The Triceratops Who Blossomed
Tilly the Triceratops was, to put it mildly, a little self-conscious about her frill. While the other young Triceratops sported impressive bony shields, perfect for head-butting practice (which Tilly mostly avoided anyway), hers felt…plain. Utterly, undeniably bare. She’d tried everything to jazz it up. Mud packs? Made her itchy. Shiny pebbles glued on with sticky tree sap? Attracted more ants than admiration.
One breezy afternoon, as Tilly was sadly nibbling on some low-lying ferns, a tiny seed, lighter than a feather, twirled down and landed right in the centre of her frill. Tilly didn't even notice. The next morning, after a gentle rain shower and a generous dose of sunshine, something peculiar happened. A tiny green sprout poked its head out from Tilly’s frill!
Tilly was startled. She tried to shake it off, thinking it was a particularly persistent weed. But the little sprout held fast. Over the next few days, it grew taller, unfurling delicate green leaves. And then, one glorious morning, a vibrant bluebell bloomed right there on Tilly’s frill!
She stared at her reflection in a still pond, her wide eyes even wider. A flower! Growing on her! The other dinosaurs noticed too. Horace, the grumpy Triceratops from next door, actually stopped grumbling to gawk. Percy the Pterodactyl, usually too busy admiring his own reflection, swooped down for a closer look, nearly losing his balance.
Soon, the original bluebell released its own tiny seeds, and the gentle breeze carried them to other spots on Tilly’s frill. Before she knew it, Tilly wasn’t just a Triceratops; she was a walking, talking (well, mostly munching) garden! Poppies bobbed near her brow, daisies peeked out by her horns, and a cheerful sunflower sprouted right at the edge of her frill, like a sunny hat.
Her life transformed. Instead of feeling plain, Tilly became the most popular dinosaur in the valley. Butterflies, in a dazzling array of colours, fluttered around her head, mistaking her for a giant, mobile flower patch. Buzzing bees, delighted by the constant supply of nectar, hummed happy tunes as they flitted from bloom to bloom. Tilly, who had once felt lonely, was now surrounded by a cheerful, buzzing, fluttering entourage.
Of course, there were some minor inconveniences. Sneezing became a flowery affair, often resulting in a shower of petals. Trying to take a nap was sometimes tricky with a particularly enthusiastic bee tickling her nose. And one time, a family of particularly adventurous caterpillars decided to make a cozy home in her sunflower, leading to a rather frantic, yet gentle, shaking session.
One day, Horace the grumpy Triceratops lumbered over, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Tilly," he grumbled, "how…how do you do that?" He gestured with his horn at a particularly lovely patch of lavender blooming near her ear.
Tilly just shrugged, a shower of purple petals drifting down. "I just…grew them, Horace."
Horace shuffled his feet. "Hmmph. Maybe if I stood still enough…" He stood rigidly under a passing cloud of dandelion seeds, looking utterly ridiculous. Tilly couldn't help but giggle, a sound like wind chimes rustling through leaves.
Tilly realised that her flowery frill wasn't just pretty; it made others happy. The butterflies and bees had found a friend, and even grumpy Horace was trying (albeit unsuccessfully) to join the floral fun. Tilly the Triceratops, the dinosaur who once felt plain, had blossomed into the most wonderfully unique creature in the whole wide prehistoric world, proving that sometimes, the best accessories are the ones that grow on you.
The end.
