© Jean Gregory Evans
This Is a Work of Fiction
14. As night passed, moonlight sifted through clouds and fell across the ground where Lizawhite sat sleeping, roosting and dreaming of home, of finding Cleowhite and showing her the way to her magical water source.
Like the gentle loving touch of an angel, she was awakened by the scent of a flower. When she opened her eyes, dust of moonbeams glazed the small flower that she had only ever heard of back in her short days of yore. Instantly she knew that it must be the fabled enchanted blossom that only arrives at night and only in moonlight. She was filled with overwhelming excitement. She was mesmerized and exhilarated.
Silvery shining sparkles blanketed everything. If it was the fabled flower, the bloom would soon fade. How could Lizawhite sleep when the enchanted flower was so dramatically putting on a show? Not at all, not at all. Oddly and unexpectedly, Lizawhite instinctively wondered if the flower tasted … spicy.
“Hmm… Would she or wouldn’t she? Should she??”, she thought.