The Tiny Door and the Moth Ball

Suki finds a very small door at the bottom of the big tree and, with a little help from the fairies, discovers something soft and glowing waiting under the hedge — a gentle nighttime wander that ends with warm milk, sleepy wings, and bed.

The Door at the Bottom of the Tree

The evening came slow and soft, the way evenings do when they are not in a hurry. Suki walked down the fern path in her yellow boots, and the ferns leaned in to say hello, and the light went gold, then peach, then sleepy blue. At the edge of the garden stood the big tree. Suki had seen the big tree a hundred times. But she had never, ever seen the tiny door at the bottom of it — a little round door, tucked right in among the roots, just her size for peeping. "Oh," said Suki. "Hello, door." She knelt down in the cool grass. The door was no bigger than a dinner plate, with a round knob and a mossy little step. Then — whisper, whisper — a few fairies drifted close. Their wings went hum, hum, hum. They smiled at Suki and nodded at the door. The little door opened. Out came a soft golden glow, warm as a candle, quiet as a secret. Suki peeped in.

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A String of Sleepy Lights

Inside the little door, the golden glow curled up like a cat and went to sleep. But the fairies didn't go in. They went the other way. "Come along, come along," their wings hummed. "Something soft is waiting." One fairy floated ahead and lit up like a tiny lantern. Then another. Then another. A string of sleepy lights, looping down the fern path, swaying, swaying, slow as a song. Suki followed. Her yellow boots went crunch, crunch, crunch. The ferns brushed her knees. The leaning stones leaned a little more to watch her pass. The trickling stream said trickle, trickle, hush. The lights bobbed over a mossy log and around a bend and up, up, up toward the tall, tall hedge. At the hedge, the last light stopped and hovered. It winked once. Under the hedge was a hollow, dark and mossy and round. And inside the hollow, something was glowing.

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The Moth Ball Under the Hedge

Suki knelt down. Inside the hollow sat a ball of moths — round as a pillow, soft as a sigh, glowing like a little moon that had rolled under the hedge and stayed. Hum, hum, hum, went the moth ball. "It has been waiting all day," the fairies whispered. "All day for someone to sit beside it." So Suki sat. She sat right down in the moss, and the moss was cool, and the moths were warm. They fluttered up around her shoulders — tickle, tickle — and settled like a soft grey shawl. The moth ball hummed, and Suki hummed too. Then, slowly, the ball began to loosen. One moth lifted. Then two. Then twenty. Up, up, up they drifted into the dark, like a handful of stars let go all at once. When Suki looked down, one small moth was left, sitting on her hand, glowing. The fairies smiled. "It will ride home with you."

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One Small Moth on the Windowsill

Suki walked home with the little moth on her hand. It rode along, glowing, while her yellow boots went crunch, crunch, crunch on the fern path. The ferns waved goodnight. The stones stayed put. The stream said trickle, trickle, hush. In her cave-home, Suki climbed into bed and tucked her triceratops under her arm. The little moth fluttered to the windowsill and settled there, glowing soft as a nightlight. Outside, the fairies' lights went dim. One by one. Wink. Wink. Wink. Suki yawned a big, round yawn. The blanket was warm. The pillow was soft. The cave-home settled around her like a hug. The little moth glowed on the windowsill. Suki closed her eyes, and the day shut softly behind her, like a tiny round door.

The end.