Once upon a time, a wise and gentle woman named Mira lived in a peaceful valley cradled by towering trees and shimmering streams. Her silver hair flowed softly down her shoulders, and her kind eyes sparkled with the warmth of countless stories. Every evening, as the stars twinkled overhead, Mira would sit on a mossy stone, surrounded by a circle of tiny, curious baby dragons. These little dragons, with their shiny emerald, sapphire, and ruby scales, loved nothing more than listening to Mira’s stories. They would nestle close, their tiny wings fluttering excitedly as she opened her well-worn, leather-bound book.
“Tonight,” Mira began, her voice soft and soothing like a lullaby, “I will tell you the story of the Moonlit Blossom.”
The dragons’ eyes gleamed with anticipation. They adored tales of enchanted flowers and magical forests, especially when the flowers glowed under the full moon’s light. As Mira read, her voice danced through the evening air, describing a rare flower that blossomed only once a year, bathed in silver moonlight, spreading its gentle glow across the woods. She paused to gesture with her hands, mimicking the shimmering petals and the soft light, making the tiny dragons’ tails twitch with delight.
“Did you know,” she whispered, “this flower’s light can guide lost travellers home, just like a star in the night sky?”
The baby dragons giggled, their tiny voices like bubbling streams. They loved hearing how magic could be found in the smallest things. Mira gently turned the page, her eyes twinkling.
“And just like this blossom, each of you has a special light inside. You might glow so brightly one day that everyone will see your kindness and courage.”
The little dragons snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of her words and the magic woven into the story. Mira closed the book softly and leaned in closer.
“Remember, my dear ones, stories are the stars that guide us, the fires that warm us, and the wings that carry us to wondrous places.”
As the night deepened and the moon cast a silver glow over the valley, the baby dragons drifted into peaceful dreams, their hearts filled with hope and the magic of stories. Mira watched over them with a gentle smile, knowing that her tales would light their way for many nights to come. And so, beneath the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, the wise old woman’s stories continued to weave their magic, kindling dreams and nurturing the spirits of all who listened, young and old alike.
Lazarus Carpenter - Author 