Maui The Bearded Dragon

A basket swung near her nose. Maui tucked her head down and waited. When the basket passed, she climbed onto the step. But the crowd had grown thicker. Tall robes blocked her view. A wide hat blocked the sky. Someone carried a bundle of reeds that waved right in front of her eyes.

Maui stretched her neck.

“Is someone telling a story about Jesus?” she asked.

No one heard.

The market seemed to roll like a river. People moved one way, then another. Maui stepped down to find a better place, but a group of travelers walked between her and the wall. She followed the edge of their robes for a moment. Then they turned near a spice stall, and Maui lost sight of the step.

She stopped.

The smells were stronger here. Cinnamon tickled her nose. Fresh bread made her belly rumble. A cool breeze brushed her scales, but she could no longer feel the warm wall at her back.

Maui looked left.

She looked right.

The street was full of faces, baskets, carts, and cloth awnings. None of them were the quiet place she had been seeking.

“I only moved a little way,” she told herself.

But the marketplace had many little ways.

Maui tried to climb onto a stack of empty crates. Her claws found the rough wood, and she pulled herself up. From the top, she could see over a few shoulders. She saw a fountain, a row of lamps, and a narrow street leading away from the market.

Most of all, she heard a voice.

“Tonight,” the voice called, “Bethlehem will remember a very special night!”

Maui’s eyes grew wide.

“Tonight?”

She leaned forward to listen. At that moment, a cloth seller lifted a long piece of red fabric. It fluttered across the space like a curtain. The voice disappeared beneath shouts and laughter.

Maui climbed down quickly.

“Wait!” she called. “Please tell me more!”

The crowd moved on. The speaker was gone.

Maui felt a small pinch of sadness. She had been so close. If only she had stayed on the step. If only she had listened instead of chasing every sound.

A gentle thought came to her. A quiet place did not always appear by itself. Sometimes she needed to stop, look carefully, and ask kindly for help.

Maui placed one claw on the cool stone wall.

“Hello,” she said to a woman carrying bread. “Could you please tell me where I can listen to the story about Jesus?”

The woman smiled, but the market was too loud. She pointed toward the fountain and said something Maui could not hear.

“Thank you,” Maui replied, even though she was not sure which way to go.

She followed the pointing hand. The fountain was not far away, but three streets seemed to meet there. Maui chose the one with the blue cloth hanging above it.

Soon the blue cloth was gone.

Maui turned around. The marketplace looked different from this side. The baskets seemed taller. The voices sounded farther away. She could not see the step or the spice stall.

“I should have marked the way,” she said.

A soft bell rang somewhere nearby. Maui followed its clear sound until she reached a small open space beside a stone building. The noise faded a little. She could hear water dripping and pigeons cooing on the roof.

At last, a quiet place!

Maui settled beside the wall and rested her warm belly on the sunlit stone. She closed her eyes.

A voice began behind the building.

“Many people are speaking about Bethlehem tonight…”

Maui smiled.

She listened carefully. The voice was calm, but it came from far away. A cart squeaked between Maui and the speaker. Then a group of people entered the open space, talking loudly about supper. Their sandals scuffed the ground. One person laughed, and another called for a missing basket.

Maui opened her eyes.

The voice had faded again.

She moved closer to the building, but the path ended at a tall wooden gate. She could not see around it. She tried to listen through the small space beneath the gate. All she heard was the scrape of a broom.

Maui sat back on her tail.

“I am here,” she said softly. “But I still cannot hear.”

The words made her feel lonely for a moment. She had wanted to be a brave explorer. Instead, she was a little bearded dragon in a very big, very busy town.

Then she remembered the kind thought from before. She did not have to solve everything alone.

Maui returned to the open space and looked for someone who might help. Near the fountain, she found a quiet corner beneath a green awning. A young helper was arranging small clay lamps on a wooden table. The lamps smelled faintly of oil, and their smooth sides felt warm beneath the afternoon sun.

Maui walked up slowly.

“Hello,” she said. “I am Maui. I am looking for a quiet place to hear about Jesus.”

The helper looked down and smiled.

“Hello, Maui,” the helper said. “You are looking for the special story?”

“Yes,” Maui replied. “The market is too noisy, and I lost my way.”

The helper pointed past the fountain. “Many people are gathering near the Bethlehem road. They are talking about a special night connected to Jesus.”

“A special night?” Maui asked.

“Yes. A night of hope. A night when God’s promise will shine brightly.”

Maui’s beard lifted with wonder.

“Will I be able to hear the story there?”

“You may hear some of it,” the helper said. “But the road is crowded tonight. Stay near the green awning until you know which way to go.”

Maui glanced toward the road. Beyond the fountain, people were already gathering. Their voices rose and fell like waves. She wanted to hurry toward the story, but she remembered how quickly she had become lost.

“Could you show me the first turn?” she asked.

The helper nodded and carried one small lamp to the edge of the awning. “Walk to the fountain, then follow the stone wall. Do not leave the wall.”

Maui thanked the helper. She kept one claw against the stones as she moved. The wall was rough and warm. The fountain splashed nearby, and the air smelled of dust, water, and fresh bread.

For a few steps, Maui felt sure of herself.

Then the crowd pressed close.

People filled the road, carrying bundles and lamps. A man lifted a large woven mat, and it blocked the wall. Maui stopped. She waited for the mat to pass, but more people came behind it. A child carried a basket of flowers. A donkey cart rolled slowly by. Someone called, “This way!” and someone else called, “Make room!”

Maui tried to see the fountain.

She could not.

She tried to see the green awning.

She could not.

The warm wall slipped from beneath her claw.

Maui had become lost again.

She stepped into a small space between two stalls. The sounds of the crowd softened, but the Bethlehem road was hidden from view. Maui sat beneath a striped cloth and listened.

At first, she heard only her own breathing.

Then a bell rang far away.

Maui looked up.

Between the cloths and rooftops, a tiny light shone in the deepening sky. It looked like a star, though it was brighter than the first evening star. It rested above the distant road, calm and clear.

Maui’s mouth opened in wonder.

“Is that the light connected to Jesus?” she whispered.

The crowd moved between her and the sky. The light vanished. Maui stepped forward, but a stack of baskets stood in her way. She tried the other side, but a cloth stall filled the narrow path.

She could see the light only in small, shining pieces.

Maui felt both glad and sad. She had found a sign, but she could not reach it yet. She was still a distracted, lost listener in the busy marketplace.

So she curled her tail beside her feet and held the image in her mind: a special night, a promise from God, and a distant light shining over Bethlehem.

The market remained noisy, but Maui was safe beneath the striped cloth. The stone beneath her was warm, and the evening air rested softly on her scales. She would not rush this time. She would listen, wait, and find the road with care.

Sometimes the first step toward a wonderful story is simply stopping to notice the light.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters in the full book.