My father begged me not to pick the apple.
But it was exquisite, round, and with such a lovely, golden luster. When I reached out to touch it, a white dragonfly landed on my shoulder, like a pinprick of light. I tore the fruit from its perch and sank my teeth into its flesh.
The dragonfly bit down on my shoulder, and as I cried out, it turned red as blood.