Where the Fireflies Go to Rest
4 chapters for 2 characters · about 4 minutes · told 0 times. Soft moss, fireflies, and an owl who knows every path by heart. The highlighted parts are filled in with your own characters when you make this story yours.
Chapter 1: The Evening Hush
The day had been long, and now it was folding itself up like a blanket. In ⟨home⟩, the lamps were low, and ⟨Character 1⟩ and ⟨Character 2⟩ were listening to the house settle.
There was ⟨Character 1⟩, a ⟨age⟩-year-old ⟨role⟩ who was born in ⟨birthplace⟩, now lives in ⟨home⟩, and loves ⟨favourite thing⟩. They yawned a yawn so wide that it seemed to pull the whole room a little closer to bedtime.
And there was ⟨Character 2⟩, a ⟨age⟩-year-old ⟨role⟩ who was born in ⟨birthplace⟩, now lives in ⟨home⟩, and loves ⟨favourite thing⟩. They were the first to notice that something outside was glowing.
At the window there was a drift of fireflies, and under it, so faint you could mistake it for your own breathing, came leaves turning over in their sleep.
⟨Character 1⟩ pressed a hand to the glass. It was cool and smelled, somehow, of pine needles and rain. Nobody said the word adventure, but it was in the room all the same.
Chapter 2: Setting Out
That was when a wheelbarrow lined with blankets that rolled along by itself. ⟨Character 1⟩ and ⟨Character 2⟩ climbed in, slowly, the way you do when you are already a little bit asleep.
Everything they passed was sleepy. A family of hedgehogs drifted by. A deer that walked without a sound blinked once and settled down again. The night hummed along with them.
At the gate of the Whispering Wood stood Pip, a small round owl. When Pip spoke, the voice was soft and low, like someone reading in another room. "Welcome," it said. "We have all night."
"Are we far from home?" asked ⟨Character 2⟩. Pip shook its head. "You are never far from home when you are this sleepy. Home comes with you."
⟨Character 1⟩ walked a little behind, counting the lights. They lost count at eleven, which is a very good number to lose count at.
Chapter 3: The Littlest Traveller
Not everything in the Whispering Wood was asleep. From just off the path came a tiny, anxious sound, like a question nobody had answered.
They found a baby squirrel curled up small. It could not find the hollow tree where its mother waited. "That sounds hard," said ⟨Character 2⟩ gently. "Let's look together."
⟨Character 1⟩ knew exactly what to do, because they love ⟨favourite thing⟩, and people who love things are good at noticing. They pointed to a glimmer that nobody else had seen.
They walked together, a baby squirrel in the middle, until the path opened and there, waiting, was its family. There was a great deal of quiet rejoicing, which is the best kind.
"You see," said Pip, "the night is not for being brave. It is for being gentle." ⟨Character 2⟩ yawned, and the yawn seemed to agree.
Chapter 4: The Long Way Home
When it was time to go, Pip did not say goodbye. "Goodnight," it said instead, which is a softer word, and the right one.
⟨Character 1⟩ closed their eyes, just to see what it felt like. It felt like pine needles and rain, and like floating, and like being exactly where they should be.
⟨Character 2⟩ murmured something about ⟨favourite thing⟩, and smiled, and was asleep before the smile had finished.
And then they were home, in ⟨home⟩, in their own beds, with the window closed and the room smelling faintly of pine needles and rain. Had they gone anywhere at all? The pillow knew, and did not say.
The wind moved through the leaves like a slow breath. And ⟨Character 1⟩ and ⟨Character 2⟩ slept. And slept. And slept. Goodnight.
Tomorrow there will be another story. Tonight there is only this one, and it is finished, and you are safe.
A question for tonight
Close your eyes. Can you still see a drift of fireflies? What colour is it now?