Imani’s Moon-Munch Game — Under a sky that smelled like cold leaves and caramel, Imani clipped three candy sticks to her bike basket and whispered the rules of her new game: pedal once for every star, wiggle the handlebars for every ghost, and say “moon-munch” whenever the crescent looked like it had taken a bite. Read the full story →
Under a sky that smelled like cold leaves and caramel, Imani clipped three candy sticks to her bike basket and whispered the rules of her new game: pedal once for every star, wiggle the handlebars for every ghost, and say “moon-munch” whenever the crescent looked like it had taken a bite. She had never ridden past the last porch light by herself, so she began with tiny circles, tire grit going shhh-shhh on the driveway.
The game grew braver without making a fuss. One lap reached the mailbox. Another reached the crackly maple shadow. “Moon-munch!” Imani squeaked, then laughed because her voice sounded smaller than a candy wrapper. She added bonus points for spiderweb shapes in the wheel spokes and for any bat brave enough to be sillier than scary.
That was when a real little bat dropped onto the handlebar, upside right and grinning, as if it had been keeping score from the dark. Two sheet-white ghosts bobbed after it, not spooky at all, more like floating marshmallows. Imani rang the bell once, and the whole cul-de-sac seemed to answer with silver light. Next time you spot the bat above the pumpkin basket, check whether Imani has just called, “moon-munch,” under a sky that smells like cold leaves and caramel.
