The story of Bonnie the Bunny

The sun shone bright in the sky. Its rays heated the fields, where there was a bunny hopping in the flowers. The bunny hopped by each flower, smiling as she passed each one. She hops every day from dawn till dusk, only stopping to eat some plants. When dusk falls the bunny is called home, hopping out of the field and into the woods.

The tall grass tickled her belly as she hopped. She passed the pond through the dark forest and over the fallen tree trunks to her little mushroom home, walking through the wooden arch into the kitchen where another rabbit stood.

      “ Where were you?” the rabbit asked. The rabbit stood in front of the sink and looked out to the garden. Their gray hair poked out from underneath the apron they were wearing. A pot of stew sat on top of the burner—and the rabbit had a wooden spoon in hand.

      “ I was hopping in the fields,” the bunny replied, taking a seat at the table, which was in the middle of the room, in front of a staircase. 

      “ What have I told you about hopping in the fields? You need to let me know,” the rabbit scolded. 

      “Yes Mom, I remember," the bunny said. The stew bubbled on the stove. The sweet scent of cinnamon mixed with the savory scent of pork filled the air. The steam swirled through the air making designs as it floated. The bunny sat there moving her feet back and forth. When the stew was done the mother rabbit poured the stew into a bowl and put it in front of the bunny.

       “Here you go Bonnie,” the mother rabbit said. The steam from the stew warmed Bonnie’s face, the scents surrounded her, bringing her happiness. Bonnie loved her mom’s stew. It brought her a sense of comfort. 

       “ Thank you, Mom,” Bonnie replied. Bonnie looked into her mom's eyes and saw the same eyes looking back at her. Big black eyes that sparkle in light. Her mom smiled, and she smiled back. They sat there eating their stew together in comforting silence.




           As the sun rose the next morning, Bonnie’s father was sitting in the living room in an old beat-up chair holding the morning newspaper, his dark gray hair sticking out of his striped nightshirt. Glasses rested upon his face, and a warm cup of tea sat next to him on the side table. A fire raged in the stone fireplace heating the house. Bonnie stepped off the stairs and walked to the couch. The fire cracked as she sat down. The couch sunk in against her weight, the soft cushion felt nice under her hands. 

        “ Good morning, Bonnie,” her father said as he sipped tea. His newspaper lay face up on his lap revealing what he was reading.  Realization fell onto Bonnie’s face when she read the front page.

       “ What! Dad, that can’t be right?” Bonnie asked, concern flooding her face. “Right?” Bonnie looked at her father. Sadness clouded his eyes. 

       “Yes, Bonnie it’s true,” her father replied, “The Rabbitsons lost their house in a fire.” Bonnie had heard about the fires burning in the forest, but she never thought it would happen to someone she knew. 

        “ Do they have a place to stay?” Bonnie questioned. 

        “ No, Bonnie they don’t. They have to live outside and hope to survive,” her father answered. "At least until they can get a new house.” Bonnie stared at her father in disbelief. The Rabbitsons wouldn't last long outside. The fire was growing rapidly. Even hopping out in the fields was dangerous. Bonnie couldn’t imagine being outside with her family.  

        “ Dad? Do you think we could let the Rabbitsons stay with us?” Bonnie thought this would be a good idea. They had the space. Since Bonnie was the youngest, her older siblings' rooms were open. 

         “ I will have to talk to your mother about it, but I thought you didn’t get along with Daisy Rabbitson?” her father said. It’s true. Bonnie didn’t along with Daisy but she couldn’t imagine leaving Daisy and her family outside. “If you want to offer our house I’ll ask, but I want you to be comfortable in your own house.” Her father's words broke Bonnie away from her thoughts. Bonnie knew this would be hard at first but Daisy's family needed support right now.  ...

I love writing


16 years old

More by I love writing