The Owl Who Stole the Apples From the Tree

Tom lived in a house, with his mummy and a cat called Pickles.
Like most little boys, Tom liked to play in the garden – running and throwing and kicking his ball.
In Tom’s garden there was lots of tall grass and a big tree with shiny red apples growing on it.
Every day Tom would count the apples on the tree. 1, 2, 3, 4 – 4 apples on Tom’s tree.
One night Tom was woken up by a strange noise out in the garden. “T-wit-t-woo, t-wit-t-woo” it went.
His mummy told him not to worry. It was just a little owl who sleeps in the daytime and wakes up at night.
The next day Tom played in the garden as usual, but when he counted the apples in the tree he got a surprise.
1, 2, 3 – 3 apples in the tree. Where had the other apple gone?
That night Tom heard the little owl calling in the back garden, “t-wit-t-woo, t-wit-t-woo.”
The next day he played in the garden and counted his apples. 1, 2 – only 2 apples now in the tree. Where had the other apples gone?
That night Tom heard the little owl again, “t-wit-t-woo, t-wit-t-woo.”
When Tom woke up he ran out to the garden to count the apples on the big green tree but there was only 1 apple left.
“Where have all the apples gone?” thought Tom. “Maybe the little owl has been stealing them from my tree?”
That night Tom listened for the sound of the little owl and sure enough it called out, “t-wit-t-woo, t-wit-t-woo.”
In the morning Tom went out to see if the owl had stolen the last apple from the tree.
He was right, there were no apples left on the tree. Tom laughed and danced around the garden and then ran and told his mummy.
“Mummy, mummy,” he said laughing, “the little owl has stolen all of the apples from my tree.” His mother smiled and laughed too.
That afternoon, Tom was throwing his ball high into the sky. It bounced on the ground and rolled into the long grass beneath the tall apple tree.
Tom searched through the long grass to try to find his ball. He reached in with his hand and found something round. “Here it is,” he said.
Tom was amazed when he pulled a shiny red apple from the long grass, instead of his ball.
Tom kept searching and found more apples. He lay them on the ground and counted them, “1, 2, 3, 4 – 4 apples.” Tom ran to show his mummy.
“So the owl didn’t steal the apples from the tree,” said his mummy, “they just fell out of the tree and into the long grass because they were ready for eating.”
Tom’s mum put the apples into a big and tasty apple pie, and after their tea they both ate a piece of the pie covered in thick custard.
After Tom had eaten his pie he asked his mummy if he could have another piece of the delicious apple pie.
“Well, just a small piece,” said Tom’s mummy. “It’s not for me,” said Tom and he took the slice of warm apple pie to the garden.
“It’s for my friend, the little owl,” he said to his mummy. “I’m sorry I thought you stole the apples from my tree,” called Tom and left the piece of yummy pie in the garden.
“T-wit-t-woo, t-wit-t-woo,” answered the owl. “That means ‘thank you’,” said Tom to his mummy. She kissed him and he went to bed.

The End.

The Real World

A cloud of steam enveloped the bridge. Susie couldn't see and the warm rush around her made her spin and look up to spy where the sky had gone.
She didn't know whether to keep holding onto the railing before her and hope the strange smoke passed or perhaps run to the edge of the steam and hopefully out into the world again.
Below her, in the real world, on the ground, passed by another train moving in the opposite direction. She heard a whistle and the clouds thickened around her. She screamed but she couldn't hear herself over the peeping whistle. She wondered if it was her own mouth producing that shrill note. So she let go of the rail and ran, back the way she had come, back to the things she knew.
In all things now her beliefs were shattered. In terror, her senses had failed her. She stepped were no platform rested and her foot tumbled into airy space. Her body followed after it.
Tripping and skidding, and even thudding, down the blue stairs of the railway bridge Susie landed, a grazed and bleeding mess, at the foot of the flight. Her eyes filled with water but she did not fully cry for she knew nobody was around to hear her. She tried to push herself up with her wrist, but it did not seem to work any more. Her feet were still above her, on the second step of the bridge. She moved to bring them down to the ground but a crunch caused her nerves to burn and a darkness to cover her eyes.
She awoke to dusk. The sun had crept below the treeline of the wood that the railway ran through. Her legs now rested on the dirt path that ran between the bridge and the farmland beyond Sort's Wood. She decided not to make the mistake of movement again and instead lay quietly and listened to the increasing hum of the summer night insects. A centipede crossed from the grass on the right side of the path to the left, passing inches from her nose. She neither screamed nor tried to move away from the unusual creature. The insect seemed to regard the fallen girl for a moment and then passed on to whatever hollow awaited him. As he reached the edge of the path though, he changed direction and followed its border towards the trees and on out of sight.
Susie then heard the sound of a nightjar nearby. She could hear this creature from her home but he was impossible to see, said her father, unless you were prepared to wait and watch for a very long time. A tawny owl spread its wings wide and smoothed its flight 10 feet along the route of the path. Two young squirrels fought noisily on the railway line before scampering around her and on up the path.
The little girl shifted her weight and found that her left arm and leg no longer throbbed. The arm even seemed to move a little. She propped herself up and placed her weight on her left side. The left leg held, though gingerly. She sat back on the railway step.
Then, a fox. Auburn light seemed to irradiate from it's body. It paid Susie little mind, though its ears were pricked. It turned, as if to cross the bridge, and saw the girl now calm and staring in wonder at the wild creature before her.
The two waited and watched each other, unmoving and in thrall, for that length of time a mind finds hard to quantify. A nightjar flew between the two figures and broke the gaze. The fox turned around and slowly padded off along the path through the woods. Susie gamely rose and limped on behind, into the veil of trees. Always, in the distance, she kept some sight of the auburn fox, until she shambled clear into a moonlit meadow. Then the fox was lost among long grasses.
Susie saw torchlight and heard people calling her name. Now she began to cry.