The Slug’s Star

One warm bright summer, a long time ago, in a pretty little green garden, birds sang happily in the trees and bees buzzed busily about the flowers and all seemed beautiful and peaceful and blissful but one little creature that lived in the garden wasn’t happy.

A little slug who lived in the shade of an old flower pot, whose name was Sidcup, was forever boo-hooing, his little eyes on stalks weeping like the spout on a watering can.

“Oh why am I so ugly?”, he said, slimy tears spilling over his cheeks, “Everyone likes butterflies and bees and ladybirds but no one likes us slugs because we’re slithery and gooey and horrible”.

But then, dangling high overhead on a web, a spider heard the slugs sobbing and said, “I know how you can get people to like you”.

The slug looked up at the spider, its little eyes full of hope and a slimy smile spreading across its face.

“Really?”, it said, “You do?”.

“Yes”, said the spider, “I know a magic dance that you can do and, when you’ve done it, people will think you’re a marvellous creature”.

The Slug seemed very doubtful about that but he was desperate and willing to try anything.

So then, abseiling down the side of a tree trunk, the spider showed the slug his magic dance and Sidcup tried to copy the moves as best he could.

But even when he thought he had learned the steps quite well, looking around the garden, he still didn’t notice any difference.

“Do people like me better now?”, he asked the spider, befuddled.

“Just wait and you’ll see”, replied the spider, confidently.

Then, suddenly, from far overhead, the slug heard someone comment, “Just look! Look at that, on the ground, on those paving stones over there. Do you see? It’s a star!”.

“A star?”, asked another.

“Yes a star but it’s made out of slug trails, would you believe?”, replied the first, “Isn’t it pretty the way it glimmers, all silver, in the sun?”.

The other person chuckled happily, “Yes. Who would have thought that such an ugly creature could make such a pretty thing. I suppose slugs aren’t so bad after all”.

And, then, turning around, Sidcup saw the star himself; the one that he had drawn on a paving stone with his slimy trail while he was following the spiders dance steps and it did seem to glisten in the summer sun and, for once in his life, he felt happy and proud to be a slug.

“Oh, Spider!”, he said, waggling his slimy tail with joy, “I’m so happy. Thank you so much for helping
me”.

“You’re welcome”, said the spider, climbing back up to his web, “People never seem to like me much either but they certainly admire my weaving skills”.

And, from that day onwards, whenever the bright spring and summer came, the slug always drew bright silver patterns on the ground and not just stars either, but crescent moons and swirly spirals
and all kinds of pretty things and whenever people saw them they always said, “Why slugs aren’t so bad after all, in fact they’re quite nice”.