Tuesday 3 March 2009

The ant and the apple (by Heather)

A child has discovered a terrifying secret. Include an apple in the story.

Sandra, sitting on the steps at the front of her house, took a big bite from the apple. It shot a little spurt onto the side of her lip, as often happened with apples. Usually she took great pleasure from this process, but today everything felt cloudy. She’d come outside hoping it would be better out here, and because she wanted to think about what her dad had told her. Her mother was in her room and had hardly come out all day. That was because, daddy said, Gran was dead and mummy felt too sad to want to do anything today. He had held her close, sounding very sad and tight, like this was a hard thing to talk about. He had talked about how that meant she wouldn’t see Gran again. Not ever. He had been especially clear about that, when Sandra had pressed him, not tonight for dinner or this weekend for baby-sitting or ever again.

She could hear the sound her teeth made as they chomped up the big piece of apple. She set the apple carefully down on the step beside her.

Chew, chew, chew and finally the whole bite was gone. She thought a bit about Gran and her enthusiastic hugs, and about what daddy had said. She picked up the apple, regarding it carefully as she raised it for the next big chomp. That’s when a little ant came around the side of the apple into her view. She drew back and watched as he approached her thumb, then quickly moved her fingers so the ant was kept at a distance. She raised her left hand and gave the ant a little flick with her index finger, as she’d been learning to do. The ant dropped to the ground. Quick as a flash, she lifted her foot to the step beside her and stomped on it.

She looked at the ant, lying still and curled up on the step beside her, considering what she’d done. She’d often seen her mother do exactly the same thing, with her BIG foot, but Sandra had never done it herself before. She waited to see what would happen. The ant didn’t move. Sandra picked up a leaf lying on the step and poked at the ant with it. Still no movement.

The ant was dead. She knew that; she’d seen dead things before, like the little torn up mouse that Tippy had brought home one day.

And she thought about Gran. She wondered where Gran was, and thought about Gran not coming for dinner tonight, or baby-sitting at the weekend, or ever seeing her again.

Something was really wrong. Sandra picked up the apple, checking it for ants, and went inside to find her dad. She felt like a cuddle.

2 comments:

Scriveners said...

Kerry says:

I like the conversational, every-day tone of this piece Heather. You have been able to get into a child's head and have created the detail of her world, her fascination with the tiniest things, like the ant walking on her apple. I like the opportunity Sandra has to think about death using the ant she has stomped on. Thank you for a sensitive story.

sue moffitt said...

Very clever, as always. Fancy bringing an ant into the story to bring home the seriousness of Gran dying. I got the terrifying secret and I loved how Sandra ate the apple (differently today with the news). I particularly loved the initial interaction with the ant, that whole paragraph is great.

The ending doesn't quite work for me. after assessing the dead ant, then the dead mouse, I think Sandra would assess dead Gran (rather than not babysitting etc). I like the cuddle bit though.

Well done, a good read