Nice story, I really love it. When I was very young, my mum use to tell me this story by my bed side watching me sleeping.
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The Village of lantern Hill
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Irene Benson
50 days agoNestled in a valley where the hills folded like blankets, there was a village called Lantern Hill. Every evening, just before the stars came out, the villagers lit lanterns along the winding cobblestone streets. Some lanterns glowed golden like buttercups, others shone with a soft blue like moonlight caught in a jar. Together, they made the whole village sparkle as if it had been sprinkled with stardust.
Among the villagers was a little baker named Elin. She loved to stay in her shop after closing, letting the scent of honey bread and cinnamon buns drift into the cool night air. Her cat, Mallow, always curled up on the counter, purring as though it were the heartbeat of the shop itself.
One night, as Elin carried the last loaf of bread to cool by the window, she noticed something curious: one lantern at the far end of the street wasn’t shining. Its glass was clear, but no flame flickered inside.
Now, in Lantern Hill, this almost never happened. The lanterns had always lit themselves as soon as dusk settled in. So Elin, with Mallow padding beside her, walked down to see what was wrong.
When she reached the quiet lantern, she found a tiny moth sitting on the rim. Its wings shimmered silver, like threads of moonlight. The moth looked up at her and said, in the softest voice,
“Excuse me. I believe this lantern is waiting for a wish.”
“A wish?” Elin asked, surprised.
The moth nodded. “Not all lanterns shine with fire. Some shine with hope. Tonight, this one needs a wish to light it.”
Elin thought carefully. She didn’t wish for riches or grand adventures. Instead, she whispered, “I wish our village always feels safe, warm, and filled with kindness.”
The moment the words left her lips, the lantern bloomed with a golden glow, warmer and brighter than all the rest. The moth fluttered inside the light and vanished, leaving behind only a single silver scale, like a tiny star, on Elin’s hand.
From then on, whenever villagers passed that lantern, they felt a little lighter, as though someone had wrapped them in a soft blanket. No one knew about Elin’s wish, but everyone felt it.
And as the stars twinkled above Lantern Hill, the village slept soundly, held in the glow of a single, gentle light.