I am afraid of lizards, especially the big green ones that live in the trees. I used to love rose apples, but I don't like them anymore. Let me tell you why.

Not far from our house is a lonely gully. This gully has a lot of fruit trees that we cannot resist. There are oranges, tangerines, jackfruit, mammees, pears, rose apples and star apples. Whenever we get a chance we sneak off to pick fruits in the gully, although Mama warns us not to go there by ourselves.

"That gully is a world to itself," she tells us. "If anything happen to unnu down there not a soul will hear yu."

Mama's warnings always fall on deaf ears. My older sister, Deloris, Babsy, the younger, and I always ignore her warning and sneak off to pick fruits in the forbidden wilderness.

To reach the gully, we climb a steep hill behind our house. Once we reach the top, we can look down into the gully. It is a wide expanse of land and, unlike most gullies, the large area of land is flat. Sometimes my brother, Bull, leaves the cows over there to eat the grass.

Today, Babsy and I sneak away to pick rose apples in the gully. The rose apple tree is up in the far corner of the gully. It is late in the evening when we reach the tree.

Rustling among the leaves

I start to climb the tree, but jump down when I hear rustling among the leaves. Babsy is also afraid of lizards.

"What happen?" Babsy asks, alarmed.

"Nothing man," I say, "you want to climb the tree?"

"All right," she agrees and scampers up with the agility of a little monkey.

"When a throw down the apples, meck sure you catch them. Don't let them burst," she calls out to me.

"No man," I assure her. "Not even one gwine burst today."

Babsy picks some mellow apples and I successfully catch them and put them in a heap. I am busily catching and heaping up the apples when I hear the deafening scream. I freeze in fear. To my horror, I realise that Babsy is screaming.

'Lizard!'

Babsy is on the verge of jumping from the tree. "Lizard!" she keeps screaming. "One big ole helluva green lizard! Betty what mi gwine do?"

"Go to another limb quick!" I advise, as I wait for her to comply.

Suddenly another scream rents the air. "Lizard! Another lizard back mi up!

"Lizard! Another lizard back mi up!"

I don't know what to do. She can't come down without encountering the other lizard. She is wedged between two of them. She is hysterical now.

I am reeling from anxiety.

"Betty, a gwine jump! Catch mi like how yu catch star apple! Catch mi like how yu catch star apple! Ketch mi like how yu catch star apple! Ketch mi ..."

Lord have mercy. What mi gwine do? Suppose she jump. She is shouting so loudly, I can't get her to listen.

Now, whenever Babsy and I go to pick star apple she would climb while I stay on the ground and catch the purple apples. Sometimes I fail to catch some, but if they hit my hand before falling to the ground they don't burst.

Babsy remembers this.

"Catch mi like how yu catch star apple!" she keeps screaming. Catch mi like how yu catch star apple!"

"But Babsy, yu too big. A can't catch yu! If yu jump yu going to burst and die and Papa gwine kill mi!"

"Betty, memba when yu catching star apple, if them drop when a throw them down, they mash up. But when them bounce pon yu han, even if them drop, them don't burst. So catch mi like how yu catch star apple!"

Oh God! It getting dark. Nobody around to help. What a gwine do?

"Babsy don't jump! Don't jump! A can't catch yu! A coming for yu!"

I start to climb the tree. I hear a crashing sound. I hear limbs breaking. Lord have mercy, Babsy jump!

I jump down quickly. In a daze, I begin to search the ground under the tree, dreading what I'll find. She is not on the ground. My head is spinning. There is a weak feeling in my belly. Dear God, don't make me faint! Babsy jump. Oh God, she jump.

I hear the whimper above me. I look up.

Safe

Babsy has jumped from the rose apple tree. She lands in a smaller tree nearby. Thank God, she is safe. I run to the tree. I help her down. She is all scratched up, but she is safe. Thank God. I love my little sister. The thought of losing her makes me realise just how much. She is gathering the rose apples. I feel like throwing them away. They are no longer enticing. I don't ever want to see any old rotten rose apples again!

"Come Babsy, come wi go home."