The apples are left on the trees in the orchard. When wintry rain covers them in ice, the apples are persuaded to dissolve, to leave only a ghost behind in the icy shell.
Cider made from ghost apples warms the dead, and chills the living.
You look like you need some.
#Cassoland #MicroFiction #TootFic #SmallStories
@MicroSFF Well, yes, I do have a fever, how did you know?
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