Childrens Stories

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Ggarry took the new monkey-face gloves he had had for his birthday and put them on. Garry ran downstairs. A bunch of balloons bobbed invitingly in the hall. Yesterday all his friends had come to tea.

One of them had given him the two monkey gloves as a present. The monkeys pulled the string down and chased the balloons in all directions.

“What about picking them up and tidying after the party” called his mum.

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Eelsa lived in the warm and sunny land of Australia. Her family were runner birds and they never flew through the air, or settled in a high tree to sing on a lovely day.
“We have no need to fly from danger” her mother said, and she showed Elsa how to hide among the grass tussocks.
“See they are almost the same colours as yourself. If a clever little emu bird keeps very still she won’t be spotted,” her big sister smiled. But Elsa didn’t think it was much fun playing hide and seek on the ground when all the other birds could play hide and seek in the trees.

When she was just little, the Kookaburra made the woodlands ring with the sound of his laughter, as Elsa dashed about the ground with her long legs and funny little wings. He was always telling her how he flew to the gardens of the houses beyond the forest and how the people all liked to spot him there. The lyre bird was often heard singing the loveliest songs of the summer.

But Elsa never went far from the woodland. ‘A bird dashing about near the houses would look an odd sight,’ she sighed. Instead she practiced her running till she got faster and faster. So swiftly covering the ground that she wasn’t afraid to go down to the river bank were the other birds gathered. To rest from their flight and keep an eye out for a hungery crocodile pretending to be a harmless log. They knew that they could rise into the air and fly to the tree tops where no crocodile could follow.

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Oone bright and sunny spring day, Leonard came into the world. He wasn’t a baby robin, or a baby mouse, or a baby cricket. Leonard was a baby leaf, growing on the big oak tree on Mr. Johnson’s farm.

The tree had been there since Mr. Johnson’s great-grandfather had planted it with his father, when he was still a boy. The tree had seen many years as it grew between the big red barn and the white clapboard house.

All the ‘Mr. Johnsons’ through the years have said “Good morning” to the tree, as they walked to the barn each morning, and “Good evening” to the tree, as they walked back to the house each night. The tree grew-up hearing this and even tried a “Good morning” or “Good evening” of it’s own, on many occasions, with a wave of it’s branches or a creak from it’s trunk, but none of the ‘Mr. Johnsons’ ever really understood. Leonard, as I said, was a leaf who growing on the big oak tree.

He was a bright spring-green and had strong veins starting at his base, and shooting up to his edges. He lived about half-way up the big oak tree, neither at the top, nor at the bottom, but at a very good height for a leaf. He felt the strong spring sun on his face and thought there can not be anything greater than being a leaf. Continue Reading →

Aaunt Hary, whose real name is Harriet, hollered; “Come and get it!” from the back-door of the farmhouse. Me and my brother, Eddie, are from a city that’s one state away from here. Our parents thought we needed to breathe some fresh country air, so we were dropped-off at Uncle Frank and Aunt Hary’s ranch yesterday. I think they just wanted to get rid of us for the summer. For breakfast, Aunt Hary baked some warm, flaky biscuits, in a special stove that burns wood. We ate them wonderful biscuits, with eggs and sausage: it was the best breakfast I ever had in my life! I took my third biscuit outside and sat on the back step. I savored it, bit-by-bit.

Suddenly, I got these squawking beaks and flapping wings in my face. I jumped up and ran, like my pants was on fire! I ran to a tree that Uncle Frank calls a “pee-can” tree. I don’t know how, but I got up that tree! Those chickens kept squawking and bock-bocking at me, so I threw the rest of my biscuit; at them hateful chickens. I kept climbing until the branches got wobbly. Looking down at them rotten chickens, I started to cry, because I was scared and my knees stung. Continue Reading →

Ccaroline and Sinead were sitting scrunched up in the cupboard under the stairs. A lighted candle, wobbling on a box, threw more shadows than light around them. On the outside of the door a notice said: WALLACE AND REILLY: DETECTIVES. STAY AWAY.

But Catherine leaned against the door, listening to the muffled voices inside.
“What’s the use of being detectives if we have nothing to detect,” grumbled Sinead. She felt that a week was long enough to be a detective without cases. Caroline sat frowning, thinking it over.
“Well,” she decided at last, “if people won’t bring cases to us to solve, we’ll have to go out and find them ourselves.”

There was another long silence and Catherine grew so tired of waiting that she leaned too heavily against the door and it creaked.
“Go away, Catherine!” called Caroline crossly.

Catherine stepped back a bit and waited. The voices started up again and she leaned closer.
“I heard Mammy talking about that house outside town you know, the one where no one lives – “, Caroline was saying.
“What about it?” asked Sinead, shifting to try to make herself more comfortable and almost knocking the candle off the box. The shadows leaped around the cupboard.
Caroline grabbed the candle and hot wax splashed from it. She yelped and flapped her burning hand.

“Can’t you be more careful? What do you want to go jumping around for?”
“There’s no room,” grumbled Sinead. “I’ve got pins and needles all over me from sitting like this. This is an awful place for an office.”
“Can you get a better place?”
Sinead sighed and rubbed her leg. Continue Reading →

Aas a life-long friend, please allow me to shed a little light. The TaleWagger is a complex character, who has used many aliases in his chequered career. He was originally called Tom Tom,(his father, a piper had a stutter) and he lived with his widowed mother, brothers and sisters in a shoe-shaped dwelling.

He and his brothers argued so much with one of the sisters, who was called Mary and was quite contrary, that his mother had difficulty coping. Partly due to this, a neighbour once said: “She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do!”  His brother Jack climbed a beanstalk one day and was never seen again.

This giant tragedy made the Talewagger decide that he too should leave home. With his cat dressed in boots and now calling himself ‘Dick’, he left to start a new life. They walked along a yellow-brick road, to a big city with shiny, golden pavements and there Dick was offered an important job with the council.

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Tthere once was a little girl named Katie who had a kitty named Fluffy. Fluffy was a very lovable cat whose hair was long and bushed out in every direction. Katie was six years old and loved Fluffy and thought of him as her best friend in the whole world.

She told bedtime stories to him every night. Stretched out across the bed, Katie told Fluffy stories about anything and everything, as she stroked him from head to tail and Fluffy purred and purred during story-time. Katie’s long ripples of golden-brown hair flopped over one of her rosy cheeks as she snuggled close to Fluffy and she jabbered constantly, until they both fell asleep. Bright sunshine rays shone across Katie’s face and woke her.

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Oout on the Nevada ranges he would run. He would steal mares from neighboring ranchers and fight for other stallion’s mares. If you saw him, you would think it was remarkable that he did not have more scars on his beautiful body from fighting. Even in the winter his coat would shine reflecting the brightness of the snow.

George made his way out West the hard way. He had many jobs along the way; he had been a lawman, a wrangler, even an outlaw. He married and settled down on a ranch in Nevada; it wasn’t much but it was his. George and Mable scratched a living on that ranch, until their fingers bled. There was growing and harvesting hay for the animals and growing and canning food for the winter.

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Pprimary 3 had been on a nature walk, to study flowers in the small park close by the school building. They were now back in class and now around a table busy painting colourful pictures to go up on the wall of the classroom.

Sarah was pleased with her yellow primrose and it was the first finished picture to be pinned up and admired. Roses painted by Jayne followed and added a deep red and soft pink tone to the wall. Derek stood up with his dull-green and jagged nettle. He had even put in nettle flowers: white ugly blobs at the top.
“I’ve finished mine too,” he grinned
“That ugly stinging nettle isn’t going up on our wall,” said Jayne and everyone at the table thought the same.

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Jjeb  lived with Ben and Lindell and two grown-up people called Mum and Dad. He had bright eyes and a shiny black nose. He was a small brown dog with a funny black patch on the tip of his left ear.

One  day Jeb curled up in Mum’s chair and went fast asleep. He began to dream. In his dream he found a delicious bone but just as he was about to start chewing on it he heard a shout. It sounded like Mum’s voice. It was Mum. Jeb was wide awake now.
“Jeb! OUT! Shoo!”

Mum clipped him with the newspaper and chased Jeb out the door. Jeb id in a bush until Mum went back inside. Then he looked about himself. He was in the garden. It felt warm and damp. Here was a good place to dig for another bone – a real one! Jeb set to work. He dug quickly letting the dirt fly up behind him. This was fun. Soon he had dug quite a deep hole. Jeb was about to put his nose into the hole to sniff out a bone when he heard a yell. It sounded like Dad’s voice. It was Dad.
“Jeb! OUT! Shoo!”

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