Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Ninety-Eight

The shadow of the moon crept over the face of the sun, and as the sky grew dark the birds fell silent in the garden.
“Has Mother Sun gone away forever?” Noodle whispered fearfully.
“Naw. She’ll be back in a minute.” Big Bertha was reassuring.
Nasty Wankel, though, whispered frightening rumours in Noodle’s pointy ear.
But the gold returned to the sky and a passing bird dropped a rock on his spiteful head.
“Take that as a warning, young Wankel. Mother sees all, and forgives nothing.”
Wankel felt the egg on his head and swore to be a better gnome.

©️jj 2021

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