Orla’s Quiet Ribbon — On the highest shelf of the moon-wet glasshouse, a faded orange ribbon lay tucked under Orla’s paw. Read the full story →
On the highest shelf of the moon-wet glasshouse, a faded orange ribbon lay tucked under Orla’s paw. She wanted to tie it around the little clay bell before the midnight chime, the way her old friend had done every Halloween. But below, beyond the warm smell of soil and sleeping herbs, the path to the compost gate shivered with cold rain.
Orla climbed down anyway, ribbon in her teeth. Drip, tap, drip went the glass roof. At the gate, she found a jack-o’-lantern with no candle, only a hollow grin and damp leaves curled beside its stem. The bell could wait. Orla pushed her ribbon through a crack, snug and dry, and whispered, “For keeping the dark company.” Her paws got muddy, and the ribbon was gone.
When she came back, the clay bell rang by itself in the glasshouse hush—one soft note, like thanks. Orla curled on the shelf, lighter than before. If you spot the kitten’s paws above that bright pumpkin grin, you’ll know where the faded orange ribbon chose to glow.
