Treasurable Life: After Dark Edition

Daily writing prompt

Describe one of your favorite moments.

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The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But that doesn’t mean you gotta pick it up- Treasurable Life

Let me tell you about one of my favorite moments, a twisted fairytale kind of moment, but make it couture, leather-gloved, and Glock-ready.

I was walking through life like I owned the damn woods. You know heels sharp enough to slice ego, hips loaded with purpose, and eyes that whispered “Try me.” Then it happened that delicious, cinematic, slow-motion kind of moment.

Picture this: A forest thick with fog, drama clinging to every branch. I stepped out of my whip something sleek, silent, and definitely not grandma’s wagon in a leather corset and red hood so fierce it could’ve sent the wolves into therapy.

And there he was.

Not Prince Charming. Oh no.
This fool had the audacity to pop out from behind a tree, cloak dragging like he hadn’t seen soap since the Garden of Eden, holding a shiny red apple like it was a golden ticket to temptation.

He said nothing. Just held it out.
I looked at the apple. Then at my gun. Then at his shaky hand like, “Sir… really? We’re still doing this poisoned fruit thing in 2025?”

That moment, that split second where I decided not to eat the apple, not to fall for the fairy tale, not to shrink or soften, was a favorite.
Because instead of sipping sin and slipping into sleep, I smirked, turned my heel, and left him standing in his confusion.

I didn’t have time to play Eve, Snow White, or Red Riding anymore. I was the damn plot twist.

Sometimes your favorite moment isn’t a kiss or a warm memory it’s the exact second you choose yourself over an old-ass narrative that’s been trying to keep women in glass coffins, waiting rooms, and cautionary tales.
I chose power.
I chose survival.
I chose the walk-away.

Cloaked in My Own Power

I don’t need apples,
I plant orchards.
I don’t beg wolves,
I break borders.
And if a cloak’s involved?
Best believe I stitched it myself,
Blood red from every story
I lived to tell.

So yeah, that’s one of my favorite moments: when I looked temptation in the eye and chose me.

Until next time, stay armed with truth, style, and a little bit of pettiness.
Cause fairytales are fun, but being the author? That’s a whole different kind of magic.