Faísca and the Hiccup Loaf
When a speckled egg hatches in a forest bakery’s bread basket, João’s busiest morning turns wonderfully smoky. A cozy, gently funny story about making room for an unexpected little guest.
✨ Make a Storybook FreeA MayaLili Original · ages 6-9 · free to read and print
The bread basket sneezed. At least, that was what João thought. He leaned closer, flour dusting his nose. Between two golden rolls sat a speckled egg, rocking under a checked napkin. Outside the forest bakery, squirrels chased through hazel branches. Inside, the first customers would arrive any minute. “You aren’t a bun,” João whispered. Tap. Crack. A green snout poked out. “And you’re certainly not a raisin.”
The whole story
The bread basket sneezed. At least, that was what João thought. He leaned closer, flour dusting his nose. Between two golden rolls sat a speckled egg, rocking under a checked napkin. Outside the forest bakery, squirrels chased through hazel branches. Inside, the first customers would arrive any minute. “You aren’t a bun,” João whispered. Tap. Crack. A green snout poked out. “And you’re certainly not a raisin.”
By opening time, the hatchling had swallowed three crumbs and fallen asleep on a roll. “I’ll call you Faísca,” João said, tucking the napkin around him. Then the doorbell jingled. Boots shuffled. Coins clinked. Faísca woke. “Hic!” A puff of smoke floated over the bread. “Hic! HIC!” “The bakery’s burning!” someone cried. Customers hurried toward the door. João checked the oven. No stray flame. Just one small dragon looking terribly surprised by his own nose.
“It’s only Faísca!” João called. “He’s new at breathing.” Faísca tried holding his snout shut. Smoke squeaked out around his fingers. His wings drooped. João wanted to hide behind the flour sack. Instead, he knelt beside the basket. “We’ll find somewhere for those hiccups.” He noticed a loose feather drifting toward the wide, empty hearth. Up it swirled into the chimney. João grinned. “Look! The chimney knows where smoke belongs.”
João carried the basket to the cold hearth. “When your tummy gives a wiggle, point your nose up there.” Faísca’s tummy wiggled. He pointed at João’s shoe. “Higher.” He pointed at João’s nose. “Much higher!” “Hic!” Smoke sailed neatly up the chimney. A customer crept back and sniffed a smoky roll. She bought it, took a bite, then smiled. “It tastes like a picnic in the woods!” Everyone suddenly remembered they were hungry.
By noon, every smoky roll was sold. By Saturday, people were following their noses along the forest path for João’s Hiccup Loaf. He cooled each batch beneath the chimney, where Faísca practiced his excellent aim. Beside the hearth stood a new basket: dragon-sized, napkin-lined, and wonderfully warm. Faísca curled inside it with one roll tucked under his chin. “That’s your pillow?” João asked. Faísca took a sleepy bite. Apparently, it was breakfast, too.