Old Possum’s mail that afternoon consisted of a single letter.


In looping, swirling cursive, on linen stationery, his elderly uncle from far west of the garden, across the river, had written to share a strange tale.


Several days prior, he wrote, the sunny day turned evening-dark, and the mid-afternoon shadows turned an odd, shimmering silver.


No one knew quite what to make of it but, Possum’s uncle reported, several birds (who had quieted their singing amidst the eerie twilight) flew up high and, for a split-second, glimpsed what appeared to be the moon, passing across the face of the sun.


(Mid-April 2024)


Story © Jennifer Singleton / Read+Purr
This is another cozy Tiny Garden Story in my ongoing series: peaceful 100-word tales that let you read like a kid again. Click one of the first two buttons below to go to (or back to, if that’s where you fell down the rabbit hole) either the “Public Garden” archive page or (if you’re a Story Club member) to the members-only “Private Garden” page. Or click the third button to learn more about my Tiny Garden Stories.

If you’re new to Tiny Garden Story-land and would like 10 days’ worth of stories from our first year, visit ReadPurrNewsletter.com.


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