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- Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
In Chapter 1: The Shiny Red Apple, Archie the Ant is introduced as a small but imaginative dreamer who doesn't quite fit into the orderly, practical world of his ant colony. While others focus on routine, Archie marvels at the forest's beauty, treating each new sight, scent, and sound as an invitation to explore. One day, he discovers a radiant red apple perched high in an ancient treean apple that seems to shimmer with magic and possibility. Inspired by its beauty and the dream of sharing it with his colony, Archie decides to do what no ant has done before: climb the towering tree and retrieve the apple. Fueled by wonder, determination, and a heart full of dreams, Archie takes his first step toward an extraordinary adventure.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Archie the Ant’s Apple Adventure
Author: Kelly Johnson
© 2025 Kelly Johnson.
All rights reserved.
Author: Kelly Johnson
Contact: 903 W Woodland Ave, Kokomo, IN 46902
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer
This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Shiny Red Apple
Chapter 2: The Great Climb Begins
Chapter 3: The Sneaky Squirrel
Chapter 4: The Sticky Sap Trap
Chapter 5: A Friendly Crow’s Offer
Chapter 6: The Apple Rolls Away!
Chapter 7: Crossing the River
Chapter 8: The Dark Tunnel
Chapter 9: The Feast Preparation
Chapter 10: The Apple Celebration
Title: Archie the Ant’s Apple Adventure
Author: Kelly Johnson
Chapter 1: The Shiny Red Apple
Archie the Ant was a curious little ant with big dreams.
Though he was smaller than most ants in his colony—his legs a bit shorter, his steps a bit lighter, and his antennae always twitching with excitement—there was something unmistakably bright and boundless in the way he moved. His eyes sparkled with a constant sense of possibility, and there was a bounce in his step that made even the busiest worker ant pause and smile. While the others marched in perfect, practiced lines and followed the same dusty trails each day, Archie would veer off without warning, captivated by the glint of sunlight on a beetle’s shell or the spiral pattern on a snail’s trail.
To most in the colony, Archie’s wandering ways were simply “peculiar.” He didn’t carry leaves efficiently. He got distracted too easily. And he asked far too many questions—about the stars, about the clouds, about why mushrooms grew in circles or why fireflies blinked only at night.
“Stick to the path,” they would say. “Do your part, and don’t stray.”
But Archie’s heart beat to a rhythm that didn’t quite match the colony’s drum.
Each morning, as golden sunlight streamed through the forest canopy and dew clung like diamonds to spiderwebs, Archie awoke with excitement humming through his tiny body. To him, the towering blades of grass weren’t just plants—they were emerald towers, green cathedrals where the wind sang through leafy arches and light and shadow played tag across the forest floor. He darted beneath mushrooms that looked like umbrellas for giants and tiptoed across stones warmed by the morning sun, as if they were stepping stones to distant kingdoms.
To Archie, a raindrop was never just a raindrop. It was a crystal orb filled with swirling light, holding the sky itself inside its glimmering dome. A hollow log became a tunnel to secret places, and a curled leaf might hide a map or a message written in snail-slime script.
Where other ants saw obstacles—puddles too wide, sticks too high, shadows too deep—Archie saw invitations. Every new scent on the breeze, every flutter of wings overhead, every unexpected rustle in the brush stirred his imagination like a pot of soup filled with dreams.
He had once followed the slow, swirling flight of a butterfly for an entire afternoon, utterly mesmerized. He’d gotten thoroughly lost and returned long after sunset, damp and hungry and scolded by a dozen frantic ants. But the memory of the butterfly’s shimmering wings—like stained glass come to life—stayed with him for days, fluttering through his thoughts and sketching new daydreams in the corners of his mind.
Archie loved the forest more than words could say. He loved how the breeze danced between leaves like a hidden conductor guiding the rustling orchestra above. He loved the soft groan of old tree trunks, the way lichen clung to bark like forest secrets, and the tiny acorns scattered like treasures waiting to be discovered. He loved the sunbeams that cut through the canopy like golden ropes, turning the air into a theater of dust motes and fireflies. And he loved the sounds—oh, the sounds! The chirp of crickets tuning up for the evening, the sleepy coos of doves, the distant splash of a frog leaping into a pond.
But most of all, Archie loved to dream.
When he closed his eyes, he saw worlds within the world—adventures waiting in places no ant had dared explore. He dreamed of finding lost glades hidden by vines and moss, where ancient stones told stories only brave explorers could decipher. He imagined sailing across puddles on bark-rafts with flags made of leaf scraps, or climbing the tallest trees until he could see the entire forest stretching out like a patchwork quilt beneath the sky. He dreamed of meeting dragonflies with tales of distant meadows, of joining beetle bands in nighttime concerts, or discovering a secret garden where fruit dropped like candy from trees.
While the rest of the colony measured success by how many crumbs they could carry or how neatly they stayed in line, Archie’s heart longed for something more. He wanted stories. He wanted discoveries. He wanted to know what lay just beyond the next stone, just past the tallest blade of grass, just beyond the edge of what everyone else believed was “far enough.”
To many, he was simply a dreamer. But to Archie, dreaming was the beginning of doing. And every new day, with every skittering step, he inched closer to finding something truly extraordinary.
But today felt… different.
There was something in the air. A kind of quiet buzz—not from the insects, but from the feeling of possibility. The morning sun was softer, the breeze warmer, and the forest seemed to hum with invitation, like it was waiting for something—or someone.
As Archie wandered farther than usual, he found himself near the base of a giant apple tree—one of the oldest and tallest trees in that part of the forest. Its trunk was wide and ancient, like the leg of some enormous forest guardian. The bark was rough and deeply grooved, smelling of age and rain, with delicate moss crawling up its sides and vines spiraling around it like nature’s own lace. Tiny snails rested in the cool crevices, and glowing beetles nestled in the folds of bark like hidden gems.
Archie paused, marveling at the towering tree above him. His antennae twitched, catching the scents and sounds carried on the breeze—wet leaves, ripening fruit, and the gentle flap of butterfly wings overhead.
Then, he saw it.
Far, far above, nestled between two leafy branches, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, hung an apple unlike any he had ever seen.
It shimmered.
It truly shimmered, glowing with a radiant, rich crimson that seemed almost unreal—like the sunset had been plucked from the sky and hung carefully in the tree’s crown. The apple’s skin was smooth and perfect, reflecting the sun in dazzling ripples. Tiny droplets of morning dew clung to its surface, each one catching the light and refracting it in miniature rainbows. It looked less like a fruit and more like a jewel—a ruby nestled in a cradle of green.
