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Now, on

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to the show. This

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is Ria. Welcome to Little

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Stories for Tiny People. So

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a lot has been going on in

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my studio lately. I installed

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a little shelf where I

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keep my assortment of lizard

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figurines. After a solid

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two years, I decided to

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take down the candle given

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to me by my worm

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friend, Giselle. I just

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got tired of my studio smelling

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of compost. Oh, and I've

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received a number of requests

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from the studio spiders. The

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ones who reside comfortably, too

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comfortably, in the uppermost

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corners of my studio.

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They've been asking, actually

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rudely demanding, more spiders in

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the stories. Now, not every

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story calls for a spider.

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You can't just stick them

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into any old plot you

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want. But I figured I'd

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throw them a bone. Or

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a mosquito. Or whatever. There is,

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in fact, a spider

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featured in this story.

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Let's get to it. It's

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called Lorna and the

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Forgiveness Fairy. Take

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it away, Cece. Remember, there

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are no pictures. You have

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to imagine the pictures in

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your mind. You can imagine

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them however you want. Okay,

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here we go. Lorna,

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a rust brown tortoise, wearing

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a burnt orange silk scarf

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around her neck, having just

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returned from a walk around

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Wormish Pond, discovered her throat

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was parched. I'll have some

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juice, she decided. Lorna plotted

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to where she kept her

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bottle of cranberry juice in

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the kitchen, but it

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wasn't there. That's strange.

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I bought it yesterday.

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Lorna felt the unmistakable pitter

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pats of Eugenie, her spider,

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on top of her head.

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Eugenie, do you have any

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idea where the juice got

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to? Juice? Eugenie

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scurried around as she did when

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she was nervous. Eugenie,

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is everything okay? Uh,

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I'm fine. Just practicing my

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new dance routine. With no

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juice to drink, Lorna

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set the kettle to boil. How

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odd, she muttered, withdrawing

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her tea tin from the cupboard. The

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lid of the tin was missing.

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She scowled. Her

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tea could lose its potency.

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Eugenie, do you know anything about the

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lid of my Lorna was

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interrupted by the sound of

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a letter falling into the mailbox. We

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have a letter, Eugenie cried from

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atop Lorna's head. Lorna

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plotted to the door and pulled

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it open to reveal. a

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lovely summer day. It was

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so beautiful outside, Lorna nearly

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forgot about the letter. Eugenie

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reminded her, Do you think it's for me?

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I hope it's for me. Lorna

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tore open the envelope and

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withdrew a card with delicate,

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looping handwriting. Her eyes

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went straight to the

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bottom as she thought.

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It was from a tortoise

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named Felicity. Lorna couldn't help

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but hear Felicity's voice as

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she skimmed the rest of it. Celebrate

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summer at my place

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tonight. What time, sunset,

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would you bring yourself

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all mosquito burgers and

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fruit salad? Cliff is

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bringing his harpsichord and

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Rosalee might do a

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poetry reading. Lorna stared

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at the invitation for a

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long minute. Eugenie,

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having read the card from

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her perch and Lorna's head, was

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beside herself. A party? I'm so

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excited. Lorna stood in her doorway,

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straddling the gorgeous summer day

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on one side and

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her peaceful cottage on the other. What

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should I wear? Oh, I

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get to weave myself a new outfit. Lorna

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held up the invitation in

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the mid-morning sunlight.

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Then she

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tore the invitation in half. Lorna,

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she turned, trudged

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back into her little cottage

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and tossed the pieces into

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the trash can just

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as her kettle began

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to whistle. And

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another thing. Don't you want me to

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be popular? If I miss

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too many parties, spiders might start to

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wonder. Or worse, they'll

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forget all about me. I'll be

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a memory fading away. I can't

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go to Felicity's party. Lorna

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said, sipping her juniper leaf

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tea, not anymore, make

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Chris and his herbs

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a gourd. Lorna's mind

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flashed to the memory of

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a rising home, just

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as Felicity's pet rabbit,

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Elmer, swallowed the

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last of Lorna's hibiscus flowers,

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the ones that were to

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be her ticket to the

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annual Wirmish Pond's flower expo.

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She hurt me. Lorna?

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Eugenie cried, scuttling around Lorna's

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head. That was six months

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ago. Lorna sighed and

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set down her cup by the sink. She

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retrieved her watering pail and crossed

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the floor of her tiny cottage.

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She had one window, the sill

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of which served as a place

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for the seedlings she coaxed to

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life before planting them in her

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garden outside. She touched

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the soil, dry. She

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watered the little pond and opened

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the curtain to let the sun

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in. That's when

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she heard someone outside.

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Woe is me, woe

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is me, woe,

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so very much woe. Lorna

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set down her pail. I

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am but a woe-filled

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turtle in need

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of highly specific assistance

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of a complex nature.

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Eugenie crawled down Lorna's

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face until she was

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dangling in front of her

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eyeball. Lorna, do something. Oh,

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me, oh, my. Lorna

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went to the door. Inside

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her cottage was a turtle,

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hovering in mid-air. She

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had wings on her back that

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seemed to twinkle as if enchanted.

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Presently, the diminutive turtle

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used those wings to zip

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through Lorna's doorway. Hey, what

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a delightful little cottage, the

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turtle said, hovering in the

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air. Lorna, what happened

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to the woe? Indeed,

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this mysterious flying turtle

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no longer appeared to

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be filled with anguish.

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She looked positively exuberant.

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Um, hi. Who

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are you? Why were you

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sobbing outside my door? I

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had to see if you'd come to the

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aid of a weeping stranger. If

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not, there'd be no reason for me

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to come here. A futile effort, as

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they say. But you did, so

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there's at least something to

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work with. Lorna, what's happening?

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Sorry, who are you? Allow

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me to explain. On

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Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, from 7.02 to 3.41,

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I'm the no fairy. Tuesdays,

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I'm the speak up fairy.

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Fridays, I'm the fairness fairy.

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Every third Thursday evening, I fill

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in as the interpretive dance fairy.

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It's a little, well, structureless

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for my taste. A

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thoughtful look crossed the fairy's

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face. But today for you,

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my dear, I'm the forgiveness

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fairy. You can call me

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Nobilina, your new BFF. I'm

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here to teach you how

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to forgive. I

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thought I was your BFF. Lorna

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stared at this brightly

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turtle. Then,

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before overthinking it, she

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grabbed her broom from the closet and

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swatted at the fairy. What

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are you? These are expensive glasses.

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You do not want to... Until

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she was out the door.

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Lorna closed it with a huff. Lorna,

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was that really a good idea?

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Let me guess, Nobolina

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said as she whizzed through the

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open window. Hey, Lorna

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cried, her eyes wider than

10:12

ever. Let me

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guess, you know full well how

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to forgive. In fact,

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you wrote the book on forgiveness.

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It's called The Art of

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Forgiveness by Lorna Jane Tortis.

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Wait, how do you know

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my name? My

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first name? My middle

10:32

name is not Jane. Nobolina

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dusted herself off as she

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hovered out of reach of

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Lorna's broom. You came

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on my radar in mid-winter when

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I learned that you'd held a

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grudge against your sister for

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borrowing a caterpillar print cardigan and

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shrinking it in the dryer until

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it was the proper size for

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a hermit grab. I've been checking

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in on you ever since. Hoping

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you'd make progress on

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your own so I could

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cross you off my list. That

11:06

cardigan had moths on it, Lorna muttered.

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But just a few minutes ago, the

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sensor I installed in the bottom

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of your trash can alerted me

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to your ongoing lack of forgiveness

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towards Felicia. Felicity, Lorna

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said before she could stop

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herself. Oh, you

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admit it. That's rare, I

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have to tell you. Usually

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it's like pulling toenails. Hold

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on, Lorna said, stretching out her neck.

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You put a sensor in my trash can?

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Now I don't usually

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work with Tortises, Nobolina

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went on, untroubled. But

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I'm making an exception

11:45

since you are such

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a severe case. With your

11:50

vicious destruction of that

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charming invitation, you racked

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up, Nobolina stared upwards

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Doing arithmetic. Forgive

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niceness points In just three

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months, Who are now? you're

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in trouble? Hush Eugenie, Who

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are you muttering to. Know

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the Lena said fluttering closer.

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Dear me Lorna, I do

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believe there is a spider

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on your head. Don't move.

12:19

I'll get it. No Billie

12:21

Now billing and a glittering

12:23

fly swatter appeared in her

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foot. She made a beeline.

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For lower in his head

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Lorna bad as her away

12:32

This is Eugenie. She's my

12:34

pet side Eugenie corrected know

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billionaire Stopped short in mid

12:39

air. She. Blinked strongly.

12:41

once more and to

12:44

fly swatter disappeared in

12:46

a sparkly pass. The

12:48

same is Eugenie is

12:50

is. That you are

12:52

a grasshopper. Eugenie. Scowled

12:54

Grasshoppers for her least

12:57

favorite snack. But. Then.

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Her. Little mind landed on

13:02

the words say miss

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you je ne se

13:06

me oh yes I've

13:08

heard all about you

13:10

and your and say

13:12

oh my answer. Litter

13:16

and can I am. Hold

13:18

on a second. Lorna said

13:20

ceiling is though this situation

13:22

was getting away from her.

13:24

Look, know thou, whatever your

13:26

name is no Billie, know

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it's a liter of he

13:30

is remembered name's Luna. Lorna

13:32

crossed her feet over her

13:34

chest. You need to leave

13:36

that I'm here to. I

13:38

heard you. The thing is,

13:40

I know how to forgive

13:42

know the Lena's eyes gleaned

13:44

as she zipped through the

13:46

air. so I listened right

13:48

about your book. Then next.

13:50

You know full well how to forgive

13:52

my work is done. Maybe I can

13:55

get in a last minute an appointment

13:57

with my shell decorator lower know he's

13:59

just. Hi Release! She couldn't

14:01

wait to have this ridiculous

14:03

flying turtle out of her

14:05

little caught. She doesn't know

14:07

how. Lower in his heart.

14:10

Tripped. Over it says. At

14:13

the sound of her spiders

14:15

voice Eugenie know billion us

14:18

doesn't made zip she flew

14:20

to Eugenie side and pocket

14:22

her head. Insulin Curiosity

14:25

My D or

14:28

Eugenie same as

14:30

Eugenie. Town

14:32

know Billie know everything. There.

14:40

Is so much more

14:42

to this story. You

14:44

can hear the full

14:46

episode. I Becoming A

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Little Stories a premium

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subscriber Visit Little Stories

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premium.com Sunshine and it

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pains you As always

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say listening in.