THE BROKEN ORNAMENT
All of the decorations gathered in the closet to discuss what should be done with the broken ornament. The broken ornament waited, trembling in a dark corner.
‘Throw her out of course, but in the nicest possible way,’ twinkled the silver icicles.
‘Broom, are you willing to sweep her outside?’ asked the grand gold globe, largest of the ornaments.
‘I’ll do it if you save me the place on the hearth by the fire. It’s cold out there in the blizzard, you know. My straws could stiffen and break,’ said the broom.
So it was decided. The wreathes and ribbons and lights and garlands and all else shiny and splendid retreated to the storage box, leaving the broom and the broken ornament alone.
‘Well, you got a tough break, kid, and I mean that in many ways, but out you go,’ said the broom.
Whish whoosh swept the broom, and quick as that, the broken ornament was scattered in the snow.
‘Lucky for you the storm stopped,’ said the broom before going into the house and slamming the door.
Oh, fragile despair. The broken green ornament was left without hope to stare at the bleak dark night.
A pair of owls, brothers, happened to swoop by and noticed a green sparkle on the snow. Down they flew and landed near the broken green shards of ornament.
‘This would brighten the old hole in the tree some, wouldn’t it, Rolf?’ said one.
‘That it would, Ralph,’ said the other.
They carefully picked up every last piece of ornament and sped back to their tree. They arranged the ornament inside, placing parts here and there and drawing back to admire the effect.
‘Perfect,’ said Rolf.
‘Spiff,’ said Ralph.
The broken green ornament sparkled all year round for years and years instead of being tucked away cramped for most of the time in a storage box in a closet.
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