Young Writers Society

 The front door swung open and five excited children rushed outside holding baskets. The neighbourhood kids and their parents had been invited to the Johnson's for an Easter party. Now it was time to hunt for eggs. The front garden was the perfect sport, painted with colourful blossoms and the scent of Spring.

Ally Johnson, being the oldest, got to the lawn first. "I'll find the most!" she shouted.

Timothy, who prided himself on his egg-hunting skills, came next. He was followed by the freckle-faced twins, Rachel and Ronald, who shared a basket between them.

"Chocolate for lunch!" Rachel high-fived her brother.

"You'll eat your vegetables before you unwrap any eggs!" Mrs Johnson pushed through the door, determined that the children should behave. Her last party had ended in disaster and it was paramount that her reputation was fixed.

Following Mrs Johnson was her husband, then Timmy's father. The two were chatting over some beer, more interested in football than the egg hunt.

Emily Potts came next, toddling behind her mother. She was three years old, but her pigtails made her look even younger.

“Don't wander off, Emily,” her mother said, and settled on the porch with a novel.

Last through the door was Violet, an old woman who lived on the other side of the Johnsons'. Dimples framing her smile, she followed Emily up to a geranium bush and helped the little girl search.

The garden was filled with smiles and laughter as the children hunted for chocolate. An especially loud whoop came from Emily who, with Violet's aid, had discovered the first egg. She paraded it around the bush, smiling with glee.

"Leave some for me!" Timothy hurried over to the bush with hopes of finding another, but was quickly shot down by his father.

"You won't find another in there, lad. Try by the bird bath."

At this, all five children let out a shriek and bolted for the bird bath. Ally managed to get there first. She crinkled the gold wrapper in her hand, teasing her friends with the sound it made, and plopped the chocolate in her mouth.

"Ally!" Mrs Johnson protested. "You spit that out!"

"Let her enjoy it," Violet said, "it's Easter after all." Something glistened in the patch of flowers the woman was standing in and she knelt down, groaning. "Ah, looky here..."

"I'll take that!" Timmy sped by, snatching the little egg from his neighbour's hand.

As he ran across the lawn, Timmy noticed Emily disappearing into the hedge which bordered the property. He was about to follow her, but heard the twins from number four celebrating some great victory.

Rachel and Ronald were dancing around the letter box. The other children hurried to see what they'd discovered, though their baskets were now adequately filled with coloured eggs. The adults too, trudged over with bemused looks.

Mrs Johnson was especially curious. With her arms crossed, she asked, "What's possessed you? The mail man doesn't come at Easter."

"Eggs!" Rachel squeled, pointing at the box. "Look at those eggs!" Inside was a perfect pile of rich, mouth-watering eggs. Each foil wrap was hand-painted with miniature easter rabbits and chicks, and the deep aroma of cocoa bewitched those around them.

Like seagulls at a picnic, Timmy and Ally dived for the mailbox. The twins grabbed at them, shouting that the loot was theirs, and a scuffle ensued on the patch of pansies below.

"Get off my flowers!" Mrs Johnson shrieked. "Get them off!"

Her husband and Timmy's father reluctantly pulled the children apart. The delicatessan eggs were scattered amongst the blossoms, foil torn and chocolate crushed.

"Hold on," the twin's mother, shielded her eyes from the sun and studied the chocolate, "those aren't the eggs we hid. Someone else must have put them there."

"A gift?" Mr Johnson peered into the letter box, keeping a firm hold on Ally's shirt collar. "There's no card..."

"A kind stranger must have left them for the children." Violet grinned. She was unphased by the mysterious Easter gift, as were Ally, Timmy and the twins, who kept struggling against the adults' grips.

"Let us at 'em!" Timmy begged.

"No!" Mrs Johnson patted her skirt, then reached down and started plucking each piece of chocolate from the flowers. "We don't know what sort of person put these there. No one is eating them."

'Mum!" Ally protested.

"Go on, dear," Violet said, "it's only chocolate. They're decorated so nicely."

"Hold on!" Mrs Potts, who had this whole time been standing by the front door with a book, hurried over to the group. She nervously fingered the pages of her novel and reminded them of someone they'd all forgotten. “Where's my Emily?"

“Oh my!” Mrs Johnson pushed off the ground, accidentally squashing one of her precious flowers. “A child gone missing at my party? We've got to find her!”

The four children were let free. They abandoned the eggs and instead looked around the yard for their friend. The adults rubbed their arms and scratched their heads, ashamed to have forgotten about the youngest in their care.

“Who saw her last?”

“I did!” Timmy pointed at the hedge. “In there!”

Mrs Potts dropped her book and ran to the edge of the yard. “Emily!” she yelled, leaning over the green boundary to look outside for her daughter. Across the road was a park full of oak trees. Their wides canopies, thick trunks, and imposing roots created many nooks and shadows for a child to hide in. Or, as the adults feared, places for killers and kidnappers to lurk.

Only the old neigbour remained calm, suggesting, “Perhaps she's gone to find eggs in the trees.”

“But we didn't hide any over there!” her mother wailed. “She wouldn't run off by herself... she wouldn't.”

“We'll have to form a search party,” Mrs Johnson ordered. “She must be found!”

The children and adults split into two groups and hurried across the road.

Timmy pointed out that their Easter egg hunt had turned into an Emily hunt. His young companions giggled, much to their parents' disgust.

“Emily!” they shouted, each group taking a different side of the urban forest.

Rachel and Ronald squeezed into the hidden crevices of the oaks, but found only spiderwebs and cigarette butts.

Mrs Potts and Mrs Johnson argued over who would climb a tree to see if Emily had somehow reached the top. Mr Johnson interrupted the pair, pointing out that a three year old couldn't open the fridge, let alone climb an oak. Ally scaled it nevertheless, but produced only a birds' nest.

The other adults searched the darker places where thick branches and roots formed tiny caves. Inside one, Timmy's father swore he heard the girl call, but it was only a bird whistling on the branch above.

Timmy and Violet walked back and forth, calling Emily's name. The midday sun took its leave behind some clouds and still Emily had not replied, nor had any trace of her been found.

An hour passed since they had set out and, having combed all the nooks and crannies of the park, the search party arrived at the final length of oak trees. Here, dense shrubs bordered a river which divided the park and another housing suburb.

“You don't suppose...” Mrs Potts put her head in her hands when she saw the thick bushes and heard the water trickling behind them. “Could she have fallen in?”

Violet wrapped an arm around her. “No, I'm sure we'll find her.”

“Hey!” Ally had found something. She was crouched by a tree root, holding something shiny in her palms.

“What is it?” Mrs Potts sped to the scene, hopeful that Emily had been found safe and sound. Her heart dropped when she saw the coloured tin foil, squashed and containing the remnants of chocolate eggs. The wrappers were hand-painted with rabbits and chicks.

Mrs Johnson shrieked, “I knew it! Those eggs in the mailbox were just the start of it! Somebody's lured poor Emily out with chocolate!”

“Kidnapped?” Timmy's father laced a protective hand on his son's shoulder.

“She must have been. And at my party! My reptutation's ruined!”

Mrs Potts fell to the ground, gripping clumps of dirt in her fingers. “My poor Emily!” A crowd gathered around her, Violet groaning as she knelt down. The twins likewise got to their knees, but they were more concerned about what was sticking to Mrs Pott's fingers.

“Is that chocolate?” Rachel poked at a round, black clump. “Eww... it's all soggy...”

Ronald held some to his nose, expecting to smell cocoa. Instead, he screwed up his face.

Timmy's father leant over the pair and raised his eyebrows, declaring, “It looks like rabbit droppings.”

“Who cares!” Ally cried, though Mrs Johnson tried to quiet her. “Emily's dead!” Mrs Potts let out a heartbroken wail, feeling utterly hopeless, and Mr Johnson cast a warning glance at his daughter.

“We mustn't jump to conclusions,” Violet said, rather calm considering the situation, “until we have more evidence.”

“How can you say that?” Mrs Johnson snapped. “Those upper-class eggs are evidence enough!” She then went on about how the authorities would have to be notified, and how much 'missing' posters would cost to print, and how nobody would attend her parties after this.

Meanwhile, Timmy had wandered off to a cluster of bushes, so arranged that they formed a little nook. It was far too small for an adult to enter, but the young boy thought he could squeeze in. Timmy went down on all fours and froze when he felt something crinkle under his hand. It was another foil wrapper.

“Look at this!” he called to the others, waving the wrapper in the air. As they clambered over, he wasted no time and began crawling into the bushes. Twigs brushed his back and the bark dug into his knees, but Timmy finally emerged into a warm, cosy little nest and cried with joy.

There was the three-year-old, curled into a ball and fast asleep. There were leaves stuck in her pigtails and dirt on her clothes, but she looked perfectly healthy and content with a little smile on her lips. What caught Timmy's attention most was the pile of Easter eggs stacked beside her. Though painted just like the ones in the letterbox, they were much larger and the stronger smell of cocoa made Timmy's mouth water.

“Have you found her?” Mrs Johnson called from outside.

“Yes!” Timmy's confirmation was met with whoops and cheers. Ally stopped crying and high-fived the bouncing twins. Timmy's father and Mr Johnson shook hands, vowing to unscrew some beer bottles when they got home. Mrs Johnson sighed with relief, thanking the heavens that her reputation was safe. Violet embraced Mrs Potts, who cried tears of happiness.

Timmy's shout had roused Emily from her slumber and she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw were the eggs, and Emily beamed as if remembering a delightful dream. Then she saw Timmy and her eyes widened.

“Did you meet him too?”

“Meet who?” Timmy asked.

“The Easter Bunny...”

“Come outside!” Emily's mother called.

Timmy was on the verge of laughter, he didn't believe in the Easter Bunny any more than he did Santa. But he couldn't inquire further, because when the little girl heard her mother, she pushed past him to get out.

When Emily emerged from the bushes, she was picked up by a delighted Mrs Potts and fussed over by all around her. She gave her mother a soggy kiss on the cheek, but couldn't understand why everyone had been so worried.

“I was with the Easter Bunny,” she said.

'Is that what they called themselves?” Mrs Johnson was shocked. “What did they look like?”

Emily clutched her pigtails and raised them up into the air. “He had big ears!” She scrunched her nose. “And whiskers and paws and he was so soft!”

“Yeah right.” Ronald folded his arms.

“The Easter Bunny isn't real,” Rachel added. “Everyone knows that.”

“She had these.” Timmy held the big, beautiful chocolate eggs in his arms. Mrs Johnson instantly thought to keep them as evidence, but the boy was secretly hoping he'd be able to keep them himself, they smelt so delicious.

“The Easter Bunny gave them to me,” Emily said.

Mrs Potts asked her daughter if she was telling the truth and the little girl nodded, completely convinced. The adults had no idea what to think. Someone must have used the chocolate to lure her away, and called themselves after the holiday character. Yet they hadn't harmed her and there wasn't a person in sight. Even the other children thought Emily was imagining things but they couldn't explain where the chocolate had come from.

“Are you sure you didn't hide them, Mum?” Ally asked for the second time.

Mrs Johnson shook her head, completely bemused. “How on earth do we explain this?”

Violet had been silent the whole time, but now she spoke. “Perhaps we shouldn't try to explain it.” She took one of the eggs from Timmy, and cradled it in the hands. “It's Easter, after all.” She felt its comforting weight, laced her fingers over the smooth foil, and inhaled the familiar scent of cocoa. She looked at the paintings of rabbits and chicks, recalling happy memories from her childhood.

Her wrinkles formed a smile and she said, “They say the Easter Bunny only shows himself to those who believe.” Emily met her eyes, and the pair shared a knowing look. She passed the egg into the little girl's waiting hands. “Happy Easter, Emily.”