The Tale of the Brave Little Firefly

The afternoon sun, a lazy giant, dipped behind the old oak tree in the backyard, casting long shadows across the grass. Theo, his chubby legs dangling from the porch swing, sat with his chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on Nanny Mama Hazel. Her weathered hands, like the bark of the oak itself, moved rhythmically as she spoke, weaving a story from the air.

"Once upon a time," she began, her voice a warm lullaby, "in a meadow filled with fireflies, lived a tiny little firefly named Flicker."

Theo's eyes widened, his tiny fingers gripping the swing chains. He loved fireflies, the tiny lights that danced in the twilight like magic.

"Flicker was different from the other fireflies," Nanny Mama Hazel continued, her voice low and captivating. "He was afraid of the dark. He couldn't bear to be alone in the night, his little light trembling with fear."

Theo, usually a fearless explorer of the world, felt a pang of sympathy for Flicker. He knew what it felt like to be afraid of the da