Last night I dreamed of an apple tree. Its gooey-twisted limbs bowed with glossy red apples. I reached for one and jolted at the sight of a white worm clinging to a branch, shock screaming to my toes. As I watched, the worm grew longer, then fatter, its segments becoming plump and shiny. It undulated towards me then leaped towards my face. I turned and ran, heart walloping. The worm chased me. I tripped and fell, got up, tripped and fell, got up and looked over my shoulder. The worm was still following but I got away.

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Charmaine Arjoonlal is a writer who lives in Whitehorse, Yukon, Canada. Her writing has appeared in Lothlorien Poetry, Last Stanza Poetry, Pinhole Poetry, Field Guide Poetry and elsewhere. You can visit her website charmainearjoonlal.wordpress.com