Day 27
🌙The penguin fairy, caught too.
Above the clouds, a twinkle. The one grinning slyly — the crescent moon. Moonlight, gliding down. The penguin fairy's broom goes floppy. Too much speed, and on he flies, straight ahead— Plop. Caught by the white ghost. "Huh?" "…Ribbit. What is this penguin even doing." "Why me… The night's so damp, I'll never dry." The white sheet ghost, holding them both, floats, softly, softly, off to a faraway sky. Down below, the Little Witch Robin's broken broom, in a huff, flew off somewhere, all by itself. "Wh-wh-what do I do…!"
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