Apples always felt magical to Lyla, made all the more by her never having seen one.
Gran always had one in her stories. Whether a princess ate one and slept, whether it was given as a gift for the most beautiful goddess, or fell on someone's head.
Her favorite had been about the princess and the pond. A lonely princess escaping an evil dragon, penniless and starving, finds a small pond in the wilderness. Next to the pond is a tree with a lone apple.
Just as she's about to eat it, a hungry spirit emerges from the pond. Being the perfect princess, she gives the spirit the apple. The spirit then grants her wishes by slaying the dragon, giving her a castle, a prince and big pot of gold.
All because of the apple.
The plastic apple juice bottle in her hands had a picture of one. It made it all the more mystical. A beautiful, bright red orb, shining around the greyness of the city around her.
It was her first autumn with no leaves, Lyla thought as she sat cross legged staring into the putrid water.
No birds either.
She'd not seen a spotty little ladybug since as far back as she could remember. There were even a few kids in her class who'd never ever seen a beetle, or got stung by a bee, or even seen a butterfly prancing and dancing.
She was missing school today. It still felt scary, but it was okay.
Nobody would notice.
Nobody really noticed her anymore. Her dad would travel for months at a time, while mum only came back from work to make dinner and breakfast before leaving again. Gran had been the only one to take care of her.
Lyla clutched the bottle of apple juice in her hand tighter, and tried to make the tears go away.
Gran had always walked with her. On the smoggy streets she'd take her to the park and back. She remembered the trees on either side, small and withered but beautiful. Lyla would dance and lift the tiny bundles of leaves above her head, throwing them as high as she could.
Gran said there used to be leaves enough to swim in, and Lyla couldn't imagine.
Gran said she forgot what apples tasted like.
The park was smaller than she'd remembered. The concrete and machinery had slowly encroached itself upon it, oozing its greyness. The small pond in the center now was almost all that remained, and Lyla thought that had to be magic.
All around the park were concrete benches, playing fields and rubbish.
But here, right in the center of it all was a little pond.
She remembered feeding the ducks with Gran. They had been thin, sticklike things, like her. They would throw small pieces of stale bread, far too old to be eaten, and the ducks would run and eat as much as they could. But there were no ducks left.
She clutched the bottle of apple juice as she sat on the bench. The pond seemed smaller now, only about as wide as she was tall. She could hardly imagine a single duck paddling around inside.
The pond was a deep green. Anything the water touched seemed to be submerged completely under miles of murky water. Maybe that was why they couldn't just pave it over.
Roots too deep to fill.
She looked up, the smokestacks of the high-rises around the edges of the park burning brightly. She imagined how a princess might feel, and felt lucky they at least didn't have big wings and teeth.
She remembered Gran's stories of little girls who wander, finding big bad wolves and witches. But all the wolves were gone, and all around, the silhouettes of people ignored her, surely a witch would do the same.
Anyways, she knew she had to do this. She knew she had to find out if ponds and apples really were magic.
Lyla knelt down next to the water, covering her nose.
'Mr spirit of the pond'
She whispered, looking around to see if anyone was watching.
'I don't want a big castle, there's plenty around'
The sounds of machinery echoed in the distance, her voice almost silent, as she stared at the looming concrete dragons around her. She raised her voice, as much as she could.
'I don't like boys, and I don't want a pot of gold'
The distant sounds of construction seemed to ease.
'I just wish' she shouted now, as loud as she could. Her voice faltered and pitched as the tears welled up.
'I wish the apples would come back'
She tipped the bottle. The golden liquid gently dribbled into the green, still water, absorbing immediately and being lost within the murkiness.
It wasn't real apple juice, made from artificial flavorings and hints of what might have been apple once. She hoped it was enough.
The pond sat still.
Lyla folded down, and began to sob.
She let her tears flow for her Grandma, for the old trees who's graves would be removed. For the pond, that was dying before her. For her mum and her dad who felt almost as lost as the trees and as shriveled as the pond.
And as Lyla slowly drifted off, next to the tiny pond and the little patch of grass and dirt - she dreamt of trees.