Medowlyn/Story: Difference between revisions

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She had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like floating on clouds... Like a single feather drifting inside a downy pillow.<br>

At last, she landed on something soft — a cushion of floofy grass.

|s3_title =

|s3_title = A Garden of Wobbly Plushies

|s3_reward =

|s3_reward = 300

|s3_text =

|s3_text = "Where did such a big little kid come from?" Voices chirped from somewhere in the garden.

Medowlyn opened her eyes. Towering above her were flowers, each one taller than she was.

The flowers here... could talk?

She stood up and brushed the dirt from her dress. Thankfully, her bun was still intact.

As her eyes wandered, she realized it wasn't just the flowers. Everything in the garden seemed to be watching her: a tiny clay pot, a single blade of grass, a little trowel, a clump of mud, even a patch of soil!

They all stared with wide, curious eyes and wore expressions that were friendly, if a little odd.

They were earthy, plain, a little messy, and yet somehow, they felt strangely familiar.

She shrieked and ran off down the path.

The garden seemed to stretch on forever. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang.

Medowlyn dashed toward the only classroom in sight. The windowsill was far too tall for her, but she gathered her strength and leapt up onto it.

Through the window, she was the little children sitting up straight, completely absorbed in their crafts lesson.

And there, standing among their delicate and flawless creations, was a little girl covered head to toe in dirt.

"Homework's done!" The little girl giggled, as if trying of shake off all the dirt clinging to her with nothing but laughter.

In her hands was a lopsided, goofy-looking flowerpot... or maybe a plushie? Its face twisted into something between a grin and a sob, just like the strange ones Medowlyn had seen earlier in the garden.

The other children burst into laughter, pointing at the dirt smudged all over her hair.

The girl looked a little embarrassed. She mumbled, as if to explain, "Miss, I just thought the flower I passed earlier... kinda looked like it was smiling!"

"Flowers don't smile," the teacher said with a frown. "That shape doesn't follow the standard pattern or proportions."

"It's okay, Miss!" The girl pulled the same silly face as her flowerpot. "Actually... it doesn't have to be perfect!"

"What I really made was—"

'''"Art that turns happy moments into something that lasts forever!"'''

Outside the window, Medowlyn finished the sentence with her in perfect unison!

So that was it. The little girl and the garden were pieces of who she used to be.

So that was it. It didn't have to be perfect, as long as the memory was happy.

|s4_title =

|s4_reward =

|s4_reward = 400

|s4_text =

}}