Hollis Shares the Shortcut — Before the chimney smoke curled twice, Hollis had already tied three blue ribbons to fern stems and chalked tiny arrows on smooth stones. Read the full story →
Before the chimney smoke curled twice, Hollis had already tied three blue ribbons to fern stems and chalked tiny arrows on smooth stones. He had set himself a grand challenge: mark every shortcut in the mushroom village before the sun touched the tallest pine. Pebbles clicked under his boots. Bees hummed in the window flowers. “No one will even notice,” he said, grinning, and hurried faster.
He marked the path past the lantern hook, the bend by the white fence, and the loop toward the tree-house hill. At each turn, he tucked one extra ribbon low, where a small traveler could see it. The air smelled like clover and warm bark, and his pockets grew dusty with chalk.
Then the bells began—not warning bells, but bright little thank-you bells. From behind doors, under caps, and up in balconies, gnomes followed his secret marks carrying soup, seed cakes, and folded blankets for the new family arriving at dusk. Hollis had not made shortcuts after all; he had made a welcome road. If you trace the curving path from his door, can you spot where his generous arrows might begin?
