Ripple the River Raccoon E-Book

Kelly Johnson

• Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 100

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

Ripple, a curious young raccoon, lives beside a magical river that she knows intimately, but one day she discovers the river has fallen silent, its usual playful murmurs replaced by an uneasy stillness. Drawn by a strange gurgling sound, she investigates and encounters a tiny water sprite who reveals that the rivers heart is weakening and that Ripple must help restore its song. Guided by the rivers currents and her own courage, Ripple embarks on a new adventure, learning to trust the hidden messages of the water, the forest, and the magical creatures she will meet, as she begins a journey to protect her beloved home and uncover the secrets flowing through it.

Leseprobe

IMPRESSUM

Ripple the River Raccoon

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: Ripple’s River Home

Chapter 2: The Strange Sound

Chapter 3: A River in Trouble

Chapter 4: Gathering Friends

Chapter 5: The Journey Upstream

Chapter 6: The Mighty Dam

Chapter 7: Clever Solutions

Chapter 8: The River Flows Again

Chapter 9: Lessons Learned

Chapter 10: Ripple’s Promise

Ripple the River Raccoon

By: Kelly Johnson

Chapter 1: Ripple’s River Home

Ripple, a young raccoon with bright, curious eyes and a bushy tail that flicked constantly with excitement, loved her river home more than anything in the world. To others, it might have seemed like just a stream winding lazily through the forest, but to Ripple, it was alive—an ever-changing ribbon of silver that whispered secrets and sang songs with every ripple, splash, and wave. Sunlight danced across the water, scattering in sparkling patterns that made the surface glimmer like liquid gemstones. Each shimmer seemed to hold a hidden story, each ripple a secret waiting to be discovered. Sometimes she swore she could hear tiny giggles as the water danced over stones, or the gentle sigh of the river as it curled around a bend.

She spent countless hours along its banks, paddling through shallow pools warmed by the morning sun, her paws creating tiny circles that caught the light like miniature suns. She chased the darting shadows of fish flickering like quicksilver beneath the surface, and leapt after dragonflies whose wings shimmered like stained glass in the early morning light. Ripple had learned to tiptoe across moss-covered stones without a slip, balance delicately on fallen logs, and peer under leaves, roots, and overhanging ferns to discover what creatures might be hiding. Every nook and cranny of the river held a small mystery—sometimes a bright-eyed frog, a hidden crayfish, or the glitter of tiny minnows moving like liquid stars.

She knew the river like the back of her paw—or so she thought—but the river had its own ways of keeping secrets. There was always a new curve to explore, a hollow beneath a tree root that held an echo of something curious, a stone that wobbled precariously underfoot, or a strange sound that tickled her ears and pulled at her curiosity. Sometimes she would find patterns in the water’s flow that seemed like messages, little currents that twisted around rocks as if guiding her toward something unseen.

Some days, she would climb the small cliffs along the bank, scrabbling up mossy stones until she could look down on the river like a silver ribbon winding through the trees. She would feel the cool breeze ruffle her fur and the sun’s warmth on her back, her tail flicking in rhythm with the river’s quiet song. From this perch, she could watch the water gather in deep pools, see the fish leaping in arcs, and notice the sunlight splintering into rainbows where it struck the moving current. Other days, she would lie nestled among the reeds, letting the gentle sway of the plants hide her from prying eyes while she listened closely to the subtle music of the water—the babble of a tiny waterfall over mossy stones, the splash of a fish breaking the surface, and the soft hum of insects skimming just above the current.

The river was never silent, never still. Even when the wind stilled and the forest seemed hushed, the water hummed with life. Ripple would close her eyes and imagine the river telling her stories of places she had not yet seen, of creatures she had yet to meet, and of adventures waiting just beyond the next bend. To Ripple, it was more than water—it was a friend, a teacher, and a guide. And she knew that if she only paused long enough to listen, the river would always share its secrets with her.

One bright morning, when the mist still clung to the surface of the water like a gauzy veil and dew clung to the tall reeds in sparkling drops, Ripple padded along the pebbled shore as usual. The scent of wet earth, wildflowers, and moss filled her nose, and the forest seemed alive with subtle movements—the flick of a butterfly’s wing, the rustle of leaves as a bird hopped from branch to branch, the faint ripple of a fish beneath the surface. She listened intently to the familiar sounds of the river: the soft splash of water over smooth stones, the whisper of the current as it curved around a bend, the gentle gurgle of a tiny cascade spilling over rocks, and the faint, comforting rustle of leaves in the wind.

But today… something was different. The river’s usual melody had a strange twist to it, a stuttering rhythm that Ripple had never noticed before. A soft gurgling came from deeper within the reeds, almost like a voice calling to her. Her ears twitched, tail flicking faster as a tingle of curiosity ran down her spine. The mist seemed to swirl more thickly around a bend ahead, and the sunlight refracted through it in unusual, glittering patterns. Ripple’s paws itched to explore, to discover what had caused this unfamiliar sound, but a small shiver of caution made her pause. Whatever lay ahead, it promised adventure—something hidden, secret, and entirely new.

With a deep breath, she padded closer to the source of the sound, ears swiveling, whiskers quivering, and eyes bright with anticipation. Her heart thumped with excitement, and the river seemed to hum beneath her paws, almost as if it were encouraging her forward. Ripple’s world—the familiar bends, hidden hollows, and sparkling pools—had always felt magical, but today the magic felt alive in a different way, whispering that something extraordinary was waiting just around the next curve.

The gentle babble she loved was missing. In its place, an uneasy stillness hung over the river like a thick, invisible blanket. The water lay flat, almost reflective, without the usual twinkle of moving waves. The reeds swayed in the morning breeze, but there was no familiar chirp of frogs, no splash of fish breaking the surface, and not a single dragonfly danced in the sunlight. Ripple’s whiskers twitched nervously as she stepped carefully along the shore. Her paws made soft imprints in the damp sand, but the river offered no sound in reply—no welcoming gurgle, no playful burble.

Ripple’s tail flicked sharply as her ears perked, listening for any hint of movement. Something was wrong. The river had always been alive with gentle murmurs, but today it seemed muted, almost holding its breath. She padded closer to the water’s edge, nose twitching as she sniffed the air. It smelled the same—fresh, earthy, full of river life—but somehow quieter, subdued. Ripple crouched low, peering into the smooth surface, hoping to see the ripple of fish or the flash of a water beetle. Nothing moved. The reflection of the sky stared back at her, pale and still, broken only by the occasional leaf drifting lazily downstream.

A shiver ran down Ripple’s spine, prickle by prickle, as if the forest itself had whispered a warning. She had always felt at home here, safe and deeply connected to the river and everything in it. The babble of water had been a song she knew by heart, one that guided her steps, calmed her mind, and even inspired her dreams. Every ripple, every splash, every glint of sunlight dancing across the surface was a note in the melody of her home.

Now, the silence pressed against her chest, heavy and strange, as though the river itself were holding its breath. The usual gentle chatter of water over stones, the soothing swirl around reeds, even the quiet hum of tiny insects skimming the surface—all had vanished. Ripple’s bright eyes scanned the banks, the reeds, the overhanging branches, and the mossy roots, searching for any clue to explain the sudden stillness. A lone dragonfly hovered nearby, its wings trembling nervously, then darted off as if disturbed by the change.

Ripple took a tentative step forward, pawing gently at the water. The surface rippled faintly, a fragile shimmer, but it didn’t chatter or laugh like it usually did. She tried another step, then a small hop across some smooth, glistening stones. Still, the river remained unnervingly quiet, almost as if it were holding a secret—or crying out for help in a language only she could hear. Her whiskers quivered, twitching as a knot of worry formed in her stomach, tightening with every glance downstream. Something wasn’t right. The river—her home, her playground, her friend—might need her attention for the very first time.

A gust of wind rustled the reeds, carrying a faint, unfamiliar sound: a low, gurgling murmur from somewhere deeper along the bends. Ripple perked her ears, heart quickening. The sound wasn’t angry, but it was strained, uneasy. She crouched, paws pressed against the damp earth, tail flicking nervously, and listened with all her senses. The river had always guided her; it had whispered secrets of hidden pools, safe stepping stones, and playful fish. And now, it seemed to be calling, not in laughter or song, but in a soft plea for help.

With a determined flick of her tail, Ripple straightened her tiny back and took a deep, steadying breath. She remembered all the times she had explored the winding bends, the shadowy hollows beneath roots, the sparkling shallows where sunlight turned the water to liquid gold. The river had always been full of mysteries, and she had always loved discovering them. Today, however, this mystery carried weight. Today, the river needed her.

Her paws pressed into the soft mud along the bank as she stepped forward, eyes bright and alert. She sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of wet moss, fresh reeds, and something else—something faintly metallic, or perhaps magical, that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She padded carefully along the river’s edge, pausing at every unusual ripple, examining each shadow that crossed the water, and peering beneath overhanging branches and tangled roots. Every curve, every bend of the river seemed to beckon her forward, tugging at her curiosity and courage alike.

No matter what lay ahead—hidden currents, obstacles, or strange new creatures—Ripple knew one thing for certain: her river home was alive, and it had called to her. A thrill of excitement mingled with the worry in her chest. Adventure, challenge, and discovery awaited, and she would meet it all with the same fierce curiosity and determination that had guided her paw steps along the river since she was a cub.

Her tail flicked once more, with resolve stronger than ever. “I’ll find out what’s wrong,” she whispered to the quiet water. “I’ll follow every bend, explore every hidden nook, and discover every secret until the river sings again.” The current seemed to respond, a faint shimmer racing along the surface, as if acknowledging her promise. Ripple’s bright eyes gleamed with purpose, and with one last glance at the silent, waiting river, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever mystery lay ahead.

And so, with cautious paws and a heart full of curiosity, Ripple set off along the riverbank, the first whisper of an adventure stirring in her bright eyes and bushy tail.

Chapter 2: The Strange Sound