Storytime

Attics can be scary places, especially for little girls with big imaginations!

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Lisa. Lisa loved to visit Grandma. Grandma had apples stored in the attic. They were shiny, red and yellow. They were neatly packed on straw so they wouldn’t get bruised.

Grandma said, “Lisa, please, get me a basket of apples from the attic. I want to bake some apple pies.”

“But it’s dark up there,” Lisa complained. “Switch on the light by the door,” Grandma said.

Lisa sighed, took the basket and climbed the stairs. It was dark all right. The door squeaked when she opened it. Lisa searched for the light switch. Click! The light bulb lit up and dangled back and forth. There were shadows everywhere.

What if someone is hiding in a corner, Lisa thought. She got all shivery. Her heart thumped right up into her throat. Quickly she filled the basket. The apples smelled so good. She felt like eating one. But first she wanted to get back downstairs.

Lisa switched off the light and closed the squeaky door. On the way down the stairs, she heard a sound, “Sssst!”

Lisa stopped. The sound stopped. She went another two steps. Again she heard, “Sssst!”

Her heart pounded. A ghost in the apples? Lisa crept down another two steps. “Sssst!” With a scream she dropped the basket. Apples were rolling everywhere! Grandma came running. “What happened?”

“A g-g-ghost! Behind me.” Lisa started to cry.

Grandma hugged her. “No ghost in my house,” she promised.

“But it hissed at me,” Lisa whispered. “Let’s look.” Grandma put on her glasses. “Here is your ghost!” she called. A long, thick straw was poking through the bottom of the basket. It had caught there while Lisa was filling the basket with apples and had scraped along the wooden stairs, making a hissing sound every time Lisa took a step. Lisa dried her tears. Munching on an apple she giggled, “Even ghosts would like these apples. They’re sooo good!” n