Tales For The Young And Old 2b3g1x

TALES FOR THE

Young and Old

JEAN MCMAHON

AuthorHouse™ 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.authorhouse.com Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640

© 2016 Jean Mcmahon. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/30/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-5267-8 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-5246-5266-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919874

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Color Fall

Brandon’s Tea

Nothing Rhymes with Orange

Practical Pig’s Delema

The Prince’s Wife

The Frog that wouldn’t Stop Croaking

Space Angel

Jason Rain Soaked

The Painting of the Sky

The Coming of Thewereweasl

Jason’s Parent’s

Fantacy Story

Hand It to the Turkey

Josh and the Comma Chase

Stewart Saves His Best Friend!

Super Blanket and the Cover-Up

Troll Under The Bridge

Color Fall

H ope opened his eyes and spread his wings; the colors made him feel awe and joy. The colors were so bright, and so beautiful he had to blink three times before he could look at the trees; it happened. It wasn’t a dream; the big, beautiful rainbow had fallen in the night’s storm. Hope pointed his long, straight horn towards the trees to show respect. He whinnied and galloped to the trees. He danced with joy as the colors surrounded him, like a wet cloud, but smooth too. Finely he trotted off to the lake to drink and saw that he was as colorful as the rainbow itself. He shook himself and the colors flew off him like rain water. The grass looked like drops of paint had spattered all over it. Hope stepped in the colors and made colorful foot prints as he walked. Soon his mother, a frisky Pegasus came out of their cave. She too went to the trees, she nibbled a leaf; it tasted blue, Hope tasted one, it tasted purple. His mother called all of the Pegasus and the unicorns to see the great wonder. The cheerful, carefree Pegasus danced together. The leader of the unicorns, Grayone, spoke to his son, young Hope alone. There was nothing to do but enjoy the color fall, so they did. The great, solemn unicorns stomped their hooves and clicked as the Pegasus flew in and out of the trees. Grayone, now alone with Hope, showed him the writings in the sacred book that tells of the color fall happening every five hundred years. It brings blessings of a good and plentiful harvest and lovely music, with sounds that blows as it whistles through the colorful trees. Just as his father was reading this, the wind did pick up, and the music was the clearest, most beautiful sound that Hope ever heard. For one month the color fall surround them with joy, and music; and they danced. Then the color fall rosé again to the sky on a sunny day. There it stayed to appear and reign in the sky as a bow.

Brandon’s Tea

B randon’s feet dragged slowly, his right shoe was untied. Sweat began on his forehead as he touched the principal’s door. Mr. O’Conner stood with his hands on his hips not more then two inches taller then the taller then the Sandy haired fourteen your old. “You’ve broken a serious rule; you’ve been caught selling tea and candy out of your locker.” Brandon was relived, if that is all he heard all the better. He thought ing a month ago when he snuck out his bedroom window at one a.m. walked downtown to buy bottled tea. He ed the fear he had when the cop called his mother and took him home. She grounded him for two weeks for breaking the town curfew and leaving the house without permeation. The principal need an explanation and Brandon knew it was stupid to lie this time. He could sometimes lie to his mom but he felt bad disappointing her. The truth would come out in the end and then he would be in double trouble. Mr. O’Conner (who Brandon thought of as mean and unfair surprised him); after Brandon explained the he just wanted to make money so he printed a list of prices and got a lot of customers. He explained he got dollars store soda, tea and candy that he sold at reasonable upgraded. Mr. O’Conner looked at Brandon, this kid is different he thought he could help the school and himself with the right direction. I won’t bring up the police report I received about the curfew; it was a harmless adolescent thing to do. “Brandon you know as a public school there can be no commercial sales on the property. Sales from students in the hall and out of lockers often involve drugs, so school security must be involved. Your locker will be cleaned out and a new one assigned to you. You also have one week of detention plus you must write an essay about why you must obey the rules. You can do this in detention. Detention is not a study hall so you won’t do homework there.” Brandon sank low in the chair he knew this trouble would exculpate; mom would get a letter about it and take away a privilege. All he wanted was to make spending money and the rich kids in school had plenty. Just then Mr. O’Conner said something that took Brandon by surprise.

“You have good marketing ability you have made a good profit and the students enjoy buying from you.” Brandon felt curious and apprehensive by his principal’s change in approach. “I am strongly suggesting that you take an active role in the school fair. There are still six weeks to prepare. You may run a food and beverage booth and I would like you to train three or four other students to help you.” Brandon sat there – shocked. Then he asked “can I choose some friends to help?” “Yes I think you have the ability to choose wisely.” Brandon knew this was a warning as much as a statement. Brandon got busy after detention each day setting up for the fair. He was thankful for his second chance. Even the detention, while annoying didn’t seem so bad. Anyway that was over now he had chosen his assistants. Willy arrived with the hotdogs. “Wow” he said, “the orange and yellow look great on the booth.” “Thanks” Sandra smiled as she tossed the end of the Cray paper in the trash. “Can someone help me with the balloons?” asked Kelsey. In no time at all Sandra and Willy were tying string and stapling balloon clusters to the side of the booth as fast as Kelsey could blow them. Brandon turned from the grill to offer his team a thumb up. He smiled because he was busy doing something he enjoyed and earning some money. Mr. O’Conner walked up to check out the booth. He told them that it was the best looking booth at the fair. Brandon surprised himself by telling Mr. O’Conner that he would not let him down. Brandon was thinking differently about his principle; was Mr. O’Conner really a fair man. Brandon wasn’t ready for that so he kept busy with the grill and lining up soda and water. Brandon took Willy with him to tour the fairgrounds while Sandra and Kelsey made little candy bags with yellow and orange ribbon. The bags would sell for fifteen cents a piece. Willy’s braces reflected the sun as he smiled. “Everyone else’s booth looks lame compared with ours. When they got back they were ready to go. Sandra stood in

front selling heated croissants; because Brandon knew the hotdogs would not sell till at least eleven o’clock. The four of them were kept busy all day. They smiled at customers and had the most repeat customers at the fair. Mr. O’Conner allowed them to stay open till five thirty for the dinner crowed. Every other booth closed at five sharp. The last customer was a tired mother of two young, energetic boys she was relived that the stand was open and bought hotdogs and chips for the boys and a large coffee for herself. “We hope to be here next year”. Brandon shouted to her as she walked away. The group started the process of cleaning up. The cash box was counted by the head of the P.T.A. who told them they made five times the money as anyone else. Mr. O’Conner came over and gave them each a certificate of successes and a blue ribbon for the booth. Prouder parents could not be found then the one of this tired but happy crew. Before they got in their cars however, Mr. O’Conner approached them. The students have done so well I was hoping you would allow them to sell at the football games. The parents agreed after what Brandon thought was some bogus talk about homework coming first. “Like Mr. O’Conner would ever let that slide.”Brandon reminded them. They all agreed to the sports booth and drove away. Brandon had previously attended only one football game. Now of course he came to them all. He viewed them well from his “Brandon’s Treats” Booth. Brandon was well known by the second game and within a month his “specialty workers” were as well. Sandra and Kelsey took orders from school for pre-made food. Willy took over cooking for Brandon and called orders over the loud speaker. Brandon delivered food to the stands for those who had trouble walking to the booth. Mr. O’Conner came to the booth each game to get a hot dog and to make sure Brandon was operating efficiently. This time he brought his daughter. “This is Jill” he introduced the child. I like the football cakes you put together for the team when they win. Now we have a better win-loss recorded. I believe this is partly because of your incentive. I would like you to make a cake for Jill’s

tenth birthday in two weeks. I will pay you a standard fee of course. Brandon was shocked. Can this principal ever stop surprising him? Brandon ed almost hating him last year. Now he felt only that this principal was unfair many times and of course a dork. Now Mr. O’Conner seemed sometimes reasonable even helpful Brandon found he wanted to please him. Brandon told him he would make the best cake ever. Then he adds “Do you want hot dogs?” “Yes.” Mr. O’Conner said; “that’s a great idea enough for six girls. Oh and the party is to be a princes theme. The party was a big success; the girls loved the grilled hotdogs and the “Princes Pink” chip dip Sandra invented. When the party ended Brandon felt tired but successful. Mr. O’Conner shook his hand and said “Brandon you have the making of a nice business and I am proud of the way you have worked hard to change for the better.” They both new they (the former troubled kid and the unfair principal) had become friends.

Nothing Rhymes with Orange

“Anna Banana,’ says Rav. Raven walks into the room pealing his banana and takes a bite. “Don’t talk with your mouth full squirt,” his big ten year old cousin says. Raven swallows as his cousin plops in the chair and gets pens to do his homework. “Chair bear” rhymes Rav. “Home dome, work jerk, book look paper caper, lamp stamp.” “Come back later; I can’t think,” says Raven’s big cousin. “Think, sink, pink, says Raven. He leaves the room. Pink? I can rhyme colors. Raven begins, “blue flew, red bed, green bean, black tack, white kite, orange – orange? He thinks, orange –orange. In walks his big cousin, big cousin picks up an orange from a fruit basket and says: “Nothing rhymes with orange squirt.” “What!” shouts Raven? His big cousin shrugs his shoulders and walks out of the kitchen. Raven gets paper and crayons out of the draw and begins to make up real orange rhyming words.

Orange a color Borange on the fringe of boring Pourage similar to portage but it is orange. Morange more oranges Dorange like during, but past tense. Corange a small corsage. Norange north like

Torange a torrential rain but in a very small place Worange World range (like gulf or other sport with the whole world taking part) Forange to forage for food over a large area for a long time Raven puts his crayons down. His cousin walks in the kitchen. He picks up an orange, stats to peel it and looks at Raven. “What are you doing?” he says. “Done!” say’s Raven. His big cousin grabs the paper and smiles. “Very nice; good work squirt.” He says. “Thanks “says Raven. “I mean thanks banks.” Big cousin gives him a thumbs up.

Practical Pig’s Delema

(A Diary of Swinette Sow)

S winette threw down her pen in discussed. She turned away from the window, shed a tear and picked the pen off the floor. She wiped her snout with hoof and began: Dear Diary. I am so angry and alone. She wrote. Practical is out there again with his useless brother, Fiddler. He is drawing more building plans and buying bricks for yet another new house for Fiddler. Last week, again, Fiddler sold all the brick for candy and some worthless get rich quick scheme; that the local wolf trying to pull off. And another thing: why doe’s Practical have start an anti- wolf league? He’s getting almost no help with that either. When I ask if I can help him with it just to spend time together and give him a break; he snorts at me and said “its hogs work.” Sometimes he can be such a male Chavannes human. Swinette sighed and closed her diary. She put it by her purse; she wanted to read some of it to her friend Cora Cow. She called out of her best pink sundress, called to practical “I’m leaving now, your lunch is in the trough. I’ll be back this afternoon.” “Ok,” Practical snorted back without even looking up, “I tell you Cora he’s just not the pig I fell in love with.” “I see that,” said Cora “It’s so good of you to let me read some of your diary.” “Oh, please, we’ve been friends since I was a piglet and you were a calf.” “I see how he uses to send you flowers and walk in the park with you when you were courting. I how you always talked about how much he loved you. “Yes that’s all true and I know he meant it at the time. I guess his devotion to his family impressed me; but now he won’t stop. He keeps getting his brother Fiddler out of trouble and the stupid pig does’ the same thing over and over again. Practical even showed him how to build a brick house and got him a pig Brick House for dummies book; but the lazy slob keeps making cheap stick houses and can’t get it through his head that the wolf can blow it down. He acts

like a victim and Practical keeps saving him. Once he let him stay with us for a week.” “I that disaster,” said Cora. Oh, even Practical has his limits and when Fiddler brought his filthy friends around the house just looked like a sty. I would have left if he didn’t through the friends out. Of course Fiddler made another stick house and the wolf was there the same day, huffing and puffing. “I tell you Cora, I’m about at the end of my rope. If something doesn’t change I’m moving on.” “I’m so sorry,” said Cora. “Is there anything I can do?” Cora looked wise and concerned. Swinette smiled and felt a little relieved just to unburden herself. “You are such a good friend. It is helpful just to get it out.” “Good, said Cora. Not to change the subject but how is Pilfer? I heard he moved away. “Yes. He did. He moved into a trailer, a prefab, they have in the commune; and that’s just the thing that’s so strange. Practical just about disowned him. “Really? How strange. They were so close.” “Well Personally I give him credit. Here he was in worse shape than Fiddler. I mean, living in straw house; the wind could take it before the wolf even got there. He told us he was tired of thinking poorly of himself and thought he deserved better than a glorified haystack. Practical started right in getting the plans for a brick house; but Pilfer held up his hooves and said no. He wanted no more help. He wanted to work it out with the cooperative house pigs. They all take turns gardening the area and fixing their homes; whatever they need. It’s a cute little room, prefab, painted blue. All the houses are painted a different color. I went to visit him with my uncle Hog, when he was settled in. Practical refused to go. He said bricks were best and Pilfer was ungrateful after all that Practical did for him.” “Oh, I am sorry, said Cora. He must be hurt.”

“He is but he said it’s time to grow up, be a big pig and stand on his on four hooves.” “You know Swinette, it seems to me Practical may not only be doing too much but need some real professional help. I know you said He promised his mother he’d take care of his brothers but it is like Pilfer said; time to grow up. “Perhaps you are right.” “Why don’t you go to that councilor on the grassy hill? I hear he’s good.” “The Old Goat?” “Yes, the Old Goat.” “Tell me what the trouble is.” The Old Goat said, looking at Swinette with large serous eyes and a long pointed beard that touched his folded hooves. He leaned across his desk to give her a tissue box. Swinette started to explain her trouble with Practical just as she did with Cora; but she suddenly began to sob uncontrollably. The Old Goat patently listened; then when she stopped he said “You’ve been through quite a lot and have had no from the pig you love. Why isn’t he here with you?” “Oh, he refused to come. He said he wasn’t going to waste time talking to some old goat when there was work to do and if I wanted to that was fine for me.” Swinette blushed. Don’t worry, said the Old Goat I’ve hear it all before. You need to care for you and Practical needs to come with you to see me or the relationship is doomed.” Swinette stared at the Old Goat. She saw, now how serious the situation was. The Old Goat saw the shock and dissolution on Swinette’s face; so he said, “this is not a result of anything you said or did. It is absolutely not your fault. Swinette was filled with relief.

“Now,” said The Old Goat,I will call him personally and explain that it’s imperative that I see him; I’ll even offer to work with his busy schedule. Now, you go home, my dear and be yourself. Have a nice cup of tea and offer once to help him then, if he refuses tell him that the offer is open. By that I mean he can take it later if he wants. Then you do what you are already doing, drop it. Talk to your friend Cora, if you want but look to your own happiness. I’ll see you next Tuesday and bring a list of five things you want for yourself with you.” Swinette shook his hoof and left feeling hope. Practical Pig slammed, down the phone and said, “I am not crazy!” Swinette jumped back, startled. She tried timidly to explain that the Old Goat would call and you agreed to see him. When Practical explained that he had bricks to put up to keep the wolf out and it was up to him to do it; she got it. The obsession with the wolf was more important than she was. All she wanted to do was to pack and leave but she knew it was best to act with a clear head. She simply said, “I see what’s important to you. I’ll leave you to your work.” She went upstairs and wrote in her diary; as she did she ed the five things she wanted. What would they be? She wanted Practical to love her. No, she thought, in his way he does. No, she wanted attention and respect. That’s 1, and2; she wrote I want to be heard-3, next she wrote to work out some, no, much time together; that’s 4. I need five, do I really need five? Well flowers would be nice, 5. She felt better after making her list. Swinette, no sooner put down her pen when she heard her door being pulled open and there stood Practical, sweating and panting. “What am I going to do?” He said. “It’s that medaling hen’s fault.” “Henrietta?” ask Swinette. “Of course, she’s such a pushy sales agent. She has sold the cave across the river to the Wolf. Now I’ll never get him.” Swinette instantly knew that with the Wolf gone to new territory Practical couldn’t save the world; or even the farm. She looked out the window and saw a for sale sign being taken down already from the wolf’s broken down shack. “Who would buy that mess?” she said. Then the answer appeared strutting down the road toward the shack was the turkey family with their young hatchlings

ready to move in. “It looks like your wolf problem is solved; just not in the way you wanted.” Practical looked stunned, even venerable. She wanted to hug him and he accepted the hug. She was so relieved when he said he would see the Old Goat. The Old Goat shook Practical’s hoof and said, “It’s good to see you again. You seem to be about to succumb to depression again, like had when I saw you as a piglet.” Swinette was shocked. He was so strong, who would think he was so venerable. Then the Old Goat took Swinette’s list of five things she wanted, read them and handed them to Practical. “This,” he said, “is your next goal.” Practical itted he had been neglecting Swinette and that she was the love of his life. The Old Goat suggested they pick a project they could do service for together. However Practical was to get a timer because they were to spend no more than two hours a week on it. After spending one hour choosing the perfect timer while Swinette walked away to write in her diary; Practical was ready to walk over to the old shack to offer help. They were met with a great welcome and were thanked for their help by the turkey family. Soon the old shack was like new, walls and furniture repaired, curtains sewn and the hatchlings room was painted bright yellow. The house was no longer a shack but a home. They checked in with the Old Goat every two weeks for six months, then they were pronounced fixed. “It’s like it used to be.” Swinette told Cora over coffee; “we work together and spend time together every day. Practical has even made up with Pilfer and told him that his mobile home is a good place for him.” “How is Fiddler?” Cora asks. Swinette’s face changed from happy to sad regret.

“He’s a little better but not much and not for long. Practical is staying away and just calling once a week.” “While the wolf is not a problem the wind and the weather generally is. A house of sticks is a house of sticks. Practical told him he would help him if he wants but he won’t build brick house for him. He has given him plans a brick house for him. He even gave him the phone number of Pifer’s place. The rest is up to him and Practical stays away from his brother. We do things together.”

The Prince’s Wife

T im Harold Elis the 2ed (the prince), feels helpless. He can carry out his late father’s request and run the kingdom with efficiency; but at home everything is out control. Those mice (Joc and Gus) run all over the castle and Ella won’t stop them. He wants to be there for his children but with much regret believes his marriage is over. He looks at Ella dressed in those old dress, bare feet and asleep in the corner. He knows she has cleaned the whole castle and sent the servants to their quarters again. Anger flairs in his face. He decides to go for a walk to clear his head. As he walks he think he needs to take action. He is the King now that his father past away; He can get custody of the children. Ella can see them whenever she wants. Just then a voice sounds low but quick- “You’re kidding right.” “Who are you?” Tim looks down and sees a Nome in green elf like clothing. The Nome gave Tim his card, - Harry the Nome- fixer of fairytale relationships. “I work with real communication and with the idea of working together for a compromise.” Tim sat down on a tree stump looking overwhelmed. “Careful, Harry said. That’s my front door. I have wandered the woods and fields for a hundred years and I have looked in your windows.” “What do you think is wrong, and can it really be fixed?” Tim asked, moving respectfully to a mossy patch, as not to harm Harry’s home. “Well, Harry began your teenage son is disrespectful to Ella and use to bullying to get his way. He needs to always receive consequences for his actions. There is still time; however you must do it till it works. Next Ella needs counseling and so does your daughter Karen.” “She’s only ten years old.” The prince declared. Harry couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.” She’s trying to fix things like an adult. She needs to experience her childhood. As for these pet mice, limits can be made while still being kind. The castle must have help. Hire some of the unemployed that Ella volunteers for; they want to help her. Lastly no visiting Aunt Drusilla

unless agrees to be nice; she’s not even the kids real Aunt. “Fairy Godmothers set the environment; I fix it. Ella needs to feel she is loved and important. She can do this with my help. The important thing is working together every day, for a positive change. Are you ready?’ “Yes,” the prince said. “What’s your fee?” “I am the best Nome help in the kingdom; I am not cheap. That will be five bags of raisins and three bags of walnuts. Plus I move in till we are on track. Each year I come back to recheck on how things are going, for, let’s see, not as much, fifty bucks.” “Done,” said the prince.’ Harry snapped his fingers and they were back at the castle. Joc saw them appear and tapped Gus’s shoulder. “See that.” He said. Gus turns, “who is that? “Trouble.” Gus goes’ up to Harry and the prince with his hand out starched; “Hello trouble,” he said. Joc rolls his eyes in disbelief. Harry introduces himself and says he is here to help. Tim (the prince) points to the mice.” See Harry, that’s what I’m talking about. Ella feeds them the best mouse chow in the kingdom, yet they run ransack in the pantry; bits of fruit and cheese are all over the castle. Joc spoke up; “We would help clean up but we don’t get a chance.” Just then Ella appeared looking exhausted. She sighed, pulled a rag out of her pocket and started cleaning. “I’m sorry about this mess; I didn’t know you had company, she said to Tim. “Excuses me,” and tried to leave. Harry shakes his head. “This is worse than I thought. I should have ask for more walnuts.” He wanted to address Ella but she disappeared into the kitchen.

Karen (her daughter) met her there smiling at her mother; she began helping Ella make dinner. “Mom I am so glad I can be here with you but why don’t we have a kitchen staff like other royalty? Ella was puzzled. “I am not sure. We did for a while but expenses needed to be cut; I, ahh, we let them go. “Oh, Karen knew she would get no more explanation then that. She just started peeling potatoes and looking out the window at the roses. If only I could go out and play in the garden just sometimes she thought. Harry over hears Tim Jr. talking with his friends—calling he’s mom and sister pathetic maids. Tim Sr. storms off after grounding his son. Harry gives him time to cool down and goes’ to visit Drusilla to get her point of view. Drusilla gives him an ear full about her life being ruined – mom dead –The doctor said her mother’s heart turned to stone; Anastasia cut her losses and left the kingdom. Drusilla said she deserved to have Ella come and clean for her. She hated her niece and nephew. Mopping his brow harry left to go speak to the people of the kingdom. He found their opinions mixed, pity, confusion, and annoyance with Ella. Why could she not just be the Queen? They thought she was a great social help though; she cared so much for the poor. Harry calls a meeting of the family ;-“Ella is just doing what she is use to, even if it hurts, it’s a habit. Tim, you need to know that and say what you want from her. Assume nothing.” Next Harry gave Ella a book on self-love and a plan to manage time. Harry told her when she feels panic she has to stop and ask for help. If someone says something offensive she needs to tell them to stop. Ella agreed to get help by having therapy three times a week and to practice acting like the queen. Karen needed less help but Harry insisted she have friends over three times and play in the garden when she wanted. Harry walked over to the refrigerator, stood on his tippy toes and placed a magnet on it. The magnet said SHE’S A CHILD! “Now for Tim Jr. said Harry” First he’s in his teens; he should know about his mother’s childhood. He can’t learn respect for her without it. Tim Jr. also must

go on tours of the kingdom with his father. It’s not too late to develop his companion; as much service work as he can do is what he needs now.” Harry handed Tim Sr. a preprinted list of activities for his age. “Now,’ said Harry, “You are not only the new king but Ella’s husband; you must write her a letter of your love and a poem each month.” “Each month!” Tim declared; I am very busy with the kingdom –and -—oh I get it. That’s the point.” Harry just grinned in a Nome-like way. The servants were to be hired back right away; Ella was not allowed to help them. The mice, which Harry was glaring at, were given new hunting games and allowed to play in the garden. This retaught them to feed themselves and entertain themselves. Aunt Drusilla, who wouldn’t cooperate, had to move to the other side of the kingdom with no visiting unless she became a reasonable person. She did get her own servants so Ella did not need to care for all her needs and wants. Everyone stood silently, looking at Harry. They knew two things; one was that it all made sense. If they all did what each person was to do and only that everything would work. The second thing they all realized was that it was much harder than it sounded and they would have to work at it all day, every day. “Well,” said Harry.” What will it be?” They all nodded together. “We will do it.” They said in unison. Harry looks at the mice sternly, as if to say I’ll be watching you. He leaves through the open window to return in a month. A month later Harry checks the address before entering Tim and Ella’s home; it truly seems like anew place. Karen is collecting flowers in the garden. The mice are gathering grain and scampering about the garden. Tim Jr. was learning to honor his mother and help his dad about the kingdom. A job well done by all harry thought. Harry listened to the little family describe some setbacks, but also

how they listened to one another and worked things out in the end. Harry was paid the rest of his fee and Tim said he would recommend him to all who needed help. Harry found he had enough work to keep him busy most days and with enough walnuts to last a lifetime. Harry started a new business with some other nomes baking walnut breads and selling them. This boosted the kingdom’s economy; which left more time for Tim to focus on writing poems to Ella. Ella discovered she loved to hear them. Everyone lived happily ever after.

The Frog that wouldn’t Stop Croaking

T he frog was trapped and could not escape. The angry frog king who swam in the bottle kept her prisoner. She cleaned the lily pad spotless; but he would yell and scream and call her bad names. She said o.k. would try harder. He would yell and scream and call her bad names. He would shout “I am the frog king and I want perfection.” She knew she would never be perfect and hopped away and swallowed hard. Soon the frog king slept and she felt relief. Days past and years past now the frog king swam in his bottle more and more. She began to croak as she caught the flies to serve him. She thought she could please him with the biggest flies or the freshest flies. But he would yell and scream and call her bad names. He would shout “I am the frog king and I want perfection.” She croaked more and more as she cleaned the lily pad. She croaked more and more as she looked for perfect flies. She began to hate the frog king; then she thought the flies should be perfect and blamed the flies for her unhappiness. Then she began to wonder if the angry frog king was right and she began to hate herself. She croaked loudly and yelled and screamed and called herself bad names. Days past and years past, her, self-blame increased; as did her crocking. One day the wind blew a sound to her; it was the sound of singing. She told herself she would take only a few minutes to see who was singing. There were happy frogs smiling and singing and listening to each other with love and . They welcomed her. Soon she tried singing to. It was not perfect but the others did not care; they accepted her and focused on their own singing. Days past, weeks past, she went to sing with the others as much as she could. The Frog King yelled with rage at her, but to her surprise she stopped caring what he thought or did. She now believed her friends who said she did the best she could and that was enough. Days past a year past and she sang every day, all day long till the Frog king saw that he could not make her croak any more. He said I am the Frog King and I will go away to rule in another pond. At first she was happy because he was gone. She sang as she cleaned and caught flies for herself. She was happy.

Happy, until one day she said the Frog King is gone and I am fine. I don’t need to sing with my frog friends anymore, so slowly she stopped. Days past a year past, she started to grumble when she caught flies and cleaned her lily pad. It didn’t seem good enough and she felt bad. Her friends stopped calling and asking her back. She moped till she croaked once then twice. She tried to sing but her heart was not in it. Still she said she did not need the singing group because the king was gone. Days past, a year past and she stopped cleaning the lily pad and caught only a few flies; all she could do was to croak, CROAK, CROAK, till she stopped catching any flies and croaked.

Space Angel

O ur story begins with serenity, and ends with hope. The lake was still, clear, and quiet only ripples appeared, the result of a small breeze. Trees stood with sunlight shining on them around the side of the lake. The cabin in the back of the lake was made of cold stone and logs. The chimney was cold, as well and deprived of smoke. Only a small bird chirped a few times, then stopped and took off to a higher branch. The breeze suddenly strengthened to a wind, rustling the tree branches almost to the point of snapping. Then it died down as quickly as it came. In place of the breeze, just as the sun lit up the water, a soft glow grew and formed into the shape of an unusual, bright energy - like being and the bird chirped wildly. The light became so intense that it filled the lake. The bird, unable to see, hid her head under her wing. The light faded slowly as a being took shape. The lake’s serenity returned as though nothing had happened. A faint joyous song hummed through the air, the light faded to a glow that could barely be seen. The grass rustled as the slim being walked gingerly through it, keeping his translucent, multicolored wings tucked behind his back. His feet approached the cabin. His large eyes (eyes that almost filled his face) filled with awe at the scene before him, as well as the task ahead. As he sat in the old wooden chair he prayed with the utmost love and reverence; “I am here and at your service.” Light beamed down, as if to say “I know Go. Fear not. I AM with you.” The light faded. Paul began looking at his surroundings; the one room was gloriously sparse. It had a table and chair, a cabinet with a few cans of food a three foot high refrigerator with a jar of mustard in it. There was a cot and a gray pillow with two tan blankets. The wood that was stacked by the stone fire place was the only source of heat. Then his eyes caught the cedar chest, and Paul moaned. Clothing! And underwear! “I hate dres.” But he obeyed. His package appeared on the table with a driver’s license, keys to the pickup that also appeared outside and two packs of

cinnamon gum. Paul smiled. “I ed that cinnamon gum is your favorite and only Earthly treat,” Gabe said as he appeared. “Thanks, boss.” “You are welcome. You can start the change as I give you your assignment.” Paul began thinking about humans and his long fingers shrunk, his eyes shrunk and his nose and mouth enlarged. “This is a serious one.” Gabe began. “I will be available to help you, as will Hannah.” Paul shivered. Hannah was the head arc of the Milky way-Andromeda district. This is the largest in the eastern section of the universe. Gabe continued; “This, of course, is the biggest case you’ve been on. A local hero has died and the town is devastated. I know you’ve been briefed about the lake pollution and how the factory owner didn’t obey the health standards. Only a few fish were left and that was do to our Father’s stepping in as a last alternative.” Paul shouted, “The factory owner!” realizing the truth. “Yes the factory owner was Evil and deception himself.” “Why did he bother such a small town?” “Because J was the hero again, and of course, you know about his painful death. He had cancer from the water.” Paul was to build the spirit of the townspeople so they could enjoy their life and their lake now that it has been cleared of pollution. Paul, his wings cancelled drove to town. He approached the bakery first. Ahhh, that smell of cinnamon rolls and hot bread! It should be in heaven he thought. A young woman about eighteen smiled. “What can I get you?”

“Two cinnamon rolls and some directions to the bait shop.” A large man in an apron appeared wearing a stern face. “Are you ing through?” he asked. “No,” Paul said. “I am staying at the cabin. I am on a long vacation. I heard the fishing is good.” The young woman, wanting more business, spoke up. “The lake is the best place in the state for fishing. We had a cleaning and restocking. You can get bait at Pete’s general store.” Paul thanked her as he walked out of the bakery. He heard the usual barking and squawking as he ed the pet shop. You can’t fool animals. They know a messenger when they see one. “Quiet for now,” he barked back and tossed treats through the glass. Keep your eyes open for me please.” He felt they would. The general store had everything from candy to blue jeans. The fishing bait was in the back. Pete came up and shook Paul’s hand. “Janet just called form Roy’s bakery to say you were looking for bait.” Pete freely began the whole story about the lake. “You see,” he began,” this fellow began a factory that was bringing money to the town by making some kind of new micro chip to keep track of our children. But the lake got so contaminated; we had to get water from out of town. The chips never worked right. They would make the kids itch and they couldn’t pick up a good signal. Another thing a lot of people depended on the factory for work, but the owner went back on his word and hired outsiders who were rude to us and left trash all over.” “The lake looks fine now,” Paul probed. Pete smiled as he rung up the night crawlers. “A local boy died trying to fix that. He called government experts, but after six months of the run around, he just drank some water and the press came and told the story.” “The press didn’t come for the pollution” Paul asked.

“No. It took a death to make the story big enough for coverage. So, now they cleaned it up, but it’s not the same. People like Roy are suspicious of strangers and we don’t go to the lake any more. It’s like the town is depressed or something. People used to fish and picnic there now; they don’t socialize at all.” “Well, that is too bad. It would be fine with me to have some company on the lake. I can’t fish all the time,” Paul said this like it was an invitation for the town. He had a lot of healing to do. Gabe instructed Paul to take it easy and just be kind and inviting to the people. Paul thought this was a good way to build trust. He spent three days fishing and keeping a low profile. Each night he played like he went to bed but used the time to open his thoughts to the town and track the feeling of the people empathically. He enjoyed this; lying still was relaxing. The people’s moods were now changing from hostile to curious, but hostility was still there. The wind blew at the door; a bright female figure appeared. The pure light was almost blinding. She seemed ageless, both like a girl and a wise old woman. Hannah had arrived. Paul was awe stuck. Her speech was like a song. Paul knew he alone could see her. If someone would by, they would only see him. He heard her sing, “Move now, Evil is on the march and the town is vulnerable. J’s work must not be for nothing.” “How?” Paul asked. “Be your friendly self, invite some people, and then more, time is important. If the people know who to trust, they can be happy again. They can then avoid listening to evil and trust the good.” The light was gone and Paul was alone. Paul got up and washed his large eyes with his long fingers and folded them to pray. “Thank you for sending your glorious Hannah and help me comfort the town.” Gabe appeared. “You must begin, someone is coming. I’ll be watching.” Paul quickly changed his appearance and answered the knock on the door. It was Pete and his ten year old son. “How is the fishing?” Pete asked. “Great. Come in,” Paul offered. “What’s up? I don’t have much to offer you. I

can get you some tea”. “No, thanks,” Pete said. “We, Kyle and I wanted to ask you to dinner Sunday. The town is talking about the stranger up in the cabin, and my wife thought it would be good for everyone to get together.” “That sounds wonderful,” Paul said. “I can bring fish if that’s alright.” “That would be great. Come about six thirty.” A smile came to Paul’s face as he saw that most of the town had come to Pete’s dinner. “I brought some broiled fish with onion” Pete’s wife thanked him “have a seat. Do you know everyone?” Paul nodded and shook hands around the table. Abe from sanitation asked about the cleanliness of the lake. The big man seemed sincerely concerned. Paul was touched not only by Abe but also by Liz the librarian and Hal from the pet store equally seemed concerned and hopeful about the lake. Now I can begin to encourage their seed of hope to grow, thought Paul. “The lake is about the cleanest I have seen, and the fish are very good and abundant.” “I’m glad to hear that” said Abe. Paul listened intensely as Bill Thomson, the school principle, explained: “The local man who died drinking polluted water played ball with the kids and started both a local kid’s team and a scout troop.” Pete piped up as he sipped his cola. “he alone objected to the factory deal and never back known. We all were deceived, but He was not.” Liz sobbed, “We got what we deserved, a dirty lake. But he bore the brunt of our mistake.” “What Liz says is true,” Mr. Thomson interrupted as he gave her his handkerchief. “Ever since he came here five years ago he helped us in countless ways. Then after drinking the water and dying to get the press too look at our

situation he willed what little he had to the cleanup committee.” “He was not a native to the town,” Paul reminded them with a question. “That’s right.” Abe answered pointing with his fork. “He won our trust and our hearts early. He was a selfless member of the community and irreplaceable.” Roy cleared his throat. “I know Janet and I trusted him, then I thought if one newcomer was good then another was O.K., I lost a lot of money in my investment. Paul you seem nice, and say the lake is the best you’ve seen, but I might never go back there again. “I am still hurting too, Roy,” Liz itted. “I the children being so upset when we had the chip drive to get those awful things out of their arms. The tears and the loss in their faces broke my heart.” Quiet fell over the group as Liz continued. “But I must find away to put it behind me. I just don’t know how.” Paul began to speak, thinking now he could begin to help. “I know you still are leery of me because I am a stranger, but I want to help. This dinner was great. I would like to return the favor by inviting all of you to a picnic at the lake. Then you can see for yourselves how the lake is. I can provide fishing equipment and everyone can bring what they like just like tonight. The kids can play ball. We can have music and just have a good time.” Hal spoke up. “You know I will take you up on that Paul. The animals in my pet shop have been happier since you came. You walk by and they look up at you. Dogs and cats know about people. They always barked and hissed at that factory owner.” Liz’s face brightened. “This might just be the thing to get the town up and running again I’ll get some books together on the lake’s history.” Janet said, “I’ll bring some of those buns you like Paul whether Dad comes or not.” Roy just folded his arms and scowled. Paul was the last to leave that night and was so excited he decided to fly home, before his wings could pop out of his shirt however, a voice in the wind blew in his ear. “Don’t even think about it. You are still and will remain undercover.”

“Sorry,” Paul said. “I was just so excited.” “Yes,” answered Gabe. “you have done well. They will all enjoy the picnic and faith can be restored. What you don’t know is a complication has developed. You will soon get a notice that Roy had a mini stroke and you must postpone everything. Paul, reaching the cabin sank onto the cot and felt defeated despite all of Gabe’s praise. He could barely hear Gabe explain the new focus on getting Roy well. In the morning the expected letter came to the cabin from Liz explaining that everyone was gathering at the hospital to see Roy. The hospital was on the edge of town so Paul was closer than everyone else. Janet was there alone when Paul arrived “He is doing better and the doctor’s expect a full recovery,” she told Paul. Paul gave her a hug to reassure her. Then Hal came and said “I tried to bring a dog to cheer him up but I couldn’t get it past the lobby. Liz and Bill Thomson got the children together to sing and drew pictures for Roy.” Paul was surprised and happy to see everyone coming together to help. Our Father works in mysterious ways, he thought. Pete and Abe were the last to arrive carrying rolls. “Some job you’ve got,” he teased Roy, “Imagine a sanitation worker helping at the bakery. You better get back on your feet soon.” A doctor came in and said Roy’s movement would slowly return after physical therapy. He was expected to recover fully. Roy’s aloof disposition seemed less so. “I guess I am lucky to have all of you here to help. Thank you.” Out of the second story window, the lake was in full view, and it glistened like clear glass. Paul opened the curtains. Everyone turned to look at its splendor. Janet moved Roy’s wheel chair to the window, and a tear came to his eye. “My God, Paul, you were right! The lake is as good or better than it ever was. Paul,

I am looking forward to that picnic when I get out of here,” Roy declared. Paul was still looking at the lake and said, “I’ll save you the best fishing pole Roy.” When all was done, Roy well, the picnic enjoyed by all, Paul left the way he came. When Gabe asked for his report it said, Praise to our Father! I just opened the curtain.

Jason Rain Soaked

R ain soaked Jason’s hair and ran down his face. He knew he was going to be wet and muddy till he reached his home; so he embraced the mud and trudged on. A turtle splashed into a green stream as Jason stepped on a rock. Jason didn’t mean to startle it. Poor thing he thought, so small. Jason moved his head to the sound of the twiddle bird calling the evening to begin. He quickened his pace, he must be home before night fall and the drenching rain made time difficult to tell. Now the large orange sun broke through the rain clouds and Jason could see the smoke of the log from the ocea trees coming from the chimney. Jason saw his grandfather waving to him from the door. Jason waved back. He didn’t want Grandpa Wood to worry. Jason put his rain soaked clothing in the recycle box before hopping in the saltwater shower. He liked sneaking a peek at the glimmering wings of the purifying fairies collecting the old and dirty and replacing them with clean fresh things. Looking out of the cornier of one’s eye was not forbidden Now clean and sitting with Grandpa Jason said the family blessing before their evening meal of purple stew while Grandpa Wood began the telling of tales of the beginning of the world.

The Painting of the Sky

T he invisible all loving all knowing Keeper was all alone with his wisdom, love and helping spirits (which he made at the beginning of time after he made time itself). The Great Feeler of Feelings felt alone. He wanted to make something to love but before he made something to love he must first paint them a world; so he breathed a large brush. He commanded it to paint an all colorful sky, blue, red, pink, orange, yellow, green purple, brown, white and black. Then the Great Spirit commanded that no less then four colors and no more then eight appear at one time. In this world, only would there be no rainbow. “The rain has stopped Grandpa” Jason informed him. ‘I would like to hear more stories even if the sun does come out before it melts in the lake for the night.” “Then you know what to do. You must be ready to go to sleep when the last tale of the night is told”. Jason did not want to send disobedient vibrations to the rolling ball and cause ground tremors; so he opened his blankets and put on his green sleep robe. Then Grandpa Wood lit his pipe and began the tale of horror.

The Coming of Thewereweasl

O f all the animals in this Far Away Land where friendly to man, all accept not the cunning weasel. The great Painter knew, sadly, that the weasel drank the spoiled fruit juice and he became spoiled. Others though the juice out. The weasel could be helped; the Painter talked to him, and showed though magic, the sadness and pain he caused when he hurt man and other animals. The Painter painted great scene of disappear, decay and hopelessness. The weasel first looked shocked almost sorry but then the cunning and poison retouched his heart and he chose not to change. What do I care, if others suffer thought the weasel. I enjoy ripping up gardens and scratching humans. I love to see them hungry and angry. Why some day they may turn away from the Painter and turn to me; and the weasel made his first snickering sound. The Painter knew the weasel’s thoughts and with tears in his eyes he cursed the weasel to be confined to the darkest part of the woods so he could not harm others. But he loved all of his creation and gave the weasel an ability to survive. He received the gift of shape changing to hunt for food only in the dark or cloudy days, not in rain or sun and only for a short time. He became The Ware Weasel. Jason always shivered when he heard that story even now that he was a youth of fourteen circles of the sun. “You need not fear so Jason Our great painter of the sky has sent the great dog to chase the golden ball. The dog will not miss. He will run after it to keep it moving all day as its golden light keeps our air, water and land pure from the weasel’s evil. You need only to obey the simple rule to get out of its way as it rolls and if you are could out at night get home before the ball rest in the city center. For at night the Ware Weasel hunts. If you have fallen or otherwise can’t get home you will be in danger only if you listen to the false beckoning of his snicker. Your pure water vile will keep him away. That water is from the first water of our world.” Jason felt better and went to bed after Grandpa Wood sealed the door with the golden lock.

Jason’s Parent’s

J ason missed his parents. They would return for the festive holiday of peace; but when that week would end they would have to go back to their work in the forest. Grandpa Wood often assured him that three quarters of the first year of their duty is up soon and then they should come home for the summer before returning for their last year of service to the land. Jason had two other friends who also where only male children, and, as tradition their parents were away working for the land. Jason thought of his father, Jesse’s large hands picking him up and swinging him around when he was small. He ed his mother singing to him at bed time after the evening tales were told. But tomorrow was the holy day and after everyone gathered for praise he would speak to his parents. “Go” said Grandpa Wood “I will speak to my son later.” “Thanks Grandpa” Jason said. He spoke even as ran through the forest “Mom, Dad” Jason called. Nothing he thought. “Mom, Dad?” Jason panted. Then the whispering wind picked up and Jason could hear the voices. The leaves turned in the wind and his parents could be heard; faintly at first than lauder Jason felt like his parents where right with him although they were miles away tilling grass fields and caring for young trees. Jason swung his arms around as he spoke. He turned fasted and faster through the trees. He heard all about their work with nature. He told them about his days at school, his friends and the stories Grandpa Wood told him. At last the wind slowed and Jason sat breathless on the ground. The communication was over till next week.

Fantacy Story

For Elijah

T he quite forest was pitch dark, only a bright yellow glow cut the blackness. Only a cracking sound from that glowing campfire disturbed the silence. A short snuff sounded breaking the peace. “Found something?” questioned a small gray foal as he looked up at the older, larger unicorn. “Yes”, Swift foot, I have. Look at the picture in the center of the sacred book. Its symbol is peace; but also working as one.” “But Gray one we have always lived in peace, though each kind of being has lived his own life.” “This, young one must be studied. It implies the forces of our worked could rip us apart if we don’t. This is a deeper connection then the humble respect we carry for each being.” All of the wise unicorns looked up. “Enough for now.” Commanded Gray one; we must get some sleep before the morning sounds begin.” Soon the fire was doused, the book put into the hollow rock and the unicorns lie on the grass asleep. The sun glimmered through the rainbow, translucent wings as the many Pegasus moved through the air in silent beauty. So unlike their wise cousins, they were as carefree and flighty as their wings. Shimmery, a young Pegasus flew over the lake anticipating the morning ritual. She flew down till her hooves were wet, then up again. “Come to the shore” coaxed her mother. ”they will start.” A stomping was heard as small feet dashed off to work in the wood. Shimmery didn’t give a thought to the wood elves as he past. Her eyes were fixed on the Crystal Lake, as the fairies began to jump up and down. They opened their mouths a nd made soft, high songs to awaken the flowers and trees. Up in the air then back in the lake they jumped as they sang a one note song. Soon the flowers opened and the trees awoke eager to great the dawn. The fairies ed the Pegasus now and sat behind an ear of the large horse-like gentle beast as they

rose slowly to dance in the air. The Pegasus helped the fairies, carrying them, as they colored the flowers and plants. This sweet song gently awoke the unicorns. After the Pegasus and the unicorns breakfasted on grass, and the fairies drank nectar, the elves silently walked in rows to rake up and clean up. No song did they sing, but a steady hum as they worked. They tidied up as easily as the fairies welcomed the morning, but were somber as any unicorn. When they finished they sat together to drink their coffee and eat their portage. No one dared disturb them, not the most whimsical fairy or the silliest Pegasus. The hum drifted off as the wood elves marched off to work. Stump lead them; some left the group to work in the mines, some to the fields, some to the laundry and housekeeping area and lastly to the wood and rock, to carve and make horse shoes. They took their work in their strong, small, hand. Their hands were muscular and their fingers stubby, both the male and females. The few small children went to the housekeeping area with the females. Elves never thought of mixing jobs; it was just never done. When the boys turned five years old they went with the males. Stump sized them up and told them were to work. It was final. Only a weekly meeting with the unicorns diverted them and only their wise council was accepted. The colors are danced in again and the Pegasus returns the fairies to the lake. The fairies sing, float on leaves and play among themselves. The Pegasus play and dance on land and in the sky, kicking their heels and whinnying. All goes according to a normal day. At the end of the day the fairies return to sing a lullaby, and The stars appear, they bow to the Pegasus and unicorns, chew some mint leaves, and then sleep in the lake. When the wood elves heard the lullaby, they turned their head toward the sound. They hung up their aprons and Stump lead them home to a supper of meat and turnips. The Pegasus sip honey and eat grass before rising to the trees to sleep.

Only the unicorns are concerned; they eat their grass and oats quietly; then sleep in their elves made stalls. Gray One moves restlessly, knowing he must find a solution before disaster strikes. The moon moved across the sky; and with it the night wind which blew the clouds and tree branches. Gray One awakens hours before dawn, worry marks his face. He awakes Short snuff, which brings the sacred book. Studying the pages, Gray One frowns. “The crisis has begun awake the others.” He commands Short Snuff. Loud whinnies and nays sound through the night as the unicorns awake. The wind increases quickly. Gray One chooses one of the strongest among them to check the land. Oak Branch is proud to be chosen. Two mares cover him with a blanket, and they all stomp hooves to his going Short Snuff, only sees the worried look on Gray One’s face. Try as he may, Gray One Can’t hides his concern from his young apprentice. Oak Branch begins quickly, but soon is delayed because everything changes. Trees blew down leave, then branches. The water in the lake, to Oak Branch’s horror begins to freeze. The fairies could die. He has never decided anything without Gray One’s approval; but he must act now. He nays and awakens Dew Drop, a senior fairy. “We can’t leave the water;” she says, “without approval of Gray One and the fairy council.” “Call them now to decide to leave the lake, then go to the Unicorn rock with me and speak to the unicorn council. It is the only way.” Dew Drop disappeared in to the lake. She came back with all five hundred fairies dripping wet and shaking. Now for the elves, Oak Branch thought; but how can I get them up with five hundred fairies on my back. Just then with a whistle and a thud Rainbow, one of the most colorful Pegasus dropped from a tree. Now Oak Branch knew what to do. He asks Rainbow to call all of the Pegasus to help get all of the wood elves to come to Unicorn rock. Rainbow was one of the brightest and joyous of his kind, but he became serous when he saw the scared look on Oak Branch. For years after he shook when he thought of a unicorn in fear. Soon the Pegasus population awoke and rose to the sky, only to be blown down. They decided to fly between the trees and sing to awaken the elves. Some went with Oak Branch

and helped the fairies. Others went to find Stump. Stump was awake already and trying to close the openings in the trees. Ten of the best workers were helping. Stump, of course did not want to go to Unicorn rock without an order from Gray One; especially at night. It was unheard of. When he looked out of the tree and saw the downed branches and uprooted trees, he did something he never did before. He changed his mind. Soon the wood elves were dressed and food was packed; they were ready to hop on the Pegasus backs and direct them to the underground shortcuts to Unicorn rock. Gray One had moved the unicorns to the rock already and was stressing over the sacred book. The sound of feet and wings caused him to look up. Oak Branch and Stump bowed and ask for instruction and forgiveness for disobeying the night rules of sleeping in their areas. Gray One showed relief on his wise face at the sight of everyone being save. He pardoned then, and told them change was necessary to live; and the fairies must sit with the elves on the unicorns and Pegasus backs for warmth.

All unicorns and Pegasus must hover together till the winds die down, but the winds didn’t. As the sun raised all agreed to search for shelter. The elves search found a large cave that was fairly dry. Everyone crowded in it. But the unicorns now knew the winds would not stop till all cooperated and shared all things. Gray One called the unicorns together; and assigned all to help each other. The pictures and writings were clear. No longer could they all live separate lives; each attending to his own part of their world. While hiding in the cave, with the fairies were in charge of getting water; but the Pegasus must go with them and help them drag the buckets of water from the lake. The elves, who were all good workers, were busy clearing the cave, and fixing meals they now, must have more cooperation with the unicorns. The unicorns must but their book aside and help the elves with the lifting and pulling. The Pegasus soon offered to help with lifting rocks and fallen trees. The wind slower but had not stopped. The unicorns went off to study the sacred

book again. All, as tradition sat silently waiting for the book of enlightenment. No one ever dared to disturb the unicorns in their study. A cloud blew by blocking the light of the sun. Gray One sent Swift foot to get a fairy and wood elves to bring a lantern. The fairy, named Light Wings, turned bright and entered the glass dome of the lantern Myrtle, a wood elf hung up his apron and grabbed the lantern. He hummed only ever so softly as not as not to disturb the great beast in their study. Swift Foot nodded his head; signaling Myrtle to enter their circle. All was quiet, and all could hear the wind pick up. Light Wings saw a picture in the book as she lit it. The wind blew louder. She dare not speak or express her thoughts about the picture. The wind blew louder. She saw a picture of a fairy dancing as a unicorn stomped music and an elf beating his drum with a dancing Pegasus keeping time. She felt she must respond, so she summoned courage and tapped the glass; getting Myrtle’s attention. She pointed to the book. A wood elf never disturbed the council of unicorns. Myrtle wished he did not see the harmonious picture that the pride of unicorns couldn’t see. The wind whistled all about the cave. The trees outside blew franticly again. The elves busied themselves mending leaks that developed, humming as they worked. The Pegasus dropped their wings, saddened because they needed light and soft breezes. Fairies could not tell when to sleep and when to awaken, so they slept spartanly. The unicorns wished in their thoughts that they didn’t have to do all the thinking. Myrtle saw out of the corner of his eye, Stump sweating and pounding rock and ordering other to bring in more wood to dry. He knew this couldn’t go on. So he bowed low and spoke: “Your distinguished, honed, great one;” he began expressing as much respect as possible in his voice. Gray One, startled looked up. “What is it my elf?” Myrtle humbly said we, Light Wing pointed out the picture; please sir does it mean we must live together and dance and play together as we are trying here in the cave?” Gray One starred at the picture and became transformed inside. He smiled and felt pleasantly warm. The wind slowed again. Look here he showed the others at

council. “They all looked with new insight. Their eyes smiled. “Yes!” It was agreed and “I believe we must talk among ourselves to find how to do this.” Said Gray One. “Come, I’ll show you the sacred symbols. Myrtle timidly approached the large unicorn, and to his surprise found the symbols easy to understand. The great Gray One declared Myrtle and Light Wings heroes and made them representatives of their kind at all meetings. The wind ceased abruptly and the warm sun came from behind the cloud. They all, even the busiest of elves stopped and ran to the mouth of the cave. “Go, explore, all of you.” Said Grey One. The fairies flew out followed by the Pegasus. Stump nodded and the elves followed the others. Unicorns clopped their heavy hooves and came out in the bright sunlight. The unicorns all decided to share the sacred book with everyone. They planned to hold classes to teach everyone how to read and study the book. First, of course, everyone got busy cleaning up. The fairies ed the wood elves sweeping. Then everyone cleaned the branches and leave out of the lake, so the lake fairies could sing it clean. The Pegasus helped the unicorns pull logs away for the elves to cut. The fairies helped the unicorns write about the wind disaster so all would always to work together. Pegasus and fairies even taught some songs to the wood elves and unicorns. They found there were some songs all could sing together. The woods, lake and air sparkled with cleanness and light. All slept well. The next morning everyone sang in the dawn, the Pegasus and fairies flew; the wood elves and unicorns danced. Everyone loved working together and was delighted and happy to see the birth of “Hope,” a baby peg-a-corn, born with a horn and rainbow wings on a gray body.

Hand It to the Turkey

A lison turned the charcoal pencil over and over in her hand. She scrunched up her nose and pouted when she saw Eli’s perfect sketch of an owl in a tree on the desk next to her. She thought the fourth grade was going to be easy, and the reading was. She also could handle the math if she worked at t it. Art however, was hopeless. Her fingers did not do what her head told them to do. Last year she enjoyed art; she loved using crayons and paint. Last year she could do what felt good to her. Now the charcoal, and worse the pastels smeared as her sweaty hands melted them. They made nothing but a mess. She was tired of only making rainbows because that was all she could do with the pastels. Oh no she thought; Ms Jefferson was coming to see her progress. Alison tried to smile but Ms. Jefferson mew Alison was having trouble. “Make a list of what you want to put in your drawing. It will help you to get started. Don’t worry, this project for the front hall display isn’t due till next week.” Alison sighed with relief and thanked Ms. Jefferson for her help. She began her list birds, nest, clouds, and trees as she held her other hand open with her fingers spread out. She ed making hand prints like this and turning them into turkeys. That’s it! She thought as she crossed out her list and wrote circle of hands. Alison knew she could do this and make it look nice. She stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth to concentrate and traced her hand with the charcoal. She turned her hand and traced it over and over till the hands went around in a circle. In the middle of it she wrote A Circle of colorful turkeys, America’s favorite bird! Now the fun began; she colored each finger feather a different color. The pastels could be messy but she didn’t care. The outline was done so they couldn’t get out of control. She knew she couldn’t go wrong. In two days she was finished. Now Ms. Jefferson smiled as she collected

Alison’s paper. “This is so creative and the colors are beautiful.” Ms Jefferson told her as she carefully put Alison’s project in plastic before taking the whole class’s art work to the front hall. That afternoon Alison took her mother to see the picture before going home. Her mother was so happy with it she took a picture with her cell phone. After dinner Mom e-mailed the picture to everyone, Grandma, cousins, and friends. .Dad and mom both took a picture for their offices. “I feel great.” Alison told her Mother at breakfast. She had awakened early for the first time in a long time and could hardly wait for the art show at school to begin. People from the news paper were already taking pictures when Alison and her mother got there. “Come let’s get a picture of you and the turkey circle;” said Ms. Jefferson as she directed her to the photographer. Alison saw it! There on her pastel and charcoal picture was a blue ribbon; that read the best of all for colors and imagination. Alison hugged her mother and Ms Jefferson. “You did it said Ms Jefferson!” “Smile and say cheese said the photographer” Alison smiled and said… “Turkey”

Josh and the Comma Chase

T he sound of happy music hit Josh’s eardrums, and crashed his nightmare like broken glass in his mind. The clock radio was screaming at him that school was an hour away. Josh was glad to be awake He was still shaken from being chased by a giant, teeth baring comma in his sleep. He dressed quickly and made himself some cold cereal. He picked up the heart shaped note from the table and read: Good luck on you English test, I am proud of you; you have studied so hard. Love Mom. Josh smiled. Mom always left an encouraging word before leaving for work at six a.m. Josh put the note in his coat pocket before heading out to the bus. Josh climbed the steps to Township Middle School two at a time; he waved to friends as he went. As he reached the door of his English class he slowed down, almost tiptoeing to his seat in the back of the room. Mr. Burns adjusted his glasses and welcomed the class. Josh nervously perspired and brushed back his brown hair as he looked ahead. Nothing was on the board. What was Mr. Burns up to? Josh’s heart beat increased as he heard the slim forty year old man say: “Ladies and Gentlemen, this test will take the form of an essay. You have the whole period to complete it; I would like to see your use of grammar applied to this writing. You may write on any subject and the essay should be about one hundred words. I will set the alarm clock for five minutes before the class ends” The whole class groaned, Josh’s stomach began to knot as he fought the freeze that paralyzed him at times like these. His pencil seemed like a dagger and the test paper like his heart. He needed to think of something to write, and all the grammar he studied last night. To make matters worse the dream of the giant comma began to haunt him again. Then he got it! I’ll do it! He thought. I’ll write about the nightmare. As he wrote, the terrible truth sent chills up his spine; Mr. Burns reminded the class that the test would count as one fourth of their grade for the year. Josh breathed deep and began. I was running, through the woods, its teeth snapping as it caught up with me. The ten foot tall five hundred pound comma got closer, closer and closer. It could run very fast for its size.

Josh kept writing. He finishes with the alarm clock sounding. He had five minutes to read over the paper to see if he ed the commas needed in the paper. He felt good about his work when he ed it to the front of the room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he left the room. It was done. Later that day an announcement was made that Mr. Burn’s English class could stop by for their grades. Josh thought of making a mad dash for the bus; he also thought the curiosity would kill him, so he walked into the room. Mr. Burns smiled: what a surprise! “Josh, this paper is one of your best works you have done this year. Did you really dream this?” “Thank you. Yes I did.” “Well young man, I am proud of you; you have an A minus. You would have an A but you missed two commas.” “Two commas!” Josh exclaimed as he walked out to the bus. “Let the chase begin!

Stewart Saves His Best Friend!

“I can’t let go,” Stewart whispered to himself. “I can’t stop crying and it’s getting Detour all wet.” Stewart moved his blood soaked, trembling hands tighter around the freighted terrier that filled his small arms. “You’re doing just fine.” Mom assured him. “This is not your fault; you are eight years old. The man who was driving the car that hit Detour is a grown up. He is responsible for this.” “I know,” said Stewart. Stewart still felt confused about his feelings. It was his job to feed and walk his dog, but wasn’t he supposed to be looking when Detour charged after the squirrel across the street? I did call him, Stewart reasoned with himself; I can’t go in to the street myself. Just then Stewart felt the car turning. He looked up and saw that they just pulled into the Veterinarian’s drive way and he began to relax a little The woman’s face turned pale as she came from around the desk to whisk Detour out of the waiting room. “The doctor will begin treating him right away.” She said. Stewart started to feel scared again. His mother’s arm around his shoulder gave very little comfort. Stewart ed his grandmother saying something about prayer helping her a lot. He thought he would give it a try. He closed his eyes and thought please help the doctor to fix Detour. Stewart felt a little better; he had now done all he could so he looked out the window and waited. He could see all the cars ing by, one slowed to miss a squirrel in the street. Why had the driver or the car that hit Detour not tried to miss? He thought. Just then Dr. James came out smiling. “He will be fine but he was hurt very badly and will be very tired for a few days.” He turned to Stewart and said, “Be very gentle with him again next week. He should only go out a few minutes at a time and no baths for a week; till his stitches heal. For the next week Stewart did what Dr. James had told him. At the end of the week his mother said,” You seem happy this last week. You are taking such good care of Detour that he is getting well fast.” “Yes. It’s been kind of fun putting cream on him and taking him outside,” Stewart said as he hung up the leash and got out the dog food bag. “Tomorrow is

his check up; I think Dr. James will be happy.” “I’m sure he will;” Mom said. The next day the sun shone and Stewart felt warm and hopeful as he walked Detour from the car to Dr. James’s office. Dr. James smiled as he examined Detour. “He will feel sore but his stitches are healing nicely. You have taken good care of Detour and he is getting his strength back. Now there is someone I want you and your mother to meet. This is Ms. Jackson. She works for the town.” Ms. Jackson shook Stewart’s hand and said, “How would you like to help the town? The cars on your street do a lot of speeding and we want to use your dog as a poster dog to help stop the speeding. If you and your mom say yes, we can put his picture on a lot of posters telling people to slow down and look. We need to do something before a child is hurt.” Stewart looked at his mother and asked “Can we?” “It sounds great.” “Then yes. Detour can be a poster dog.” They all shook hands again and Dr. James got Detour’s Pictures ready for Ms. Jackson. The next day detour’s posters were up and down the street. Stewart looked at his dog. “See you are a famous dog. I am so glad you are mine.” Stewart hugged him.

Super Blanket and the Cover-Up

I t was dark in the closet. Snuggle had a hard time adjusting to the lack of light. Vroom called the vacuum, as softly as it could. Softly Snuggle rubbed vacuum as if to mean it was sorry. The old, scratchy wool blanket snored in the corner of the top shelf. “Welcome” duster dared to whisper, “we are glad to see you again.” Snuggle smiled and nodded, still afraid to be heard. Everything in the closet laid still and waited. After a long, long time the front door slammed. Snuggle tried to reach the closet door handle. “Not yet.” Bellowed vacuum. “They may forget something and come back.’ Snuggle sighed, duster fidgeted, old blanket stopped snoring and vacuum hummed. After what seemed to be a very long time vacuum slowly opened the closet door. “Ok” he said. Everyone came out and breathed the cool air. The closet can be so stuffy and hot; thought the old blanket. “Let the party begin, said vacuum. Duster flipped on the stereo, and danced on the windows and blinds. Vacuum twisted its hose in time to the music. Snuggle twisted itself like a barber pole as it danced. The old blanket sat in the corner eating potato chips. Everyone had a great time Snuggle and duster danced on the coffee table The papers left on the table blew all over the room. The cup on the table got knocked off and rolled under the curtains. They all sipped cola and told elephant jokes that kept them laughing for two hours. Then Snuggle saw the hands of the clock strake noon; “Look”, he shouted. They will be home soon.” “Let’s get busy” said Vacuum. Everyone dusted and vacuumed till the room was cleaned before going back to the closet. At last the old Blanket left his corner taking his chips with him and followed them back into the closet. Everyone became quite. Then, in a few minutes the car door slammed in the driveway.

“I’m back” said Betsy as she picked up Snuggle from the closet floor. She began telling him about kindergarten. He waved a tassel to his friends as if to say he would be back soon. “Would you like some juice?” called Mom. “Where is my cup? I left it on the table; said Betsy. “Oh I see it Mom. It rolled under the curtain. I can’t understand how that happened.” Snuggle carefully winked at the Princes.

Troll Under The Bridge

C rusty A. Troll cussed as he wrung out his hat that was soaked with rain. Resentment filled his small heart. “Just look at those three happy goats “’ he said to himself. The happy family of gruff brothers nauseated him. I almost had one he thought. I was tricked into waiting for each bigger brother, till I got butted back down in the river. I hate eating pigeons that roust under the bridge. He tossed a pigeon bone into the ever growing pile. The rain ran through the cracks in the wooden bridge and the wind blew through it as well. Meanwhile the goat brother ate fresh grass each day and slept peacefully at night under the threes. Crusty grew red in the face and clenched his fist watching the goats play, tossing a pinecone around with their nose and hooves It wasn’t always like that, Crusty ed Grandpa Troll taking this bride for his own. He brought young Crusty with him. Grandpa was the one who thought Crusty the art of being a troll. Yes sir! The humans built that bridge and used it daily till Grandpa climbed up and steaked his claim. He roared and he snarled; the people ran in fear. Then he set up his toll booth and charged everyone to over it. People grumbled but what were they to do? Crusty moved under the bridge with Grandpa and chased toads and frogs and smashed toad stools. It was a good childhood for a young troll. Over the years the bridge became worn out and rickety. The people moved away and in time built a new bridge further away of concrete and steel. No self-respecting troll would go near such a monstrosity. Maybe an elf or a fairy would cross such a bridge but no troll. A troll stayed hidden under wooden bridges, came out at night and in the rain and of course to collect tolls. They always ran back quickly. Besides the polished steal hurt troll’s eyes and something in the concrete caused fits of sneezing. So Crusty got wet from the holes in the bridge. He got a kick out of running up and scaring people who got lost and didn’t know about the troll under the bridge. On gloomy, rainy days he tried running up the bank of the river the chase the Gruff brothers but they were not as much fun anymore. They were used to it now. They just looked out at him for a minute and walked away. Crusty went on like this for months growing his resentment as the rain under his bridge turned to snow. He got out his patched up coat from his bag and his worn

out gloves. He made a small campfire on dry days to keep warm. I have to do something to fix this mess of my life but what. I know I can jump up and scare the Billy goats. They will run to the river and I’ll catch one for dinner. Crusty sneered as he crept under the bridge to catch them unaware. Just as he reached the snow covered bank he heard the middle size goat say. “Oh here he comes again.” They looked in Curtsy’s direction and walked away. “He is always sneaking up on us; we know it and he never learns, it does not work, said the little goat to the biggest. “That’s right. He’s just like his Uncle Troll;” answered the biggest goat. Crusty stopped, he froze in his tracks. He ed Uncle Troll; no one liked him, not even the trolls closest to him. He was angry and arrogant. Plus he never caught the goats and sheep he sought. Forget about deer and rabbits, they were way to fast. Uncle Troll was alone, grumpy and lived in a constant mess. Crusty looked at his pigeon poop stained cardboard box and the pigeon poop under the roof of the bridge and had a new found awareness. The awareness hurt his troll soul so much that his knees knocked and tears formed in his eyes. He wanted his old life back, but he did not know what to do. All he did he did know was he did not want to be like Uncle Troll. He wanted the life he had with Grandpa Troll and to be happy again. Crusty couldn’t think of how to fix the mess he had gotten himself in. He picked up a pigeon bone, put it between his pointed teeth and chewed on it as he pasted back and forth under the bridge. Exhausted by morning he slept half in his cardboard box with his feet out and his toes just missing a pile of pigeon poop. He awoke to the light of the noon day sun shining under the bridge. Hope filled his heart but anxiety held him back. Fear that he would fail crept into Curtsy’s brain. “I can do better,” he told himself, a little at a time. He looked at the stream outdoors and wanted to bathe. Something he hadn’t done in fifty years. First he looked for the rusty shovel and began shoveling up the pigeon bones then scraping away the poop. It was dark when he finished. He bathed in the cool moonlight. It was a

wonderful experience. Crusty found some mushrooms and eggs, so he made himself an omelet. He saw some moss growing in the forest. He never noticed how soft it was. He shoveled some up to make a bed for himself. The cardboard box got tossed out. Crusty slept like a baby. Crusty awoke the next day early to a new sound coming from the river, slapping and chewing sounds. He fluffed his hat, put it on and ran to the river. Four large animals were busy constructing a lodge of logs and mud with their teeth and flat tails. One looked up and waved “Good morning to you.” She said. “Good morning,” said Crusty. “I’m Benny Beaver and this is my wife Betty.” We saw you busy sprucing up your place yesterday so we thought some lodge building and river damming was in order. It seems a nice place to move into and raise kits.” Crusty was surprised by their comments and further surprised by his own comments. He Crusty A. Troll, did not grumble, scream and scare them off; he offered to help by showing them were good logs could be found. Crusty even helped them carry the logs. Crusty discovered he liked helping them. He wondered if he was going crazy, but no, the beavers would run away if they thought he was crazy. Crusty needed to think; he sat on a log, rested his chin in his hands and stared ahead. He felt good, except his knees were weak. Crusty heard Betty Beaver scream. As he looked up and started for the river he heard Benny slapping his tail and chattering. Crusty broke into a run. When he got to the river it was just as he suspected. Some young humans were throwing rocks and taunting the beavers. Crusty, though changed, was still a troll; so he used his scarring skills to help new friends. He waved his arms hooted and hollered and in no time the young humans ran away. “Thank you “said Benny’ “I hope they don’t come back, “said Betty. “Oh they won’t be back.” Crusty explained. They will tell their parents about a scary old troll by the river and their parents will ground them for a week for telling suck lies. They will just go elsewhere. I have seen it a hundred times.”

Benny and Betty were impressed with Crusty’s skill. They ask him to scare away humans where needed and they would be glad to help him repair his bridge. It was a deal that worked well soon Crusty‘s home under the bridge was reappeared of all leaks, painted a bright yellow and looked great. Crusty, with the beaver’s help, added some tree stumps and more moss to sit on and give it a homier look. In no time Crusty was back in the family business. The bridge was drawing attention to humans again and they were happy to pay a modest toll to the bridge Troll to cross the river and go to town. Even if they thought Crusty was just an old, ugly man. The beavers new the truth that he was a troll; and that was all that mattered to Crusty. Soon Crusty had a modest income and could raise his own chickens and grow a garden. The pigeons flew to the city. Crusty often had the beavers over for tea and even invited the goat brothers over and gave them a seasonal bridge to do so.