The moonlight Fox

Standing by the window, watching the rain outside, she drifted back to her childhood memories. A soft smile touched her lips, but behind it lay a secret—a secret she had carried all alone for years, never sharing it with a single soul.

It all started when she was just ten years old. Back then, every night right after the clock struck twelve, her world would transform. She would find herself sitting alone in a quiet, endless green field, playing by herself under a soft, glowing sky. There was no sound, no fear—just a deep, comforting stillness.

And every single night, from right behind her, a beautiful off-white fox would quietly approach.

Its fur was as soft as moonlight, and its eyes held an inexplicable tenderness. The fox brought no fear; instead, it felt like an old friend. Walking gently up to her, it would nuzzle against her back and rest its head on her shoulders, showering her with warmth and affection. What amazed her the most was how real it felt—she could actually feel the softness of its fur and the comforting warmth against her skin.

To her ten-year-old self, it felt like a magical fairytale created just for her. That was why she never feared it, nor did she ever tell her parents or friends. It was her own little magical secret.

Every night, just as the fox leaned in to adore her, her mother's sweet voice would shatter the dream—

"Wake up, my dear! It's morning!"

Her eyes would flutter open, but even as she woke, the lingering touch of the off-white fox remained fresh on her back. Today, standing as a grown woman, she looked out the window and whispered to herself—Why did that dream start when I was ten? And where did that gentle creature go?