Dollenganger 03 If There Be a Thorns by V. C. Andrews

into claws, hunched my back and cast my spell: "I chrisss-en thee Apple! With this magic potion I give, and with this spell I put upon thee, I make you into a pony." I gave him the magic potion which was an apple. "Now you are mine, all mine! Never will you eat or drink if I am not the one to give you the food and water. Never will you love anyone but me. You will run to me and die when I do. MINE, APPLE, MINE! NOW AND FOREVERMORE . . . MINE!"
The power of my magic spell had Apple sniffing at the fruit I offered. He whimpered unhappily and turned his nose away, showing more interest in the sugar I was saving for later. "Now, don't you whinny and try to eat everything," I scolded, biting into the apple myself to show him how it was done. Again I held the apple out for my pony to eat. Again he turned away his giant white and golden head. Some of his fur was reddish gold and sorta pretty. I bit into the apple again and chewed, showing him what good food he was missing.
"Bart," called Grandmother with a choke in her voice, "perhaps I made a mistake. I'll take the puppy back to the pet shop and buy you that pony you wanted."
I looked from her to my new pet, then toward my home, considering. They'd be sure to smell a horse, if ponies smelled horsey. And doggy smells would seem natural; they'd be convinced Clover had finally learned to trust me--when he never would let me near him. "Grandmother, I'm going to keep this here puppy- pony. I'll teach him all about how to play horse. If he doesn't learn before I go to Disneyland you can take him back--and never can I come to visit you again."
Laughing and happy then, I fell onto the hay and frolicked with my puppy-pony, the only puppypony in the whole wide world. And his big warm body felt good in my arms, real good.
I looked at her, then, and I knew John Amos was wrong. Women were not evil and devious, and I was so relieved to have found out at last that it was John Amos who was devious, and Momma and my grandmother were the best things in my whole life-- next to Apple.
"Grandmother, are you truly my real
grandmother, and my real daddy was your second husband?"
"Yes, it's true," she said with her head bowed. "But it's a secret. Just between us. You must promise not to tell anyone." She seemed to droop, looking sad, but I was so happy inside I wanted to burst. A puppypony and a real grandmother who had been married to my real father. Gosh, I was getting lucky at last.
And there I was saying my "ings." That's what loving Apple and my grandmother did for me, taught me how to prounce the "ings" with a G. In only one day they had succeeded, when Momma and Daddy had been trying for years and years.
Soon I found out that eating had lots to do with loving. The more food I gave Apple, the more he loved me. And without the help of more spells, he was mine, all mine. When I came in the mornings he raced to me, jumping up and spinning in circles, wagging his tail, licking my face. When I hitched him to the new pony cart he bucked just like a real horse. Tried his best to rid himself of the small saddle I put on his back too. Boy, just wait until Jory got a load of the kind of magic I could work.
"Gonna be eleven soon," I said to Grandmother one day, in hopes of giving her a few ideas.
"Ten," she corrected. "You will be ten on your next birthday."
"Eleven!" I shouted, insisting. "All year I've been going on ten. I have to be eleven by now."
"Bart, don't start wishing your life away. Time goes by quickly enough. Hold onto your youth, stay as you are."
I went on stroking Apple's head. "Granny, tell me about your little boys."
She looked sad again, not from her face I couldn't see, but from the way her shoulders drooped. "One went to heaven," she whispered hoarsely, "the other ran away."
"Where did the other go?" I asked, thinking maybe I'd go there too.
"South," she said simply, drooping more.
"I'm going south too. Hate that place!--full of ole graves and full of ole grandmothers. One is locked up in a