Shooting Star (Bedtime Story)

A wish upon a shooting star lands one right on the roof of the Honeybee House, and curiosity sends everyone skyward! After a breathtaking ride through the cosmos, they dodge a black hole with a daring free fall and a timely save from flying branches. Back on solid ground, they realize their little neighborhood is just one twinkling star in the grand universe. - Love, Mrs. Honeybee

Featuring: Mr. Honeybee, Melodybee, Roger Robot, and my dog Harold

Transcript

Bedtime with Mrs.

Honeybee.

Today,

In the Honeybee neighborhood,

We'll be taking a trip to the cosmos.

The cosmos?

Way up there in the sky?

Yes,

Melody Bee.

Have you ever seen a shooting star?

Of course I have.

I watch the night sky every night while I fall asleep.

I've seen plenty of shooting stars.

Have you ever thought about what it would be like to ride on a shooting star?

Um,

My dear,

Did you say ride on a shooting star?

How would we even get all the way up there?

Oh,

You'll see,

Melody Bee.

All you have to do is close your eyes,

Get cozy,

And listen to the sound of my voice.

Mrs.

Honeybee will be your guide.

Let's begin.

You are here,

Walking through the forest at sunset.

Leaves crunch beneath your footsteps,

And the sun winks its last little bit of light through the trees.

Take a slow,

Deep breath in through your nose.

Feel the coolness of the fresh forest air coming in through your nose,

Finding its way to your lungs,

And expanding your chest out.

Then,

Slowly,

Breathe all the way out through your mouth and duck under a low-hanging branch that a friendly owl just landed on.

From up here,

You can see down into our backyard.

You're still out of our sight,

But not Harold's attentive ears.

You see him hear your footsteps,

And his ears perk up,

Wondering if it's so.

If his favorite person in the entire world is almost here.

You do him the favor of stomping your footsteps extra loud so he knows for sure that,

Yes,

You are indeed approaching.

He sprints over to the gate and jumps up on his hind legs,

Waiting to smell you on the other side.

When he doesn't sniff you out right away,

He buries his snout under the fence,

Trying to get to you.

After a couple more steps,

He finally smells you and sees you through the wood fencing.

You open the gate with your all-powerful thumbs that Harold envies and walk in the backyard.

You are slobbered with puppy kisses before we even get a chance to see you.

Hello,

My little honeybee.

I was hoping you'd make it here before the sun went down and it got too dark.

You have the headlamp that I made for you,

Right,

My little honeybee?

Always bring that with you when you come the back way,

Just in case.

You're just in time for us to start the movie.

I got the hammocks all ready and piled with soft pillows.

Mr.

Honeybee,

Is the projector ready?

It sure is.

Come on.

I called dibs on one of the hammocks.

You can have the other.

With Harold,

Of course.

I'll get the fire pit going for s'mores.

I have a big batch of popcorn on the stove.

It's homemade honey-sweetened kettle corn.

I even added a sprinkle of sprinkles to make it colorful.

It's the corn Melodybee grew and harvested last summer,

The ears we didn't eat and stored.

We've been nibbling at our popcorn supply ever since.

I'm so excited.

That sounds delicious,

Mrs.

Honeybee.

We all cozy into our seats.

You and Harold are sharing one hammock.

Melodybee is in the other.

And Mr.

Honeybee and I are nestled into our comfy outdoor lounge chairs.

I'm wrapped in my favorite blanket and look back to make sure you are,

Too.

It's a little chilly out tonight.

We laugh and sit on the edge of our comfy seats,

Watching not one,

But two movies under the twinkling stars.

When we are sleepy and yawning,

It's about time we turn into our tents for a night of backyard camping.

Mr.

Honeybee set up a tent for you and Harold that's right next to ours.

Melodybee,

Who camps in the backyard most nights,

Decides to stay up and garden by the moonlight.

She's studying an almanac made by long-ago farmers that helps you garden with the cycles of the moon,

And she's positively thrilled about the full moon tonight.

It's the perfect time to get next season's crops started.

Mr.

Honeybee and I tuck you and Harold into your tent and zip it closed after saying goodnight.

Then we,

Too,

Go to sleep,

Listening to the faint sounds of Melodybee humming to her scenes.

The next thing we hear is Melodybee rapping on our tents,

Going back and forth between them with alarm.

Psst!

You awake?

If not,

Wake up!

Psst!

Harold,

Can you hear me at least?

Bark if you can hear me!

Psst!

Melodybee?

Is that you?

Is everything okay?

Yes,

It's me.

And no,

Something strange happened.

What happened?

Something landed on the roof.

Of the tent?

No,

The house.

All of our talking finally wakes both you and Mr.

Honeybee up,

But neither of you commit to moving a muscle since you're so warm and cozy in your sleeping bags.

Melodybee,

What fell on the roof?

I'm not sure,

But I think it's a… Is it a tree?

No,

Not a tree.

Did it break the roof?

No,

It didn't break the roof.

Did it break into the house?

Also no,

But… Maybe we should all just go back to sleep and check this roof thing out in the morning.

No,

No.

There's no time for sleep.

I think a shooting star fell on the roof.

Why do you think a shooting star fell on the roof?

Maybe you were dreaming?

No,

I was wide awake as the moon.

I looked up into the sky,

Trying to get my directions right so the seedlings would get the best morning light,

And the next thing I know,

Bam!

A shooting star shoots through the sky.

As soon as I saw it,

And quicker than I could even form words,

I wished with my heart more than anything that I could hold a shooting star,

Have one all to myself,

Just for a moment.

The next thing I know,

Bam!

The shooting star fell to the roof.

It's still up there.

Look,

Mrs.

Honeybee,

I promise I wasn't dreaming.

Look,

You can see how bright it is over there by the chimney.

It is bright over there,

Dear.

Maybe you should go up on the roof and check it out.

Yes,

Please,

Mr.

Honeybee.

I'll go with you.

Do you want coffee to wake you up?

Please?

I want to not go up on the roof.

Fine,

I'm by my lonesome.

Hope nothing happens while I flutter up there.

Hope I'm perfectly safe going all by myself.

If there's anything Mr.

Honeybee cannot stand,

It's one of us doing something potentially dangerous without his careful help.

By now,

You've unzipped your tent and have joined us looking up to the roof where a glorious beam of light shines into the sky from our chimney.

Mr.

Honeybee begrudgingly wakes all the way up.

His tired bones creak like the wooden floorboards as he readjusts and ducks out of the tent.

Fine,

I'm up.

I'm up.

I will go up on the roof to get your shooting star,

Melody Bee.

I can't believe I'm saying this.

Where is it?

Right there.

Can't you see it?

Wow,

That is bright,

Isn't it?

You join Melody Bee and Mr.

Honeybee on their way to the garage to fetch a tall enough ladder to get up to the roof while Harold and I keep an eye on the star and catch a few more winks of sleep.

When you all return,

The star is in the same spot tucked into the short wall of the chimney.

Mr.

Honeybee sets up the ladder and climbs up first.

Once he's standing up on the roof and able to grab for your hands,

You start heading up.

Right hand,

Right foot,

Left hand,

Left foot.

Melody Bee buzzes alongside you while Harold and I keep the ladder steady.

When you get to the roof,

You indeed see what looks like a shooting star.

It's buzzing like a live wire,

More full of electricity and light than it can hardly contain within its small stature.

As you and Mr.

Honeybee approach,

With Melody Bee peeking out from behind your shoulder,

The small ball of sizzling,

Crackling fire gets nervous and bounces between the roof shingles and the stucco of the chimney.

That's enough to unnerve the visiting star,

Which shoots back into the sky as a defense mechanism against its earthly overwhelm.

We all watch in amazement as it arcs through the nighttime sky at,

Well,

Light speed and places itself back in the blanket of stars which appear to blink on and off.

Take another slow,

Deep breath in through your nose.

Feel your chest and your spirits lift as the cool air refreshes you.

Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and study the spot in the sky where you know the star is hiding in plain sight.

Welp,

I guess we scared it away.

Who knew shooting stars were so sensitive?

Of course they're sensitive.

They rocket through the cosmos at the speed of light,

Passing by worlds within worlds in milliseconds.

They can fall into a black hole at any moment.

Harold and I involve ourselves in the conversation happening up on the roof from our spots down on the ground.

She makes a good point,

My dear.

Please let the record show that my statement about the temperament of shooting stars has been retracted.

Can I go back to sleep now?

What if it comes back?

I'd suggest not going near it because it's scared.

Ugh,

Okay.

I guess that's as close as I'll ever get to a shooting star.

That was pretty close though,

Melody B.

I know,

I know.

You're right,

Mr.

Sunny B.

I don't know what I was thinking.

We just witnessed something incredible.

I will say,

Just in case any shooting star is listening,

I,

Melody B,

Hereby wish to hold a shooting star in my hand.

In the blink of an eye,

Another stray shooting star darts through the sky and down to Earth until it finally lands directly into Melody B's hands.

Oh my goodness,

Oh my goodness,

Oh my.

She begins to go woozy and wobbly,

Not able to barely stand or believe her own eyes and hands.

She quite literally cannot handle it.

So you scoop in to scoop up the star when she trembles with too much excitement and bounces the star around like a hacky sack.

With you holding the shooting star,

Melody B can better process what's happening right before her eyes.

Harold and I rush up the ladder to see for ourselves,

And there on the roof we witness a miracle of the ages.

You are holding a shooting star in your hands.

Quick,

My little honey bee,

Make all the wishes you can.

Take another slow,

Deep breath in through your nose.

Gather up all the wordless wishes that live deep in your heart,

In with all your breath,

Until you cannot take in any more air.

Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and release those wishes into the universe.

Let them shoot like stars up into the galaxies and move the cosmic gears of synchronicity towards you.

Before we know it,

We realize that a little part of your wish was for each of us to have our own shooting star,

Including Harold.

Four more shooting stars rain down on our roof and join us up there.

They're small enough to fit in our palms,

But mighty enough to lift us up into the nighttime sky.

The warmth from their fiery light keeps us toasty as we are picked up into midair and led through the universe of stars we usually see from far away.

If people looked up in the nighttime sky and saw these five shooting stars,

They would be wishing upon us,

My little honey bee,

Just one of the many ways you,

As the most perfect you,

Make wishes come true.

We dart up into space carried by the miniature rocket in our hands.

When we look back behind us,

We cannot see our rooftop nor the outline of the honey bee neighborhood.

We just see a mass of the most brilliant blues and greens that make up our beautiful planet.

Mr.

Honey Bee airs his concern as we fly.

This is so much fun!

Not to be a downer or anything,

But what is that over there?

That big formless black thing?

Oh no!

That's a black hole!

Shooting star!

Psst!

Shooting star,

Can you hear me?

We need to change directions.

It seems in all of our fun,

We're heading straight for a.

.

.

Black hole!

Don't worry,

Everyone.

I got this.

You have to trust me here,

Everyone.

I called our flying branches from the oak trees.

They have long ranges of flight I double-checked.

You can't quite see them from here,

But they are down there waiting for us in the atmosphere.

We just need to let go.

Let go?

And what?

Free fall?

Exactly!

Um,

My dear,

Did you mean to say that?

On the count of 3.

.

.

2.

.

.

1.

.

.

We all let go of our stars just before we would have gotten swallowed up by the black hole and float weightlessly down to the atmosphere.

Once we break through the atmosphere,

Our fall isn't so weightless.

Luckily,

That's the exact moment our flying branches sense where we are in the universe and zip right to us.

We land softly on them and collect ourselves from the adventure we just had.

The flying branches quietly and slowly take us back home through the twinkling stars and drop us back off safely at our tents.

We thank our flying branches with big yawns and finally call it a night.

And what a night it was!

Always remember,

Mrs.

Honeybee believes in you.

You are special and you are loved.

I can't wait to see you again.

Reviews

Love this dreamy tale, movies in hammocks, gardening by moonlight, flying with stars! Thank you ✨🙏🏼✨