An Apple a Day Keeps the Ghosts Away
"An apple a day drives the ghosts away," she declared, her words echoing through the silent streets.
The wind howled through the narrow streets of the haunted Irish village, carrying with it the smell of damp earth and decay. The villagers huddled in their homes, afraid to venture out into the dark streets after dusk. They whispered tales of ghosts and curses, of restless spirits that roamed the streets at night.
One evening, a young woman arrived in the village, her cloak pulled tight around her slender form. Her arrival caused quite a stir among the villagers, who watched her with wary eyes from behind their curtained windows. She seemed out of place in the eerie village, with her long blonde hair and pale delicate features. But the most striking thing about her was the large, bulging bag she carried, filled to the brim with apples.
As the woman made her way through the village, the people couldn't help but stare. The whispers began to spread, and soon everyone was talking about the mysterious young woman and her bag of apples. Some said she was an angel, sent to save the village from the ghosts that haunted its streets. Others claimed she was a witch, come to wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting villagers.
When the young woman finally stopped in the centre of the village, she raised her voice so that all could hear. "An apple a day keeps the ghosts away," she declared, her words echoing through the silent streets. The villagers watched in awe as she began to distribute the apples, one by one, to every person in the village. They accepted the apples with trembling hands, grateful for the chance to drive away the spirits that haunted their homes.
But the young woman was no angel. She was a witch, and her true intentions were far from benevolent. Her name was Eileen, and she had come to the village on a mission of revenge. Fourteen years ago, her mother had been accused of witchcraft by the very same villagers who now accepted her apples with eager hands. They had burned her mother at the stake, convinced that she was responsible for the misfortunes that had befallen the village.
Eileen had spent years honing her craft, learning the ways of dark magic to bring about the downfall of the village that had destroyed her family. She knew that the apples she gave to the villagers were cursed, imbued with her dark power. As the villagers consumed the fruit, they would be consumed by the same darkness that had claimed her mother all those years ago.
As the days passed, the once vibrant village began to wither and fade. The people grew sick and weak, their skin turning pale and their eyes losing their light. The streets became even quieter, the terror of the ghosts now nothing compared to the fear that gripped the villagers as they realized the true nature of the apples they had so eagerly accepted.
Eileen watched from the shadows, her eyes alight with malicious glee as she witnessed the downfall of the village. The spirits that had haunted the streets were now joined by the tormented souls of the villagers, their anguished cries filling the night air. Her revenge was complete, but it brought her no joy. The darkness that had consumed the village had consumed her as well, leaving her empty and hollow.
As the village lay in ruins, Eileen slunk away into the night, her heart heavy with the weight of her sins. She had sought vengeance for her mother, but in the end, she had become no better than the villagers who had condemned her. The ghosts would linger in the village for years to come, their mournful wails a haunting reminder of the darkness that had torn the village apart.
And so the haunted Irish village became a place of sorrow and despair, its once lively streets now a mausoleum for the souls that had been lost to the darkness.
The legend of the witch who had come bearing cursed apples would live on for generations, a cautionary tale of the dangers of seeking revenge at any cost.
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