In the squishy, marshmallow-soft Land of Suspended Time, where the sun hung in the sky like a giant, sticky lollipop, Christian lived in a house made of gingerbread and licorice. The air smelled like warm cinnamon and freshly baked cookies, and the only sound was the drip-drip-drip of honey from the clock tower that never quite reached the ground.

Christian was a boy with knees that were always scraped from adventures and a heart as big as a hot-air balloon. He had a habit, though—one that made his toes curl with guilt every time. Christian *loved* candy. Not just any candy, but the big, swirly lollipops that tasted like rainbows and made his cheeks puff out like a chipmunk’s.

One afternoon, as the scent of caramelized sugar wafted through the air, Christian tiptoed into the kitchen. There, on the table, sat a single, lonely lollipop. It was red and blue, twisted like a tornado, and so shiny it looked like it had been polished by fairies. Christian’s fingers twitched. His mouth watered like a leaky faucet. Just one lick, he thought. No one will notice.

So he did. Slurp! The lollipop was so sweet it made his teeth tingle. But then—oh no!—his sleeve caught the edge of the table. Wobble. Crash! The jar of sprinkles toppled over, raining tiny, crunchy stars all over the floor. Christian froze, his heart pounding like a drum in a parade. He looked around, but the kitchen was empty. Phew! No one saw.

Or so he thought.

That night, as Christian lay in bed, the sheets as rough as sandpaper against his skin, he heard it. A tiny voice, like a squeaky toy being stepped on. "Psst! Christian!" He sat up, his hair sticking up in all directions like a startled porcupine. There, on his pillow, sat a tiny, wobbly creature with ears like teacup handles and a tail that curled at the end. It smelled like buttered popcorn and looked at him with eyes as big as marbles.

"Who—who are you?" Christian whispered, his voice cracking like a dry twig.

"I’m Tick-Tock," the creature said, tapping its foot impatiently. "The Keeper of Time in the Land of Suspended Time. And you, my dear boy, have a problem."

Christian’s stomach did a somersault. "I—I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh, I know," Tick-Tock interrupted, waving a tiny paw. "But taking the last lollipop without asking? That’s a big no-no. And now, the time in our land is all wonky! The clocks are spinning backward, the cupcakes are rising too fast, and the birds are singing in slow motion!" Tick-Tock’s voice rose to a squeak. "Do you know what happens when time gets wonky, Christian?"

Christian shook his head, his cheeks burning like two little suns.

"Everything turns into mush!" Tick-Tock wailed. "Even the clouds! And soon, the whole land will be one big, gooey mess!" The little creature buried its face in its paws, its shoulders shaking. Sniffle.

Christian’s heart squeezed. He thought about the sticky, melted mess the land would become. The birds singing like they were underwater. The cupcakes exploding like fireworks. It was all his fault. His knees wobbled, and he sat down hard on the bed. "What do I do?" he asked, his voice small.

Tick-Tock peeked up, its eyes glistening. "You have to fix it. And there’s only one way."

"How?"

"You have to tell the truth," Tick-Tock said, crossing its arms. "Admit you took the lollipop. Say it out loud, and time will go back to normal."

Christian’s stomach twisted. His palms were sweaty, and his tongue felt like it was made of lead. "But—what if they’re mad?"

Tick-Tock sighed, its tail drooping. "They might be. But they’ll be less mad than if the whole land turns into pudding."

Christian took a deep breath. The air smelled like burnt sugar, and his heart pounded in his ears like a marching band. He stood up, his legs shaking like jelly. "Okay," he said. "I’ll do it."

Tick-Tock clapped its paws. "Hooray!" it cheered. "But hurry! The clouds are already starting to drip!"

Christian ran. His feet pitter-pattered down the stairs, past the kitchen where the sprinkles still sparkled on the floor like tiny diamonds. He skidded to a stop in front of his parents, who were sitting by the fireplace, sipping tea that smelled like chamomile and honey. His mom’s eyebrows shot up like two caterpillars. "Christian? What’s wrong?"

Christian’s mouth was dry. His hands clenched into fists. "I—I took the last lollipop," he blurted out. "I didn’t ask. And I knocked over the sprinkles, and I’m sorry!" His words tumbled out like a waterfall, and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the scolding.

But instead, he heard... silence. Then, a soft chuckle. Christian peeked open one eye. His dad was grinning, his mustache twitching like a happy caterpillar. "Well," he said, "that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Christian’s mom patted the seat next to her. "Come here, sweetheart." She pulled him into a hug that smelled like lavender and warm bread. "We all make mistakes. What matters is that you told the truth."

Christian’s shoulders relaxed, and his heart felt lighter than a feather. He looked out the window. The sun was no longer stuck in the sky like a lollipop—it was setting, painting the clouds pink and gold. The drip-drip-drip of honey from the clock tower had stopped, and the birds were singing their normal, cheerful songs. Even the sprinkles on the floor seemed to sparkle a little brighter.

Tick-Tock appeared on the windowsill, giving Christian a thumbs-up. "See?" it said. "Honesty is the best glue to fix a wonky world."

Christian grinned. He might have made a mistake, but now everything was back to normal. And as he snuggled into his mom’s hug, he knew one thing for sure: next time, he’d ask before taking the last lollipop. Because some things—like truth and trust—were sweeter than any candy in the world.

The end.