Once upon a time, in a sky painted bright, lived little stars who twinkled at night. They danced and played in their shimmering gowns, showering moonbeams on sleepy towns.
But one day, a wind whispered low, "The stars must pick where they want to glow." Some wished for the sea, others for trees, but a few longed for places that were mysteries.
Among them was Twila, a shy little star, with dreams spun from moonlight and dreams that go far. She missed her wide sky, her friends, and the sun, searching for home where her heart could run.
Twila wandered paths made of golden dust, met flowers with voices, and clouds full of trust. She asked every creature, "Where is my tree?" but none knew of places like land or sea.
Finally, she sat on a comet's tail, writing her story, the wind's gentle veil. Echoes of laughter, echoes of song; she remembered where she truly belonged.
Do you believe, gentle reader, that stars can cry? That they dream of gardens or clouds passing by? If you wish to tell Twila your tale, whisper it softly, let your heart sail.
Stardust Whispers