Pattern info
14 ct 80×86 Stitches (14,5 x 15,6 cm) (5,7 x 6,1 in.)
16 ct 80×86 Stitches (12,7 x 13,7 cm) (5,0 x 5,4 in.)
18 ct 80×86 Stitches (11,3 x 12,1 cm) (4,4 x 4,8 in.)
Pattern Keeper compatible
This chart has been tested and verified to work with Pattern Keeper by the designer. Cross-Stitch Vienna is not affiliated with Pattern Keeper. Please note that Pattern Keeper does not currently support backstitch reading! You will need to follow the PDF for the backstitch guide.
Download info
This is a digital PDF pattern only. The PDF contains the following versions:
- colour blocks with symbols,
- symbols in black and white only
- Pattern Keeper compatible chart.
- PLEASE NOTE that sometimes it was not possible to include the Pattern Keeper chart in the same PDF as the main chart (it was preventing PK from rendering the PDF in-app) – in such cases a direct download link was added in the notes on the cross-stitch key page. Upon clicking on it, you will receive a separate PDF with the chart in the Pattern Keeper format.
Please note that if you bought this item, no refunds will be made after purchase as it is a digital file. Terms and Conditions & copyright info: crossstitchvienna.at/terms-conditions
The Black Widow series has been enriched with this delightful scene of countryside bliss.
A woman steps into the crisp morning air to collect apples for her favourite dessert from the orchard nearby. A sweet treat to lift the bitterness of leading a lonely existence off her tongue.
If only her husband hadn’t died a couple of years back! What life they could have had! If only he had listened to her.
She stretches her hand for the red ruby perched on top of the apple tree. It seems to be leaning away from her searching hand as if repulsed by her touch. She gets closer to the tree, her weight beginning to rest on the solid trunk. The leaves rustle in the stillness, an unexpected caress on her cheek. She pauses. Silence surrounds her. A complete dead silence, so foreign to the countryside.
It’s nothing, she tells herself.
She takes a deep breath and raises herself on her tiptoes to reach the last fruit of the tree. This time, the apple seeks out her touch, nestling in the cup of her warm hand.
She stares at the ball of redness, her eyes blurring, distorting the shape until it stretches and drips. The hardness flows into liquid and she isn’t in the orchard anymore, and the solid shape in front of her is made of meat, bones, fleeting warmness, and fear. And it crumbles to the floor, while she holds the knife.
