🌿 Mystical Gardens Tale 🌿 🪿 The Day the Goose Snorted 🪿 A couple walked the path next to the garden. The garden had dimmed itself politely. Not vanished — that would be rude — just softened its edges, blurred the light, and tucked its colors inward. Unlike adults, children could always see a garden and would often be drawn to it and enter into it if the tree didn't insist the garden dim itself. The tree didn't want the child to appear to vanish into thin air. The guardian, however, was having a terrible time staying inconspicuous. He stood just beyond the veil, pretending very hard to be perfectly normal. This was difficult, because he was neither small nor subtle, and because his nose, which was far too big, kept making a faint snort sound every time he breathed. He tried holding his breath. That helped for approximately three seconds. Across the park path, a couple stood mid-argument, voices sharp and clipped, words like bricks thrown at one another with increasing accuracy. Their hands moved. Their brows furrowed. Their world narrowed. Between them stood their daughter. She was very small. And very quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the guardian’s feathers ruffle. The girl looked toward the garden. He lowered himself carefully behind the bushes. The garden dimmed further, leaves holding still, flowers closing like they’d been caught giggling at church. The girl put her head down. And then the guardian snorted. Not loudly. Just… unexpectedly. The little girl’s head snapped back up. Her parents didn’t notice. The guardian froze. The girl stared. Then she smiled. It was the kind of smile that didn’t need an invitation. “Oh,” she said, delighted. “There you are.” Before the tree could panic — and it did, briefly, dimming the garden so hard the sunlight seemed to trip trying to enter. The girl ran. Straight toward him. The guardian yelped. Which, unfortunately, came out as a HONK. Because the guardian, you see, looked something like a goose. Not a regular goose. He was rather large and intimidating but had fluffy soft wings that looked far too soft to belong to something capable of guarding a mystical garden. His eyes were golden and ancient and kind, but his beak curved just enough to send chills down the spine of an adult. To adults, he would have been terrifying. To children? He was perfect. The girl burst through the veil like it was made of soap bubbles. “There you are!” she said again, skidding to a stop inches from his beak. “I heard you.” The tree gasped. Life rushed back into the garden all at once. Grass sprang up brighter. Flowers popped open like party favors. Somewhere, a tree shook itself and dropped a shower of petals directly onto the guardian’s head. He blinked. “Oh my,” he murmured. "That tree is shedding." The girl laughed. It wasn’t a gentle polite laugh. It was a whole-body laugh, the kind that makes shoulders shake and bellies jiggle. It tells the world, 'You’re not winning today.' “You sound funny,” she said. “I do not,” the guardian replied defensively. He snorted again. She laughed harder. “Can you honk again?” she asked. “No.” “Honk.” “No.” “Hooooonk?” The guardian lost the battle. "HONK." The laugh that followed was so bright it startled the birds out of the trees and made the roses bloom in the wrong color just because they felt the joy only a child could give. The guardian felt it then — the way the emotions fed the garden, soaked into the roots, climbed the bark, hummed through the air like a song. “What’s your name?” she asked, wiping her eyes. He hesitated. Guardians didn’t usually give their name out. Sometimes he would give a fun name to children who wandered in accidentally. But this one had ran into the garden because she had sensed safety and peace in a world filled with chaos. “You can call me… Bramblehonk,” he said finally. That should be a silly enough name to please her. She nodded solemnly. “That’s a good name.” Then she reached out and hugged him. Wrapped her arms around his feathery chest like she’d known him forever. The guardian stiffened. Then slowly, carefully, he folded one wing around her. Beyond the veil, the arguing voices faltered. The parents looked around. “Where did she go?” one said, panic creeping in. Not pleased by how long it took them to notice her missing, the garden dimmed the veil even more. Inside, the girl leaned back and looked up at Bramblehonk. “They’re loud,” she said simply. “I don't like it when they're loud. I wish I could stay here with you. You’re louder, but your funny.” He snorted — softer this time. “That is… sometimes my job.” She smiled, content. “Can I at least stay here until they stop being so loud?” The tree held its breath. Bramblehonk glanced around at the trees, the flowers, the newly awakened light dancing between leaves. “For a little while,” he said. “But only if you promise to hold onto your laughter when you go.” She considered this very seriously. “Okay,” she said. “I have pockets.” And the garden laughed. #Mystical Gardens #christianfantasy #christianwriter #ChristianFiction #stacyfrantz