Camille
Chapter 2: The Garden of Miracles
Camille transforms her garden with her magic paintings. But when a neighbor discovers her secret, Camille begins to wonder how far her gift can take her.
Reading difficulty
The next day, Camille can think of nothing but magic paints. At school, she scribbles in her notebook, imagining all the things she could do.
As soon as she gets home, she retrieves the box and goes down to her garden.
The garden has lost its splendor. The flowers are withered, the bushes are dry. Camille takes a deep breath and opens the box. She chooses a green paint and draws a rosebush with bright red petals.
When she finishes, she observes the bush in front of her. Little by little, the leaves of the real rosebush become glossy, and buds appear. They grow and bloom into magnificent red flowers. Camille is speechless. "It really works... again!" she whispers.
She continues to paint: daisies regaining their vibrancy, butterflies dancing around the flowers, and even a forgotten fountain shining like new. In just a few hours, her garden vibrates with color and life.
Suddenly, a voice behind her: "Camille, are you the one doing all this?" Madame Rousseau, her neighbor, stood at the barrier, amazed.
Camille hesitates, then decides to talk to him. She explains that she found a box with special paints, without revealing their magic.
Madame Rousseau smiled. "You have a real gift, my dear. You could make many people happy. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning?"
These words resonate in Camille's mind. The idea of using her paintings elsewhere fills her with excitement, but also with worry. What if someone wanted to take them?
Her mother comes out of the house. "Camille, the garden is magnificent!" she says, smiling.
Camille blushed and closed her notebook. She promised herself she would continue to experiment… but carefully.
As soon as she gets home, she retrieves the box and goes down to her garden.
The garden has lost its splendor. The flowers are withered, the bushes are dry. Camille takes a deep breath and opens the box. She chooses a green paint and draws a rosebush with bright red petals.
When she finishes, she observes the bush in front of her. Little by little, the leaves of the real rosebush become glossy, and buds appear. They grow and bloom into magnificent red flowers. Camille is speechless. "It really works... again!" she whispers.
She continues to paint: daisies regaining their vibrancy, butterflies dancing around the flowers, and even a forgotten fountain shining like new. In just a few hours, her garden vibrates with color and life.
Suddenly, a voice behind her: "Camille, are you the one doing all this?" Madame Rousseau, her neighbor, stood at the barrier, amazed.
Camille hesitates, then decides to talk to him. She explains that she found a box with special paints, without revealing their magic.
Madame Rousseau smiled. "You have a real gift, my dear. You could make many people happy. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning?"
These words resonate in Camille's mind. The idea of using her paintings elsewhere fills her with excitement, but also with worry. What if someone wanted to take them?
Her mother comes out of the house. "Camille, the garden is magnificent!" she says, smiling.
Camille blushed and closed her notebook. She promised herself she would continue to experiment… but carefully.
The day after her discovery, Camille couldn't stop thinking about the magic paints. Throughout the school day, she scribbled in her notebook, imagining all the things she could do with her newfound gift. The school hours seemed endless. She counted down the minutes until the bell rang.
As soon as she gets home, she immediately retrieves the kit and goes down to her garden. This garden, once vibrant, has lost some of its splendor in recent months. The withered flowers and dry bushes seem to be waiting to be brought back to life. It's the perfect time to test the power of the paints again.
Camille sat down on a wooden bench and took a deep breath. She carefully opened the box. The tubes of paint glistened softly, as if they had been waiting for her. She chose a green paint and began to sketch a magnificent rosebush in her notebook, imagining its vibrant red petals and vivid green leaves.
When she finishes her drawing, she looks up at the bush in front of her. At first, nothing happens. Then, little by little, the leaves of the real rosebush become brighter, greener. Buds appear, growing visibly until they burst into magnificent red flowers. Camille is speechless. "It really works... again!" she whispers, amazed.
Encouraged by this success, she continued to paint other parts of the garden: faded daisies regaining their white and yellow brilliance, colorful butterflies appearing to dance around the flowers, and even an old, forgotten fountain beginning to shine as if it were brand new. In just a few hours, her garden was transformed into a living canvas, vibrant with color and life.
As she admires her work, Camille hears a voice behind her. "Camille, is it you who does all this?" Old Madame Rousseau, her neighbor, is standing at the garden gate, her eyes shining with curiosity and wonder.
Camille hesitates. Should she reveal her secret? After a moment's thought, she decides to talk to her a little. Madame Rousseau is kind and always curious about Camille's artistic creations. She explains that she found a box with special paints, without going into the details of their magic.
Madame Rousseau nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You have a real gift, my dear. You could make many people happy with your art. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning?"
These words resonated in Camille's mind. The idea of using her paintings to beautify other places filled her with excitement, but also a touch of worry. What if someone abused this power or tried to seize it? She decided she had to be careful.
While she was thinking, her mother came out of the house. "Camille, I don't know what you've been doing, but the garden is magnificent!" she said, smiling warmly.
Camille blushed and discreetly closed her notebook.
She promises herself to continue experimenting with magic paints… but carefully.
As soon as she gets home, she immediately retrieves the kit and goes down to her garden. This garden, once vibrant, has lost some of its splendor in recent months. The withered flowers and dry bushes seem to be waiting to be brought back to life. It's the perfect time to test the power of the paints again.
Camille sat down on a wooden bench and took a deep breath. She carefully opened the box. The tubes of paint glistened softly, as if they had been waiting for her. She chose a green paint and began to sketch a magnificent rosebush in her notebook, imagining its vibrant red petals and vivid green leaves.
When she finishes her drawing, she looks up at the bush in front of her. At first, nothing happens. Then, little by little, the leaves of the real rosebush become brighter, greener. Buds appear, growing visibly until they burst into magnificent red flowers. Camille is speechless. "It really works... again!" she whispers, amazed.
Encouraged by this success, she continued to paint other parts of the garden: faded daisies regaining their white and yellow brilliance, colorful butterflies appearing to dance around the flowers, and even an old, forgotten fountain beginning to shine as if it were brand new. In just a few hours, her garden was transformed into a living canvas, vibrant with color and life.
As she admires her work, Camille hears a voice behind her. "Camille, is it you who does all this?" Old Madame Rousseau, her neighbor, is standing at the garden gate, her eyes shining with curiosity and wonder.
Camille hesitates. Should she reveal her secret? After a moment's thought, she decides to talk to her a little. Madame Rousseau is kind and always curious about Camille's artistic creations. She explains that she found a box with special paints, without going into the details of their magic.
Madame Rousseau nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You have a real gift, my dear. You could make many people happy with your art. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning?"
These words resonated in Camille's mind. The idea of using her paintings to beautify other places filled her with excitement, but also a touch of worry. What if someone abused this power or tried to seize it? She decided she had to be careful.
While she was thinking, her mother came out of the house. "Camille, I don't know what you've been doing, but the garden is magnificent!" she said, smiling warmly.
Camille blushed and discreetly closed her notebook.
She promises herself to continue experimenting with magic paints… but carefully.
The day after her magical discovery, Camille couldn't stop thinking about the extraordinary paintings. Sitting at her desk at school, she barely listened to what the teacher was saying. All day long, she scribbled in her notebook, imagining all the things she could do with her newfound gift. Entire gardens blossoming, trees instantly flowering, maybe she could even paint animals?
The possibilities seem endless. The class hours seem interminable, and she counts down the minutes until the end-of-day bell rings.
As soon as she gets home, she quickly greets her mother and immediately retrieves the precious box. Her heart beats fast with excitement. She then goes back down to the garden, her notebook under her arm and the box clutched to her chest. This garden, once so vibrant and full of color, has lost some of its splendor these past few months. It's the very beginning of spring, and the flowers, withered by winter, hang sadly. The bushes are dry, and some leaves have turned yellow. Everything seems to be waiting to be brought back to life. It's the perfect time for a new test.
Camille settled comfortably on an old wooden bench near the rosebush that had once been her grandmother's pride and joy. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then carefully opened the box. The tubes of paint gleamed softly in the late afternoon light, as if they had been patiently waiting for her. She chose a green paint, then a red, and began to sketch a magnificent rosebush in her notebook. She imagined every detail: the vibrant, perfectly formed red petals and the bright, healthy green leaves.
When she finishes her drawing with a final brushstroke, she looks up at the bush in front of her. At first, nothing happens. The old rosebush remains still and forlorn. Camille holds her breath. Then, little by little, as if by magic, the leaves of the real rosebush begin to change. They become brighter, greener, more vibrant. Tiny buds appear on the branches, growing visibly until they burst into magnificent red flowers that seem almost to dance in the breeze. Camille is speechless, her eyes wide. "It really works... again!" she whispers, completely awestruck by this magical spectacle.
Encouraged and filled with confidence by this new success, she continued to paint other parts of the garden. She drew daisies that, in moments, regained their vibrant white and yellow splendor. She painted colorful butterflies that, as if by magic, appeared to dance joyfully around the newly opened flowers. She even drew the old fountain, forgotten in a corner of the garden, and it began to shine as if it were new, its water flowing once more in a pretty, crystalline stream. In just a few hours of passionate work, her garden was completely transformed into a veritable living canvas, vibrant with brilliant colors and life.
As she stepped back a few paces to admire her work with pride and satisfaction, Camille suddenly heard a surprised voice behind her. "Camille, is it really you who does all this? How is it possible?" Old Madame Rousseau, her kind neighbor, was standing at the garden gate, her eyes shining with curiosity and genuine wonder.
Camille hesitated for a long time. Should she really reveal her secret? After a long moment of reflection, she finally decided to talk to her, but only briefly. Madame Rousseau had always been kind to her and always curious about her artistic creations. Camille explained that she had found a boxold with very special paintings in the attic, but she says nothing about their true magic or their power of transformation.
Madame Rousseau nodded gently, a kind smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You have a truly extraordinary gift, my dear. You could make so many people happy with your wonderful art. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning? Imagine all you could do!"
These words resonated deeply within Camille. The idea of using her magical paintings to beautify other places, perhaps even help people, filled her with great excitement. But at the same time, she also felt a pang of worry. What if someone discovered the true power of these paintings and wanted to misuse them? What if someone tried to steal them? She firmly resolved that she must be extremely careful and keep the secret as much as possible.
As she was thinking about all this, her mother happily came out of the house. "Camille, I really don't know what you've done, but the garden is absolutely magnificent! I've never seen such beautiful flowers!" she said, smiling warmly, clearly very proud.
Camille blushed slightly and discreetly closed her notebook against her chest. She carefully put the box away. She silently promised herself that she would continue experimenting with the magic paints… but always with the utmost care and caution.
The possibilities seem endless. The class hours seem interminable, and she counts down the minutes until the end-of-day bell rings.
As soon as she gets home, she quickly greets her mother and immediately retrieves the precious box. Her heart beats fast with excitement. She then goes back down to the garden, her notebook under her arm and the box clutched to her chest. This garden, once so vibrant and full of color, has lost some of its splendor these past few months. It's the very beginning of spring, and the flowers, withered by winter, hang sadly. The bushes are dry, and some leaves have turned yellow. Everything seems to be waiting to be brought back to life. It's the perfect time for a new test.
Camille settled comfortably on an old wooden bench near the rosebush that had once been her grandmother's pride and joy. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then carefully opened the box. The tubes of paint gleamed softly in the late afternoon light, as if they had been patiently waiting for her. She chose a green paint, then a red, and began to sketch a magnificent rosebush in her notebook. She imagined every detail: the vibrant, perfectly formed red petals and the bright, healthy green leaves.
When she finishes her drawing with a final brushstroke, she looks up at the bush in front of her. At first, nothing happens. The old rosebush remains still and forlorn. Camille holds her breath. Then, little by little, as if by magic, the leaves of the real rosebush begin to change. They become brighter, greener, more vibrant. Tiny buds appear on the branches, growing visibly until they burst into magnificent red flowers that seem almost to dance in the breeze. Camille is speechless, her eyes wide. "It really works... again!" she whispers, completely awestruck by this magical spectacle.
Encouraged and filled with confidence by this new success, she continued to paint other parts of the garden. She drew daisies that, in moments, regained their vibrant white and yellow splendor. She painted colorful butterflies that, as if by magic, appeared to dance joyfully around the newly opened flowers. She even drew the old fountain, forgotten in a corner of the garden, and it began to shine as if it were new, its water flowing once more in a pretty, crystalline stream. In just a few hours of passionate work, her garden was completely transformed into a veritable living canvas, vibrant with brilliant colors and life.
As she stepped back a few paces to admire her work with pride and satisfaction, Camille suddenly heard a surprised voice behind her. "Camille, is it really you who does all this? How is it possible?" Old Madame Rousseau, her kind neighbor, was standing at the garden gate, her eyes shining with curiosity and genuine wonder.
Camille hesitated for a long time. Should she really reveal her secret? After a long moment of reflection, she finally decided to talk to her, but only briefly. Madame Rousseau had always been kind to her and always curious about her artistic creations. Camille explained that she had found a boxold with very special paintings in the attic, but she says nothing about their true magic or their power of transformation.
Madame Rousseau nodded gently, a kind smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You have a truly extraordinary gift, my dear. You could make so many people happy with your wonderful art. Perhaps your garden is just the beginning? Imagine all you could do!"
These words resonated deeply within Camille. The idea of using her magical paintings to beautify other places, perhaps even help people, filled her with great excitement. But at the same time, she also felt a pang of worry. What if someone discovered the true power of these paintings and wanted to misuse them? What if someone tried to steal them? She firmly resolved that she must be extremely careful and keep the secret as much as possible.
As she was thinking about all this, her mother happily came out of the house. "Camille, I really don't know what you've done, but the garden is absolutely magnificent! I've never seen such beautiful flowers!" she said, smiling warmly, clearly very proud.
Camille blushed slightly and discreetly closed her notebook against her chest. She carefully put the box away. She silently promised herself that she would continue experimenting with the magic paints… but always with the utmost care and caution.