Pippin the tiny dragon lived in a blue attic that smelled like toast and starlight. One night, the moon threw a long, soft shadow across the floor. The shadow twitched. The shadow winked. The shadow opened a tiny door.
Pippin peeped. "Hello?" he whispered.
Out hopped a parade of shadows. They were as thin as crayons and as bouncy as bubbles. One shadow wore a hat made of rain. Another shadow had shoes that squeaked like jelly. The leader was a long shadow with a nose like a noodle. "Welcome to the Shadow Theatre!" said the noodle-nose shadow. "Tonight we make silly shows."
Pippin's tail buzzed like a tiny bell. He loved shows. He loved silly. He wanted to join. "I will put on a funny costume!" he promised, puffing a polite puff of sparkles.
The shadows clapped with soft clap-claps. "Then come in," they sang. The theatre was made of lamps and letters. The lamp light made big, round shapes. The shapes turned into doors and hats and ladders. Pippin hopped through a lamp-shaped door and found a pile of costumes that smelled like cookies.
He tried a hat that was too big. "Whoo!" said the hat. It knocked over a soft potato shadow. He tried shoes that were too small. "Ouch!" said the shoes. He wiggled his toes out and they giggled. He tried a scarf that sang. The scarf sang, "La la la." Pippin hummed back, "Fa la la."
At last he chose a costume made of feathers and button moons. It was silly and bright and made him look like a giggling cloud. "Perfect," he whispered. The shadows tied the costume with a ribbon that tickled his nose.
On stage, the shadows made a tiny parade. They marched like spoons, they tiptoed like frogs, they hopped like pancakes. Pippin took a small bow. "Hello!" he said in a squeaky, joyful voice. Everyone laughed with happy, soft laughs.
After the show, the moon tucked the theatre back into a pocket of night. The shadows curled close like sleepy cats. Pippin sat in his feather costume and yawned a warm, slow yawn.
"Good night," the noodle-nose shadow hummed.
"Good night," Pippin whispered. His wings fluttered once, like a tiny lullaby. He felt safe and full of giggles. The attic smelled of toast and starlight. The shadows hummed a soft song that faded like a feather on a pond.
Pippin closed his eyes. The world smiled. The end came like a warm hush.
