White threads of water escaped the pool with a giggle, carving their way through moss and splashing over rocks. The Pied Piper of Gravity grinned at their fun as he played on his pipe and led them along.
messy fairies
Lumpy pillows of verdant green were scattered everywhere. “Messy, messy fairies,” grumbled a goblin, picking them up and setting them to rights.
race to the shore
“Race ya!” shouted a droplet in the ocean, a million or so years ago. Its friends joined in, and they raced to the shore, the very first wave the world had ever known.
directions
The pixie left detailed directions to her den written atop a mushroom. This was often how the pixies shared their secrets, knowing there would only be an hour or two before the notes rotted away and were lost forever. They never did realize the greater fungus down below kept careful notes of all these writings and shared them far and wide.
queen identification
Identifying which half-shell is the queen is no more difficult than searching for her crown. Yet take heed, for she is often confused with her more dangerous counterpart, the Medusa.
the top hat goblin
He wasn’t fond of living in hearths or kitchens like most goblins; it was forests and shadows for him. He didn’t even dress like other goblins. He preferred to remain in the nude with only his top hat and the occasional leaf, which might be why he avoided kitchens and humans in general, come to think of it.
mist
As the sun grew higher, so the mist rose up to meet it, holding back the heat for a few spare moments while the little things woke and scrambled for the shade.
a net to catch the dewdrops
Every night before she slept the changeling girl cast a net upon the grass to catch the dewdrops. She filtered them into her coffee pot, and made the strangest brew.
caterpillar naps
The caterpillar yawned, thinking he was finished now. He was feeling tired, downtrodden, and in need of a change. He moved onto his favourite life and wrapped it around himself, cosy and safe. When his bed was made he fell asleep, and dreamt himself into a butterfly.
uncertain blooms
Mother Nature caressed the fuzzy tendrils of the uncertain bloom, her voice falling to a whisper. “Be brave, little green, your blossom will astound you.”
Jennifer Shelby 