Rafi’s Apple Bell — Under the tick-tick of dry leaves, Rafi tucked a red apple into the top of his backpack and stepped off the home stump. Read the full story →
Under the tick-tick of dry leaves, Rafi tucked a red apple into the top of his backpack and stepped off the home stump. He wanted to reach school before the first bell, just once, all by himself. The path smelled like pencil shavings and rain-wet bark. Halfway there, a tiny voice said, “Careful, please.”
A snail sat in the path, its shell shining like a wet pebble. Rafi hopped over, but his apple rolled out—bonk, bump, plop—into a pile of leaves. By the time he nudged the snail safely under a fern and found the apple, the bell began to ring far ahead, soft as a spoon on a cup. Rafi’s feathers prickled. He walked on anyway, slower than before, carrying the apple with both wings.
At the gate, the teacher smiled and held the door. “You came on your own,” she said. Rafi listened: the bell was still trembling in the air, and he was trembling too, but not turning back. Next time you see the apple on his pack, see if you can hear that tiny, brave tick-tick of dry leaves.
