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Once Upon A Time...

The Curious Clock and the Midnight Tea

Author April Bijou

One fine day—or was it a night?—Lily found herself wandering in a peculiar meadow that smelled faintly of marmalade and echoed with the sound of ticking clocks. She had no recollection of how she arrived there, but this didn’t bother her in the slightest. After all, she’d always been terribly fond of adventures that made no sense.

As she meandered past flowers shaped like teapots and grass blades that whispered, “Hurry, hurry,” Lily came across an enormous grandfather clock standing in the middle of the meadow. It had no hands, only a pair of golden spoons that twirled furiously around its face. Carved into its wood were the words: "Tea Time, All the Time."

“Oh, how very sensible,” Lily said approvingly, giving the clock an encouraging pat. At her touch, the door of the clock creaked open, and out stepped a grinning marmalade-colored cat wearing a waistcoat covered in tiny, ticking watches.

“You’re late!” declared the cat, though his grin didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

“For what?” Lily asked, tilting her head.

“For being early,” the cat replied cryptically. “Now, come along! We can’t have a tea party without a guest, and I do detest parties where the teacups talk more than the attendees.” He twirled his tail like a cane and pranced off, the watches on his waistcoat jingling merrily.

Lily, having nothing better to do (and no idea how to leave the meadow), followed the cat through a hedge made entirely of jellybeans. On the other side was a grand table, so long it stretched out of sight, with teapots and teacups hopping about like frogs. At the head of the table sat a very round, very green toad wearing an upside-down hat.

“You’re late, you know,” croaked the toad, flipping his hat upright to reveal a cookie nestled inside. He promptly ate the cookie, hat and all.

“So I’ve been told,” Lily replied. “But what exactly am I late for?”

“The Midnight Tea, of course!” the toad said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “And midnight is terribly punctual. It happens exactly once a day—no more, no less!”

The cat leapt onto a chair shaped like a sunflower and batted at a teacup that seemed to be arguing with its saucer. “Do sit down, Lily! But mind the chair—it has a tendency to change its mind.”

Indeed, as Lily pulled out a chair, it promptly turned into a ladder, then a piano, then finally a perfectly ordinary stool with a cushion that whispered, “Comfortable, isn’t it?”

Once Lily was seated, a teapot with arms poured her a cup of tea, though it spilled half of it in the process. “Careful!” the cat scolded the teapot. “If you spill too much, the teaspoons will mutiny, and you know how they love to stir up trouble.”

Lily sipped the tea and found that it tasted of everything she’d ever loved—ripe strawberries, warm cinnamon, and the feeling of finding a missing sock. “This is delightful!” she exclaimed.

“Only if you drink it clockwise,” the toad warned, flipping another cookie out of his pocket. “Counterclockwise tea drinking is a recipe for disaster. Last time I tried it, the tea turned into a chicken and pecked my hat to bits.”

As Lily obediently twirled her cup clockwise, the ground beneath the table began to tremble. The toad leapt onto the table with surprising agility. “Oh dear! Midnight is early today!”

A colossal clock face rose from the ground, its hands spinning wildly. Midnight itself—whatever it was—stepped out of the clock. It appeared to be a creature made entirely of shadows, draped in a cloak of shimmering stars. Midnight’s voice was soft and echoing, like a lullaby sung in a deep cave.

“Time for tea?” it asked, extending a shadowy hand toward Lily.

“Oh, I suppose so,” Lily replied hesitantly, unsure whether one should accept tea from a being made of shadows.

The toad, cat, and teacups all froze as Midnight lifted Lily’s teacup. It swirled the contents, and for a moment, Lily thought she saw her entire life reflected in the liquid—her first steps, her happiest moments, even things that hadn’t happened yet.

“Interesting,” said Midnight, handing the cup back. “You’re not quite done yet.” It winked—though it had no eyes—and dissolved back into the clock.

As the clock sank into the ground, everything returned to its strange version of normal. The cat grinned at Lily. “Well, that was exciting! Midnight doesn’t usually join us for tea. You must be very special.”

Lily didn’t feel particularly special, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose I am. But how do I get home?”

“Oh, you’ll find your way eventually,” said the toad, munching on yet another cookie. “Time has a way of taking care of itself.”

The cat adjusted his watches, which had all stopped ticking. “And remember, Lily, tea tastes best when you don’t mind the time.”

With that, the meadow, the table, and the peculiar tea party began to fade. Lily found herself back in her room, clutching an ordinary teacup that smelled faintly of marmalade.

“Curious,” she murmured, placing the cup on her nightstand. And though the clock on her wall ticked steadily, Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in a meadow of teapot flowers, a very punctual Midnight was waiting for her return.

 

 

The Midnight Tea of Bonbon Avenue

Author April Bijou

Under the shimmering boughs of the Dream Tree, a peculiar invitation fluttered into Lily’s lap. The parchment smelled faintly of lavender and read, “Midnight Tea. Come alone. Bring a question you cannot answer.”

Curiosity tugged at her like an insistent breeze, and soon, Lily found herself winding through the cobblestone paths of Bonbon Avenue, the moon casting silver ribbons on the ground. She stopped before a small clearing, where Penelope’s tea table floated an inch above the ground, teapots pirouetting in mid-air, and chairs rocking gently as if laughing at their own jokes.

Penelope, in her elegant bonnet, tilted her head with a smile that held secrets. “Welcome, dear Lily. What question weighs your heart?”

Lily hesitated but finally spoke. “Why do dreams feel more real than life?”

At once, the table rattled, and the teapots poured streams of glittering liquid that shaped themselves into images—dancing stars, fleeting shadows, and a bird with a key in its beak. “Dreams,” Penelope began, “are the mirrors of your heart’s truth. Life? Well, it’s merely practice.”

Before Lily could respond, Mr. Wobbles hopped into view, tripping on his coat tails as he carried a tray of candied teacakes that whispered, “Eat me and see!” She bit into one, and the world spun—colors melted, cobblestones giggled, and the Dream Tree itself leaned down to whisper, “The question is not why dreams feel real but why you fear they are not.”

When Lily awoke beneath the Dream Tree, crumbs of the teacake sparkled in her hand. Though she could not say what had changed, the world now shimmered, as if a dream had spilled into reality.

And perhaps, she thought, it always had.




   

A New Year’s Eve Enchantment on Bonbon Avenue

Author April Bijou

 

As the final rays of the winter sun dipped below the hills, Bonbon Avenue Village shimmered with an air of wonder. The Dream Tree, a towering marvel with golden leaves that whispered secrets to the wind, stood at the heart of the village, its branches adorned with glowing lanterns and silver garlands that seemed to hum with life. Tonight, the villagers were gathering for the most enchanting celebration of the year—New Year’s Eve under the Dream Tree.

Bunny, dressed in a flowing white dress that seemed to shimmer as if stitched with moonlight, stood at the tree's base, arranging tiny, glowing jars of honeyed tea. “Everything must be perfect,” she murmured, her ears twitching nervously. Around her, rabbits hopped and scurried, setting tables draped with cloths spun from gossamer threads, arranging pastries shaped like stars, and lighting candles that flickered in every color imaginable.

From a nearby burrow, Benji Thistledown appeared, his bowtie slightly askew but his grin as bright as ever. “Bunny, did you see the lanterns?” he asked, gesturing skyward. Above them, floating lanterns wove lazy patterns in the air, as if dancing to an unheard melody.

Before Bunny could respond, Felix Trotterfoot, the mischievous fox painter, sauntered in with a paintbrush tucked behind one ear. “Why not add a bit of sparkle to the sky?” he asked, flicking his brush upward. With a single swoop, he painted fireworks that burst into showers of stardust, falling softly onto the gathering like glittering snowflakes.

As the villagers arrived, they each brought something uniquely magical. Penelope the Duck, her long eyelashes fluttering, unveiled a fountain of bubbling elderflower lemonade, the liquid cascading in colors that changed with every pour. Mr. Wobbles, the slightly clumsy frog, arrived balancing a tower of spinning plates filled with delicate candies that dissolved into whispers when eaten.

The Dream Tree itself seemed to come alive as the clock approached midnight. Its golden leaves shimmered and began to fall, not to the ground, but upward into the starry sky, transforming into twinkling constellations. Bunny clasped her paws together. “The Dream Tree is sharing its wishes with the stars,” she whispered.

As the final moment of the year approached, the villagers gathered in a circle, holding hands and looking up at the sky. The floating lanterns formed a path, leading their eyes to the largest star of all—the Wish Star, said to grant a single wish to those with pure hearts.

“Shall we make our wishes?” Bunny asked, her voice soft yet steady. The villagers nodded, closing their eyes. The air grew still, as if the world itself were listening.

When the clock struck twelve, a gentle hum echoed through the village, and the Dream Tree's branches glowed brighter than ever before. The starry sky seemed to sigh in contentment, as if every wish had been carefully tucked into its sparkling embrace.

The celebration resumed with laughter and dancing, and Bunny felt a sense of peace settle over her. “Another year of dreams, friendship, and magic,” she said, twirling under the glow of the Dream Tree.

And as the first light of the new year kissed the horizon, Bonbon Avenue Village sparkled with the promise of enchantment yet to come.

 

Secrets Beneath the Golden Canopy

Author April Bijou

One fine morning in BonBon Avenue Village, a peculiar breeze fluttered through the cobblestones (which changed from periwinkle to persimmon with each footstep), carrying with it the scent of vanilla, lavender, and something quite indescribable—like tomorrow's laughter bottled in yesterday's dreams. Bunny, ever curious, paused mid-hop as her pastel dress swayed in the breeze, which tasted oddly of butterscotch memories and forgotten lullabies.

"It's the Dream Tree," murmured Hazelnut the mouse, her almond-shaped eyes wide with wonder as she carefully arranged her collection of whispers in tiny glass jars. She clutched a freshly baked cookie that sparkled with what Mr. Crumbles called "gigglecrumbs"—a special ingredient that made anyone who ate it speak in rhymes for precisely seven and a quarter minutes. "It only whispers when a wish is about to come true, though sometimes the wishes come true before they're wished, which makes everything rather confusing."

Bunny's ears twitched in figure-eights. Wishes? Her heart raced in waltz time. Though the Dream Tree stood tall (or short, depending on whether you looked up or down) in the center of the village, its shimmering leaves rarely spoke—except on every other Tuesday, which today wasn't, making this particularly peculiar.

She hopped quickly to the heart of BonBon Avenue, where villagers had already gathered under the golden canopy of the tree's magical branches. Felix the fox, sly as ever, consulted his backwards-running pocket watch and muttered, "We're right on time for being late!" Mr. Crumbles the badger, dusted with flour that spelled out secret recipes in the air, was busy baking hope into his soufflés and wrapping joy into his croissants.

"Why is it whispering?" asked Lily, a young visitor from a faraway land where dreams were kept in teacups and served precisely at half-past impossible. Her wide eyes drank in the scene, though the scene seemed to drink her in right back.

Bunny stepped forward, her voice calm but sure, floating like a soap bubble that refused to pop. "The Dream Tree whispers when someone is ready to find what they've been seeking all along. But it's a puzzle—it won't give its magic freely. Sometimes you have to trade a giggle for a riddle, or a memory for a mystery."

The whisper grew louder, a song-like hum that seemed to swirl around Lily in musical notes that looked suspiciously like question marks. The villagers gasped in perfect harmony (they'd been practicing). Above them, the street lamps flickered with fireflies conducting a morse code symphony.

"You must follow it," Bunny said, gently nudging Lily forward. "But remember, what you find depends on what you bring with you—a brave heart, an open mind, and perhaps..." Bunny handed her a small vial of her finest lavender perfume, which captured the essence of dreams dreamt on midsummer midnights. "A touch of wonderwhispers."

Lily stepped under the Dream Tree, its shimmering leaves cascading a golden light that chimed like bell-shaped snowflakes. As she reached out her hand, the whispers became words that danced in the air: "To dream is to find the magic within you, but to find is to dream the you within magic."

In a flash, the light burst into tiny stars that tasted of mint and moonbeams, scattering across the village and into the sky where time flowed like honey in winter. The villagers gasped in awe, watching as the stars arranged themselves into constellations that spelled out riddles only visible in mirrors. And Lily, holding what appeared to be a star but was actually a seed of yesterday's tomorrow, realized the truth: the Dream Tree's magic wasn't about granting wishes—it was about showing you that the magic had been within you all along, wrapped in a paradox and tied with imagination's ribbon.

As the villagers cheered and the stars twinkled their own peculiar melody, Bunny smiled, her heart warm as fresh-baked possibilities. "In BonBon Avenue," she mused, "the dreams we seek often find us first, especially when we're looking the other way."

And somewhere, in a tiny glass jar on Hazelnut's shelf, this very moment was being preserved—a whisper waiting to become someone else's wonder.

 

 




    The Dream Tree's Secret

          Author April Bijou

    On a crisp morning in BonBon Avenue Village, where the air sparkled with possibility and the flowers hummed gentle tunes, Bunny sat on her pastel porch, carefully polishing a delicate crystal perfume bottle. Inside, a mysterious golden liquid shimmered and danced, catching the light like captured starshine. The village buzzed with quiet excitement as word spread through the winding cobblestone streets—tonight was the Dream Tree Ceremony, a once-in-a-blue-moon event where the ancient Dream Tree would grant a wish to one deserving soul.

    Mr. Crumbles, the kindly badger baker with twinkling eyes and whiskers dusted silver with flour, rushed past Bunny's cottage. His well-worn apron was smudged with the day's creations, and he carefully balanced a tray of freshly baked star-shaped cookies that seemed to glow from within. "Have you heard?" he panted, his nose twitching with excitement. "The Dream Tree's leaves are glowing brighter than ever before. Something truly extraordinary is about to happen!"

    Bunny tilted her head, her long ears swaying gently in the sweet-scented breeze. "Extraordinary? More extraordinary than the Dream Tree itself?" she teased with a playful twitch of her nose, though her heart fluttered with wonder.

    She couldn't deny the magic in the air. The Dream Tree's golden leaves shimmered with an otherworldly light that pulsed like gentle heartbeats, sending ripples of warmth through the village. Whispers of anticipation floated through the cobblestone paths, carried on the delicate perfume of moonflowers and evening primrose that lined the streets.

    As twilight painted the sky in watercolor hues of lavender and rose, the villagers gathered beneath the towering Dream Tree. Its ancient branches reached toward the stars, each shimmering leaf casting pools of golden light upon the worn cobblestones below. Penelope the duck, resplendent in her finest pastel bonnet adorned with silk ribbons and dewdrop pearls, served fragrant tea from her enchanted porcelain set that never ran dry. Nearby, Twiggy Winkle the pig, wearing his grandfather's lucky waistcoat, distributed handmade wooden tokens. Each was lovingly engraved with intricate stars that seemed to twinkle in the growing dusk.

    Suddenly, the Dream Tree's leaves rustled with a sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze—though not a breath of air stirred. A cascade of golden light, as fine as fairy dust, rained down from the canopy, forming a luminous path that wound through the crowd before coming to rest at Bunny's feet.

    "Me?" Bunny gasped, her wide eyes shimmering with reflected starlight. Her heart danced a gentle waltz against her ribs as she stepped forward, drawn by the tree's silent call. The villagers fell into an awed hush, their collective breath held in anticipation.

    The Dream Tree spoke in a voice that sounded like moonlight on water, like the first snowfall of winter, like a lullaby carried on a spring breeze. "Bunny, keeper of scents and dreams, guardian of memories and magic—your wish holds the key to unlocking the village's deepest joy."

    Bunny's paws trembled as she placed one over her heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath her soft fur. "My wish..." she whispered, her thoughts filled with images of her beloved neighbors: Mr. Crumbles sharing warm bread with newcomers, Penelope teaching young ducklings to dance in the rain, Twiggy Winkle mending broken toys late into the night. "I wish for BonBon Avenue to always remain a sanctuary of wonder and magic, where every dream can find its home and every heart can grow wings."

    The Dream Tree's leaves erupted in a symphony of light, and a single golden leaf—more radiant than all the others—floated down like a blessing, coming to rest in Bunny's outstretched paw. "Your wish shall be our guiding star," the tree sang, its voice echoing with the wisdom of ages.

    As the brilliant light slowly faded, collective gasps of wonder rose from the gathered villagers. The tree's golden glow had spread throughout BonBon Avenue like honey dripping from a spoon, weaving itself into every chimney and windowsill, every flower and fence post, every cobblestone and corner. The air in Mr. Crumbles' bakery grew sweeter, Penelope's tea more enchanting, and the sound of children's laughter rang out like silver bells.

    From that magical night forward, BonBon Avenue Village bloomed with an even deeper enchantment. The Dream Tree's eternal glow never dimmed, its golden leaves dancing in both sunlight and starshine—a constant reminder of Bunny's selfless wish for her community's dreams to flourish.

    And Bunny? She kept the sacred golden leaf in her perfumery, displayed in a special crystal bell jar where its magic could infuse every creation with a spark of stardust and endless possibilities. Visitors from distant lands would journey to BonBon Avenue Village, drawn by tales of the place where dreams took flight and magic lived in every gentle breeze. But the greatest magic of all, as Bunny knew, was the love that bound the villagers together, stronger than any spell and sweeter than any wish.




     Penelope and the Picnic Lesson

    Author April Bijou

    Once upon a time in a lush, green meadow filled with blooming flowers and glistening streams, there lived a beautiful white duck named Penelope. Penelope was not just any duck; she had the most exquisite, long eyelashes that fluttered like soft petals in the gentle breeze. All the animals in the meadow admired her beauty, and the little birds often chirped sweet songs in her honor.

    One sunny morning, as Penelope waddled by the pond, she noticed her reflection in the sparkling water. She admired her fluffy feathers and those enchanting eyelashes that made her look like a true princess. "Oh, how lovely I am!" she quacked happily.

    But Penelope’s vanity soon led her to trouble. That afternoon, she decided to host a grand picnic for all her friends. "Everyone will come to admire my beauty!" she thought, and she spent hours arranging dainty sandwiches and refreshing lemonade.

    When the day of the picnic arrived, Penelope was delighted to see her friends: Bunny, Hazelnut, and Willow the Squirrel. They all gathered under a big, shady tree, ready to enjoy the treats. As they ate, Penelope kept preening and showing off her long eyelashes, making sure everyone noticed.

    But soon, she became so distracted by her own reflection in the pond that she didn’t see the mischievous wind. With a sudden gust, the wind swooped in, sending Penelope’s lovely picnic flying! Sandwiches sailed through the air, and lemonade splashed everywhere, drenching poor Bunny and Hazelnut.

    “Oh no! My beautiful picnic!” cried Penelope, her heart sinking. She looked around to see her friends giggling despite the mess. "I’m so sorry, Penelope," said Bunny, trying to help her gather the scattered treats.

    As they worked together, Penelope realized something important. Her friends didn’t care about her long eyelashes or her beauty; they cherished her for her kindness and the fun they had together.

    With a big, warm smile, Penelope said, “Let’s not let the wind ruin our fun! We can have a picnic right here, messy as it is!”

    The friends laughed and shared their snacks, enjoying the sunny day and each other’s company. Penelope learned that true beauty comes from the heart, and from that day on, she wore her long eyelashes with pride but focused more on being a good friend than on looking perfect.

    And so, in the beautiful meadow, Penelope the duck, with her lovely eyelashes and a joyful heart, continued to flutter about, making every day brighter for her friends. And they all lived happily ever after.