Hidden under basil leaves, they sit, aglow. With their firefly kisses and rice paper wings, they wait for the first sprig of spring to sprout. Wandering travelers fondly call them diminutive deities. In unwavering tradition, farmers tie bells or chimes to branches, to win favor with these guardians of the field.
Threads of golden luck tucked in their clutches, the little spirits bless the harvest of many. Be weary, dear friends. Do not ravage the earth nor mistreat nature itself. Common basil sprites will become vengeful imps, inviting weeds and death onto your land. Best to keep the bells ringing.
Can you believe inspiration for this short story came from me picking basil from my backyard? Neither can I. Guess inspiration is funny like that.
Wanted to go out of my comfort zone and write an 100 word story, which I’ve never done before. It was one of my goals for the month. Plus, I felt like dabbling in the fantasy genre today. Hope you guys enjoy this tiny tale.
Stay safe and keep writing.
— Lady Jabberwocky
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