Chatterbox: Inkwell

I was thinking of stories to write in my Special Notebook, and I came up with a story so good, I'm posting it.

The Apple Tree

The creek rushing behind me, I run away from my brother, Nathaniel.  His hat droops as he realizes he can't cross it like I did.  He's too short to hop onto the bridge. 

"Nowa, help!" he calls.  I'm too far into the forest to turn back now.  I try to go back, but the path I took into the trees seems to have disappeared.  Mother will find him.  I smooth my skirt down.  Even my most casual skirt has too many frills for me.  I wish I could run free like Hattie, my servant.  But high society women of my time never run.

I keep walking.  Then I come to the clearing.  I gasp.  It is so beautiful.  The trees' leaves as green as emeralds, their trunks strong.  And the fruit that grow on them look as perfectly ripe as they could be.  I look around to make sure no one is watching.  Then I take an apple and bite it.  As I collapse like Snow White, I wonder how I landed in a fairy tale.  That's all I remember of my life as Nora Bloomingfield, the nineteenth century heiress.

And with that, I leave you.  You may post with guesses to my identity/pleads for me to keep writing.