It was the day before Halloween. Tilly, the Wicked Witch was busy brewing evil concoctions in her cauldron.
“Oh dear,” said Tilly.” Now, I need a quebite for my concoction. Where am I going to find those mystical creatures? I guess I need to go for a walk in the forest.”
Tilly started walking. She picked up every leaf, branch and stone she could see. All she found were ants and slugs.
“I’m not giving up,” said Tilly, determined to get the ingredients she needed for her spell. “If there is a quebite in this forest, I will find it.”
Tilly saw a huge rock. It was much too big for her to move. She took a stick and poked around the underside of the rock, just in case there was a quebite or two hiding there.
“Nothing,” said Tilly, disappointed. “Now, if I were a quebite, where would I be? I guess it would help if I knew what a
quebite looked like.”
Tilly laid her stick up against the rock and kept walking. She walked and walked. She ended up coming right back to the same rock, over and over again. She knew it was the same one because her stick was always there, leaning on the rock.
“Not only can I not find a quebite,” cried Tilly, after the 5th time of seeing the same rock. “It also appears I am lost. What am I going to do?”
Tilly sat on the ground beside the rock and she sobbed.
“How will I ever find my way home?” Tilly cried.
Tilly heard some crackling noise coming from under the rock. A little orange and green creature appeared.
“Are you a quebite?” asked Tilly, wiping away her tears.
“Yes,” said the creature. “I am.”
“I’ve been at this rock five times now,” said Tilly, shouting. “Why didn’t you come out?”
“Quebite’ s need to hear desperation first,” said the quebite. “Now, it appears you are lost. I can help you find your way home.”
“I would appreciate that,” said Tilly.
The quebite helped Tilly get home safe and sound.
“Thank you!” exclaimed Tilly.
The quebite was about to turn around and leave but Tilly remembered she needed the quebite for her spell. With arms outstretched, Tilly leaped on the quebite and tried to pin it down. The quebite was quicker than Tilly and it got away.
“I will never trust a witch!” the quebite cried as he ran back into the forest.
Tilly went back into the forest several times after that day but she never found another quebite and she never came across that rock again, either.
Moral of this Story: