Intro: This is a bit of a (hopefully for you also) fun interlude that might shorten our wait for the next flash which I’ll post here on the first Wednesday in March. 😉
Here comes the apple tree bit of fun writing… Is it meant to make sense? Well, it was fun to write!
Now that the apples have fallen back up into the highest branches of the tree the misty-eyed child steps into the empty apple basket, stomps his feet joyfully and cries in that high-pitched giggling hiccupping way that only adults can fully master without having to put any thought or effort into creating that ear-piercing sound effect.
The eight octogenarians frown with pleasure and join hands. They commence the ritual clockwise skipping dance around the child in the basket under the old apple tree with its crown of boisterous young apples. Max is the oldest at 89 years of age and will as tradition has it be the one to determine the child’s fate. His is the most juvenile of minds among the ritual dancers and thoughts pass through it at whirlwind speed without much cohesion at all. Anything can happen.
Will he change their direction and have them round up the child to safety in anticlockwise skips and hops, then stop and jointly lift the basket in which he stands and carry him back into the warmth and safety of the good room in the old farmhouse? Or will he break the circle and let himself fall backward into the tall grass and burst out into loud and wailing laughter?
Max breaks the circle and lies flat on his back the wailing sounds of his laughter catapulting his seven fellow octogenarians into the action that is now required of them. They converge toward the child in the basket and propel him into the crown of the tree.
(c) Ash N. Finn, 2013