Quill’s Splash Score — Every evening after the hallway clock went clonk-clonk, Quill filled the clawfoot tub until the brass faucet hiccuped and the room smelled like lavender soap. Read the full story →
Every evening after the hallway clock went clonk-clonk, Quill filled the clawfoot tub until the brass faucet hiccuped and the room smelled like lavender soap. He had just invented Splash Score: one point for a bubble on the mirror, two for a droplet on the plant pot, and ten if foam landed on the top shelf without knocking down the soap.
Until one day, his rubber duck, Pip, squeaked from a dry corner behind the shampoo. Because of that, Quill aimed his trunk like a fountain and sent a fizzy arc across the tiles. Because of THAT, the bubbles missed the shelf, bounced off the towel rail, and plopped straight into Pip’s empty washbasin.
Quill whispered, “No points for that one,” though his ears flapped like victory flags. Finally, he kept playing the game backward—zero for every splash that helped someone else—and by bedtime the floor was a puddly map of secret kindness. If you spot Pip riding the foam, don’t tell the scoreboard about the lavender-smelling clonk-clonk.
