The two hundred and forty fourth story

Once upon a time there was a tree lined street where all the leaves traded gossip on what trees looked the best in lights.

The two hundred and fourty third story

Once upon a time there were two very tired authors.

Thanks to everyone who came out for open studios! The Doves did fantastically with their first public appearance, but it exhausted them too much for them to stay up and write stories after.

The two hundred anf forty second story

Once upon a time there was a bat who, full of the joy of flying, flew closer and closer to the moon; unlike poor icarus he was fine and spent the night bathed in cool light.

The two hundred and forty first story

Once upon a time there was a falcon who liked to race raindrops to the ground.

The Two hundred and fortieth story

Once upon a time there was a moth who had no interest whatsoever in lamps.

The two hundred an thirty ninth story

Once upon a time there was a toll plaza that really liked saying Hi to all the cars and got really lonely when EZpass became the norm.

The two hundred and thirty eighth story

Once upon a time there was a cup of hot cocoa who told everyone that he was spiked with whiskey, but really he just had extra sugar.

the two hundred and thirty seventh story

Once upon a time there was a street who was pretty content to just go from the park to the pub and back.

The two hundred and thirty sixth story

Once upon a time there was a paintbrush who was really more interested in poetry than the visual arts.

The Two Hundred and thirty fifth story

Once upon a time there was a pony who thought, with the right accessories, she might pass as an elk.

The Two Hundred and thirty fourth story

Once upon a time there was a fastidious pigeon who only ate crusts that no human had chewed on.

The Two Hundred and Thirty Third Story

Once upon a time there was a seagull whose internal compass was broken. Since he couldn't navigate on his own, he decided to take the time to just make one really nice home.

The Two Hundred and thirty second story

Once upon a time there was a koala who got his ear pierced because he thought it would make him look tough, and he was tired of being cute.

The Two Hundred and Thirty First Story

Once upon a time there was a flock of starlings who learned sign language and used their murmurations to spell out stories, but no one was watching.

The Two Hundred and Thirtieth Story

Once upon a time there was a cassowary who watched Jurassic Park, and tried to get his friends to run in a pack like raptors. Might've worked if his friends were also cassowaries.

The Two Hundred and Twenty Ninth Story

Once upon a time there was an emu who read Hegel and resented the stereotype that all big birds are dumb.

A Day Off

The Two Hundred and Twenty Eighth Story

This is my bicycle. His name is Chupwallah, Chup for short. He's been with me for over ten years. I bought him at a police auction the day after I graduated from college; also the day after my shitty old peugeot was stolen. I've had him for longer than I've lived in any state, longer than the total time I've owned all cumulative cars, longer than I've ever stayed with a human partner. When I first got him, I joked that I rode my bike in the city not because I wasn't afraid to ride my bike; but that I was afraid, and I was also afraid to drive (hell, I was afraid to approach my car. There might be someone hiding in/under/behind it) and I was afraid to walk (someone might accost me) and so, being equally terrified by all options, I took the most convenient one, and that was the bike.
But Chupwallah and I managed to overcome the transcendental fear that had been the background noise of my entire conscious life. The self propelled endurance and constant forward motion made me feel like a badass. The fear faded slowly; so slowly that I didn't notice until years in, when that confidence had already started to spread to other aspects of my life: I started to make the same joke about fear and bikes and realized I was lieing. I wasn't afraid to ride in the city, and I wasn't afraid to drive, and I wasn't afraid to walk. I am still an anxious person. I'm still afraid of strangers and undefined social situations and sometimes I am still afraid of shadows. But Chupwallah taught me what it felt like to not be afraid, and once I learned that, my life fundamentally changed.

The Two Hundred and Twenty Seventh Story

Once upon a time there was a piece of pastry that just wanted to be taken seriously as a culinary masterpiece.

The Two Hundred and Twenty sixth Story

Once upon a time there was a bottle of soda who kept making himself giggle by tickling his nose with his bubbles.

The Two Hundred and Twenty Fifth Story

Once upon a time there was a letter who wasn't sure what sound she should designate.

The Two Hundred and twenty fourth Story

Once upon a time there was a deer who truly believed, deep down, that his antlers were just tree branches that happened to stick to his head.

The Two Hundred and Twenty Third Story

Once upon a time there was a rooster who's crow annoyed even himself.

The Two Hundred and Twenty Second Story

Once upon a time there was a dog who was secretly terrified whenever anyone mentioned that he and his friends were descended from wolves.

The Two Hundred and Twenty First Story

Once upon a time there was a gourd who thought that the bright shade of yellow he was turning as he ripened must be the most beautiful yellow in all the world.

The Two Hundred and Twentieth Story

Once upon a time there was a flower who sang to the wind for the sheer joy of singing.

The Two Hundred and nineteenth story

Once upon a time there was a bee who, tired of being a nameless bug in a swarm, began reciting little snippets of sonnets to the flowers she landed on, & eventually the whole field of clover looked forward to her visits, & her visits alone.