On the edge of the world, where the sea tasted like lemonade and the wind carried the giggles of seagulls, there lay Flavor Island. A place so sweet, the trees dripped with caramel, and the rivers sparkled with fizzy blue soda. But beneath the sugary sunshine, something tickled the air—a whisper, a rustle, a snick-snick of something unseen.

Henry, a boy with hair the color of toasted marshmallows and shoes that always seemed two sizes too big, lived in a little house made of gingerbread and licorice. His best friend was a grumpy old coconut named Crackers, who rolled instead of walked and had a habit of bonking into things. Bonk! went Crackers into the doorframe. Oof! went Henry, rubbing his nose where the coconut had rebounded.

"You’re supposed to *open* the door first," Henry sighed, his fingers brushing the sticky door handle—covered in something that smelled like warm vanilla and felt like melted gummy bears.

That evening, as the sun dipped into the ocean like a giant orange lollipop, Henry heard it. A sound that made his toes curl inside his socks: skitter-skitter-squeak. It came from the jungle of cotton candy bushes, where the shadows stretched long and wobbly, like jelly on a plate. His heart did a little flip, and his stomach twisted like a pretzel. What if it’s a monster? he thought. What if it’s got three heads and breath that smells like old socks?

Crackers, who had been napping (or pretending to nap, because coconuts don’t have eyelids), rolled over with a thud. "You’re making that noise again," he grumbled. "Stop it."

"It’s *not* me!" Henry whispered, his voice squeaky as a mouse in a cheese shop. "There’s something in the bushes!"

Crackers sniffed the air. It smelled like buttered popcorn and something else—something sharp, like the tang of a lemon you’re not supposed to bite. Sniff-sniff. "Probably just the Sugar Sprites," he said. "They’re always sneaking around, stealing sprinkles."

Henry’s eyes widened. "Sugar Sprites? Are they… scary?"

Crackers let out a noise that might’ve been a laugh if coconuts could laugh. Blorp. "Scary? They’re smaller than your thumb! They’ve got wings like potato chips and they sneeze glitter."

Henry peeked into the bushes. The leaves felt like damp tissue paper under his fingers, and the skitter-skitter-squeak grew louder. Then—POP!—a tiny creature no bigger than a teacup shot out, covered in pink and purple fur, with eyes like gumdrops. It hovered in front of Henry’s nose, its wings buzzing like a bumblebee in a jar. Zzzzt-zzzzt!

"Hi!" it squeaked. "You’re big! Are you a giant? Do giants eat cupcakes? I *love* cupcakes!" It zoomed in a circle around Henry’s head, leaving a trail of sparkles that smelled like birthday cake.

Henry’s fear melted faster than ice cream in the sun. He grinned. "I’m Henry. And no, I don’t eat cupcakes for breakfast… usually."

The Sugar Sprite giggled. "I’m Twink! Wanna see my hideout? It’s made of lollipop sticks and marshmallow clouds!" Before Henry could answer, Twink grabbed his finger and yanked. Whoosh! Off they flew, Crackers rolling after them with a clatter-clatter-clunk, shouting, "WAIT FOR ME, YOU OVERGROWN BLUEBERRY!"

Twink’s hideout was even sillier than Henry imagined. The walls were made of wafer cookies, the floor was a trampoline of bubblegum, and the ceiling dripped with honey that smelled like summer mornings. There were other sprites too—some with polka-dot fur, some with antennae like licorice whips, all chattering and bouncing like popcorn in a pot.

"We were *so* scared of you at first!" Twink admitted, handing Henry a thimble-sized cup of fizzy rainbow juice. It tickled his tongue like soda bubbles. "We thought humans were giant, grumpy monsters who stomped on things."

Henry took a sip and nearly snorted the juice out his nose. Pfft! "Me? Grumpy? I was scared of *you*! I thought you were a three-headed sock-monster!"

The sprites erupted into giggles, rolling on the bubblegum floor like tiny, furry tornadoes. Crackers, who had finally caught up, bonked into a wall and got stuck. Bonk! "I *told* you they weren’t scary," he muttered, wiggling his way free.

As the stars blinked awake in the sky, Henry realized something important. The shadows weren’t scary at all—they were just places where the light hadn’t reached *yet*. And the things that went skitter-skitter-squeak in the dark? They were probably just friends he hadn’t met yet.

Twink flew Henry and Crackers home, leaving a trail of glitter in the air. The path back smelled like cinnamon and fresh-baked cookies, and the waves lapped at the shore with a sound like splashy-splashy-giggle. As Henry snuggled into his bed (which was, of course, made of giant marshmallows), he smiled. Tomorrow, he’d explore the other side of the island—where the chocolate waterfall flowed and the trees grew jellybean fruit. And if he heard another skitter-squeak in the bushes? Well, he’d just say hello.

Because on Flavor Island, the bravest thing you could do wasn’t fighting monsters. It was being curious enough to find out they weren’t monsters at all.