The Great Thanksgiving of the Enchanted Hollow

Brittney Humphrey
Nov 27
6 min read

As told by the Realm Keeper

A Morning Full of Magic

The Enchanted Hollow always wakes up slowly on Thanksgiving morning.

The sunlight drifts in softer, like it’s trying not to wake the trees too suddenly. Golden leaves flutter down one at a time. The air smells faintly of cinnamon, hay, and something warm you can’t quite name.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Beautiful.

Until...

“IT’S FEAST DAY!!!! HIDEEEEEE MEEEE!”

Gobbleton the turkey blasted into the clearing like a feathery firework. He flapped past me, skidded across the fallen leaves, stared at the wooden calendar nailed to the old oak, and screamed even louder.

Before I could say a word, he vanished.

Poof.

Gone in a full blown panic.

Somewhere off to the left, a hint of a cluck sounded extremely proud of itself.

“Good morning, Angel,” I sighed.

Angel the Invisible Chicken remained unseen, but she left a single drifting feather as her greeting.

Behind me, Steven, the Animal Whisperer, was already greeting each animal by name, offering the little reassurances only he knew how to give. The Hollow always felt safer when he arrived. Mike, the Gatekeeper, checked every latch with the seriousness of a man preparing for royal inspection.

In a way, he was.

Today was Thanksgiving in the Hollow.

And magic always behaves differently on days like this.

The Sweet Potato Pie of Gratitude

At the heart of the clearing, a long wooden table held the pride of the Hollow:

✨ The Sweet Potato Pie of Gratitude. ✨

It glowed, softly and shimmered, gently, like a sunset trapped beneath its crust.

Everyone took this pie very seriously.

Sage and Amethyst, two of our most dependable rabbits, stood guard over the whipped cream bowl like seasoned soldiers.

“Sage,” Binx said innocently, “it would be a crime to serve this without quality control”!

“No,” Sage said.

Amethyst flicked her cloak. “Absolutely not.”

Oddity sat on a stump watching everything with curiosity. Bunz rolled a marshmallow between his paws, solemnly judging its softness, “Still too firm,” he whispered.

Across the clearing, the goats were…well, being goats.

Celestia, the Wandering Star, balanced gracefully on the fence rail as if the rail owed her a performance. Honeydew attempted the same trick, misjudged entirely, and toppled off in a whirl of hooves and leaves.

“I meant to do that,” she declared proudly.

Bambina and Fiorella giggled like mischievous sprites.

Near them, Meadow and Mika stood close.

Mika, the Stormborn, held quiet strength in her eyes, a depth born from love and loss. Meadow pressed against her gently, the Bearer of Hope, steady and warm.

Their friendship didn’t need words.

Meanwhile, Snape and Dumbledore were already arguing.

Snape, the Psychic Pig, stood dramatically with one hoof on his crystal ball.

“My visions say this day will bring chaos,” he announced.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” I reminded him. “We expect chaos.”

Dumbledore the Vanishing Wizard blinked in and out of view beside him, his key-staff clinking as he reappeared.

“I saw a vision,” Snape said proudly, “where I stay out of trouble today.”

He immediately knocked over a bucket.

“Ah. Wrong timeline,” he corrected.

High above, Gully the Gossip Seagull circled and shouted:

“BREAKING NEWS: PIE LOOKS AMAZING BUT I WAS NOT CONSULTED!”

A perfectly normal morning in the Enchanted Hollow.

Which, of course, meant trouble was coming.

The Blessing Stone Goes Missing

I placed my hand over the pie.

The light brightened.

The whipped cream swirled itself into a perfect spiral. Magic shinned through the clearing,

Then:

“ALERT! ALERT! THE BLESSING STONE HAS BEEN STOLEN!”

Gully divebombed into the table, feathers flying.

The entire Hollow froze.

Honeydew fainted.

Binx choked on a marshmallow.

Gobbleton squeaked invisibly from a nearby bush. Angel clucked ominously.

The Blessing Stone, the warm amber gem that tied our Thanksgiving magic together, was gone.

Without it, the feast would lose its sparkle, its harmony, its soul.

Steven frowned. “I saw it this morning.”

Mike nodded. “It was singing near the stump.”

The Time Traveling Dinosaur Sisters Ivy and Yarrow weren't here. This search…was on us.

Snape closed his eyes dramatically.

“I foresaw turmoil.”

“You foresaw a nap,” Dumbledore muttered.

Celestia hopped down from the fence rail.

Honeydew straightened, ears tilted.

And something…shifted.

A whisper of old magic.

A vibration in the soil.

Because Honeydew wasn’t just Honeydew.

She was The Gate Whisperer, the one chosen to inherit Giovanni’s old role after he walked into the Everlight Veil.

And though readers wouldn’t know the story, the Hollow felt it:

Honeydew’s ears twitched with an ancestral knowing.

“The gate is unsettled,” she said quietly.

“Something is missing that belongs here.”

Gobbleton gasped invisibly. “IS IT ME?! Because I’m missing from EVERYWHERE!”

Celestia patted the air reassuringly. “You’re fine, dear.”

And thus began the Great Thanksgiving Search.

The Great Search Begins

Search parties scattered across the Hollow.

The rabbits darted through the underbrush, whispering theories. Binx claimed he could smell “the essence of mystery.” Oddity questioned a suspicious pinecone. Bunz became briefly emotional over a round acorn.

Celestia led the goats along the higher ground.

Honeydew insisted she stay nearer the earth, “for safety and dramatic comfort.”

Snape and Dumbledore inspected the pumpkin patch, arguing the whole way.

Dumbledore vanished and reappeared in random places like a malfunctioning lantern.

I walked with Meadow and Mika near the edge of the trees, because that’s where you could feel it if you paid attention:

The Everlight Veil.

A soft, gentle glow between worlds.

A place where Scarlett and Giovanni walked now, leaving quiet traces of their magic behind.

Mika slowed.

Meadow nudged her softly.

“They’re proud of you,” Meadow murmured.

Mika didn’t speak, but the way she leaned against Meadow said, I hope so.

A loud gobble shattered the moment.

“I THINK THE STONE LEFT BECAUSE OF ME!” Gobbleton wailed.

“It didn’t,” I said gently.

“Are you sure?!”

“Yes.”

A single invisible feather floated by, brushing his wing.

He took a deep breath and trembled less.

Honeydew placed her nose near the ground.

“The gate whispers that the answer is close.”

And she was right.

The Culprit Revealed

Meadow froze.

“Listen,” she said.

The clearing hushed.

A familiar hum floated through the air, soft, warm, unmistakable.

It came from beneath the table.

I crouched, lifted the cloth…in and found Bunz sitting cross-legged, rubbing the Blessing Stone with a scrap of cloth.

His ears perked. “Oh! Hi!”

Sage gasped. “Bunz!”

“I wanted it to sparkle extra nice for the ceremony,” Bunz said meekly. “But then I thought it looked a little too nice, and then everything happened so fast.”

Gobbleton reappeared mid scream.

Snape fainted.

Dumbledore applauded the plot twist.

I gently took the stone.

“Thank you for wanting to make it beautiful,” I told him. “Next time, just tell us.”

Bunz nodded vigorously. “Right. Yes. Communication. I’m learning.”

We placed the Blessing Stone back on its stump.

The pie glowed.

The cream twirled itself higher.

The Hollow breathed again.

The Feast of Family

The sun dipped low, turning the clearing golden.

Steven stood beside me, smelling faintly of hay and magic.

Mike strutted along the edge of the Hollow like it was a stage, broom in hand, hips already doing that trademark Elvis wiggle. “Alright, Hollow folks,” he sang out, voice smooth as butter, “you can wander anywhere your heart desires…just don’t step on my blue suede shoes!” Even the trees swayed like backup dancers.

The animals gathered close:

Snape clutching his crystal ball. Dumbledore leaning on his key-staff. Celestia shimmering like a star in daylight. Honeydew guarding the gate. Sage, Amethyst, Binx, Oddity, and Bunz with their soft, bright energy. Meadow and Mika standing shoulder to shoulder. Gully perched above. Gobbleton front and center, trembling less. Angel leaving invisible footprints in the mud puddle Snape and Dumbledore created.

I rested my hand on the Blessing Stone.

“Today,” I said, “I’m grateful for this Hollow. For this family. For every creature and every soul, seen and unseen, that shaped us.”

Mika looked toward the Everlight Veil,

“And for those who walk with us from beyond,” I added softly.

“We still feel your magic. We always will.”

The wind whispered through the branches, as if it was answering.

Gobbleton sniffled. A faint glow rippled from Honeydew’s cloak as she pressed close, calming him with that soft Gate Whisperer magic. Snape pretended he wasn’t emotional.

Dumbledore absolutely was.

We shared the pie.

We shared laughter.

We shared space, magic and warmth.

And the Hollow felt whole.