Gilly Joins the Wrong Stars — Over the moonlit hills, Gilly puffed little rings of cold mist and nudged the star trails into tidy swoops. Read the full story →
Over the moonlit hills, Gilly puffed little rings of cold mist and nudged the star trails into tidy swoops. She wanted the night sky to spell WELCOME in sparkles before the midnight breeze arrived, so she counted each point with a whispery “boop.” Below her, flowers smelled like rain on warm dirt, and the round trees made soft shushing sounds.
The stars, however, kept wiggling. One gold point slid left. Another hopped over its neighbor. Gilly narrowed her eyes and floated closer, ready to boop them back into place, when the whole constellation sneezed. “A-choo-hoo!” it squeaked. Out popped a tiny moon-moth wearing stardust on its feet.
“I’m not messing it up,” said the moth. “I’m reading it upside down.” Gilly turned slowly in the air. From the moth’s side, the star trails did not say WELCOME at all. They made a map: curved hill, three trees, five flowers, one very pleased ghost. Gilly laughed so hard her edges fluttered like curtains. She hadn’t been decorating the sky; the sky had been saving her favorite spot. Next time you see those swooping stars, check whether they are spelling a word—or pointing Gilly home over the moonlit hills.
