"It is!" Jerry laughed, "I always knew you were the weird kid. Come on guys, let's go, this is lame!"
"It's not lame!" Stephen cried.
"I'm sorry..." Cindy walked away with the others, "I liked the apples though." Then she left, leaving poor little Stephen all alone with Harold the tree.
"That's not true is it, Harold?" Stephen cried to the tree.
"Tell. Your. Daddy." Harold replied.
"Ok, I'll tell him how mean the other kids are!"

"Oh daddy, it was awful! Just awful!" Stephen cried to Kyle.
"What is it, son? What happened?"
"The other kids in school, they said I was only pretending Harold was a talking tree. But he's real! He is real, daddy!"
"There, there, son. I think Harold was just an imaginary friend." Kyle reassured him.
"No daddy, he's a real talking tree! Honest! Honest!"
"Sometimes reality is tough, kiddo!" Kyle patted his son on the back.
"Je- Jerry said Harold was growing out of an unmarked grave!"
"Wh- what?" Kyle stuttered.
"AM UNMARKED GRAVE!" Stephen cried hysterically, "like th- the- there is a body under there! But it's not true! It's not!"
"Ok, son... That's not possible. You're right. They were just teasing you."
"I knew it!" Stephen sobbed, "they were never my friends at all."

That night, as Stephen slept; Kyle ventured outside in the middle of the night to investigate this apple tree. The kids were right, there was a strange long, rectangular patch of grass much shorter than the rest, as if something tall as him was buried underneath there.
"Oh my god." Kyle grimaced. He ran back home and grabbed a shovel, then returned to the apple tree.
"Sorry about this 'Harold', Stephen's going to hate me for this!" Kyle winced, before digging into the short patch of grass. As his shovel dug deeper and deeper into the mud, something hard hit the bottom of his shovel.
"Oh god..." Kyle shivered, as he pushed the mud aside, there was a rotting human skull beneath, and roots from the tree were growing out of the empty eye sockets. Somebody had killed this poor man (or woman) and buried their body underground and planted this apple tree to hide their tracks. Anyone else would've been able to tell what had really gone on, but to a small excitable child like Stephen, he just thought this was an innocent little apple tree. Kyle didn't know if his son had been talking to the corpse's ghost (possibly named Harold) this whole time. Or if it was all just some bizarre coincidence that he just so happened to make imaginary friends with a little tree, one that just so happened to have a dead body buried underneath it. Either way, nobody would ever know who buried the body under this tree, as not even the best Detective in Maine could guess who would have done this. The tale of the apple tree is one of the most eerie and disturbing murder mysteries in American history.