Bloosom

“Excuse me, but can you tell me the way to the festival?” the fairy asked.

“Well, bless my trunk, it’s a flying toddler,” replied Snorg.

“Toddler? Mister, I’ll have you know I am two hundred and eighty years old,” snapped the fairy.

“I meant no disrespect. My name is Snorg, and it’s a pleasure to meet such a distinguished-looking sprite as yourself,” said the slon.

“Since you put it that way, I’ll forgive you this time. My name is Bloosom, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Snorg,” remarked the fae.

The slon offered to show Bloosom the way to the fair in exchange for a story from her. Faes were well known for their fantastical tales.

“So you see, Snorg the dragon wasn’t bad after all,” Bloosom said.

“Here we are, at the festival Bloosom. Thank you for that magic story, I’ll be sure to share it with my friends,” remarked the slon.

“Goodbye, Snorg. Please visit us someday,” called the fae, and she slipped over the hedge and into the festival.

“I will do that, my friend,” said Snorg. He headed to meet his friends and share the tale of a one-eyed dragon.

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