“Hey, cuz, you, uh, okay?”
“It needs more, Crisp.”
“What needs more?”
“The trees, Crisp. They won’t keep given’ me apples if I don’t give them what they want.”
“They’re just trees, Apple. I’m kinda—”
“I keep giving them more and more and they just keep raising the price. I’m so close. Just a few more bits til I can leave. Never look back.”
“Slow down there, cuz. I don’t understand what you’re sayin’. I just wanted to know where the singing was comin’ from, but now—”
“It’s the call! They’re calling for more. They need more. I thought just one would work but then they wanted more and more and more and more and more and more—”
“Okay, I need you to stop whatever… this is. What is going on? And were you diggin’ holes again?! Geez, Apple, you’re coated in mud! You really need to stop, those trees are starting to go into other fields. You’re growin’ that orchard too big. It’s out of control.”
“It is out of control, Crisp! I-I can’t stop it anymore! It keeps calling to me, telling me it needs more. I gave it Honey, but it still needs more!”
“You gave it— Apple, what does that even mean?!”
“It means… it means… it means…”
“Apple, what are you doin’ with that shovel? Apple, please, stop. What’s going on?”
“It needs more, Crisp. Just until I get enough bits. Get enough bits and we can all move on. Go to greener pastures, away from the unicorns and trouble and this dang orchard. But I can’t do that if the trees won’t give me apples.
“It needs more.”
Ringing echoed through Noteworthy’s head.
He woke up, and got out of bed, feeling more energized than he had for over a month. He trotted quickly into the living area and sat down at his stand-up piano. He poised his hooves above the keys and turned his head towards the smashed remains of his phone, waiting expectantly.
On queue, the chorus began to sing from the broken receiver.
His hooves played in tandem with the chorus, each note harmonizing with the rise and fall of the voices. His eyes were glazed over, seeing beyond his home and to the true melody of the song.
Note after note he played, new voices bringing depth to his music. The only thing he could hear was the singing. The only thing he needed to hear was the singing. It made sense to him. It called to him. It wanted him.
It was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to Noteworthy.
As the dawn filtered through the window, the chorus receded, but Noteworthy could still hear its siren’s call. It had gone below ground, traveling along the lines buried beneath and towards its source.
He raced out the door leaving it ajar, ready to follow the singing to wherever it needed him to be.
Because nothing mattered to Noteworthy except the chorus.
Noteworthy stood before the gate to Sweet Apple Acres. It was already open, expecting his arrival. The chorus drew him further in. He galloped after it, a blissful expression on his face. He wound his way through the rows of trees, further and further into the acres, the chorus growing in fervent sound. Louder than it had ever been.
He entered a grove, hedged in by apple trees.
Before him, on the far end, was the biggest apple tree he had ever seen. Carved into its bark were words that he could barely make out nor wanted to for his attention was drawn to the hole that had been dug into its roots. A single grand piano stood within it, a mass made of tangled together wood with keys made of carved apples. From its open lid, Noteworthy could hear the most pleasant of sounds.
The chorus, beckoning him forward.
But hesitation gripped his heart. A sudden fear at what joining the chorus might mean. It caused him to back away slowly, his body shaking as it caught up with the situation he had put himself in, his blissful expression turning to one of indecision.
“Join them, Noteworthy.”
Noteworthy turned to Big Mac as he entered into the grove, a shovel slung over his shoulder, grime caked onto his fur that matched that of the hole before the apple tree.
“You don’t have any other options. You’ll never be given peace again,” Mac continued. “This is your end.
“The orchard always gets what it wants.”
His hesitation began to ebb as the chorus rose in volume. He smiled at Mac before renewing his focus on his final destination. He trotted forward, tears of joy in his eyes as Mac watched him from afar, an unreadable expression on his face.
As he drew ever closer, skeletal beings emerged from the ground entangled in roots, empty sockets glowing green, their jaws flapping in time to the song being sung. They loomed over him as he entered the hole, blocking his retreat as they welcomed him into their orchestra.
Sitting at the piano, he touched a key with one hoof. It was smooth to the touch. He pushed it down, exhilaration flowing through him as the most beautiful sound emerged from the instrument. He hunched over in ecstasy as drool pooled out of his mouth and his eyes rolled in their sockets. He hit another key, and arched backward, laughing in pure joy. He brought his second hoof to the board and began to play, each note jolting him with pleasure as the chorus joined in his song.
He followed the chorus before he began to change the music. Conducting them into a new tune. The skeletons shifted their pitch, guided by their maestro. A role that was taken with immense glee and satisfaction.
They moved in closer, roots, and bone trapping him in. They touched him, warm and inviting. The roots grew from their hooves, ensnaring Noteworthy in their embrace.
As he was consumed, as the roots burrowed into his skin, Noteworthy laughed and cried and played for he had found purpose.
He’d finally lived up to his name.
Big Mac regarded the now empty hole before the Seed. Another had been claimed by the orchard. He slid his jaw from one side to the other, clenched in irritation. A gross feeling hung over his mind as it did every time he had to do this.
“Are you happy now, varmints?” He called out.
In response, the trees swayed, their bounty of red apples shining brighter in the morning sun indicating that they have been sated.
For now.
Grunting, Big Mac buried his shovel into a nearby pile of dirt, scooped out a heap, and threw it into the hole. It was a gaping wound in the land that would need to be covered up. He doubted it was necessary, but you never knew if a random stranger may stumble upon something they shouldn’t. It would be long, arduous work.
But it still had to be done.