

Every evening, the moon tugged softly. Grandmother smiled, 'To bed, moonbeam,' and tucked them in. Two kisses, a lullaby, and sleep arrived. The little girl sighed. The dog curled beside her brother.

On her sixteenth Halloween, at midnight, she woke. 'Brother,' she whispered, 'the moon is calling.' He blinked, nodded, and slipped from bed. The dog wagged, ready. Silver light spilled across their small room.

They tiptoed downstairs, and Grandmother waited. 'I wondered when moonlight would find you,' she chuckled. 'Tonight, you’re ready.' She wrapped shawls around them. Together, they stepped into the garden, the dog prancing.

Moonbeams tickled their toes. 'Feel the pull, then breathe,' Grandmother sang. The siblings twirled, laughing, while the dog chased shadows. 'Happy sixteenth Halloween,' she whispered. They returned to bed, hearts glowing, dreams bright.