Bram and the Giggle Apple — Under the apple trees, Bram rolled the wagon with both paws and practiced in a whisper. Read the full story →
Under the apple trees, Bram rolled the wagon with both paws and practiced in a whisper. “May I try the first one?” he said to the wagon wheel, which answered squeak-squeak instead of yes. His raccoon neighbor, Sable, carried the basket and hummed through her striped scarf while leaves skittered like paper mice along the lane.
They picked apples with dimples, apples with freckles, and one apple so bumpy Bram almost put it back. It smelled like rain on bark and cinnamon toast. He tucked it on top anyway, because first-time courage sometimes felt exactly like carrying a lumpy apple in plain sight.
At the bend by the little farmhouse, the bumpy apple gave a tiny hiccup. Bram blinked. Sable blinked harder. A door no bigger than a bean popped open in the apple’s side, and out leaned a beetle wearing a cap made from an apple seed. “Finally,” said the beetle. “I ordered a ride to the cider barrel.” Bram laughed so suddenly that his brave question tumbled out with it: “May I try the first one?” Sable handed him the bumpy apple’s ordinary cousin, and the wagon went squeak-squeak down the lane. If you spot the apple basket, keep watch—one seed cap may still be peeking out.
