A Truffle & Lavender Story

 

In a sunny field in France—

bonjour!

Rows of purple.
Young oak trees.

And something else—
something no one can see.

 

“I am Lavender!”
“Tall! Bright! Magnifique!”

“I am READY.”

 

“I am Truffle.”

“I am small.”

“I am…
not ready yet.”

 

BZZZZ!

“READY! READY! READY!” buzzes Bee.
“IF IT’S READY, I LOVE IT!”

Lavender beams.
“I am ready.”

“NEW FAVORITE!” says Bee.

 

A long, low dog sniffs.

Sniff.
Sniff.

“Oink,” says Dog.

Bee freezes.

“Wrong sound.
Wrong animal.
Wrong everything.”

“Oink,” says Dog.

 

A snail inches by.

Slow.
Careful.

“Not yet,” says Snail.

Bee zips in a circle.
“TOO SLOW! GO GO GO GO!”

Snail stops.

“…I forgot something.”

Snail looks back.

At the base of an oak tree—
a small shell sits.

“…hmm.”

Snail keeps going.

(No shell.)

 

Summer stretches wide.

Purple on the field.
Purple on the wind.
Purple on Bee.

Bee stares at Bee.

“I AM PURPLE.”
“I AM READY.”
“I AM—”

Bee spots a tiny sign by the oak:

→ Paris

“PARIS?!”

“I’M GONE!”

Bee zooms off.

 

Dog digs.

Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!

Dirt flies.

“Oink!” says Dog.

Bee zooms back in—dusty, wobbling—

“…too far.”

SPIN!
BUMP!

STING!

Bee freezes.

“…planned.”

Bee wobbles.

“NOTHING DOWN THERE!”
“BOOOORRRR-ING!”

Snail slides by.

Still no shell.

“…still growing.”

 

Snip. Snip. Snip.

“They’re taking me!” says Lavender.
“I did it!”

“BEST. DAY. EVER!” says Bee.

Lavender looks down.

“Au revoir, little one.”

“…goodbye,” says Truffle.

A pause.

“…everyone else is ready.”

 

The field is empty.

No buzzing.
No purple.
No “ready.”

 

Dark.

Quiet.

Close.

The roots press around him.

Truffle curls into the soil.

No one sees him.
No one calls him.

“…what if I never am ready?”

Nothing answers.

 

Leaves fall.

Snow comes.

Silence.

A tiny voice says,

“…ready?”

Nothing answers.

Snail looks around.

“…still missing something.”

 

Spring returns.

Sniff.

Dog stops.

Still.

BARK.

 

Dig. Dig. Dig.

“Ah,” says the farmer.
“Une truffe.”

Light touches Truffle.

He pauses.

“Now…
I am ready.”

 

In a warm kitchen—

Lavender drifts—soft, sweet.

Truffle shaves—warm, rich.

The room fills.

Bee hovers.

“…oh.”

 

Bee looks down.

Then up.

Then down again.

“…wait.”

“That
was
down there?”

Snail nods.

“Oui.”

Bee blinks.

“…I need a minute.”

 

Dog stands tall.

Small.
Certain.

“…oink.”

 

(image with no text)

Near the oak tree—

the shell still sits.

Snail passes by.

Does not notice.