The Little Dragon Who Couldn't Light the Lanterns
Posy meets a small green dragon in the fern-filled valley who is worried because his fire won't light the lanterns for tonight's festival. Together they find a gentle way to help him glow in his own time.
Made on Nightstory, and shared. The child's name has been changed.
The Worried Sound by the Stream
The sun was going down behind the ferns, and the stream went trickle, trickle over the smooth stones. Posy sat on the bank with her triceratops in her lap. She was stacking flat pebbles into a little tower. Then she heard it. A sound like a small, worried sigh. Posy set down her pebbles and followed the sound along the path. There, beside a lantern, sat a little green dragon. His round belly went in and out. He leaned close to the lantern wick and blew — poof — but only soft gray smoke curled up. He tried again. Poof. Smoke again. His tail curled tight at the tip, and he looked down at his feet. Posy sat down nearby on the soft moss. She did not say anything. She just stayed. After a while, the little dragon looked up at her. His eyes were big and round in the evening light.
A Slow Breath and a Tiny Spark
Posy patted the moss beside her. The little dragon shuffled over and sat down, and together they looked at the lantern. “Let's try together,” Posy said. She held the lantern steady with both hands. The dragon leaned close and took a slow breath in. Then he blew — poof. Smoke. Just smoke. His tail drooped down to the moss, and his wings stayed folded in tight. Posy looked at the path. She picked up one dry leaf and set it on a flat stone. “Let's practice on something small,” she said. The dragon leaned over the leaf. He took one more slow breath. He blew — and a tiny spark caught. The spark grew into a small, flickery flame. The dragon's eyes went wide and round.
One Lantern, Then Another
The little flame danced on the leaf. The dragon lifted his chin. He turned to the first lantern and held his flame close to the wick. The wick caught. The lantern glowed, soft and gold. Posy clapped her hands once. “You did it.” The dragon blinked at the lantern. Then he walked to the next one, and the next. Each wick caught, one by one, all along the path. The ferns turned gold at the edges. The stones in the stream held little gleams of light. The dragon's tail lifted off the moss. His wings opened, just a little, like a window in the evening air. He padded back to Posy and pressed his warm nose against her shoulder. Posy leaned into him. Together they watched the lanterns sway, and the whole valley glowed.
Goodnight, Little Dragon
Posy yawned, a big wide yawn. The lanterns glowed all along the path, warm and gold, and the ferns leaned toward their light. “Time for bed,” she said softly. She picked up her triceratops and started down the fern path. The little green dragon walked beside her, step by step, his tail curling at the tip. His fire was small in his chest, but it was steady. At Posy's cave-home, she climbed into bed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and tucked her triceratops under her arm. Outside the window, the dragon curled up on the smooth stone, tucking his nose under his tail. His little fire flickered. Posy's eyes grew heavy. The lantern light danced on her wall, soft and slow. She closed her eyes, and the valley stayed warm around her, and the lanterns burned on, one by one, all night long.
The end.