Word: Yes, moustache
Word Count: 483

By Beverly Jones Christopher sat at the breakfast table watching the creature he discovered in the creek after the creature fell off the bridge into the shallow water. It sat crouched by the window looking down the bank toward the creek.
Its mahogany skin had lost its luster over the last few days. The shiny silver hair lay lank down its back. The large dark eyes, fringed all around with black eyelashes, filled with crystal tears reflecting all the hues of the rainbow and then some colors we have no words for.
“Hungry?” asked Christopher. “We have fresh vegetables for breakfast.”
The creature shook its head.
“Do you feel ok?”
It looked at Christopher. Tears spilled over its lashes and ran down its cheeks, sparkling and flashing in the yellow morning light.
“Are you sad?” It tilted its head.
Christopher thought about the times he wasn’t hungry and felt sad. “Are you homesick? Do you miss your family?” The creature tilted its head.
“Mother,” Christopher called toward the other room where she was tidying up. “I think Frank is really unhappy. What can we do?”
Mother came in and knelt in front of the creature. She looked at Christopher. “How do you know it is a boy.”
“I don’t. But I like the name Frank.”
Mother put her hand out and Frank leaned its face into her palm.
“Chris, have you been back to the creek since the morning you found the creature?”
“No, ma’am. You scolded me about going down there alone.”
Mother hid a small smile behind her hand. “I think tomorrow at daybreak we need to go back. Will you wake me up?”
Christopher puffed up his chest at the responsibility.
The three of them left the house in the fading grayness before dawn. Mother handed the creature the small leather bag full of fresh picked lettuce, carrots and tomatoes. It stood by the creek as Mother and Christopher sat higher on the bank.
Just as the sun peeked over the willow tree tops, a figure stepped out of the shadows beside the mossy stone bridge. The creature Christopher found was a lot smaller than he. This one was only slightly bigger but definitely older. Its mahogany skin was darker. The silver hair was the same color but cascaded down its back nearly to its knees. On its face was an emerald green Foo Man Choo mustache that fell nearly to its waist.
The smaller creature threw itself into the open arms of the elder who looked at Mother with a hint of a grin under the greenness. It tilted its head. Mother returned the gesture as they faded back into the shadows.
Christopher tugged on her hand, looking toward the bridge. “Frank’s just a little kid like me, isn’t he?”
Mother leaned down and hugged him. She smiled gently at him as she tilted her head. “Yes, Christopher, I think Frank is.”

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