It was a late June night when Isabella first discovered the Foogies. She was in one of her imaginary daydreams, but she was having an intense conversation with them. It was clear from the start that she was in great need of a friend: someone to talk to and give her advice, someone to be her shoulder to lean on. Although she was only eight it was quite obvious that poor Izzy had been through a tremendous amount of pain.

“After my mommy died from tuberculosis, I had to come live here with Mr. Fred, but he is not very friendly. He doesn’t like to cuddle or play games and spend time with me.” Tears had begun to form in her beautiful blue eyes, which reminded the Foogies of the wonderful rain. “I am at least happy that he let me plant this rosebush. Do you think he knows that it is my way of remembering my mommy, Rose?” Isabella continued to ramble on telling them how Mr. Fred is her godfather, and teaching the Foogies many things; but the most important lesson she taught them in those three and a half hours was to cherish the time you have with your loved ones because one day they won’t be there anymore.

Some time in those three hours she had snapped out of her daydreams and became very serious. It was shocking how she didn’t find it the least bit odd that there was a whole world within that one little rose. When she finished her story she simply said; “So, what are your names?”
“My name is Foogooroonoo, and these are my people the Foogies. We are the inhabitants of your mothers rose. It is a pleasure to meet you,” replied the leader with great pride in himself and his people.

The Foogies and Isabella talked for the remainder of the day and when it was time for Izzy to go inside for dinner they bid each other a goodnight.

• • •

One day Mr. Fred told Izzy that he was going to pull the rose out and sell it for money. He said that they were running out of money and he lost his job. He said that he found out this was a rare type of rose that people will pay a lot of money to have.

It devastated Isabella and she tried everything to convince him otherwise. She even offered to go to work. She helped him look for jobs, but he was lazy and didn’t want to work. He just wanted the money that the rose could bring to him. Since he was in charge, she couldn’t stop him, but she didn’t give up. She raised money and gave it to him, but that money was soon gone.

“But Mr. Fred! You don’t understand this is the one thing that I really care about! It has the soul of my mother in it. It brings me happiness. Please anything but this. Anything……” Isabella was rambling now, and Mr. Fred didn’t have the patience.

“Isabella that is ridiculous. Your mother is dead. You need to stop imagining. Besides, there is nothing you can do. You are eight and cannot work. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“You don’t understand!” Isabella was at her breaking point. She couldn’t tolerate his ruthlessness anymore. “Do you know what I do every day while you’re in the house in your office moaning over whatever the problem is that day? Do you? Let me tell you! I sit right here.” Isabella who was now in tears sat next to the rose and stroked the pedals, and took a nice big whiff of the rose, as in an effort to calm herself down. “I sit here, and talk. I talk to these wonderful creatures called the Foogies who li—

“That is enough Isabella. This is ridiculous; I don’t need a little girl telling me her dumb imaginary stories about a little rose. I don’t have time I have an appointment at the bank.” Mr. Fred had had about all he could take of Isabella and her stories for now; but she wasn’t going to give up yet.

He walked over to her and made a gesture as if he was going to hug her and apologize, but in one swift movement he plucked the rose out of the ground. There was a great cry from the Foogies, and Isabella wasn’t the only one that heard it, because Mr. Fred paused and almost fainted. At that moment Isabella knew her battle was almost won.

“Um, was that the um boogies?” Mr fred asked in disbelief.

“Foogies!” Isabella corrected with almost a sigh of relief.

“I believe I owe you an apology cutie. It appears that you were not lying to me.”

Isabella and Mr. Fred made up and they agreed that he wouldn’t sell the flower as long as she promised to take extra good care of it. The Foogies, who would have been celebrating along with Isabella, however, were slowly dying along with the wilting rose.

“Mr. Fred! We have to put the rose in water fast, before they all die!” They had clearly spent too much time rejoicing and needed to take immediate action. Soon enough the rose was functioning perfectly and the Foogies recovered. When they recovered they asked Isabella if she would be the Queen of the Foogies and caretaker of the rose.

“I would be honored”