A lullaby of falling stars and forgotten wishes.
A grandmother butterfly sat down by the fire, her delicate wings folded gently behind her. Her grandchildren, plump little caterpillars with soft antennae and stubby tails- wiggled close, their round bodies squishing together as they curled up around her like a pile of snacks.
Their tiny hands clutched at her legs, eager for the story to begin. Her voice was soft, like the whisper of the wind, as she began to sing a lullaby, a story as old as time.
“Long ago, the sun died."
"The heavens wept, and from the blackened sky, silver and gold streaks fell- celestial stones known as the Coral. They became our new sun, our warmth, and our light. That is why we live beneath their glow today.”
"But not all that fell from the sky brought salvation.”
The children huddled closer, their tiny tails twitching, as the grandmother’s voice dipped lower, as if she were sharing a forbidden secret.
“Some say… there is an old legend… one whispered in hushed voices, told only by flickering lanterns.”
“Unlike the Coral’s gentle descent, three comets fell like curses…as if something in the earth had called them down.”
She paused before continuing.
"The first comet… it is said that a boy once touched a fallen star. The moment his fingers met its surface, his body changed. His small frame stretched, his wings unfurled, and his light burned too bright to witness!”
The eldest caterpillar gasped, his tiny hands waving dramatically.
“I WANT TO TRANSFORM TOO!” he squeaked.
The youngest wiggled his entire body excitedly, his soft tail flopping side to side.
“Yeah! I want BIG wings! Like- BOOM! SHWAAA! POOF!”
The grandmother chuckled softly, reaching out to pat their soft hair.
“But when the glow faded… he was no longer the same.”
The children froze mid-wiggle.
“Some say he became something… different. Something not meant for this world.”
The youngest slowly shrank back, hugging his own round body.
“H-huh? Not meant for this world? Like… a monster?”
The grandmother only smiled, but did not answer.
Then her voice turned somber.
“The second comet… held a different fate.”
“Another boy reached for it.”
“His transformation never completed.”
“He did not rise.”
“He did not become anything at all.”
“All that remained… was… bone.”
The caterpillar-children winced, their soft tails curling tightly beneath them.
“That’s not fair…” the youngest muttered. “The first one got to fly. Why did this one just… disappear?”
The grandmother tilted her head slightly, as if in thought. "Hmm...perhaps not all stars are meant to be touched." The grandmother’s voice dropped to a whisper. "And then… there was the third comet." The smallest caterpillar shivered, curling his tail tighter.
"No one speaks of it."
"No stories. No records. Just silence."
The children held their breath.
"Some say it vanished before it could be found."
"Others whisper that it was never meant to be touched."
"But some believe… it is still waiting..."
A heavy silence settled over the wiggly little caterpillars. Suddenly the grandmother clapped her hands. “Now then, little ones! what is the moral of the story?”
The eldest sat up proudly, his soft antennae bouncing. "Hmmm… never go out at night?"
The youngest giggled, rolling onto his squishy belly. "Wish carefully next time?"
The two snickered, amused by their own answers. "Both aren’t wrong. That is true." she smiled.
She leaned in, her voice now gentle. "But did you know… if you wish upon a star, it may grant you a wish?"
The youngest’s antennae twitched. "A wish?"
She nodded. "That third comet is still waiting for someone to make a wish."
The child tilted their head. "Someone? Like me?"
"Could be anybody."
She looked up at the endless sky, her voice growing softer.
"But… it is just an old tale."
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