🌀 The Child Who Borrowed a Different Ending

A Hollow Tree myth for the ones who notice when things don’t quite land where they should.

Have you ever noticed how sometimes a moment ends…and it doesn’t feel finished?

Like a word was about to be said,or a feeling was about to land—and then it just… doesn’t?

Welcome to The Hollow Tree

Where strange stories nest and grow…

…and sometimes wander a little further than expected.

Today’s story doesn’t stay in the forest.

It lives in the in-between—where moments stretch,and endings don’t always land where they’re supposed to.

Let’s begin.

[Chime]

“Not every trick is a trick.

Some are just the world…trying again.”

[Chime]

🌀 The Child Who Borrowed a Different Ending

A Hollow Tree myth for the ones who notice when things don’t quite land where they should.

And now, the tail.

There are places that are not quite places.

You won’t find them on a map.

They don’t have names, or signs, or paths leading in.

But sometimes—when a moment almost happens…and then pauses—

you might be standing in one.

In that kind of place,there lives a small being called an Inbetweener.

No one knows exactly when they began.

They are not born the way other creatures are.

They arrivewherever something almost happens…and then doesn’t.

This one was called Ollen.

Ollen was made of noticing.

Of pauses.

Of the soft spacebetween what was about to happenand what happens instead.

The in-between is a curious place.

Nothing is broken there.

But nothing is quite finished either.

A laugh might begin—but never quite arrive.

A door might open—but never fully close.

A sentence might start—and then drift off,like it forgot where it was going.

Ollen didn’t mind.

Unfinished things were where he belonged.

They felt… full of possibility.

And over time, he discovered something unusual.

In the in-between,endings could be… adjusted.

Not changed completely.

Just… nudged.

The first time it happened,he didn’t mean to.

A bird swooped low,startled by a sudden noise.

Its flight wobbled—as if it might crash.

Ollen reached out—not with hands,but with noticing—

and thought:

What if it didn’t?

The moment stretched.

Softened.

Shifted.

And the bird… didn’t fall.

It steadied.

Flew on.

Ollen blinked.

“That’s new,” he said.

After that, he began to experiment.

Not big things.

Never big things.

The in-between didn’t like force.

It only listened to gentle curiosity.

A dropped cupthat didn’t quite shatter.

A sharp wordthat landed a little softer.

A goodbyethat lingered just long enoughto feel like it had been said.

Ollen never erased what happened.

He just… helped it land differently.

One day, a moment arrivedthat felt heavier than the others.

A child stood at the edge of something.

Not a place.

A feeling.

The kind that buildsright before tears.

The kind that comeswhen words don’t come out right.

The child opened their mouth—

and nothing came.

The moment tightened.

Sharp.

Fragile.

About to break.

Ollen felt it from where he stood.

That almost-moment.

That not-quite-landing.

He stepped closer.

Not into the child’s world.

Just… near enough to notice.

And very gently—he asked the in-between:

What if this one landed softly?

The moment stretched.

Not frozen.

Just… given space.

And in that space,something small but important happened.

The child tried again.

Not perfectly.

Not clearly.

But enough.

“I… don’t like that,”they said.

The words wobbled.

But they landed.

And the moment—instead of breaking—

held.

Ollen stepped back.

That was enough.

You see, the in-between doesn’t change what is true.

It doesn’t fix everything.

It doesn’t make hard things disappear.

But sometimes—just sometimes—

it lets a moment landin a way that can be carried.

And if you’ve ever said somethingyou didn’t know you had the courage to say—

or felt a moment go differentlythan you thought it would—

or noticed that something almost broke…but didn’t—

You might have brushed against that place.

Ollen is still there.

Not lost.

Not waiting.

Just… noticing.

And every now and then,when a moment needs a different ending—

he leans in.

Just a little.

And lets it landthe way it was always trying to.

🌀 End Whisper

If something almost goes wrong—and then… doesn’t—

you don’t have to understand why.

Some momentsjust need a little more spaceto find their way home.

To the listeners.To the whisper-hearers.To the ones who hold story before it has shape:

We see you.We thank you.We will keep writing.

Thank you for listening to The Hollow Tree.

This is just the beginning,and you are always welcome to return—whenever you’re ready for another story.

You can find more tales and behind-the-scenes magic at thehollowtree.substack.com,Instagram @TheHollowTreeStories,and remember to follow along on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and wherever you listen.

Until next time—may the path be soft,and the whisper of the forest stay with you.

🍃🕯️

—Written and performed by Amber Jensen and the voices of The Hollow Tree

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Everything here is offered with care.And every listen, every share, every whisper down the line—it matters. 🌲

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