The Critters Who Moved to the Shadows

When truth is silenced above, it whispers brighter below.

By Forest Moss

1

Once the forest had chatter in every tree nook—

With critters all reading from scrolls and from books.

They gathered by lanterns and learned by the stream,

Their ideas like fireflies—bright, bold, and seen.

2

But that was before the great tightening came—

When scrolls had to echo the “One Voice, One Name.”

Now all forest lessons were printed in red:

“The Eagle was right.” (And the rest? Never read.)

3

Eagleton perched on a loud golden vine,

And declared: “Only my facts are fit for the mind!”

He banned every question, critique, or debate—

And rewrote the maps with himself as the state.

4

“Trust only the scrollvine,” he barked with a squawk,

“Any other source is a traitorous crock!”

So the scrollvine repeated, day after day:

“The truth’s what he says—and the rest fades away.”

5

The schools taught in chorus, the markets obeyed,

And Owliver’s warnings were quietly mislaid.

But some of the critters—small voices, big brains—

Knew better than marching in lockstepy chains.

6

So they tiptoed at twilight to an old hollow root—

A space off the path, down a vine-hidden chute.

No signs, no bright banners, no slogans to spout—

Just whisper-thin stories the regime had left out.

7

There Lantern the beetle relit the old texts,

And Rilla the rabbit brought riddles and checks.

Crabbie the coder carved signals in bark,

To tell others where learning still glowed in the dark.

8

They mapped hidden tunnels, and riddles to share—

With questions like: “Why must all forests declare…

That one bird alone knows what’s real and what’s fake?”

And “Who gets to say which thoughts we can make?”

9

The Scrollvine above grew more twisted and loud,

Each message a mirror to please just the proud.

Yet below, in the Hollow, the flickers stayed true—

They taught the young saplings what old roots once knew.

10

Their tools were quite simple—just logic and light,

Some stories from elders, some wrongs turned to right.

They scribbled in silence, they questioned with care—

And reminded each other, “We still must prepare.”

11

For truth, like a firefly, might dim for a time—

But it dances again if you follow its shine.

And even if crows cry “Subversion! Revoke!”

A lie can’t outlast a well-rooted oak.

12

So still in the Hollow, by lantern and scroll,

The critters who fled now are keeping things whole.

While up in the treetops the false echoes blare—

Down deep in the shade, the real forest is there.

🎯 Moral of the Story:

Hope hides, but never dies.

When the surface rots, the roots remember.

✏️ Why I Wrote This

This fable honors those who resist quietly—those who preserve knowledge, critical thinking, and integrity when truth is outlawed. Modeled on modern dissent (from VPNs to underground schools), it’s a tribute to educators, whistleblowers, and digital truth-keepers.

For kids, it’s a tale about bravery in the shadows.

For adults, it’s a warning—and a torch.