kayla.barnside
Magic Forest Home
Deep in the forest, where sunlight dappled through the tall pines, there stood a small, old craftsman’s house. Its roof sagged slightly under the weight of moss, and ivy wound up its weathered beams as though it were hugging a dear friend. Around the house, wildflowers and herbs grew in a riot of colors—lavender, foxglove, thyme, and forget-me-nots, as if nature itself had decided to decorate the place.
No one in the nearby village knew who lived there. The windows were always closed, and the door never creaked open, yet the little house never seemed abandoned. In spring, smoke sometimes curled from the chimney, scented faintly of rosemary and sage.
Children dared each other to tiptoe through the flowers, whispering that a fairy must live inside. They said she appeared only to those with pure hearts and desperate wishes. Many times, a child would leave a broken toy, a lost locket, or a wish written on a leaf at the doorstep—and often, by morning, the toy was mended, the locket polished, or the wish answered in some quiet, uncanny way.
Once, a boy left his wooden flute, split down the middle from a fall. He returned the next day to find it whole, gleaming with a new, smooth finish, and when he played it, the sound was sweeter than ever before.
And so the house remained a secret friend to all in need, a quiet mystery wrapped in wildflowers and the scent of thyme. Whether a fairy lived there or something older, kinder, and quieter, no one knew. But the forest seemed to smile upon those who believed.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnbfuAcCqpY&list=RDJnbfuAcCqp...
The Lovin' Spoonful - Do You Believe in Magic
Magic Forest Home
Deep in the forest, where sunlight dappled through the tall pines, there stood a small, old craftsman’s house. Its roof sagged slightly under the weight of moss, and ivy wound up its weathered beams as though it were hugging a dear friend. Around the house, wildflowers and herbs grew in a riot of colors—lavender, foxglove, thyme, and forget-me-nots, as if nature itself had decided to decorate the place.
No one in the nearby village knew who lived there. The windows were always closed, and the door never creaked open, yet the little house never seemed abandoned. In spring, smoke sometimes curled from the chimney, scented faintly of rosemary and sage.
Children dared each other to tiptoe through the flowers, whispering that a fairy must live inside. They said she appeared only to those with pure hearts and desperate wishes. Many times, a child would leave a broken toy, a lost locket, or a wish written on a leaf at the doorstep—and often, by morning, the toy was mended, the locket polished, or the wish answered in some quiet, uncanny way.
Once, a boy left his wooden flute, split down the middle from a fall. He returned the next day to find it whole, gleaming with a new, smooth finish, and when he played it, the sound was sweeter than ever before.
And so the house remained a secret friend to all in need, a quiet mystery wrapped in wildflowers and the scent of thyme. Whether a fairy lived there or something older, kinder, and quieter, no one knew. But the forest seemed to smile upon those who believed.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnbfuAcCqpY&list=RDJnbfuAcCqp...
The Lovin' Spoonful - Do You Believe in Magic