Jasper and the Magic Acorn by Philip Grant

Author:Philip Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
Published: 2019-05-31T00:00:00+00:00

As he sat astride the rainbow, Jasper suddenly remembered he hadn’t heard from his magic acorn for some time and put his hand in his pocket. But it wasn’t there! He couldn’t find it anywhere. Then as he searched for it he felt a lump in his shoe, like a pebble. He dug it out and found it to be a … small acorn, green and fresh. Where could it have come from? Then he remembered – the oak tree. It must have fallen into his shoe while he was crouched in the branches avoiding Basil.

Now, in his hand it began to glow a little – just like the old one. And his hand felt warm, too. So he closed his fist and settled down on the rainbow and decided to enjoy the ride. But there wasn’t much to see … there were clouds drifting by in every direction. Jasper now began to think about how long he seemed to have been on the rainbow this time … and the fact that he didn’t seem too sure of where he was going. When he climbed on to the rainbow from Basil’s back he did so because he knew it was the right thing to do, but now he was uncertain why it was the right thing to do. He looked around again but there was no clue, nothing to help him answer his own question.

Then there was a glowing in his fist … just like before. And he knew why he was on the rainbow; of course, it was to get himself home! How silly he had been not to remember! So he settled down again … but nothing happened. Then suddenly the rainbow seemed to rock from side to side and … he tumbled off.

He felt himself falling for a moment and shut his eyes tight and grasped his new acorn so tightly it hurt. Then as he opened his eyes again he hit something soft and bounced up in the air.

He was on a trampoline. He bent his knees and stopped himself bouncing up and down and looked around. He was in a children’s playground … to one side was a toddler’s roundabout and on the other a bouncy castle. Up ahead near what seemed the entrance was a kiosk. But there was no sign of life … no children playing or mums and dads on the benches gossiping or talking into their mobiles.

He crossed to the kiosk inside which a small bald man was seated on a stool (which looked uncannily like a very large mushroom) reading a newspaper. “Harrrumph,” he let out, putting the paper aside, “Who are you?”

“I, I’m … mm Jasper.”

“Oh. Where are you bound for?”

“I’m going home,” said Jasper.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s that then?”

“It’s, eh … that is …” Jasper couldn’t remember his address.

“Silly boy!” said the man. “Where’ave you come from?” he plucked a clipboard with a long list of names on it from a hook next to him.

“I’ve come from Oak Tree Farm,” said Jasper pleased at last to have something decisive to say for himself.

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