Bram and the Parade Flag

“Tell us again how Bram’s flag tried to fly away,” Flick asked as the star-sprouts settled beside the parade pole.

Old Fern tucked her leaf-petals beneath her chin. Around them, the station’s round central room hummed quietly. Little windows showed the moon and a wide stretch of stars. The parade pole stood in the middle of the floor, with a bright blue flag and a long silver ribbon tied to it.

“Bram was smaller than the pole,” Fern began, “but he had a very big wish.”

In those days, Bram was a young star-sprout with a green cap and two golden leaf-petals. That evening, the station’s little sprouts were preparing their gentle parade. They would follow the round room’s painted path, carrying tiny lanterns and humming a song.

The station drifted through space, but a gentle pull kept the sprouts’ feet on the floor. Light things could still float when the air moved.

Bram stood on his tiptoes beside the flag. “I want to carry it at the front,” he said. “I can walk slowly. I can hold it carefully.”

“You certainly can,” said Mallow, the parade keeper. “But mind that long ribbon. The room is floating, and things like to wander here.”

Bram nodded. He wrapped both hands around the pole. The flag lifted above him, and the ribbon curled in a lovely loop.

Then the air vents gave a little puff.

The ribbon floated right across Bram’s face.

“Whoops!” said Bram. He tilted his head to see around it. The ribbon slid over one eye, then the other. He tried to move it aside, but it floated back and tickled his nose.

The other sprouts giggled kindly. Bram giggled too, though he could hardly see the pole.

“Maybe I should carry a lantern instead,” he said.

Just then, the parade line began to gather. One by one, the sprouts joined hands along the painted path. Their leaf-petals drifted toward the same side of the room as the flag’s ribbon.

Bram watched them sway. He did not let go of the pole. The ribbon bobbed near his cheek, and a new idea began to grow.

Old Fern paused. Flick leaned closer. “What did Bram see?”

“That,” said Fern, “is when he looked at the flag from a different side.”

Bram turned slowly, keeping the pole steady. From the other side, he could see the ribbon and the sprouts’ leaf-petals moving together. Each time the air vent puffed, they all floated toward the round room’s window wall.

“They’re going the same way,” Bram said. “The ribbon isn’t being silly. It’s following the air, just like our petals.”

Mallow looked at the pole. “Good noticing, Bram. What could help?”

Bram studied the flag. He turned the pole a little farther, and there, near the top, he spotted a small loop built into the handle. It was meant to keep the ribbon tidy when no one was carrying the flag.

“Could I put the ribbon through that loop?” Bram asked.

“Let’s try,” said Mallow.

Bram held the pole close. With careful fingers, he guided the long ribbon through the little loop. He did not pull it tight. He left enough ribbon to wave beside the flag, but not enough to cover his face or reach the parade line.

The next puff came from the vent.

The flag lifted. The ribbon curled out to one side, then rested against the pole’s loop. It did not cross Bram’s eyes. It did not catch on anyone’s petals.

Bram blinked at the clear view ahead. “I can see the whole parade!”

“And the parade can see you,” said Mallow.

A warm cheer rose from the sprouts. Bram’s hands felt a little shaky, but he planted his feet on the painted path. The gentle pull kept them there as the flag waved above his green cap and its ribbon made a neat little curve in the air.

“Ready?” called Mallow.

Bram nodded. “Slowly, please.”

The first note of the parade song floated through the room. Bram started down the painted path, watching where he placed each foot. The line followed him, each sprout holding a lantern or a friend’s hand. Around the circular path they went, past the star map, past the round windows, and past the station’s quiet reading nook.

When Bram reached the bend, he checked the ribbon. It stayed in its loop, waving beside him like a little silver tail.

Flick smiled at Fern’s story. “Then Bram led the whole parade?”

“He did,” said Fern. “And when he reached the starting place again, he had one more lovely thing to do.”

The sprouts sitting around Fern began to sway where they were. Flick lifted both leaf-petals. Mallow, who was there too, held up an imaginary lantern.

“Let’s walk Bram’s circle,” Flick whispered.

No one hurried. The gentle pull kept their feet on the floor as the little sprouts made a line around the central room, stepping along the painted path. Fern walked at the back, humming the parade song in a low, cozy voice. Flick pretended to carry the flag, and a strip of blue cloth tied to the pole floated beside him.

“Keep your eyes on the path,” Bram reminded him with a grin. “And give the ribbon room to wave.”

Flick turned the pole just as Bram had done. The cloth curled neatly by the handle, while the sprouts’ petals leaned in the same direction. Around the room they went in a slow circle, past the star map and the reading nook, then back to the pole.

Their song grew quieter at the last turn. The station hummed around them, steady as a purring cat. Outside the windows, distant stars rested in their places.

When the parade was done, Bram unhooked the ribbon from the pole’s little loop. Mallow helped him fold the flag, and Flick smoothed the blue cloth with both hands. Fern folded one corner, and the other sprouts tucked in the edges until the flag lay tidy and still.

Bram curled the ribbon into a small loop and settled it beside the folded flag. “There,” he said. “It can be ready for next time.”

The parade pole stood in its place. The lanterns went onto their shelf, and the sprouts sat together on the soft round cushions along the wall. Flick leaned against Fern. Bram rested beside Mallow, his golden petals drooping comfortably.

“Did you know the ribbon would behave?” Flick asked.

“I didn’t,” Bram said. “I just watched where it wanted to go.”

Fern smiled. “That was a very good way to find out.”

The sprouts listened to the station’s quiet hum. Their circle was finished, their flag was folded, and the little parade song lingered in their minds. One by one, they settled deeper into the cushions, while Bram’s ribbon rested in its neat loop until the next parade.