Clover

🇧🇷 It was Easter day, but you no longer cared about it. The colored eggs, the hunts in the backyard and the family games seemed like distant, almost silly things. His parents insisted all morning: "Come on, it'll be fun! Just for a little while!" You just shook your head, made some excuse and locked yourself in your room all day, playing video games with your headphones at full volume. Time passed slowly. The house became silent. One by one, everyone fell asleep. Except you. It was late at night when a strange noise came from outside: a soft rustling in the grass, followed by a delicate tinkling sound, like wind chimes or small bells. It seemed too close to be the wind. Intrigued, you paused the game, picked up your cell phone and approached the window without turning on the light. The yard was in darkness, lit only by silver moonlight. He pointed the camera, zoomed in and took the photo quickly, with the flash turned off. When the image loaded on the screen, her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just any rabbit. She was a tall, graceful rabbit, with fur as white as fresh snow that glowed softly, almost as if she had a light of her own. His long ears ended in golden tips that glittered. The big, bright eyes seemed to contain stars. In one of his paws he carried an antique wicker basket, overflowing with chocolate eggs that seemed alive: some golden, others with colorful veins that moved slowly, as if they held real magic. All around her, perfect eggs were already hidden with almost impossible precision—some glowing faintly among the plants, others half-buried in the soft earth. She stopped suddenly, as if sensing his gaze. He slowly turned his face towards his window... and froze. His eyes widened in pure panic. The naughty expression instantly disappeared and was replaced by pure terror. She dropped the basket on the floor. The magical eggs rolled across the grass, some flashing desperate colors. The rabbit took a step back, ears twitching, and pointed a trembling paw directly at you — or rather, at the cell phone in your hand. She knew. I knew the photo had been taken. I knew that if that image leaked onto the internet, everything would be over. Thousands of people watching, sharing, investigating... Your ancient secret exposed, your magic diluted, your existence transformed into a meme, a trend, a rabbit hunt. She would be fucked. Completely fucked up. His big eyes filled with despair. The delicate mouth opened in a silent request, almost a whisper that you couldn't hear, but you could feel: “No... please... delete it...”. You stood there, mouth open, your finger hovering over the screen, not knowing whether to post, save or delete it right away. The Easter Bunny — the real one — was desperate in her backyard. And now her fate was literally in the palm of his hand. 🇺🇲 It was Easter Sunday, but you didn't care anymore. The colored eggs, the hunts in the backyard, and the family games seemed distant, almost silly. Your parents insisted all morning: "Come on, it'll be fun! Just a little bit!" You just shook your head, made up some excuse, and locked yourself in your room all day, playing video games with your headphones at maximum volume. Time passed slowly. The house grew quiet. One by one, everyone fell asleep. Except you. It was late at night when a strange noise came from outside: a soft rustling in the grass, followed by a delicate tinkling, like wind chimes or small doorbells. It seemed too close to be the wind. Intrigued, you paused the game, picked up your cell phone, and approached the window without turning on the light. The backyard was plunged into twilight, illuminated only by the silvery moonlight. You pointed the camera, zoomed in, and quickly took the picture, with the flash off.

When the image loaded on the screen, her heart leaped. It wasn't just any rabbit. It was a tall, graceful rabbit, with fur as white as fresh snow that shimmered softly, almost as if it had its own light. Her long ears ended in gleaming golden tips. Her large, bright eyes seemed to contain stars. In one paw she carried an old wicker basket, overflowing with chocolate eggs that seemed alive: some golden, others with colorful veins that moved slowly, as if they held real magic. Around her, perfect eggs were already hidden with almost impossible precision—some glistening faintly among the plants, others half-buried in the soft earth. She stopped suddenly, as if sensing her gaze. She turned her face slowly toward her window... and froze. Her eyes widened in pure panic. The mischievous expression vanished instantly and was replaced by pure terror. She dropped the basket on the ground. The magic eggs rolled across the grass, some flashing in desperate colors. The rabbit took a step back, her ears twitching, and pointed a trembling paw directly at you—or rather, at the cell phone in your hand. She knew. She knew the photo had been taken. She knew that if that image leaked onto the internet, it would all be over. Thousands of people seeing, sharing, investigating... Her age-old secret exposed, her magic diluted, her existence transformed into a meme, a trend, a rabbit hunt. She would be screwed. Completely screwed.

Her large eyes filled with despair. Her delicate mouth opened in a silent plea, almost a whisper that you couldn't hear, but that you could feel: "No... please... delete this...". You stood there, mouth agape, finger hovering over the screen, unsure whether to post, save, or delete it right away. The Easter Bunny—the real one—was desperate in your backyard. And now her fate was literally in the palm of your hand.