"Hi!" Petals exclaimed.

"H-hello," Emma replied.

Petals looked at herself and smiled. "You are a good artist!"

"Thank you," Emma said.

Petals noticed a ceramic plate on a shelf and jumped up to it. Emma's name was scratched into the plaster and her handprint was pressed into the center. "That is my good side." Petals laughed as she hopped over to the windowsill. She looked out at the neighborhood covered with snow. "Wow! Look at all the paper! Who drew all that?"

"That is not paper, it is snow," Emma answered. "And those are houses, that are made of wood... which is what paper is made of."

Petals looked confused and then smiled. She hopped from the window. "Well if houses are made of the same stuff as paper then watch this!" Petals' paintbrush bristles filled with colors. Paint flew from the tip and splashed onto the wall. It dripped into the shape of a door. They walked through the doorway and floated weightlessly in a blank white background. Behind them the passage disappeared seamlessly into the air.

"Where are we?" Emma asked.

"This is where I live," Petals answered. "Where we can make anything we can imagine." Petals waved the paintbrush. Paint colors splattered and flowed around forming a beautiful landscape. Petals flicked the bristles and paint droplets became birds that flew through the air. The two girls had a wonderful time. They rode on painted horses, sailed in a painted boat, and went on rides at a painted amusement park. But then Emma took a bite of cotton candy. Her happy expression faded while she chewed until she could not stand it anymore. Emma spit out a blob of paint.

At that instant Petals realized Emma had to return home with her family. "We have to get you back to your room where you will be safe." Petals was sad. She knew her friend would grow up and forget about her like other childhood things.

"Can you come with me?" Emma asked.

The girls sat by a shallow steam. Petals tried to be cheerful but a tear ran down her cheek and dripped into the gently flowing watercolor. "I do not belong in your world. You could not take me to school even on Pet Day." Petals stood up and raised the paintbrush to make a door to Emma's room. Just as paint began to flow from the brush Petals slipped on a stone that was slippery from the stream's wet paint. The paintbrush fell from Petals' hand. The magic stick bobbed up and down as it floated away.

"We have to get that paintbrush back or we will never get you home!" Petals exclaimed. The two girls waded into the steam. At first it was shallow and calm but when they caught the paintbrush the stream had become deeper and moved swiftly. Emma and Petals gasped as they realized the stream was rushing toward a waterfall that flowed off the edge of the landscape into the nothingness of the blank white background. The girls were caught in the current. Rocks stuck out of the edge of the waterfall. Petals jammed the wooden brush between two boulders. "Grab my hand!" Petals called to Emma. The two girls hung from the edge of the cascading waterfall.

Petals looked at the paintbrush. "Let's get out of here!" she said. Paint shot from the bristles high into the air. In the same instant the brush cracked in the middle from having too much weight on it. The girls began to tumble down the waterfall. Above the glob of paint formed into a large swan and it dived down to catch Emma and Petals. The swan landed gently on the ground. Emma thanked the bird as she climbed off. "That was great!" she said as she helped her friend down. Petals raised the splintered paintbrush. She waved it over and over but it did not work. The magic was gone. Petals sat down and cried. She did not know how Emma would get home.

Emma gave Petals a hug and touched the flower blossom on her head. The girl held the broken paintbrush and said, "Impossible things happen everyday... and I am a good artist." She waved the brush and paint began to flow again. Emma painted a beautiful door. "It is time for me to go home now," Emma said as she gave her friend the paintbrush.

Petals smiled and waved. "Will you always imagine?"

Emma looked back at her friend as she opened the door. "I promise." She looked through the door at her moonlit room. The seven-year-old jumped through the opening and landed on her bed as if she had just woken from a dream. She checked her desk. The heavy book she had placed on top of the papers was still there. Emma moved the book and lifted up the paper that covered the drawing of Petals and the flower blossom. Emma ran her fingers across the pink flower that had become embedded into the paper. "Thank you Petals. I will remember you always."

The End

About the story. Author-illustrator Rod Cockle planted a flowering cherry tree. The tree was small and split down the middle like the flowering tree in the story. As it grew there blossomed at least one pink flower all year long even during the coldest days of winter. Below is a photo taken in autumn of the tree and its magical flowers.