In the land beneath the rainbow, where clouds are soft as whispers and trees wear stripes of laughter, lived a tiny being named Gigglefolk.
Gigglefolk was not the biggest, nor the brightest in color, but wherever he went, the air rippled with joy. His round yellow face carried a smile that never faded, as if sunlight itself had chosen to live inside him.
When the other creatures argued about who could jump the highest, or whose horns were the shiniest, Gigglefolk simply giggled. The sound was light as bells and warm as morning honey, and soon even the grumpiest monster found themselves laughing too.
It is said that the rainbow above the village doesn’t just shine with color—it hums with the echoes of Gigglefolk’s laughter, stretched across the sky so no one ever forgets that joy is a bridge, not a boundary
Made with love and wools
