The Vanishing Wand

Morning painted warm squares of light across Wizard Bramble’s kitchen in the bright town of Willowbright. Lila, a small wizard-in-training with a rainbow scarf, stood on her tiptoes to sniff the leaf-shaped cookies cooling on the table. Her friend Sprig, a green frog in a thimble hat, winked one shiny eye.

“Today is the Bubble Parade!” Lila sang.

Wizard Bramble twirled toward a shelf. “And we need my wand to pop bubbles into flowers! Now where did I…” He reached. He patted his pockets. He peered under a bowl. “Oh pickle-pebbles. My wand has vanished!”

Lila’s eyes went bright. “A mystery,” she whispered. She pressed her hands together and spoke a tiny helper spell. “Clue, don’t hide. Show your shine.” A friendly shiver of magic rolled through the room, and faint sparkles glowed on the floor.

Sprig pointed. “Look! Blue sprinkles.”

A curvy trail of blue sugar dust led from the cookie plate to the Singing Teacup. The teacup hummed a little tune. “Ting-ting-tong! The wand danced by here,” it chimed. “It tapped three times on my saucer.” The teacup went, “TAP. TAP. TAP.”

“Three taps,” Lila repeated, nodding. She tucked that clue into her mind.

They followed the sparkles past the Giggle Rug, which wiggled when they stepped on it. “Something tickly slid over me,” the rug giggled. “It smelled like lemons!”

Sprig hopped to a tiny puddle on the floor. “Lemonade drops,” he croaked after a delicate lick. “One, two, three drops. Again three!”

Just then, the chalkboard on the wall woke up and wrote all by itself. Curly letters grew like vines:

I have a face and hands that never clap. Find me where round leaves tick-tock and nap.

Sprig tipped his thimble hat. “A face and hands?”

Lila grinned. “A clock! And tick-tock. Wizard Bramble’s clock bush is in the garden—the one trimmed like a big round clock with leaf numbers!”

Out they went, past the cabbage that sang bass and the broom that snored in the corner. The garden breathed out the smell of wet dirt and mint. In the middle stood the clock bush, round and neat, with shiny leaves shaped like numbers. Shells dangled for chimes.

“Listen,” Lila whispered.

From the bush came the softest giggle. Not a twig, but a twirl of sparkly wood peeking from a nest of yarn at the leaf shaped like the number three.

Sprig bounced. “Three again!”

Lila knelt. “Hello, wand,” she said kindly. “The Bubble Parade is soon. We need you.” She held out her hands and spoke a gentle rhyme, not bossy, just sweet as honey tea.

“Little wand, brave and bright, Come along, don’t hide from light. We’ll make flowers from bubble bands, Safe and warm in careful hands.”

The wand wiggled. It shimmered. Then it zipped into Lila’s palms with a happy hum.

Wizard Bramble clapped. “There you are! Why did you run off, you noodle?”

The wand twirled in a tiny bow and drew a sparkly picture in the air: a big crowd, lots of noise, a tangled hat, too much fuss. Then it drew a little pillow.

“Oh,” Lila said softly. “You wanted a quiet nap.” She patted the nest of yarn. “Next time, leave us a note.”

Back inside, Lila set the wand on the table while she tied her scarf snug. The Singing Teacup hummed a march. The broom shook off its snore. Wizard Bramble winked. “Detective Lila, case closed. Bubble Parade, open!”

On the town square, Lila and Wizard Bramble waved the wand together. Bubbles puffed into bees that buzzed without stinging, puddle-ducks that waddled and popped, and tall tulips that swayed and smelled like lemon cookies. Sprig rode a bubble fish across the air, laughing until he hiccuped.

When the last bubble drifted away, Lila whispered to the wand, “Thank you for coming back.”

The wand sprinkled three tiny stars of light—one, two, three—right into Lila’s pocket, where they glowed like quiet secret smiles.

“Another mystery solved,” Sprig croaked. “And cookies left over.”

Lila grinned. “Perfect.”