http://odeo.com/channels/39497-Storynory-Stories-For-Kids HughFraser no Free audio stories for kids published every week Free audio stories for kids published every week Audio Stories for Kids en 40 Mon, 14 Dec 2009 05:43:08 -0800 Mon, 14 Dec 2009 05:43:08 -0800 Family http://odeo.com/episodes/25536065-Sir-Gawain-and-the-Green-Knight-Part-One Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Storynory presents an audio drama adapted from the famous medieval story. It is almost New Year at the court of King Arthur. A strange visitor lays down a challenge which is taken up by Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain. A year later Sir Gawain sets out on a quest that proves a test to his honour as much as to his valour. Our story weaves between narration and voice parts and is probably Storynory’s most ambitious production to date. It might appeal to slightly older children (and perhaps to adults too ). Natasha Gostwick as Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak Richard Scott as Sir Gawain and King Arthur Sam Freeman The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak Many thanks to Jon Sayles for his site full of free recordings of early music which he plays so wonderfully on the classical guitar. Do fill up your iPod with Jon’s MP3s because there’s some lovely music here. We also made use of some fabulous public ... Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Storynory presents an audio drama adapted from the famous medieval story. It is almost New Year at the court of King Arthur. A strange visitor lays down a challenge which is taken up by Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain. A year later Sir Gawain sets out on a quest that proves a test to his honour as much as to his valour. Our story weaves between narration and voice parts and is probably Storynory’s most ambitious production to date. It might appeal to slightly older children (and perhaps to adults too ). Natasha Gostwick as Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak Richard Scott as Sir Gawain and King Arthur Sam Freeman The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak Many thanks to Jon Sayles for his site full of free recordings of early music which he plays so wonderfully on the classical guitar. Do fill up your iPod with Jon’s MP3s because there’s some lovely music here. We also made use of some fabulous public domain Gregorian chants. Adapted by Hugh Fraser for Storynory. The first of Two Parts Morgan Le Fay The story that you are about to hear was all my doing. I wished, I willed it , I spelled it. So listen well little ones, for I am Morgan Le Fay – the sorceress no less – the queen of the Welsh Witches, and the enchanting enemy of King Arthur. I worked out these wonders because my womanly heart demanded an answer to a question. What is it that makes a man? Is it valour in battle? Is it a tongue that speaks true? Or is it a way with words that sways the ladies? And what beasts must a true knight sleigh? Serpents that breath fire, or demons that whisper desire? And so I sought a man to test. Not just any puny little man but the finest fellow who rode a horse since Felix Brutus left behind the flaming city of Troy, and founded the race of brawling, warring, strife-loving men that are known as the Britons. The most famous among the Britons is Arthur,` their king. But the noblest, the knight who perfectly combines courtesy and valor, whose every word, whose every gesture, is governed by the courtly code of chivalry, is not the King himself, but his nephew, Sir Gawain. He is the one. If he can not pass the test that I set, then no man can. - It is Christmas. Picture the splendid scene at Camelot Castle. The lords and ladies who gather at Arthur’s court are the best in the Kingdom. The men are handsome, the women are pretty. All are carefree and gay. They celebrate the festive season with games and jousting, dancing and carol singing. You can hear their noisy noels from ten miles away. For a full fifteen days they celebrate, until at last a shiny new year is about to be born. After Mass in the chapel. the noble lords hold up New Year gifts in their hands. The ladies play guessing games for the prizes, and laugh out loud even when they lose and have to forfeit a kiss. Such were the scenes that led up to dinner time. As the feast began, King Arthur took his place on the high table. All around were noble knights and fair ladies, and Queen Guenevere sat in their midst. Silks shimmered and jewels sparkled, but the brightest gems were the queen’s shining eyes. Trumpets and drums heralded the courses. I will not describe the sumptuous dishes that were laid before them, as you can well imagine that no one lacked anything. All I will note is that King Arthur sat still. He did not lift a morsel to his mouth. For it was his custom not to eat on such occasions until he had seen, or heard tell, of something wonderful. And that is when I sent my creature in. My man rattled the door and came clattering into the hall on his horse. He was a giant, a man mountain, but although his shoulders and chest were as broad and square as battlements, his waist was boyishly slender. He was the biggest but also the most handsome of men. The gaze of every lord and lady was upon him. And what amazed them most was that every aspect of the man was bright green. His tunic and his fur-trimmed cloak were green. His leggings, the same. His hands were green. His face was green. His beard and long flowing hair was were as green as grass. His eyes were like emeralds. And his horse – yes you’ve guessed it – was a good shade of green. In one hand he held a sprig of green holly. In the other a monstrous, fearsome green axe. Its head was a yard wide. Yet he wore no armour, nor carried any other weapon. The green axman rode into the hall, and headed for the high table. When at last he spoke, this is what he said: The Green Knight “Who is the Governor of this gang? I wish to set eyes on his face and speak with him.” Morgan Le Fay He cast his gaze on the knights, and looked them up and down, as he studied their faces, and considered who was the most renowned of them all. And they looked back at him. And the longer they looked at him, the greener he seemed to grow. No one spoke a word. I would not put their silence down to fear, for here in the hall sat the bravest knights in all Christendom. Rather, let us say, it was courtesy that held down every tongue, until at last Arthur saluted the visitor and greeted him thus: Arthur Sir, you are welcome here. Please dismount from your horse, and join us at this feast. The Green Knight No, so help me, I do not invite myself to your table. I am no gate-crasher. And by the sign of this stick of holly, you may be sure that I come in peace. See, I wear civilian clothes. Had I war on my mind, I would have come differently dressed. At home I have a sharp spear and a shining helmet. But your fame and your love of thrill draws me here at this merry time of year. The greatest knights in all Christendom celebrate in this hall. All I ask is that one step forward, and join me in a game, a Christmas contest shall we say, a spot of sport. Arthur Sir courteous knight, if it is single combat that you seek, you will not fail to find a fight here. The Green Knight I tell you in good faith, I came to this court is search of some festive fun. It is the very season for games. If there is any lad here so bold in his heart, so thoughtless in his head, that he will trade me one blow for a blow, then I will give him this axe as a prize. It is great and heavy and he may do with it as he pleases. I shall grant his blade first strike against my bare neck . I shall stand here and not flinch. He may cut with all his force, but only once. If anyone will do me this favour, let him step forward. All I ask is a single strike on the same terms. There will be no rush to claim my right. I will wield my return cut, a year and a day from now. …. Come….. Such silence? Does anyone have anything to say? Morgan Le Fay If they were stunned before, they were more stunned now. The green knight twisted and turned in his saddle, and cast his emerald gaze on each and every face. The Green Knight What ? Is this Arthur’s house? Are these the knights about whom the whole world chatters? Where are the dragon-slaying, grail-seeking, maiden-saving, questing, besting, knights of the renowned round table? Can they be these boys who will not trade one little blow for another? Arthur By heaven, no one here is a afraid, merely baffled by your foolish request. Give me your axe by Mary, and I will grant you the cut that you desire. Morgan Le Fay The green knight that I had sent, stepped down from his horse and handed the axe to the king. He stood bare-necked, without the slightest quiver or shiver, and stroked his beard. Arthur swung the axe about, testing it for weight and balance. But before he was ready to deal the blow, there came a voice from the high table. Sir Gawain My worshipful lord. If you will, command me now to rise from this bench and to stand by you there. I do not think it right that you, my Lord, should take up this haughty challenge here in your hall. So many of the boldest men on earth sit here all around. I myself am the weakest, and my life counts the least. If I were not your nephew, no one would pay me any regard. To speak to the point: let us risk my neck, not yours. Morgan Le Fay The leading nobles gathered, and they all advised one and the same, that the crowned king should give Sir Gawain this game. Sir Gawain Let St. Mary be my witness. I, Sir Gawain, take this axe to strike one blow against the green neck of our guest according to his own wishes. And one year and a day from now I will accept a similar blow against myself, from none other than this same green knight. The Green Knight I thank you for this favour. I incline my head to you sir, and sweep aside my long flowing hair so you may take a better aim at my nape. Deal your single blow. You will not see me flinch. [Sound effect of axe and uproar] Sir Gawain And now courteous guest, I have granted your strange wish. Your head is parted from your shoulders. You will not, I think be dealing any blow against me a year and a day from now, nor on any day, Hey, but what in Heaven or Hell’s name is this? He, headless, stands quite still. Must I believe my eyes? He springs across the floor. His hands reach under the tables and among the diners’ feet. He picks up his head like a ball. He vaults back up onto his horse. And now the blubbery green lips move. He – it – speaks ! The Green Knight By your honour, do not fail, Sir Gawain, and do not forget. Remember your oath before all these knights seated here. A year and a day from now, your quest is to find me. Be sure to ask for the Knight of the Green Chapel. Many men know me. Ask and you shall not fail to find. On New Year’s morning take your blow, as I have just taken mine. It is right and just. Come or be called a coward. Morgan Le Fay The hooves of his horse clatter out of the hall. The wild man in green is gone. Sir Gawain is speechless, though all those seated around the hall discuss the marvel they have just witnessed. The King takes Sir Gawain by the arm: KIng Arthur My noble nephew, hang your axe up on the wall above the the high table. In christmases to come, those who feast here will gaze up at it and remember your wondrous game. Eat and be merry. The year is young. Fade up some music Morgan Le Fay The year turns hastily on, through lean lent, burning summer and mellow autumn. At last the calendar reaches All Saints Day, and Sir Gawain recalls his grim quest. He must set out and seek the blow against his own neck, according to the rules of the game. Little does he know that it was I, Morgan Le Fay, who devised the rules of this sport. And soon I shall see what stuff the man is made of. He says his final goodbyes to the famed knights and ladies of Camelot. Last, but not least, he kneels before Queen Guenevere. Sir Gawain Gracious queen, you honour me with your tears, but I cannot share your regrets for the life of your faithful knight. We must all submit to our fate. Morgan Le Fay Servants set out his armour on a silk carpet. He held up his spiked helmet and kissed it. He stepped into his grieves. His batman buckled him into his breastplate. Five men lifted him up onto his horse. Over his shoulder, he slung his shield on which was emblazoned, in gold, his five pointed symbol – the sign by which all knew him as the noble Sir Gawain. Sir Gawain (softly) Our Father who art in Heaven, I pray that the sacred star of my shield shall guide me and protect my honour. King Solomon devised this everlasting knot. Each point of the perfect pentangle reminds me of my duty. Lead me not into temptation with my five senses, Deliver me from sinning with the five fingers of my hand. Give me strength from the five wounds of your son, our Saviour. Let me find comfort in the five joys of St. Mary. And let me not waver from the five virtues of a true knight: generosity of heart, faith to words, purity of mind and body, courtesy to high and low, and sympathy for those who suffer. Morgan Le Fay As soon as he had spoken this prayer, he dug his golden spurs into the side of his steed, and its hooves sent sparks flying off the cobbles. He wandered westwards, through dark forests, over high mountains, and across fast flowing rivers. On his way he met wild trolls and ogres, bulls, bears, dragons and all manner of abominable beasts. He dealt with them as a knight should, with his sword and lance when needs be. The rain, the sleet and the snow showed him no pity. His only company was Gryngelot, his horse. His only shelter was his armour. But all these sufferings were nothing to him. Still he quested on, until at last, on the eve of Christmas Day, he prayed to St. Mary , for a chapel where he could hear mass. He crossed himself three times as he came over the brow of the hill, and the turrets and battlements of a strong but handsome castle came into view. With hope in his heart, he spurred Gryngelot down the grassy slope to the deep moat and the end of the drawbridge. Sir Gawain. Good Porter ! Please, be my messenger. Go to the noble lord of this house. Tell him an errant knight is at his door, and humbly begs shelter. Porter I believe, by St. Peter, that you will find a welcome within these walls. Morgan Le Fay The porter was not a bad sort. He returned soon with company to help the guest down from his horse. As he stood in his resplendent armour, knights and squires came out of the halls and knelt before him on the cold ground. Sir Gawain Please, please, noble sirs. There is no need at all to kneel. I am a humble knight like yourselves, a follower of King Arthur and the Round Table. I come to your land on an errand. I must meet the one who goes by the name of the Knight of the Green Chapel. Morgan Le Fay As he spoke, the noble Lord of the castle stepped out. He was tall, broad and handsome, splendidly dressed in an ermine-lined cloak. Bertilak Gracious Sir Gawain. The five pointed star on your shield speaks your name. My own is rather less renowned – though it is known well enough around these parts. I am Bertilak. You are most welcome here. Treat everything that is mine as yours ! Do with it what you wish ! My paige boys will free you from your armour and bring you fine clothes. Then join us by the fire and warm your limbs. [Fade up sound of fire and laughter and music] Bertilak My Lords, Ladies see I hold up my hood on my spear. I offer it as a prize to the one who makes us laugh the most this Christmas ! [music fades into bells ] It is the midnight hour. The monks call us to mass. [Sound of Chanting ] Morgan Le Fay Inside the chapel, Sir Gawain kneeled at the pew, and asked forgiveness for his sins that Christmas night. When he arose from his prayers, he noticed a lady who had joined the company of women. Although the others were fair, she was far fairer still. She was more beautiful than even queen Guenevere, so he thought. And leading her by the hand was another lady, though quite different to look at. The one lady was in the ripeness of youth, the other was old and dry. The one wore bright pearls around her white throat and over her soft breast. The other covered her eyes and hair with a veil, and wrapped herself in a cloak. The one had delicate dewy lips, the other’s were purple and swollen. But if the young lady commanded respect among those around her, the older received sill more. Sir Gawain Good ladies. I am Sir Gawain. Let me be your knight. Allow me to serve you. Lady Bertilak. You may serve us with the art of your conversation. It is not often we have the pleasure of such courteous company. Bertilak. My wife longs for the courtly manners of Camelot. Out here in the sticks we barely know how to hold a knife at the table ! Sir Gawain Lady Bertilak, I will do all I can to keep you entertained, but do not over expect. I am, at bottom, a man of action not words. Morgan Le Fay They spent the Christmas days in laughter, song and feasting. Among the ladies, the oldest, of whom I have spoken, took the place of honour at the table. Lady Bertilak was often at the side of Sir Gawain. They exchanged many glances and many words, though all of them quite proper. She seemed to delight in his conversation. He in her company. In truth, she diverted him from dark thoughts of the blow that he must receive. She made him feel that that this short life, though often brutal, had been worth living. [Fade up some music] Sir Gawain Dear hosts. The last time I rejoiced so much and so freely at Christmas was when I was a boy. I thank you for these delights. But now it is time for me to leave your welcoming roof and to pick up my quest. I have sworn to meet the Knight of the Green Chapel this New Year’s morning, and just three more days remain for me to seek my destiny. Bertilak Leave? I will not hear of it. The chapel of which you speak is a mere two miles from here. It makes no sense to leave us so soon. Rest in comfort for three more days and on New Year’s morning, my servant will guide you to the Chapel of the Green Knight. Lady Bertilak I would not blame you if you are in a rush to leave. I quite understand if our company bores you. We cannot compete with the ladies of Camelot for refined entertainment, although we do our best to amuse our guests. But Sir, for my sake, if you value me at all, please stay. Sir Gawain. When a lady puts it like that, how can a knight refuse? My debt to you both for your welcome, is now greater still. I am at your service. I will do whatever you ask. Lady Bertilak I will have to think of some little service you can perform. Bertilak Since you will do whatever I ask, here’s what I suggest. Let’s have a little festive fun. In the morning I will set out hunting before dawn. You shall remain here, rest your limbs, and find comfort and amusement within the walls of this castle. In the evening, when I return, I shall give you whatever I have caught while hunting. And if you have gained anything good during the day, you shall give that to me. Sir Gawain A simple exchange. I see no harm in that. Bertilak Exactly. Now do I have your word as a knight that, win or lose, you will swop straight and true? Sir Gawain By the Holy Pentangle on my shield, I swear. Bertilak Then let us drink to our bargain ! You have been listening to the first part of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight adapted from the Medieval text for Storynory by Hugh Fraser. The parts of Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak was played by Natasha Gostwick. The parts of The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak was played by Sam Freeman And the parts of Sir Gawain and King Arthur was played was played me, Richard Scott The second and final part follows shortly. For many more free audio stories, please visit Storynory.com Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Storynory presents an audio drama adapted from the famous medieval story. It is almost New Year at the court of King Arthur. A strange visitor lays down a challenge which is taken up by Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain. A year later Sir Gawain sets out on a quest that proves a test to his honour as much as to his valour. Our story weaves between narration and voice parts and is probably Storynory’s most ambitious production to date. It might appeal to slightly older children (and perhaps to adults too ). Natasha Gostwick as Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak Richard Scott as Sir Gawain and King Arthur Sam Freeman The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak Many thanks to Jon Sayles for his site full of free recordings of early music which he plays so wonderfully on the classical guitar. Do fill up your iPod with Jon’s MP3s because there’s some lovely music here. We also made use of some fabulous public domain Gregorian chants. Adapted by Hugh Fraser for Storynory. The first of Two Parts Morgan Le Fay The story that you are about to hear was all my doing. I wished, I willed it , I spelled it. So listen well little ones, for I am Morgan Le Fay – the sorceress no less – the queen of the Welsh Witches, and the enchanting enemy of King Arthur. I worked out these wonders because my womanly heart demanded an answer to a question. What is it that makes a man? Is it valour in battle? Is it a tongue that speaks true? Or is it a way with words that sways the ladies? And what beasts must a true knight sleigh? Serpents that breath fire, or demons that whisper desire? And so I sought a man to test. Not just any puny little man but the finest fellow who rode a horse since Felix Brutus left behind the flaming city of Troy, and founded the race of brawling, warring, strife-loving men that are known as the Britons. The most famous among the Britons is Arthur,` their king. But the noblest, the knight who perfectly combines courtesy and valor, whose every word, whose every gesture, is governed by the courtly code of chivalry, is not the King himself, but his nephew, Sir Gawain. He is the one. If he can not pass the test that I set, then no man can. - It is Christmas. Picture the splendid scene at Camelot Castle. The lords and ladies who gather at Arthur’s court are the best in the Kingdom. The men are handsome, the women are pretty. All are carefree and gay. They celebrate the festive season with games and jousting, dancing and carol singing. You can hear their noisy noels from ten miles away. For a full fifteen days they celebrate, until at last a shiny new year is about to be born. After Mass in the chapel. the noble lords hold up New Year gifts in their hands. The ladies play guessing games for the prizes, and laugh out loud even when they lose and have to forfeit a kiss. Such were the scenes that led up to dinner time. As the feast began, King Arthur took his place on the high table. All around were noble knights and fair ladies, and Queen Guenevere sat in their midst. Silks shimmered and jewels sparkled, but the brightest gems were the queen’s shining eyes. Trumpets and drums heralded the courses. I will not describe the sumptuous dishes that were laid before them, as you can well imagine that no one lacked anything. All I will note is that King Arthur sat still. He did not lift a morsel to his mouth. For it was his custom not to eat on such occasions until he had seen, or heard tell, of something wonderful. And that is when I sent my creature in. My man rattled the door and came clattering into the hall on his horse. He was a giant, a man mountain, but although his shoulders and chest were as broad and square as battlements, his waist was boyishly slender. He was the biggest but also the most handsome of men. The gaze of every lord and lady was upon him. And what amazed them most was that every aspect of the man was bright green. His tunic and his fur-trimmed cloak were green. His leggings, the same. His hands were green. His face was green. His beard and long flowing hair was were as green as grass. His eyes were like emeralds. And his horse – yes you’ve guessed it – was a good shade of green. In one hand he held a sprig of green holly. In the other a monstrous, fearsome green axe. Its head was a yard wide. Yet he wore no armour, nor carried any other weapon. The green axman rode into the hall, and headed for the high table. When at last he spoke, this is what he said: The Green Knight “Who is the Governor of this gang? I wish to set eyes on his face and speak with him.” Morgan Le Fay He cast his gaze on the knights, and looked them up and down, as he studied their faces, and considered who was the most renowned of them all. And they looked back at him. And the longer they looked at him, the greener he seemed to grow. No one spoke a word. I would not put their silence down to fear, for here in the hall sat the bravest knights in all Christendom. Rather, let us say, it was courtesy that held down every tongue, until at last Arthur saluted the visitor and greeted him thus: Arthur Sir, you are welcome here. Please dismount from your horse, and join us at this feast. The Green Knight No, so help me, I do not invite myself to your table. I am no gate-crasher. And by the sign of this stick of holly, you may be sure that I come in peace. See, I wear civilian clothes. Had I war on my mind, I would have come differently dressed. At home I have a sharp spear and a shining helmet. But your fame and your love of thrill draws me here at this merry time of year. The greatest knights in all Christendom celebrate in this hall. All I ask is that one step forward, and join me in a game, a Christmas contest shall we say, a spot of sport. Arthur Sir courteous knight, if it is single combat that you seek, you will not fail to find a fight here. The Green Knight I tell you in good faith, I came to this court is search of some festive fun. It is the very season for games. If there is any lad here so bold in his heart, so thoughtless in his head, that he will trade me one blow for a blow, then I will give him this axe as a prize. It is great and heavy and he may do with it as he pleases. I shall grant his blade first strike against my bare neck . I shall stand here and not flinch. He may cut with all his force, but only once. If anyone will do me this favour, let him step forward. All I ask is a single strike on the same terms. There will be no rush to claim my right. I will wield my return cut, a year and a day from now. …. Come….. Such silence? Does anyone have anything to say? Morgan Le Fay If they were stunned before, they were more stunned now. The green knight twisted and turned in his saddle, and cast his emerald gaze on each and every face. The Green Knight What ? Is this Arthur’s house? Are these the knights about whom the whole world chatters? Where are the dragon-slaying, grail-seeking, maiden-saving, questing, besting, knights of the renowned round table? Can they be these boys who will not trade one little blow for another? Arthur By heaven, no one here is a afraid, merely baffled by your foolish request. Give me your axe by Mary, and I will grant you the cut that you desire. Morgan Le Fay The green knight that I had sent, stepped down from his horse and handed the axe to the king. He stood bare-necked, without the slightest quiver or shiver, and stroked his beard. Arthur swung the axe about, testing it for weight and balance. But before he was ready to deal the blow, there came a voice from the high table. Sir Gawain My worshipful lord. If you will, command me now to rise from this bench and to stand by you there. I do not think it right that you, my Lord, should take up this haughty challenge here in your hall. So many of the boldest men on earth sit here all around. I myself am the weakest, and my life counts the least. If I were not your nephew, no one would pay me any regard. To speak to the point: let us risk my neck, not yours. Morgan Le Fay The leading nobles gathered, and they all advised one and the same, that the crowned king should give Sir Gawain this game. Sir Gawain Let St. Mary be my witness. I, Sir Gawain, take this axe to strike one blow against the green neck of our guest according to his own wishes. And one year and a day from now I will accept a similar blow against myself, from none other than this same green knight. The Green Knight I thank you for this favour. I incline my head to you sir, and sweep aside my long flowing hair so you may take a better aim at my nape. Deal your single blow. You will not see me flinch. [Sound effect of axe and uproar] Sir Gawain And now courteous guest, I have granted your strange wish. Your head is parted from your shoulders. You will not, I think be dealing any blow against me a year and a day from now, nor on any day, Hey, but what in Heaven or Hell’s name is this? He, headless, stands quite still. Must I believe my eyes? He springs across the floor. His hands reach under the tables and among the diners’ feet. He picks up his head like a ball. He vaults back up onto his horse. And now the blubbery green lips move. He – it – speaks ! The Green Knight By your honour, do not fail, Sir Gawain, and do not forget. Remember your oath before all these knights seated here. A year and a day from now, your quest is to find me. Be sure to ask for the Knight of the Green Chapel. Many men know me. Ask and you shall not fail to find. On New Year’s morning take your blow, as I have just taken mine. It is right and just. Come or be called a coward. Morgan Le Fay The hooves of his horse clatter out of the hall. The wild man in green is gone. Sir Gawain is speechless, though all those seated around the hall discuss the marvel they have just witnessed. The King takes Sir Gawain by the arm: KIng Arthur My noble nephew, hang your axe up on the wall above the the high table. In christmases to come, those who feast here will gaze up at it and remember your wondrous game. Eat and be merry. The year is young. Fade up some music Morgan Le Fay The year turns hastily on, through lean lent, burning summer and mellow autumn. At last the calendar reaches All Saints Day, and Sir Gawain recalls his grim quest. He must set out and seek the blow against his own neck, according to the rules of the game. Little does he know that it was I, Morgan Le Fay, who devised the rules of this sport. And soon I shall see what stuff the man is made of. He says his final goodbyes to the famed knights and ladies of Camelot. Last, but not least, he kneels before Queen Guenevere. Sir Gawain Gracious queen, you honour me with your tears, but I cannot share your regrets for the life of your faithful knight. We must all submit to our fate. Morgan Le Fay Servants set out his armour on a silk carpet. He held up his spiked helmet and kissed it. He stepped into his grieves. His batman buckled him into his breastplate. Five men lifted him up onto his horse. Over his shoulder, he slung his shield on which was emblazoned, in gold, his five pointed symbol – the sign by which all knew him as the noble Sir Gawain. Sir Gawain (softly) Our Father who art in Heaven, I pray that the sacred star of my shield shall guide me and protect my honour. King Solomon devised this everlasting knot. Each point of the perfect pentangle reminds me of my duty. Lead me not into temptation with my five senses, Deliver me from sinning with the five fingers of my hand. Give me strength from the five wounds of your son, our Saviour. Let me find comfort in the five joys of St. Mary. And let me not waver from the five virtues of a true knight: generosity of heart, faith to words, purity of mind and body, courtesy to high and low, and sympathy for those who suffer. Morgan Le Fay As soon as he had spoken this prayer, he dug his golden spurs into the side of his steed, and its hooves sent sparks flying off the cobbles. He wandered westwards, through dark forests, over high mountains, and across fast flowing rivers. On his way he met wild trolls and ogres, bulls, bears, dragons and all manner of abominable beasts. He dealt with them as a knight should, with his sword and lance when needs be. The rain, the sleet and the snow showed him no pity. His only company was Gryngelot, his horse. His only shelter was his armour. But all these sufferings were nothing to him. Still he quested on, until at last, on the eve of Christmas Day, he prayed to St. Mary , for a chapel where he could hear mass. He crossed himself three times as he came over the brow of the hill, and the turrets and battlements of a strong but handsome castle came into view. With hope in his heart, he spurred Gryngelot down the grassy slope to the deep moat and the end of the drawbridge. Sir Gawain. Good Porter ! Please, be my messenger. Go to the noble lord of this house. Tell him an errant knight is at his door, and humbly begs shelter. Porter I believe, by St. Peter, that you will find a welcome within these walls. Morgan Le Fay The porter was not a bad sort. He returned soon with company to help the guest down from his horse. As he stood in his resplendent armour, knights and squires came out of the halls and knelt before him on the cold ground. Sir Gawain Please, please, noble sirs. There is no need at all to kneel. I am a humble knight like yourselves, a follower of King Arthur and the Round Table. I come to your land on an errand. I must meet the one who goes by the name of the Knight of the Green Chapel. Morgan Le Fay As he spoke, the noble Lord of the castle stepped out. He was tall, broad and handsome, splendidly dressed in an ermine-lined cloak. Bertilak Gracious Sir Gawain. The five pointed star on your shield speaks your name. My own is rather less renowned – though it is known well enough around these parts. I am Bertilak. You are most welcome here. Treat everything that is mine as yours ! Do with it what you wish ! My paige boys will free you from your armour and bring you fine clothes. Then join us by the fire and warm your limbs. [Fade up sound of fire and laughter and music] Bertilak My Lords, Ladies see I hold up my hood on my spear. I offer it as a prize to the one who makes us laugh the most this Christmas ! [music fades into bells ] It is the midnight hour. The monks call us to mass. [Sound of Chanting ] Morgan Le Fay Inside the chapel, Sir Gawain kneeled at the pew, and asked forgiveness for his sins that Christmas night. When he arose from his prayers, he noticed a lady who had joined the company of women. Although the others were fair, she was far fairer still. She was more beautiful than even queen Guenevere, so he thought. And leading her by the hand was another lady, though quite different to look at. The one lady was in the ripeness of youth, the other was old and dry. The one wore bright pearls around her white throat and over her soft breast. The other covered her eyes and hair with a veil, and wrapped herself in a cloak. The one had delicate dewy lips, the other’s were purple and swollen. But if the young lady commanded respect among those around her, the older received sill more. Sir Gawain Good ladies. I am Sir Gawain. Let me be your knight. Allow me to serve you. Lady Bertilak. You may serve us with the art of your conversation. It is not often we have the pleasure of such courteous company. Bertilak. My wife longs for the courtly manners of Camelot. Out here in the sticks we barely know how to hold a knife at the table ! Sir Gawain Lady Bertilak, I will do all I can to keep you entertained, but do not over expect. I am, at bottom, a man of action not words. Morgan Le Fay They spent the Christmas days in laughter, song and feasting. Among the ladies, the oldest, of whom I have spoken, took the place of honour at the table. Lady Bertilak was often at the side of Sir Gawain. They exchanged many glances and many words, though all of them quite proper. She seemed to delight in his conversation. He in her company. In truth, she diverted him from dark thoughts of the blow that he must receive. She made him feel that that this short life, though often brutal, had been worth living. [Fade up some music] Sir Gawain Dear hosts. The last time I rejoiced so much and so freely at Christmas was when I was a boy. I thank you for these delights. But now it is time for me to leave your welcoming roof and to pick up my quest. I have sworn to meet the Knight of the Green Chapel this New Year’s morning, and just three more days remain for me to seek my destiny. Bertilak Leave? I will not hear of it. The chapel of which you speak is a mere two miles from here. It makes no sense to leave us so soon. Rest in comfort for three more days and on New Year’s morning, my servant will guide you to the Chapel of the Green Knight. Lady Bertilak I would not blame you if you are in a rush to leave. I quite understand if our company bores you. We cannot compete with the ladies of Camelot for refined entertainment, although we do our best to amuse our guests. But Sir, for my sake, if you value me at all, please stay. Sir Gawain. When a lady puts it like that, how can a knight refuse? My debt to you both for your welcome, is now greater still. I am at your service. I will do whatever you ask. Lady Bertilak I will have to think of some little service you can perform. Bertilak Since you will do whatever I ask, here’s what I suggest. Let’s have a little festive fun. In the morning I will set out hunting before dawn. You shall remain here, rest your limbs, and find comfort and amusement within the walls of this castle. In the evening, when I return, I shall give you whatever I have caught while hunting. And if you have gained anything good during the day, you shall give that to me. Sir Gawain A simple exchange. I see no harm in that. Bertilak Exactly. Now do I have your word as a knight that, win or lose, you will swop straight and true? Sir Gawain By the Holy Pentangle on my shield, I swear. Bertilak Then let us drink to our bargain ! You have been listening to the first part of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight adapted from the Medieval text for Storynory by Hugh Fraser. The parts of Morgan Le Fay and Lady Bertilak was played by Natasha Gostwick. The parts of The Green Knight and Lord Bertilak was played by Sam Freeman And the parts of Sir Gawain and King Arthur was played was played me, Richard Scott The second and final part follows shortly. For many more free audio stories, please visit Storynory.com tag:odeo.com,2009-12-14,25536065 Mon, 14 Dec 2009 05:43:08 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Educational, Latest Stories, All Stories, Christmas Stories, Knights of the Round Table http://odeo.com/episodes/25505596-The-Christmas-Cherry-Tree Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This charming medieval story shows that a true knight has more virtues than just courage. The hero, Sir Cleges, is generous, perhaps too generous. He celebrates Christmas in such style every year, that eventually he falls into poverty. When he is at his lowest ebb, cherries appear in his garden, even though it is snowy and out of season. His wife points him in the direction of the Court of King Uther, and he is on his way to restore his wealth. For a detailed introduction see Teams Middle English Texts. Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 14.46 My Lords and Ladies, you shall hear of one who lived many generations ago, in the time of King Uther Pendragon, father of the famed King Arthur. I speak of a knight, hardy and strong, tall and fair, brave and noble. In all the world there lived no one as courteous, noble or generous as he. To land owners, who struggled in times of war, he gave gold. To poor far... Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This charming medieval story shows that a true knight has more virtues than just courage. The hero, Sir Cleges, is generous, perhaps too generous. He celebrates Christmas in such style every year, that eventually he falls into poverty. When he is at his lowest ebb, cherries appear in his garden, even though it is snowy and out of season. His wife points him in the direction of the Court of King Uther, and he is on his way to restore his wealth. For a detailed introduction see Teams Middle English Texts. Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 14.46 My Lords and Ladies, you shall hear of one who lived many generations ago, in the time of King Uther Pendragon, father of the famed King Arthur. I speak of a knight, hardy and strong, tall and fair, brave and noble. In all the world there lived no one as courteous, noble or generous as he. To land owners, who struggled in times of war, he gave gold. To poor farmers who rented lands from him, he gave food and good cheer. A spare place at his table was always laid just incase anyone might pay a visit on him. This knight had a gentle wife, the best a man could wish for. No woman was more beautiful, or more noble in her heart than she. Dame Clarys was her name. Of goodness, she had truly. Together they brought gladness to many a soul. No man, rich or poor, felt any ill will against them. Every year, Sir Cleges – for that was the name of this noble knight – would hold a feast at Christmas time. No king celebrated that day in greater style than he. Rich and poor came to his feast. He would turn away no man. Friars payed him with blessings, minstrels with music – those were the highest prices he would ask for his food. And when the feasting was over, the guests would not leave without gifts. He gave freely of robes, horses, silver and even gold. All this he did in honour of Him who was born in a manger on that day. But his wealth dwindled with each passing year. He would not give up his feasting or his gifts. He let, mortgaged, even sold his lands to pay for his generosity, until at last he had almost nothing left. The Christmas feasting had to end. He lived meekly with his good wife and two children – and of luxuries, they knew no more. One Christmas Eve, Sir Cleges was walking up and down in his garden, when he heard the sound of trumpets, pipes, drums, harps and cymbals. He could hear carols and dancing. The sound of merriment brought back memories of his past feasts and festivities. He knew well that the music came from the court of King Urther, who was as Cardiff for Christmas. But the King had not invited his loyal knight to join his table for the festivities. . He had either forgotten him, or thought that he was dead. Sir Cleges wrung his hands began to pray piteously: “Oh Jesus, heavenly king, you made everything out of nothing. I thank you for times past, for the the merriment I used to make . I gave freely for your sake. I fed both rich and poor. Those who dined at my table did not lack for any meat or game, or good drinks. Of the cost I thought nothing. And now, here I stand, a poor man at your service, overlooked and forgotten by all mortal men, high and low.” As he stood mourning so, his wife came to him, and enfolded him in her arms. She kissed him with glad heart and said, “My true husband, I heard what you were saying. It does not help to have sad thoughts. So let your sorrow be gone. Every one should be happy on this day, and be glad with what they have got. So let us go inside, and be merry and eat our dinner joyfully. “ “Of course,” said Sir Cleges. And with somewhat better cheer he quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and went inside to eat his food. After they had eaten, they took great delight in playing with their two children. And at midnight they went to church and asked God to keep them clothed and fed. On Christmas morning, Sir Cleges went into his garden. He kneeled on the snow covered ground before his favourite cherry tree, and prayed once again. When he had finished, he reached up for a branch to help him stand. As he arose, the bough broke in his hand. He noticed that it bore green leaves, and that there were ripe, round cherries clustered around it. He said: “Dear God. What manner of berries are these that grow at this time of year? And then he picked a cherry and tried it. It was the most delicious fruit he had tasted since he was a small boy. He cut off a little branch and took it to his wife to show her. “My dear, here is a novelty,” he said. “I found these growing in our garden. Cherries in mid winter. I am afraid it is some ill omen, a warning to me for my sorrow and grieving. “ “Why no,” said his wife, “Rather it is a sign that goodness is coming to us. Tomorrow at first light, take the cherries to Cardiff and the King. He will have no better gift than this. “ When it was daylight, she prepared a large basket full of cherries. She told their eldest son to carry it on his back, and walk behind his father to Cardiff. And so they set off, not on a stead or pony, but Sir Cleges’ walking stick was his only support. When they arrived at the gates of the castle, the porter saw his poor clothing and said : “You shall turn around and leave smartly without delay, or by God and St. Mary, I shall break your head. Go and stand in the beggars’ row. That’s the place for you.” But Sir Cleges said: “Good Sir. I pray you, let me go in. I have a present for the king. Here look.” And the porter went over to the basket and lifted the lid. When he saw the cherries he marveled and said: “If I let you pass, you must promise me a third of whatever reward the king shall grant you for this gift, be it silver or gold.” And Sir Cleges replied : “I consent” and he went through the gate into the castle On his way to the banqueting hall he met an usher of the court who said: “Go, vassal, get out of my sight, and if I find you again within these walls I shall beat your head and your limbs without a moment’s regret.” At this, Sir Cleges said: “Good Sir. Stay your anger. Be gentle and good. For I have brought a present for the king. See here, these fruits grew this christmas season in my garden. They are the fairest cherries that ever man did see.” And when the usher saw the cherries, he was amazed and said: “If you grant me a third part of what ever you may win for these, then you may indeed go on.” And as Sir Cleges had no other choice, he agreed to the usher’s terms, and into the hall he went with his son and the basket. As they entered the Hall, the Steward saw them. He went up to Sir Cleges and said: “Who made you so bold as to come in here uninvited? Turn around smartly and get out.” And Sir Cleges replied : “See, good sir, I have a gift for the king.” And when the Steward saw what he had brought he exclaimed: “By Mary I never saw such fruits at this time of year. You shall go before the king, but only if you promise me a third part of whatever you shall receive.” Sir Cleges stood and thought to himself that betwixt these three men, he would divide all that he received. For all his trouble he would win nothing. As he did not reply right away, the Steward demanded: “Have you no tongue? Give me your answer without delay or I shall beat your rags with my stick!” And seeing that he had no other choice, Sir Cleges said: “Very well, whatever the king shall reward, you shall have a third part.” The steward brought Sir Cleges before the king, where he knelt and uncovered the basket: “Great King,” he said. “These fruits grew in my garden this christmas time, and I have brought them to you as a gift. “ The king saw the cherries, fresh and new, and said: “Truly this is the work of our Lord.” And he commanded Sir Cleges to sit down and join the feast. The king sent a portion of the cherries to a radiant and fair lady in Cornwall, and he commanded the rest to be served around the hall. When all had eaten and were glad, he king commanded: “Bring before me the poor man who gave me the cherries.” And Sir Cleges knelt again before the king. And the kind said: “I thank you heartily for the gift you have brought me. It has honoured my feast. Whatever you will have, I will grant you. Whatever your heart desires, be it lands, or surfs or goods.” And Sir Cleges replied. “Great King. I ask nothing but 12 strokes of my stick that I might give freely to my enemies around this castle.” On hearing this the King was angry and said. “I am sorry that I granted you this gift. Better that you asked for silver or gold, for you have more need of it. Nevertheless, if that is your wish, let my debt to you be paid with blows.” And Sir Cleges went into the hall and sought the steward to give him his reward. He dealt him such a blow that he knocked him down. And then he gave him three more. On leaving the hall he found the usher and told him: “Here’s the third part of my gift that I promised you!” and he beat him four times with his stick. And then he found the porter and gave him his reward with the words. “I keep bargain. Take this, and this, and this and this!” And while Sir Cleges was busy paying back his enemies, the king sat in his chamber and listened to a minstrel. The minstrel sang of a great knight who had served him in years past, one who was full of fortune, nobility and grace. His name was Sir Cleges. And as the king listened, memories came back to him, and he realised that he had seen the good knight that very evening.” “Why, was that not him who knelt before me in the hall? “ exclaimed the king. “Sire, indeed it was,” replied the minstrel. When word reached the lords and ladies of the court of how Sir Cleges had paid back the porter, the usher and the steward, they all laughed heartily and thought that it was good sport. The king called Sir Cleges before him, and this time he gave him lands, and forests, and a cup of gold to take to his wife. He made his son a squire and gave him fine clothes to wear. Every year after that, Sir Cleges and his wife celebrated Christmas with good food, music, merriment and gifts, and they lived in great happiness until the Lord sent for them. Text copyright Hugh Fraser (for Storynory) 2009. Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This charming medieval story shows that a true knight has more virtues than just courage. The hero, Sir Cleges, is generous, perhaps too generous. He celebrates Christmas in such style every year, that eventually he falls into poverty. When he is at his lowest ebb, cherries appear in his garden, even though it is snowy and out of season. His wife points him in the direction of the Court of King Uther, and he is on his way to restore his wealth. For a detailed introduction see Teams Middle English Texts. Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration 14.46 My Lords and Ladies, you shall hear of one who lived many generations ago, in the time of King Uther Pendragon, father of the famed King Arthur. I speak of a knight, hardy and strong, tall and fair, brave and noble. In all the world there lived no one as courteous, noble or generous as he. To land owners, who struggled in times of war, he gave gold. To poor farmers who rented lands from him, he gave food and good cheer. A spare place at his table was always laid just incase anyone might pay a visit on him. This knight had a gentle wife, the best a man could wish for. No woman was more beautiful, or more noble in her heart than she. Dame Clarys was her name. Of goodness, she had truly. Together they brought gladness to many a soul. No man, rich or poor, felt any ill will against them. Every year, Sir Cleges – for that was the name of this noble knight – would hold a feast at Christmas time. No king celebrated that day in greater style than he. Rich and poor came to his feast. He would turn away no man. Friars payed him with blessings, minstrels with music – those were the highest prices he would ask for his food. And when the feasting was over, the guests would not leave without gifts. He gave freely of robes, horses, silver and even gold. All this he did in honour of Him who was born in a manger on that day. But his wealth dwindled with each passing year. He would not give up his feasting or his gifts. He let, mortgaged, even sold his lands to pay for his generosity, until at last he had almost nothing left. The Christmas feasting had to end. He lived meekly with his good wife and two children – and of luxuries, they knew no more. One Christmas Eve, Sir Cleges was walking up and down in his garden, when he heard the sound of trumpets, pipes, drums, harps and cymbals. He could hear carols and dancing. The sound of merriment brought back memories of his past feasts and festivities. He knew well that the music came from the court of King Urther, who was as Cardiff for Christmas. But the King had not invited his loyal knight to join his table for the festivities. . He had either forgotten him, or thought that he was dead. Sir Cleges wrung his hands began to pray piteously: “Oh Jesus, heavenly king, you made everything out of nothing. I thank you for times past, for the the merriment I used to make . I gave freely for your sake. I fed both rich and poor. Those who dined at my table did not lack for any meat or game, or good drinks. Of the cost I thought nothing. And now, here I stand, a poor man at your service, overlooked and forgotten by all mortal men, high and low.” As he stood mourning so, his wife came to him, and enfolded him in her arms. She kissed him with glad heart and said, “My true husband, I heard what you were saying. It does not help to have sad thoughts. So let your sorrow be gone. Every one should be happy on this day, and be glad with what they have got. So let us go inside, and be merry and eat our dinner joyfully. “ “Of course,” said Sir Cleges. And with somewhat better cheer he quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and went inside to eat his food. After they had eaten, they took great delight in playing with their two children. And at midnight they went to church and asked God to keep them clothed and fed. On Christmas morning, Sir Cleges went into his garden. He kneeled on the snow covered ground before his favourite cherry tree, and prayed once again. When he had finished, he reached up for a branch to help him stand. As he arose, the bough broke in his hand. He noticed that it bore green leaves, and that there were ripe, round cherries clustered around it. He said: “Dear God. What manner of berries are these that grow at this time of year? And then he picked a cherry and tried it. It was the most delicious fruit he had tasted since he was a small boy. He cut off a little branch and took it to his wife to show her. “My dear, here is a novelty,” he said. “I found these growing in our garden. Cherries in mid winter. I am afraid it is some ill omen, a warning to me for my sorrow and grieving. “ “Why no,” said his wife, “Rather it is a sign that goodness is coming to us. Tomorrow at first light, take the cherries to Cardiff and the King. He will have no better gift than this. “ When it was daylight, she prepared a large basket full of cherries. She told their eldest son to carry it on his back, and walk behind his father to Cardiff. And so they set off, not on a stead or pony, but Sir Cleges’ walking stick was his only support. When they arrived at the gates of the castle, the porter saw his poor clothing and said : “You shall turn around and leave smartly without delay, or by God and St. Mary, I shall break your head. Go and stand in the beggars’ row. That’s the place for you.” But Sir Cleges said: “Good Sir. I pray you, let me go in. I have a present for the king. Here look.” And the porter went over to the basket and lifted the lid. When he saw the cherries he marveled and said: “If I let you pass, you must promise me a third of whatever reward the king shall grant you for this gift, be it silver or gold.” And Sir Cleges replied : “I consent” and he went through the gate into the castle On his way to the banqueting hall he met an usher of the court who said: “Go, vassal, get out of my sight, and if I find you again within these walls I shall beat your head and your limbs without a moment’s regret.” At this, Sir Cleges said: “Good Sir. Stay your anger. Be gentle and good. For I have brought a present for the king. See here, these fruits grew this christmas season in my garden. They are the fairest cherries that ever man did see.” And when the usher saw the cherries, he was amazed and said: “If you grant me a third part of what ever you may win for these, then you may indeed go on.” And as Sir Cleges had no other choice, he agreed to the usher’s terms, and into the hall he went with his son and the basket. As they entered the Hall, the Steward saw them. He went up to Sir Cleges and said: “Who made you so bold as to come in here uninvited? Turn around smartly and get out.” And Sir Cleges replied : “See, good sir, I have a gift for the king.” And when the Steward saw what he had brought he exclaimed: “By Mary I never saw such fruits at this time of year. You shall go before the king, but only if you promise me a third part of whatever you shall receive.” Sir Cleges stood and thought to himself that betwixt these three men, he would divide all that he received. For all his trouble he would win nothing. As he did not reply right away, the Steward demanded: “Have you no tongue? Give me your answer without delay or I shall beat your rags with my stick!” And seeing that he had no other choice, Sir Cleges said: “Very well, whatever the king shall reward, you shall have a third part.” The steward brought Sir Cleges before the king, where he knelt and uncovered the basket: “Great King,” he said. “These fruits grew in my garden this christmas time, and I have brought them to you as a gift. “ The king saw the cherries, fresh and new, and said: “Truly this is the work of our Lord.” And he commanded Sir Cleges to sit down and join the feast. The king sent a portion of the cherries to a radiant and fair lady in Cornwall, and he commanded the rest to be served around the hall. When all had eaten and were glad, he king commanded: “Bring before me the poor man who gave me the cherries.” And Sir Cleges knelt again before the king. And the kind said: “I thank you heartily for the gift you have brought me. It has honoured my feast. Whatever you will have, I will grant you. Whatever your heart desires, be it lands, or surfs or goods.” And Sir Cleges replied. “Great King. I ask nothing but 12 strokes of my stick that I might give freely to my enemies around this castle.” On hearing this the King was angry and said. “I am sorry that I granted you this gift. Better that you asked for silver or gold, for you have more need of it. Nevertheless, if that is your wish, let my debt to you be paid with blows.” And Sir Cleges went into the hall and sought the steward to give him his reward. He dealt him such a blow that he knocked him down. And then he gave him three more. On leaving the hall he found the usher and told him: “Here’s the third part of my gift that I promised you!” and he beat him four times with his stick. And then he found the porter and gave him his reward with the words. “I keep bargain. Take this, and this, and this and this!” And while Sir Cleges was busy paying back his enemies, the king sat in his chamber and listened to a minstrel. The minstrel sang of a great knight who had served him in years past, one who was full of fortune, nobility and grace. His name was Sir Cleges. And as the king listened, memories came back to him, and he realised that he had seen the good knight that very evening.” “Why, was that not him who knelt before me in the hall? “ exclaimed the king. “Sire, indeed it was,” replied the minstrel. When word reached the lords and ladies of the court of how Sir Cleges had paid back the porter, the usher and the steward, they all laughed heartily and thought that it was good sport. The king called Sir Cleges before him, and this time he gave him lands, and forests, and a cup of gold to take to his wife. He made his son a squire and gave him fine clothes to wear. Every year after that, Sir Cleges and his wife celebrated Christmas with good food, music, merriment and gifts, and they lived in great happiness until the Lord sent for them. Text copyright Hugh Fraser (for Storynory) 2009. tag:odeo.com,2009-12-07,25505596 Mon, 07 Dec 2009 13:32:34 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Christmas Stories, Knights of the Round Table http://odeo.com/episodes/25469305-Christmas-in-Space Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This is our most ambitious story about the “Wicked Uncle” – Uncle Jeff. Of course he’s not really wicked, merely irresponsible, and somewhat annoying to mum and dad. But the kids love him. This story refers back to our summer story, “The Wicked Uncle by the Sea” when Uncle Jeff and the kids climbed aboard the yacht of a Russian billionaire and were held captive by the crew. By way of apology the billionaire now offers the family the trip of the life time – a holiday aboard his new space hotel. We’ve mixed in some educational space background about space travel. For example, we mention Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, and we explain about the astronauts have to endure g-force as the rocket takes off. Several real-life companies are promising holidays in space and there are even plans to build a space hotel. Our description of the hotel and the robot butler is... Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This is our most ambitious story about the “Wicked Uncle” – Uncle Jeff. Of course he’s not really wicked, merely irresponsible, and somewhat annoying to mum and dad. But the kids love him. This story refers back to our summer story, “The Wicked Uncle by the Sea” when Uncle Jeff and the kids climbed aboard the yacht of a Russian billionaire and were held captive by the crew. By way of apology the billionaire now offers the family the trip of the life time – a holiday aboard his new space hotel. We’ve mixed in some educational space background about space travel. For example, we mention Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, and we explain about the astronauts have to endure g-force as the rocket takes off. Several real-life companies are promising holidays in space and there are even plans to build a space hotel. Our description of the hotel and the robot butler is fantasy though. Needless to say none of the characters or businesses mentioned in the story have anything to do with real life ones. The main aim of this story is try and convey some of the wonder of being in space and looking back at the earth, and the marvel of creation and life which is so much part of Christmas. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 32.47 It was November. Every shop window glittered with christmas lights, inflatable Santas, christmas trees, tinsel and glitz. “Oh no, “ said mum as she pushed the trolly round the supermarket, “I’m bored with Christmas already. I’m simply not going to order a turkey this year. We’ll just have to get away for the holidays- as far away as we possibly can.” But she could not quite work out how to win over Dad and and the kids to her get-away-plan, because she knew just how much they loved every detail of Christmas at home, right down to the last bad joke in the crackers. She was still brooding over the problem that evening when the phone rang. It was uncle Jeff. She held the receiver about six inches from her ear because his voice was loud and grating. “Have I Christmas sorted for you and the kids this year, “ he announced, “It’s a surprise that’s, well, out of this world. That’s the only way to put it. “ “LIke an all inclusive luxury hotel in the Maldives out-of -this-world?” asked mum hopefully, “Not a bad guess. It is a Christmas-get-away. But it’s less boring than a beach,” replied Jeff. In fact the news was so exciting that he had to come round and break it to the family in person. An hour later ,the wheels of Jeff’s Porsche crunched onto the drive. Mum felt a certain amount of dread as she wondered what his Christmas surprise would be. She imagined all the dangerous and irresponsible treats that he might, in his bachelor delusion, believe to be suitable for a family holiday: Big Game Hunting? Scuba Diving with Great White Sharks? Jumping out of helicopters with skis? She watched her husband grimace as Jeff slapped him on the back and asked “How’s tricks my older bro?” The kids were supposed to be in bed, but both were sitting in their pajamas at the top of the stairs. “Hi Uncle Jeff ! “ they chorused. And he gave them a wink and replied, “No listening in now, because what I’m going to say is so exciting that if you hear it, you won’t be able to sleep.” So of course they both did listen at the living room door while Jeff unveiled his surprise to Mum and Dad. “I bet,” said Jeremy, “That he knows a rock star or some mega famous actor who’s invited us to stay in a mansion. ” “I’m not so sure about that, “ said Jemima. “I think Jeff knows business people mainly. Mum says he drives around in sports cars because most of his life is really rather boring.” And when they both reapplied their ears to the door they heard that Uncle Jeff was indeed talking about a business person, but not a boring one: “Back in the summer, when you came to stay at my place by the sea, there was a big yacht in the harbour belonging to a mega-rich Russian. Me and the kids ran into him by chance, and there was a little, shall we say, unpleasantness with his staff, for which he was incredibly sorry. And by way of apology, he wants the family – that’s you and the kids – to be the first to try out his life-changing – first of its kind, new frontier -travel service, all absolutely free, gratis, on the house. It will be the holiday of a lifetime.” “And what sort of holiday would that be?” asked Dad. “The name of the company is a bit of a giveaway. It’s called ‘Holidays in Space’”. “I don’t get it,” said Mum. Well,” said Uncle Jeff. “It does what it says in the tin. Here’s some literature.” And he handed them some brochures. “I still don’t get it,” said mum. “What do all these pictures of space rockets mean?” “Duh ! “ exclaimed Jeremy outside the door. “It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? We’re going to spend Christmas in space, courtesy of Uncle Jeff and his Russian billionaire friend. “ “Don’t be silly and keep your voice down,” hissed back his sister. The could hear that mum was saying, “Oh no ! Oh no!. Oh no!” And Jeremy pushed the door open and came flying into the room saying “Yes, yes yes ! Thank you uncle Jeff ! That’s the most incredible idea ever!” And Jemima was saying “Not me. You won’t catch me going up in rocket propelled bucket!” Dad just sat looking amazed. Mum was pleading with him. “Explain to your brother why his idea is completely no-can-do, not-on-your-life.” But Dad got up and hugged his brother. “You see,” he said, “When we were both growing up, we both wanted to be astronauts. And now Jeff has made it possible. That’s so incredibly kind of him. Of course we must accept. Don’t you see? This is an amazing opportunity for the kids. It will change their whole view of the world. You wouldn’t want them to grow up saying that they had a chance to go into space, but their parents passed it by?“ And when mum thought about it, she realised that she wouldn’t want her children saying a thing like that. As soon as the school term finished, the family flew to Russia to begin training for their Christmas holiday. Three and a half hours after leaving London, they landed at Moscow airport. As they came through passport control , surly looking men in leather jackets called out “taxi! taxi!”. “Nyet, Nyet,” said Mum. It was the only Russian she knew. It means “No.” “There’s our guide,” said Dad. And he tugged his suitcase on wheels in the direction of a tall blond lady who was holding up a sign that said: “HOLIDAYS IN SPACE”. A car picked them up outside airport and drove them along the ring road around Moscow. They looked out at the landscape of snow covered fields, silver birch trees, high-rised flats and signs in unfamiliar Russian letters – and quite frankly they felt that they were already out of this world. Finally they checked into their hotel inside Star City, the training centre for all the Russian cosmonauts, as well as for space tourists like themselves. The rooms were rather small and poky, and Dad said it was part of the training, to get used to the cramped conditions of the space craft.. A little later, the family went downstairs to meet Uncle Jeff who had been in Moscow for a few days already : “Hey Kids. Welcome to Space City. Have you seen Yuri Gagarin yet?” “Who’s he?” asked Jeremy. “Why he’s my hero. The first man in space of course,” said Jeff. “Get you gloves and hats on, and we’ll go and pay homage. He’s just across the square. “ Yuri Gagarin was in fact a statue on the steps of the space museum – - a sliver man flying through a hoop, more like a circus acrobat than a cosmonaut. As uncle Jeff explained, the real Yuri Gagarin had died when he crashed his Mig fighter jet. “But he got into space first, in 1961, ahead of the Americans,” he added. “But the Americans got to the moon first,” said Jeremy. “That’s true, I well remember watching the Apollo moon mission on a dim television screen when we were boys. The rocket standing on the launch pad in Cape Canaveral. Mission control counting down. And then a blast of fire. Lift off from 0 to 28,000 kilometers per hour, why that’s a bigger rush than my motorcycle can do! Ever since then, I’ve dreamed of trip through space.” “And now your dream is coming true Uncle Jeff” said Jemima. “Uh-uh. No room for me. It’s going to be squish getting you four inside the space shuttle,” And the kids realised just how generous Uncle Jeff had been to give up his chance of fulfilling his boyhood dream for them. Mum would have gladly given him her place in space, but she knew she would be more worried waiting on the ground than if she was actually in orbit with the family. We’re going to be the first family in space.. It will be like, historic.” said Jeremy. “And great publicity for the travel company,” said Dad. “Providing we all get back safely,” added mum. In the morning, things started to get even more real when they met their space instructor, a former Cosmonaut called Timor who had spent six months living in the International Space Station which orbits the earth. He told the kids: “When I was in space, I missed my family. There was nothing else on Earth that I felt the need for. So you are very fortunate to be going up with your mom and dad.” Jemima hugged her mother and said how wonderful it was to be going into space together. Jeremy shuffled his feet. Timor took them to the quartermaster to try on their space suits for the first time. All the suits had “Holidays in Space” written across the chests and helmets. Jeremy had a blue helmet and Jemima had a pink one, Dad had an extra large helmet, and mum had a neat white one. Uncle Jeff joined them for their training too – just to so he could get a taste of what space travel would be like. He brought his own space helmet which he had ordered especially from NASA, the American space agency. It bore the inscription: Buzz Lightyear. Space Ranger. Mum said it only went to show that Uncle Jeff hadn’t grown up. Their first space lesson was fun. It involved picking up toothbrushes while wearing big fat gloves, and sticking things to walls with velcro, because in space everything would be floating around. Then they learned to operate the space toilet, which was a cross between a seat and a vacuum cleaner and had lots of different colored buttons. The next day things started to get tough. The hardest part of space travel is enduring the enormously powerful gravitational force – or g-force – when you pass out of, and then back into, the Earth’s Atmosphere. This force feels a bit like being on the biggest, fastest, scariest, and most sick-making fair ground ride – and so space training is a bit like going to the fun fair – only a lot worse. They met Timor in a large empty room next to the gymnasium. “Jeremy. Please sit on this chair and fasten the seat belt nice and tight,” said Timor. Jeremy did as he was told. The chair wasn’t particularly conformable. He wondered what was going to happen. Was he about to drop through a trap door? Or shoot up through the ceiling at vast speed? No. Wrong on both counts. He started to spin round, fast at first, and then even faster, then even faster. It would have been fine, only he felt that his stomach and his head were both traveling at different speeds in different directions. He wished he had not eaten pancakes and honey for breakfast. ‘STOP !” he shouted. And Yuri pressed the stop button. He span round a few dozen more times, but now more and slowly, thankfully. “Well done. You lasted 96 seconds before begging for mercy. Not bad. “ said Timor. Jeremy felt too sick to make any comment. And then Jemima, Mum and Dad all had a go. Mum lasted the longest – two and half minutes – perhaps that was because she had eaten the least breakfast. Over the next couple of weeks, they did a lot of whizzing around in circles . And trained inside a giant water tank, to get used to floating, because that’s what what you do in space. At the end of their training, Timor presented each member of the family with a certificate that said. Diploma of Moscow International Academy of Space Tourism. Space Tourist. First Class. And the next day they flew to the desert of Kazakhstan which, although it is a long way south of Moscow, is still cold and snowy in winter. Jeremy and Jemima looked out of their hotel window towards the brand new space shuttle that stood on the launch pad pointing straight up to the gray clouds. It was the first of its kind, the jumbo-jet of space craft, especially designed to carry tourists out of the world’s atmosphere. The words “Holidays in Space” were written in English and Russian letters down its sides. Jemima said. “I wish they hadn’t given us a room overlooking that thing. It makes me want to go home,” And Jeremy said: “I’m scared too. But we’ve got no choice. Dad’s determined to go.” Upstairs Mum and Dad were also looking out of the window towards the shuttle. Dad was saying: “It’s funny. I dreamed of this all my life. And now I see that space craft on the runway, I’m wondering, should I be taking this risk with kids?” And Mum said: “We can’t pull out now. It would be too embarrassing.” And on the top floor , Jeff was looking out at the space ship, and saying to himself. “Oh, oh my…. I hope that contraption is space-worthy and totally safe. If anything happens to them, I’ll never forgive myself.” Just after dawn, a battered old bus took the family over the slushy runway to the shuttle. They wore their space suits and carried their helmets under their arms. Underneath their spacesuits they wore wooly vests and long johns, because it’s cold in space. And underneath those, they wore special diapers or nappies for space travelers because – well I won’t explain that – but let’s just say they had a long flight ahead before they reached the space hotel. Uncle Jeff was waiting for them next to the steps up into the shuttle. He hugged each of his relatives in turn, giving his brother the last and longest hug: “Hey kiddo,” he said. “May the force be with you !” Sergei, the space travel tycoon, was there too. They all got a kiss on both cheeks from the billionaire. Apparently that was a Russian tradition. The three crew members were the first to climb up the the ladder to the door of the space craft, and the the family followed. Jemima was last up, and she turned and waved to the television cameras and gave them a happy mile. Inside, the the space tourists lay down on their seats with their knees bent towards them, as they had been taught. The illuminated signs above their positions read; “Fasten Seat Belts. Switch off Mobile Phones. No smoking.” They slotted their safety buckles into place. Jeremy looked at Jemima, and Jemima looked at Jeremy. Inside their helmets they could hear the chattering of voices from Mission Control, but they couldn’t understand a word because it was all in Russian. Jeremy and Jemima could talk to each other over the radio, but they had to compete with the background babble which was quite confusing. Jeremy said: “Jeremy to Jemima. Thanks for being a good sister. I mean, if this space- doohickey blows up or something, I want you to know that you were okay really. “ “Jemima to Jeremy,” replied his sister. “It’s not going to blow up. But thanks for being a good brother – most of the time.” The Countdown was in Russian and English. At the end of the countdown there was stillness. The chattering in their ears ceased. It was like the whole world had stopped turning. And then the rocket blasters pushed off. They were traveling at five miles a second straight up. They all felt their stomachs go heave-ho. “I’m not going to be sick, I”m not going to be sick,” said Jeremy. And he was glad that he hadn’t eaten pancakes for breakfast. The ship shook and shuddered so much that Jeremy could hear his bones rattling – in fact the Wright brothers probably enjoyed a smoother flight when they took off in the first airplane in 1903. The view through the window turned gray with cloud but soon the view became blue, then purple, and at last black. It had taken them six minutes to reach space. The rockets stopped firing. The ship stopped shaking. There was silence. A deep, awesome, silence. Jeremy was the first to see that the seatbelt sign had been turned off. He pressed the red button to release himself, and he cart-wheeled out of his seat. He flew straight into the wall, but it didn’t matter because it was covered with soft padding. Dad followed him. They were both floating in total weightlessness. And then the oxygen sign came on which meant they could take their helmets off. “Wow this amazing” exclaimed Jeremy as Jemima shot past him, flaying her arms around like a baby sea gull learning to fly. Mum was floating on her back like she was resting on the warm calm sea that she had dreamed of for her holiday. “I think”, said Mum, “That a baby must feel like this insider the mother’s womb.” The most remarkable part was yet to come. “Hey look at this! “ called Jemima. She was pressing her face against one of the portholes. She was looking at the top of the world. A translucent blue curve. And beyond it, all infinity. They were all quiet, lost for words, until Jeremy said: “Hey, Look there’s Santa,” .. “Where?” asked Jemima. “…… Caught you…. just kidding.” And then they were silent again for a while, until Dad said: “You wouldn’t think there were any problems down there. Like Mr. Jones is late for work and Johnny’s stuck on his home work,” And the whole family knew that they would always have a special bond. Not just because they were family, but because they had shared experience this together, and had seen Planet Earth from the outside, and felt the harmony of the universe. The journey took another two days before they caught up with the space hotel in its orbit around earth. Their shuttle docked with the larger ship on Christmas Eve. The family floated into their hotel through connecting hatches. There was music playing in the reception area. It was Jingle Bells. The butler was a robot called Fred who wore a Santa Clause hat. He introduced them to the luxuries of their new home. Their floating sleeping bags were more comfortable than the best mattresses, and they would sleep like birds on the wing. The water in the shower floated upwards. The space toilet was a slightly different model from the one which they had trained on, but if they got confused they could consult the instruction manual. The refrigerator had every type of drink, but it didn’t matter if they wanted water or champaign, they still had to drink it through a straw. They should use the rowing machine every day, because your muscles can go flabby in space if you aren’t careful. For a special relaxation, the butler could give them a foot massage, or they could climb into the aromatherapy capsule. They could use the free wifi to check their emails, cruise the net or even to watch TV. But actually, the coolest thing you could do was to look out of the big window to stare into infinite space. Dad asked Fred to move the Christmas tree because it was blocking part of the view. For christmas lunch, they strapped themselves to the table so that the wouldn’t float up to the ceiling Fred brought round the Turkey sandwiches and the Christmas pudding. They pulled Christmas crackers and read jokes like: I only work when I’m fired, what am I? A rocket. And What kind of astronaut can jump higher than a house? Any kind. A house can’t jump. And they laughed even more than they would have done at home. And then they went up to the bridge to look out at the blue planet called Earth. “Isn’t it just like a new born baby?” said Mum. “It’s so beautiful, so perfect, so fragile. It’s a miracle.” And Dad said : “Happy Christmas Darling” and he kissed Mum. And Jemima said: “I wish we could take something back for Uncle Jeff. Like a piece of moon rock or something.” And they all remembered how their Wicked Uncle had given them this amazing Christmas present, and mum admitted: “For the first time ever, I”m truly sorry that Jeff isn’t with us. It was so kind of him to give up his place on the shuttle for us.” Their watches were still set to Greenwich Mean Time. Dad noticed that it was almost three o’ clock in London. “Come on he,” said. “We can’t miss the Queen just because we’re 280 miles above the Buckingham Palace. Let’s fire up the internet.” A few minutes later, they were all gathered around a screen watching the Queen , just as they watched her at home every Christmas Day. Her Majesty wore reading spectacles and said: “At this time of peace and goodwill, our thoughts turn to children all over the world” “Hey, and don’t forget us kids up here in space !” said Jeremy. When the Queen had finished her Christmas message, Dad wanted to take take “a quick snoop at headlines”. And he picked up the keyboard and switched the screen over to Google News. “I wouldn’t bother. Nothing ever happens at Christmas,” advised Mum. “You’re right,” said Dad, “It all looks reassuringly boring down there…. but that’s funny. There’s a news story here that says “Family Stuck in Space”…. Is there another family up here?” “Here let me see that,” exclaimed mum in a panicky voice. The news story – and the 4032 other similar stories on Google News – was about the Crusoe family from Walton Upon Thames, England. There was only one Crusoe family in orbit around the Earth that Christmas. And they were that family. Mum read on. The Crusoe Family may be spending rather longer in space than they bargained for. The shuttle that was due to bring them back to Earth has failed safety tests. Inspectors from the International Federation for space Travel declared it unsafe to fly after a cleaner noticed that a vital life support system had been fastened to the outside of the craft with masking tape. A spokesman for the Russian Travel company, Holidays in Space, said “The Crusoes have enough dried food, water and oxygen to last them another year in orbit. Even if they are celebrating next year’s Christmas in space, they will be ok.” Mr. Crusoe’s brother, Jeff Crusoe, who is currently in Moscow, said: “I am working night and day to get the family back down on Earth where they belong.” When she had finished reading the article Mum said: “I should have trusted my first instinct. As soon as Jeff said he had got Christmas “sorted” I felt something terrible was going to happen. But I allowed your brother to sweet talk me into this insane space escapade.” Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the Earth and wondered if they would ever see their house in Walton upon Thames close up again. “Next Christmas….” said Jeremy, “That seems like an awfully long time before we get back home”. “If we ever get down at all ,” said Jemima, who looked more shocked than any of them. Mum inspected the larder. She found powdered strawberry moose, powdered milk, powdered chicken broth, powdered lamb curry, and powdered just about any food you could think of. “It’s back to the 1970s,” said Dad. “That’s what Jeff and I lived on when we were growing up.” “Don’t talk to me about Jeff,” said Mum. The week between Christmas and New year passed quietly. Jemima drew maps of the constellations. Jeremy played computer games. Dad practiced virtual reality golf swings, and Mum read War and Peace, which she had always wanted to do, but had never found the time. In fact it would have been a deeply relaxing holiday – if it wasn’t for the fact that they all knew that they were Stuck in Space. The news did not improve. “Holiday Space Company Tottering on the Brink…” read Dad on the internet. The millionaires who had booked holidays in the space hotel were canceling one after the other. The company was in danger of going bankrupt. And if that happened, the Crusoe Family might be stuck in space FOR EVER!” ”Like, we’ll just go round the Earth until the End of Time….?” asked Jemima. “We’ll have to get down to Earth sooner than that ,” said Mum. “Because I’ve sworn a solemn oath to smack your Uncle Jeff around the chops. What was he thinking of, sending us up here? He’s the most irresponsible uncle in the entire world, sorry, in the entire universe “ she said with a gesture towards the universe itself, stretched out just beyond the window. And then she froze. “Oh my…” she said… “Oh my stars. I’m hallucinating. Or can you see what I can see….” “I think I can,” said Jeremy. “Well if you can see Uncle Jeff taking a space walk just outside our window, then your having the same hallucination that I’m having,” said Mum. “I think we are,” said Dad. Fifteen minutes later they heard a metallic clunk as the space shuttled docked with the hotel. First Uncle Jeff, and then Sergei, the owner of the travel company, floated into the reception area. Fred the Robot Butler said: “Welcome to the Space Hotel. The management of Holidays in Space wishes you a happy and comfortable stay .: “Hey kids, how do you like it up here?” boomed Uncle Jeff. “Wicked,” said Jeremy. “But it would be nice to get down some time.” “And very soon you shall,” said Jeff. An hour later the family were strapped into their seats in the space shuttle The decent to the desert of Kazakhstan took just thirty minutes, but the inside of the shuttle was as hot as sauna on the way down. They landed on the runway with two or three bumps, but no real trouble. When they climbed down the ladder onto the tarmac, Jeremy looked up at the sky and said: “Uncle Jeff’s up there somewhere.” “Yes,” said Jemima. “He got his space trip after all” You see, after all the millionaires cancelled their Holidays in Space, the only people confident enough to fly in the shuttle were Sergei and Uncle Jeff. According to Sergei, there was nothing much wrong with the shuttle from the safety point of view. It just needed some routine maintenance after its first trip. The story about the masking tape had been spread by a rival company and wasn’t true at all. But the only way to prove that it was true was to make the trip himself. And the only other person who had enough faith to go with him, was Uncle Jeff. And in one week’s time, the shuttle would return to pick them up again and bring them back to Earth. And that’s the story of how Jeremy and Jemima, Mum and Dad, and Uncle Jeff spent their Christmas Holiday in space. Download audio Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This is our most ambitious story about the “Wicked Uncle” – Uncle Jeff. Of course he’s not really wicked, merely irresponsible, and somewhat annoying to mum and dad. But the kids love him. This story refers back to our summer story, “The Wicked Uncle by the Sea” when Uncle Jeff and the kids climbed aboard the yacht of a Russian billionaire and were held captive by the crew. By way of apology the billionaire now offers the family the trip of the life time – a holiday aboard his new space hotel. We’ve mixed in some educational space background about space travel. For example, we mention Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, and we explain about the astronauts have to endure g-force as the rocket takes off. Several real-life companies are promising holidays in space and there are even plans to build a space hotel. Our description of the hotel and the robot butler is fantasy though. Needless to say none of the characters or businesses mentioned in the story have anything to do with real life ones. The main aim of this story is try and convey some of the wonder of being in space and looking back at the earth, and the marvel of creation and life which is so much part of Christmas. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 32.47 It was November. Every shop window glittered with christmas lights, inflatable Santas, christmas trees, tinsel and glitz. “Oh no, “ said mum as she pushed the trolly round the supermarket, “I’m bored with Christmas already. I’m simply not going to order a turkey this year. We’ll just have to get away for the holidays- as far away as we possibly can.” But she could not quite work out how to win over Dad and and the kids to her get-away-plan, because she knew just how much they loved every detail of Christmas at home, right down to the last bad joke in the crackers. She was still brooding over the problem that evening when the phone rang. It was uncle Jeff. She held the receiver about six inches from her ear because his voice was loud and grating. “Have I Christmas sorted for you and the kids this year, “ he announced, “It’s a surprise that’s, well, out of this world. That’s the only way to put it. “ “LIke an all inclusive luxury hotel in the Maldives out-of -this-world?” asked mum hopefully, “Not a bad guess. It is a Christmas-get-away. But it’s less boring than a beach,” replied Jeff. In fact the news was so exciting that he had to come round and break it to the family in person. An hour later ,the wheels of Jeff’s Porsche crunched onto the drive. Mum felt a certain amount of dread as she wondered what his Christmas surprise would be. She imagined all the dangerous and irresponsible treats that he might, in his bachelor delusion, believe to be suitable for a family holiday: Big Game Hunting? Scuba Diving with Great White Sharks? Jumping out of helicopters with skis? She watched her husband grimace as Jeff slapped him on the back and asked “How’s tricks my older bro?” The kids were supposed to be in bed, but both were sitting in their pajamas at the top of the stairs. “Hi Uncle Jeff ! “ they chorused. And he gave them a wink and replied, “No listening in now, because what I’m going to say is so exciting that if you hear it, you won’t be able to sleep.” So of course they both did listen at the living room door while Jeff unveiled his surprise to Mum and Dad. “I bet,” said Jeremy, “That he knows a rock star or some mega famous actor who’s invited us to stay in a mansion. ” “I’m not so sure about that, “ said Jemima. “I think Jeff knows business people mainly. Mum says he drives around in sports cars because most of his life is really rather boring.” And when they both reapplied their ears to the door they heard that Uncle Jeff was indeed talking about a business person, but not a boring one: “Back in the summer, when you came to stay at my place by the sea, there was a big yacht in the harbour belonging to a mega-rich Russian. Me and the kids ran into him by chance, and there was a little, shall we say, unpleasantness with his staff, for which he was incredibly sorry. And by way of apology, he wants the family – that’s you and the kids – to be the first to try out his life-changing – first of its kind, new frontier -travel service, all absolutely free, gratis, on the house. It will be the holiday of a lifetime.” “And what sort of holiday would that be?” asked Dad. “The name of the company is a bit of a giveaway. It’s called ‘Holidays in Space’”. “I don’t get it,” said Mum. Well,” said Uncle Jeff. “It does what it says in the tin. Here’s some literature.” And he handed them some brochures. “I still don’t get it,” said mum. “What do all these pictures of space rockets mean?” “Duh ! “ exclaimed Jeremy outside the door. “It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? We’re going to spend Christmas in space, courtesy of Uncle Jeff and his Russian billionaire friend. “ “Don’t be silly and keep your voice down,” hissed back his sister. The could hear that mum was saying, “Oh no ! Oh no!. Oh no!” And Jeremy pushed the door open and came flying into the room saying “Yes, yes yes ! Thank you uncle Jeff ! That’s the most incredible idea ever!” And Jemima was saying “Not me. You won’t catch me going up in rocket propelled bucket!” Dad just sat looking amazed. Mum was pleading with him. “Explain to your brother why his idea is completely no-can-do, not-on-your-life.” But Dad got up and hugged his brother. “You see,” he said, “When we were both growing up, we both wanted to be astronauts. And now Jeff has made it possible. That’s so incredibly kind of him. Of course we must accept. Don’t you see? This is an amazing opportunity for the kids. It will change their whole view of the world. You wouldn’t want them to grow up saying that they had a chance to go into space, but their parents passed it by?“ And when mum thought about it, she realised that she wouldn’t want her children saying a thing like that. As soon as the school term finished, the family flew to Russia to begin training for their Christmas holiday. Three and a half hours after leaving London, they landed at Moscow airport. As they came through passport control , surly looking men in leather jackets called out “taxi! taxi!”. “Nyet, Nyet,” said Mum. It was the only Russian she knew. It means “No.” “There’s our guide,” said Dad. And he tugged his suitcase on wheels in the direction of a tall blond lady who was holding up a sign that said: “HOLIDAYS IN SPACE”. A car picked them up outside airport and drove them along the ring road around Moscow. They looked out at the landscape of snow covered fields, silver birch trees, high-rised flats and signs in unfamiliar Russian letters – and quite frankly they felt that they were already out of this world. Finally they checked into their hotel inside Star City, the training centre for all the Russian cosmonauts, as well as for space tourists like themselves. The rooms were rather small and poky, and Dad said it was part of the training, to get used to the cramped conditions of the space craft.. A little later, the family went downstairs to meet Uncle Jeff who had been in Moscow for a few days already : “Hey Kids. Welcome to Space City. Have you seen Yuri Gagarin yet?” “Who’s he?” asked Jeremy. “Why he’s my hero. The first man in space of course,” said Jeff. “Get you gloves and hats on, and we’ll go and pay homage. He’s just across the square. “ Yuri Gagarin was in fact a statue on the steps of the space museum – - a sliver man flying through a hoop, more like a circus acrobat than a cosmonaut. As uncle Jeff explained, the real Yuri Gagarin had died when he crashed his Mig fighter jet. “But he got into space first, in 1961, ahead of the Americans,” he added. “But the Americans got to the moon first,” said Jeremy. “That’s true, I well remember watching the Apollo moon mission on a dim television screen when we were boys. The rocket standing on the launch pad in Cape Canaveral. Mission control counting down. And then a blast of fire. Lift off from 0 to 28,000 kilometers per hour, why that’s a bigger rush than my motorcycle can do! Ever since then, I’ve dreamed of trip through space.” “And now your dream is coming true Uncle Jeff” said Jemima. “Uh-uh. No room for me. It’s going to be squish getting you four inside the space shuttle,” And the kids realised just how generous Uncle Jeff had been to give up his chance of fulfilling his boyhood dream for them. Mum would have gladly given him her place in space, but she knew she would be more worried waiting on the ground than if she was actually in orbit with the family. We’re going to be the first family in space.. It will be like, historic.” said Jeremy. “And great publicity for the travel company,” said Dad. “Providing we all get back safely,” added mum. In the morning, things started to get even more real when they met their space instructor, a former Cosmonaut called Timor who had spent six months living in the International Space Station which orbits the earth. He told the kids: “When I was in space, I missed my family. There was nothing else on Earth that I felt the need for. So you are very fortunate to be going up with your mom and dad.” Jemima hugged her mother and said how wonderful it was to be going into space together. Jeremy shuffled his feet. Timor took them to the quartermaster to try on their space suits for the first time. All the suits had “Holidays in Space” written across the chests and helmets. Jeremy had a blue helmet and Jemima had a pink one, Dad had an extra large helmet, and mum had a neat white one. Uncle Jeff joined them for their training too – just to so he could get a taste of what space travel would be like. He brought his own space helmet which he had ordered especially from NASA, the American space agency. It bore the inscription: Buzz Lightyear. Space Ranger. Mum said it only went to show that Uncle Jeff hadn’t grown up. Their first space lesson was fun. It involved picking up toothbrushes while wearing big fat gloves, and sticking things to walls with velcro, because in space everything would be floating around. Then they learned to operate the space toilet, which was a cross between a seat and a vacuum cleaner and had lots of different colored buttons. The next day things started to get tough. The hardest part of space travel is enduring the enormously powerful gravitational force – or g-force – when you pass out of, and then back into, the Earth’s Atmosphere. This force feels a bit like being on the biggest, fastest, scariest, and most sick-making fair ground ride – and so space training is a bit like going to the fun fair – only a lot worse. They met Timor in a large empty room next to the gymnasium. “Jeremy. Please sit on this chair and fasten the seat belt nice and tight,” said Timor. Jeremy did as he was told. The chair wasn’t particularly conformable. He wondered what was going to happen. Was he about to drop through a trap door? Or shoot up through the ceiling at vast speed? No. Wrong on both counts. He started to spin round, fast at first, and then even faster, then even faster. It would have been fine, only he felt that his stomach and his head were both traveling at different speeds in different directions. He wished he had not eaten pancakes and honey for breakfast. ‘STOP !” he shouted. And Yuri pressed the stop button. He span round a few dozen more times, but now more and slowly, thankfully. “Well done. You lasted 96 seconds before begging for mercy. Not bad. “ said Timor. Jeremy felt too sick to make any comment. And then Jemima, Mum and Dad all had a go. Mum lasted the longest – two and half minutes – perhaps that was because she had eaten the least breakfast. Over the next couple of weeks, they did a lot of whizzing around in circles . And trained inside a giant water tank, to get used to floating, because that’s what what you do in space. At the end of their training, Timor presented each member of the family with a certificate that said. Diploma of Moscow International Academy of Space Tourism. Space Tourist. First Class. And the next day they flew to the desert of Kazakhstan which, although it is a long way south of Moscow, is still cold and snowy in winter. Jeremy and Jemima looked out of their hotel window towards the brand new space shuttle that stood on the launch pad pointing straight up to the gray clouds. It was the first of its kind, the jumbo-jet of space craft, especially designed to carry tourists out of the world’s atmosphere. The words “Holidays in Space” were written in English and Russian letters down its sides. Jemima said. “I wish they hadn’t given us a room overlooking that thing. It makes me want to go home,” And Jeremy said: “I’m scared too. But we’ve got no choice. Dad’s determined to go.” Upstairs Mum and Dad were also looking out of the window towards the shuttle. Dad was saying: “It’s funny. I dreamed of this all my life. And now I see that space craft on the runway, I’m wondering, should I be taking this risk with kids?” And Mum said: “We can’t pull out now. It would be too embarrassing.” And on the top floor , Jeff was looking out at the space ship, and saying to himself. “Oh, oh my…. I hope that contraption is space-worthy and totally safe. If anything happens to them, I’ll never forgive myself.” Just after dawn, a battered old bus took the family over the slushy runway to the shuttle. They wore their space suits and carried their helmets under their arms. Underneath their spacesuits they wore wooly vests and long johns, because it’s cold in space. And underneath those, they wore special diapers or nappies for space travelers because – well I won’t explain that – but let’s just say they had a long flight ahead before they reached the space hotel. Uncle Jeff was waiting for them next to the steps up into the shuttle. He hugged each of his relatives in turn, giving his brother the last and longest hug: “Hey kiddo,” he said. “May the force be with you !” Sergei, the space travel tycoon, was there too. They all got a kiss on both cheeks from the billionaire. Apparently that was a Russian tradition. The three crew members were the first to climb up the the ladder to the door of the space craft, and the the family followed. Jemima was last up, and she turned and waved to the television cameras and gave them a happy mile. Inside, the the space tourists lay down on their seats with their knees bent towards them, as they had been taught. The illuminated signs above their positions read; “Fasten Seat Belts. Switch off Mobile Phones. No smoking.” They slotted their safety buckles into place. Jeremy looked at Jemima, and Jemima looked at Jeremy. Inside their helmets they could hear the chattering of voices from Mission Control, but they couldn’t understand a word because it was all in Russian. Jeremy and Jemima could talk to each other over the radio, but they had to compete with the background babble which was quite confusing. Jeremy said: “Jeremy to Jemima. Thanks for being a good sister. I mean, if this space- doohickey blows up or something, I want you to know that you were okay really. “ “Jemima to Jeremy,” replied his sister. “It’s not going to blow up. But thanks for being a good brother – most of the time.” The Countdown was in Russian and English. At the end of the countdown there was stillness. The chattering in their ears ceased. It was like the whole world had stopped turning. And then the rocket blasters pushed off. They were traveling at five miles a second straight up. They all felt their stomachs go heave-ho. “I’m not going to be sick, I”m not going to be sick,” said Jeremy. And he was glad that he hadn’t eaten pancakes for breakfast. The ship shook and shuddered so much that Jeremy could hear his bones rattling – in fact the Wright brothers probably enjoyed a smoother flight when they took off in the first airplane in 1903. The view through the window turned gray with cloud but soon the view became blue, then purple, and at last black. It had taken them six minutes to reach space. The rockets stopped firing. The ship stopped shaking. There was silence. A deep, awesome, silence. Jeremy was the first to see that the seatbelt sign had been turned off. He pressed the red button to release himself, and he cart-wheeled out of his seat. He flew straight into the wall, but it didn’t matter because it was covered with soft padding. Dad followed him. They were both floating in total weightlessness. And then the oxygen sign came on which meant they could take their helmets off. “Wow this amazing” exclaimed Jeremy as Jemima shot past him, flaying her arms around like a baby sea gull learning to fly. Mum was floating on her back like she was resting on the warm calm sea that she had dreamed of for her holiday. “I think”, said Mum, “That a baby must feel like this insider the mother’s womb.” The most remarkable part was yet to come. “Hey look at this! “ called Jemima. She was pressing her face against one of the portholes. She was looking at the top of the world. A translucent blue curve. And beyond it, all infinity. They were all quiet, lost for words, until Jeremy said: “Hey, Look there’s Santa,” .. “Where?” asked Jemima. “…… Caught you…. just kidding.” And then they were silent again for a while, until Dad said: “You wouldn’t think there were any problems down there. Like Mr. Jones is late for work and Johnny’s stuck on his home work,” And the whole family knew that they would always have a special bond. Not just because they were family, but because they had shared experience this together, and had seen Planet Earth from the outside, and felt the harmony of the universe. The journey took another two days before they caught up with the space hotel in its orbit around earth. Their shuttle docked with the larger ship on Christmas Eve. The family floated into their hotel through connecting hatches. There was music playing in the reception area. It was Jingle Bells. The butler was a robot called Fred who wore a Santa Clause hat. He introduced them to the luxuries of their new home. Their floating sleeping bags were more comfortable than the best mattresses, and they would sleep like birds on the wing. The water in the shower floated upwards. The space toilet was a slightly different model from the one which they had trained on, but if they got confused they could consult the instruction manual. The refrigerator had every type of drink, but it didn’t matter if they wanted water or champaign, they still had to drink it through a straw. They should use the rowing machine every day, because your muscles can go flabby in space if you aren’t careful. For a special relaxation, the butler could give them a foot massage, or they could climb into the aromatherapy capsule. They could use the free wifi to check their emails, cruise the net or even to watch TV. But actually, the coolest thing you could do was to look out of the big window to stare into infinite space. Dad asked Fred to move the Christmas tree because it was blocking part of the view. For christmas lunch, they strapped themselves to the table so that the wouldn’t float up to the ceiling Fred brought round the Turkey sandwiches and the Christmas pudding. They pulled Christmas crackers and read jokes like: I only work when I’m fired, what am I? A rocket. And What kind of astronaut can jump higher than a house? Any kind. A house can’t jump. And they laughed even more than they would have done at home. And then they went up to the bridge to look out at the blue planet called Earth. “Isn’t it just like a new born baby?” said Mum. “It’s so beautiful, so perfect, so fragile. It’s a miracle.” And Dad said : “Happy Christmas Darling” and he kissed Mum. And Jemima said: “I wish we could take something back for Uncle Jeff. Like a piece of moon rock or something.” And they all remembered how their Wicked Uncle had given them this amazing Christmas present, and mum admitted: “For the first time ever, I”m truly sorry that Jeff isn’t with us. It was so kind of him to give up his place on the shuttle for us.” Their watches were still set to Greenwich Mean Time. Dad noticed that it was almost three o’ clock in London. “Come on he,” said. “We can’t miss the Queen just because we’re 280 miles above the Buckingham Palace. Let’s fire up the internet.” A few minutes later, they were all gathered around a screen watching the Queen , just as they watched her at home every Christmas Day. Her Majesty wore reading spectacles and said: “At this time of peace and goodwill, our thoughts turn to children all over the world” “Hey, and don’t forget us kids up here in space !” said Jeremy. When the Queen had finished her Christmas message, Dad wanted to take take “a quick snoop at headlines”. And he picked up the keyboard and switched the screen over to Google News. “I wouldn’t bother. Nothing ever happens at Christmas,” advised Mum. “You’re right,” said Dad, “It all looks reassuringly boring down there…. but that’s funny. There’s a news story here that says “Family Stuck in Space”…. Is there another family up here?” “Here let me see that,” exclaimed mum in a panicky voice. The news story – and the 4032 other similar stories on Google News – was about the Crusoe family from Walton Upon Thames, England. There was only one Crusoe family in orbit around the Earth that Christmas. And they were that family. Mum read on. The Crusoe Family may be spending rather longer in space than they bargained for. The shuttle that was due to bring them back to Earth has failed safety tests. Inspectors from the International Federation for space Travel declared it unsafe to fly after a cleaner noticed that a vital life support system had been fastened to the outside of the craft with masking tape. A spokesman for the Russian Travel company, Holidays in Space, said “The Crusoes have enough dried food, water and oxygen to last them another year in orbit. Even if they are celebrating next year’s Christmas in space, they will be ok.” Mr. Crusoe’s brother, Jeff Crusoe, who is currently in Moscow, said: “I am working night and day to get the family back down on Earth where they belong.” When she had finished reading the article Mum said: “I should have trusted my first instinct. As soon as Jeff said he had got Christmas “sorted” I felt something terrible was going to happen. But I allowed your brother to sweet talk me into this insane space escapade.” Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the Earth and wondered if they would ever see their house in Walton upon Thames close up again. “Next Christmas….” said Jeremy, “That seems like an awfully long time before we get back home”. “If we ever get down at all ,” said Jemima, who looked more shocked than any of them. Mum inspected the larder. She found powdered strawberry moose, powdered milk, powdered chicken broth, powdered lamb curry, and powdered just about any food you could think of. “It’s back to the 1970s,” said Dad. “That’s what Jeff and I lived on when we were growing up.” “Don’t talk to me about Jeff,” said Mum. The week between Christmas and New year passed quietly. Jemima drew maps of the constellations. Jeremy played computer games. Dad practiced virtual reality golf swings, and Mum read War and Peace, which she had always wanted to do, but had never found the time. In fact it would have been a deeply relaxing holiday – if it wasn’t for the fact that they all knew that they were Stuck in Space. The news did not improve. “Holiday Space Company Tottering on the Brink…” read Dad on the internet. The millionaires who had booked holidays in the space hotel were canceling one after the other. The company was in danger of going bankrupt. And if that happened, the Crusoe Family might be stuck in space FOR EVER!” ”Like, we’ll just go round the Earth until the End of Time….?” asked Jemima. “We’ll have to get down to Earth sooner than that ,” said Mum. “Because I’ve sworn a solemn oath to smack your Uncle Jeff around the chops. What was he thinking of, sending us up here? He’s the most irresponsible uncle in the entire world, sorry, in the entire universe “ she said with a gesture towards the universe itself, stretched out just beyond the window. And then she froze. “Oh my…” she said… “Oh my stars. I’m hallucinating. Or can you see what I can see….” “I think I can,” said Jeremy. “Well if you can see Uncle Jeff taking a space walk just outside our window, then your having the same hallucination that I’m having,” said Mum. “I think we are,” said Dad. Fifteen minutes later they heard a metallic clunk as the space shuttled docked with the hotel. First Uncle Jeff, and then Sergei, the owner of the travel company, floated into the reception area. Fred the Robot Butler said: “Welcome to the Space Hotel. The management of Holidays in Space wishes you a happy and comfortable stay .: “Hey kids, how do you like it up here?” boomed Uncle Jeff. “Wicked,” said Jeremy. “But it would be nice to get down some time.” “And very soon you shall,” said Jeff. An hour later the family were strapped into their seats in the space shuttle The decent to the desert of Kazakhstan took just thirty minutes, but the inside of the shuttle was as hot as sauna on the way down. They landed on the runway with two or three bumps, but no real trouble. When they climbed down the ladder onto the tarmac, Jeremy looked up at the sky and said: “Uncle Jeff’s up there somewhere.” “Yes,” said Jemima. “He got his space trip after all” You see, after all the millionaires cancelled their Holidays in Space, the only people confident enough to fly in the shuttle were Sergei and Uncle Jeff. According to Sergei, there was nothing much wrong with the shuttle from the safety point of view. It just needed some routine maintenance after its first trip. The story about the masking tape had been spread by a rival company and wasn’t true at all. But the only way to prove that it was true was to make the trip himself. And the only other person who had enough faith to go with him, was Uncle Jeff. And in one week’s time, the shuttle would return to pick them up again and bring them back to Earth. And that’s the story of how Jeremy and Jemima, Mum and Dad, and Uncle Jeff spent their Christmas Holiday in space. tag:odeo.com,2009-12-01,25469305 Tue, 01 Dec 2009 03:18:09 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Christmas Stories, One-offs, Original Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25469306-Tyger-Tyger-Burning-Bright Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) ( Of course, in modern English, “The Tyger” would be “The Tiger”.) We present three “songs” by the poet and artist, and Londoner, William Blake (1757-1827). His Songs of Innocence and Experience were intended to be sung, but the melodies are now lost. Many of his poems see the world with the freshness of a child’s eye. THE TYGER ???Tyger, tyger, burning bright ???In the forests of the night, ???What immortal hand or eye ???Could frame thy fearful symmetry? ???In what distant deeps or skies ???Burnt the fire of thine eyes? ???On what wings dare he aspire? ???What the hand dare seize the fire? ???And what shoulder and what art ???Could twist the sinews of thy heart? ???And, when thy heart began to beat, ???What dread hand and what dread feet? ???What the hammer? what the chain? ???In what furnace was thy brain? ???What the anvil? what dread grasp ???Dare its deadly terrors clasp? ???When... Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) ( Of course, in modern English, “The Tyger” would be “The Tiger”.) We present three “songs” by the poet and artist, and Londoner, William Blake (1757-1827). His Songs of Innocence and Experience were intended to be sung, but the melodies are now lost. Many of his poems see the world with the freshness of a child’s eye. THE TYGER ???Tyger, tyger, burning bright ???In the forests of the night, ???What immortal hand or eye ???Could frame thy fearful symmetry? ???In what distant deeps or skies ???Burnt the fire of thine eyes? ???On what wings dare he aspire? ???What the hand dare seize the fire? ???And what shoulder and what art ???Could twist the sinews of thy heart? ???And, when thy heart began to beat, ???What dread hand and what dread feet? ???What the hammer? what the chain? ???In what furnace was thy brain? ???What the anvil? what dread grasp ???Dare its deadly terrors clasp? ???When the stars threw down their spears, ???And watered heaven with their tears, ???Did he smile his work to see? ???Did he who made the lamb make thee? ???Tyger, tyger, burning bright ???In the forests of the night, ???What immortal hand or eye ???Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? THE FLY ???Little Fly, ???Thy summer’s play ???My thoughtless hand ???Has brushed away. ???Am not I ???A fly like thee? ???Or art not thou ???A man like me? ???For I dance ???And drink, and sing, ???Till some blind hand ???Shall brush my wing. ???If thought is life ???And strength and breath ???And the want ???Of thought is death; ???Then am I ???A happy fly, ???If I live, ???Or if I die. THE LAMB ?????Little Lamb, who made thee ?????Dost thou know who made thee, ???Gave thee life, and bid thee feed ???By the stream and o’er the mead; ???Gave thee clothing of delight, ???Softest clothing, woolly, bright; ???Gave thee such a tender voice, ???Making all the vales rejoice? ?????Little Lamb, who made thee? ?????Dost thou know who made thee? ?????Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee; ?????Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee: ???He is called by thy name, ???For He calls Himself a Lamb ???He is meek, and He is mild, ???He became a little child. ???I a child, and thou a lamb, ???We are called by His name. ?????Little Lamb, God bless thee! ?????Little Lamb, God bless thee! Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) ( Of course, in modern English, “The Tyger” would be “The Tiger”.) We present three “songs” by the poet and artist, and Londoner, William Blake (1757-1827). His Songs of Innocence and Experience were intended to be sung, but the melodies are now lost. Many of his poems see the world with the freshness of a child’s eye. THE TYGER ???Tyger, tyger, burning bright ???In the forests of the night, ???What immortal hand or eye ???Could frame thy fearful symmetry? ???In what distant deeps or skies ???Burnt the fire of thine eyes? ???On what wings dare he aspire? ???What the hand dare seize the fire? ???And what shoulder and what art ???Could twist the sinews of thy heart? ???And, when thy heart began to beat, ???What dread hand and what dread feet? ???What the hammer? what the chain? ???In what furnace was thy brain? ???What the anvil? what dread grasp ???Dare its deadly terrors clasp? ???When the stars threw down their spears, ???And watered heaven with their tears, ???Did he smile his work to see? ???Did he who made the lamb make thee? ???Tyger, tyger, burning bright ???In the forests of the night, ???What immortal hand or eye ???Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? THE FLY ???Little Fly, ???Thy summer’s play ???My thoughtless hand ???Has brushed away. ???Am not I ???A fly like thee? ???Or art not thou ???A man like me? ???For I dance ???And drink, and sing, ???Till some blind hand ???Shall brush my wing. ???If thought is life ???And strength and breath ???And the want ???Of thought is death; ???Then am I ???A happy fly, ???If I live, ???Or if I die. THE LAMB ?????Little Lamb, who made thee ?????Dost thou know who made thee, ???Gave thee life, and bid thee feed ???By the stream and o’er the mead; ???Gave thee clothing of delight, ???Softest clothing, woolly, bright; ???Gave thee such a tender voice, ???Making all the vales rejoice? ?????Little Lamb, who made thee? ?????Dost thou know who made thee? ?????Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee; ?????Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee: ???He is called by thy name, ???For He calls Himself a Lamb ???He is meek, and He is mild, ???He became a little child. ???I a child, and thou a lamb, ???We are called by His name. ?????Little Lamb, God bless thee! ?????Little Lamb, God bless thee! tag:odeo.com,2009-11-24,25469306 Tue, 24 Nov 2009 00:19:22 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Poems, Latest Stories, All Stories, Classic Authors http://odeo.com/episodes/25469313-The-Tale-of-the-Shipwrecked-Sailor Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) This tale from Ancient Egypt was written down in hieroglyphics 4000 years ago. It’s one of the oldest stories to have come down to us. In fact, it is really several stories all framed within a story. A ship returns to Egypt from a long voyage. The merchant owner of the shipper is afraid that the Pharaoh will be angry with him because his business has not prospered. His attendant tells him a story of an earlier journey, in which he was shipwrecked and met a giant serpent. The attendant means to show that it’s not so much what you do, but how you tell it that counts. The master is not so sure. Read by Natasha. Duration 9.50 Four thousand years ago, a ship glided into its home harbour in the land of Egypt. A sailor jumped ashore with the rope and tied it to the mooring post. His comrades rejoiced and embraced one another, so glad they were to have survived their long journey at sea, and to know that soon they would be... Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) This tale from Ancient Egypt was written down in hieroglyphics 4000 years ago. It’s one of the oldest stories to have come down to us. In fact, it is really several stories all framed within a story. A ship returns to Egypt from a long voyage. The merchant owner of the shipper is afraid that the Pharaoh will be angry with him because his business has not prospered. His attendant tells him a story of an earlier journey, in which he was shipwrecked and met a giant serpent. The attendant means to show that it’s not so much what you do, but how you tell it that counts. The master is not so sure. Read by Natasha. Duration 9.50 Four thousand years ago, a ship glided into its home harbour in the land of Egypt. A sailor jumped ashore with the rope and tied it to the mooring post. His comrades rejoiced and embraced one another, so glad they were to have survived their long journey at sea, and to know that soon they would be filling their arms with their children and kissing their wives. But as the ship’s owner stepped ashore, dark, anxious lines crossed his brow. His business in the lands of Wawat and Biga had not prospered, and he feared the anger of the great Pharaoh who ruled the land of Egypt. He had an attendant, a smart young fellow, who understood what was troubling his master’s mind. As they stepped off the boat, he tried to give his master words of assurance. “Be satisfied, oh my lord, for we have returned in good health, and not a single one of us is lost. You may go and tell the tale of our journey to the Pharaoh. Choose your words carefully, trust in your eloquence, and all will be well.” But the master was only irritated by these words, and he spoke angrily to his attendant. “You are home, but your mind is still wandering. A man’s mouth may save him, but so it may also get him into trouble. Do you always say out loud any thought that flies into your head? If you must babble such nonsense, pray say it quietly, to yourself.” The smart young man was not offended by this rebuke. Instead he replied to his master with a story about another adventure that he had once undertaken. And this is what he told him. “I was on a journey across great green sea to the mines of the Pharaoh. We had a 120 sailors, the best in Egypt, their hearts fiercer than lions. They had seen many skies, they had seen many lands, they could tell a storm before it came, and gale before it happened. “As we approached the land the wind arose, and threw up enormous waves. Our ship split in two, and all the mortal souls within were at the mercy of the great green sea. I grabbed a plank of cedar wood and stayed afloat. A wave picked me up and placed me down on the shore of an island. After I had lain for three days, all alone in some bushes, I arose and looked for something for my mouth. I found it in abundance: figs and grapes, all manner of good herbs, berries and grain, melons of all kinds, fishes and birds. Indeed, the island did not lack for any good thing. After I had satisfied my hunger, I dug a pit, lit a fire, and made a burnt offering to the gods. “Suddenly I heard a crashing sound, which I took to be a wave crashing against the land. The trees shook and the earth moved. I uncovered my eyes, and I saw that an enormous snake was slithering towards me. He was the size of a temple building. His face was that of a man, and he wore a beard as tall as as a pillar. His skin was as blue as true Lapis Lazuli and he was overlaid with gold. “I threw myself on my belly before him, before he he opened his mouth and said: “Who brought you, who brought you? o commoner, who brought you? If you delay your reply it shall be the worse for you. Your life shall be extinguished like the flickering flame of a candle.” “I lay still, stunned, silent, my mouth full of sand. When the serpent saw that could get no reply out of me, he scooped me up in his mouth and carried me to his cave where he laid me down. Again he asked: “Who brought you, who brought you, o commoner, who brought you to this island of the great green sea whose two sides are lapped by waves?” And then I, realising that my life depended on my words, replied to him: “I was on a mission, sent by the Pharaoh. We had a 120 sailors, the best in Egypt, their hearts fiercer than lions. They had seen many skies, they had seen many lands, they could tell a storm before it came, and gale before it happened. Each one was no less strong or fierce than his companion, and there was not a single fool among us. “ As we approached the land the wind arose, and threw up enormous waves. Our ship was split in two, and of all who were on board, I alone was saved. And behold, here I am at your side…… … I was brought to this island by a wave of the great green sea.” It seemed that my words soothed the anger of the great man-serpent for he smiled gently and replied to me. “Fear not, o commoner, do not be pale, for it is God who has let you live, and has brought you to me. You will spend four months on this island of the blest, which does not lack for any good thing. At that end of that period a ship will arrive and taken you home to your wife and family, and you shall live and finally die in your own town. “Now since you have survived this accident, let me tell you of a tale of calamity that befell me. I once lived on this island with my family – 75 serpents in all without counting an orphan girl who was brought to me by chance and who was dear to my heart. And then one night a star came crashing down from heaven and they all went up in flames. Only I was spared, and behold, here I am, utterly alone. “But you, if you are brave and overcome your fears, you will fill your arms with your children and kiss your wife, you will see your house and live among your family.” And when I heard this prophesy of my salvation, I wept and bowed and touched the ground before him, and said. “On my return I shall tell the Pharaoh all about you and your greatness. I will bring you sacred oils and perfumes, and incense with which the gods are honoured in the temples. I shall slay animals for you in sacrifice, I shall bring you birds, and ships full of all kinds of treasures from Egypt and they shall speak of you in the councils and honour you through out the land.” And when he heard this he laughed and rebuked me: “Do not trouble yourself with incense, for you are not rich in perfumes . As for me, I am a prince of the land of Punt, and I have all the richest scents. But you need not return, for after you depart, this island shall be covered by the sea.” And my rescue and salvation came true exactly as he said. After four months had gone by, I climbed a tall tree, and behold ! I saw a ship on the horizon. It came to rescue me, and as I took my leave of my serpentine host, he said : “Go to your house. See your children. Spread my good name in your city. This my due from you” And he gave me gifts of incense, myrrh and balsam, tails of giraffes, and elephants tusks. And as I departed, I and all who were on board the ship, gave our praises to the Serpent God. We sailed Northwards, and two months later I came before the Pharaoh and presented him with the tribute of gifts I had brought from the Island. I told him of my adventures and he thanked me before the council and rewarded me with a position in his court.” And with these words the attendant finished his story of his shipwreck and survival. The master of the ship had waited patiently on the quay by the side of the ship, and had listened carefully. But he was not pleased by the story… and he said: “Save your smart words my young friend. Such drops of hope do me no good. Who gives water to a goose in the morning, when it is due to be slaughtered in the afternoon?” And that was the Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor as written down by the cunning fingers of the scribe Imen-Ah, Son of Imeny, life, prosperity, health. Download audio Download the audio (right click, save as) This tale from Ancient Egypt was written down in hieroglyphics 4000 years ago. It’s one of the oldest stories to have come down to us. In fact, it is really several stories all framed within a story. A ship returns to Egypt from a long voyage. The merchant owner of the shipper is afraid that the Pharaoh will be angry with him because his business has not prospered. His attendant tells him a story of an earlier journey, in which he was shipwrecked and met a giant serpent. The attendant means to show that it’s not so much what you do, but how you tell it that counts. The master is not so sure. Read by Natasha. Duration 9.50 Four thousand years ago, a ship glided into its home harbour in the land of Egypt. A sailor jumped ashore with the rope and tied it to the mooring post. His comrades rejoiced and embraced one another, so glad they were to have survived their long journey at sea, and to know that soon they would be filling their arms with their children and kissing their wives. But as the ship’s owner stepped ashore, dark, anxious lines crossed his brow. His business in the lands of Wawat and Biga had not prospered, and he feared the anger of the great Pharaoh who ruled the land of Egypt. He had an attendant, a smart young fellow, who understood what was troubling his master’s mind. As they stepped off the boat, he tried to give his master words of assurance. “Be satisfied, oh my lord, for we have returned in good health, and not a single one of us is lost. You may go and tell the tale of our journey to the Pharaoh. Choose your words carefully, trust in your eloquence, and all will be well.” But the master was only irritated by these words, and he spoke angrily to his attendant. “You are home, but your mind is still wandering. A man’s mouth may save him, but so it may also get him into trouble. Do you always say out loud any thought that flies into your head? If you must babble such nonsense, pray say it quietly, to yourself.” The smart young man was not offended by this rebuke. Instead he replied to his master with a story about another adventure that he had once undertaken. And this is what he told him. “I was on a journey across great green sea to the mines of the Pharaoh. We had a 120 sailors, the best in Egypt, their hearts fiercer than lions. They had seen many skies, they had seen many lands, they could tell a storm before it came, and gale before it happened. “As we approached the land the wind arose, and threw up enormous waves. Our ship split in two, and all the mortal souls within were at the mercy of the great green sea. I grabbed a plank of cedar wood and stayed afloat. A wave picked me up and placed me down on the shore of an island. After I had lain for three days, all alone in some bushes, I arose and looked for something for my mouth. I found it in abundance: figs and grapes, all manner of good herbs, berries and grain, melons of all kinds, fishes and birds. Indeed, the island did not lack for any good thing. After I had satisfied my hunger, I dug a pit, lit a fire, and made a burnt offering to the gods. “Suddenly I heard a crashing sound, which I took to be a wave crashing against the land. The trees shook and the earth moved. I uncovered my eyes, and I saw that an enormous snake was slithering towards me. He was the size of a temple building. His face was that of a man, and he wore a beard as tall as as a pillar. His skin was as blue as true Lapis Lazuli and he was overlaid with gold. “I threw myself on my belly before him, before he he opened his mouth and said: “Who brought you, who brought you? o commoner, who brought you? If you delay your reply it shall be the worse for you. Your life shall be extinguished like the flickering flame of a candle.” “I lay still, stunned, silent, my mouth full of sand. When the serpent saw that could get no reply out of me, he scooped me up in his mouth and carried me to his cave where he laid me down. Again he asked: “Who brought you, who brought you, o commoner, who brought you to this island of the great green sea whose two sides are lapped by waves?” And then I, realising that my life depended on my words, replied to him: “I was on a mission, sent by the Pharaoh. We had a 120 sailors, the best in Egypt, their hearts fiercer than lions. They had seen many skies, they had seen many lands, they could tell a storm before it came, and gale before it happened. Each one was no less strong or fierce than his companion, and there was not a single fool among us. “ As we approached the land the wind arose, and threw up enormous waves. Our ship was split in two, and of all who were on board, I alone was saved. And behold, here I am at your side…… … I was brought to this island by a wave of the great green sea.” It seemed that my words soothed the anger of the great man-serpent for he smiled gently and replied to me. “Fear not, o commoner, do not be pale, for it is God who has let you live, and has brought you to me. You will spend four months on this island of the blest, which does not lack for any good thing. At that end of that period a ship will arrive and taken you home to your wife and family, and you shall live and finally die in your own town. “Now since you have survived this accident, let me tell you of a tale of calamity that befell me. I once lived on this island with my family – 75 serpents in all without counting an orphan girl who was brought to me by chance and who was dear to my heart. And then one night a star came crashing down from heaven and they all went up in flames. Only I was spared, and behold, here I am, utterly alone. “But you, if you are brave and overcome your fears, you will fill your arms with your children and kiss your wife, you will see your house and live among your family.” And when I heard this prophesy of my salvation, I wept and bowed and touched the ground before him, and said. “On my return I shall tell the Pharaoh all about you and your greatness. I will bring you sacred oils and perfumes, and incense with which the gods are honoured in the temples. I shall slay animals for you in sacrifice, I shall bring you birds, and ships full of all kinds of treasures from Egypt and they shall speak of you in the councils and honour you through out the land.” And when he heard this he laughed and rebuked me: “Do not trouble yourself with incense, for you are not rich in perfumes . As for me, I am a prince of the land of Punt, and I have all the richest scents. But you need not return, for after you depart, this island shall be covered by the sea.” And my rescue and salvation came true exactly as he said. After four months had gone by, I climbed a tall tree, and behold ! I saw a ship on the horizon. It came to rescue me, and as I took my leave of my serpentine host, he said : “Go to your house. See your children. Spread my good name in your city. This my due from you” And he gave me gifts of incense, myrrh and balsam, tails of giraffes, and elephants tusks. And as I departed, I and all who were on board the ship, gave our praises to the Serpent God. We sailed Northwards, and two months later I came before the Pharaoh and presented him with the tribute of gifts I had brought from the Island. I told him of my adventures and he thanked me before the council and rewarded me with a position in his court.” And with these words the attendant finished his story of his shipwreck and survival. The master of the ship had waited patiently on the quay by the side of the ship, and had listened carefully. But he was not pleased by the story… and he said: “Save your smart words my young friend. Such drops of hope do me no good. Who gives water to a goose in the morning, when it is due to be slaughtered in the afternoon?” And that was the Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor as written down by the cunning fingers of the scribe Imen-Ah, Son of Imeny, life, prosperity, health. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-15,25469313 Sun, 15 Nov 2009 09:55:29 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, latest, Various Fairy Tales http://odeo.com/episodes/25422193-The-Luck-of-the-Wicked-Uncle Do you believe in luck? - the mum in this story does - and her stars say she's going to have a terrible weekend. Uncle Jeff (who is not really wicked) believes we make our own luck, and comes to the rescue. Do you believe in luck? - the mum in this story does - and her stars say she's going to have a terrible weekend. Uncle Jeff (who is not really wicked) believes we make our own luck, and comes to the rescue. Do you believe in luck? - the mum in this story does - and her stars say she's going to have a terrible weekend. Uncle Jeff (who is not really wicked) believes we make our own luck, and comes to the rescue. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-08,25422193 Sun, 08 Nov 2009 12:13:07 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, One-offs http://odeo.com/episodes/25389534-Samson-and-Delilah The epic and tragic story of the man who combines the strength of a lion with the sweetness of honey. And of course of Delilah who is his downfall. The epic and tragic story of the man who combines the strength of a lion with the sweetness of honey. And of course of Delilah who is his downfall. The epic and tragic story of the man who combines the strength of a lion with the sweetness of honey. And of course of Delilah who is his downfall. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-01,25389534 Sun, 01 Nov 2009 04:42:43 -0800 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Bible Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25377588-The-Watermelon-Prince A story from Vietnam that tells how the delicious fruit, the watermelon, came to Vietnam. A king adopts a boy who grows up into a wise prince. His bother plots against him and he is banished to an island where he discovers a sumptuous new fruit. A story from Vietnam that tells how the delicious fruit, the watermelon, came to Vietnam. A king adopts a boy who grows up into a wise prince. His bother plots against him and he is banished to an island where he discovers a sumptuous new fruit. A story from Vietnam that tells how the delicious fruit, the watermelon, came to Vietnam. A king adopts a boy who grows up into a wise prince. His bother plots against him and he is banished to an island where he discovers a sumptuous new fruit. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-26,25377588 Mon, 26 Oct 2009 10:03:06 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Various Fairy Tales http://odeo.com/episodes/25304006-Life-is-a-Circus Download the audio (right click, save as) Here we have a double first. It’s the first “Single” by our fictional girl band the chiX… and it’s the first song by us at Storynory. In the story this song is written by Gladys, the chiX younger sister, and sung by Laura with backing vocals by Mandy and Sam. Save the song on your iPod – send it to all your friends ! Real life credits: Music (and musical direction): Gabriella Brunel Lead Vocals (and creative input): Eiriona Jackson Backing vocals: Natasha and Gabriella Band: Andre, Eric and David Engineer: Joe Davison Lyrics: Bertie You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I really laughed, you had broken my heart, You stood me quite still and you threw straight your knives And though you didn’t kill, you used eight of my lives, You rattled my cage and you cracked your whip And though I really r... Download the audio (right click, save as) Here we have a double first. It’s the first “Single” by our fictional girl band the chiX… and it’s the first song by us at Storynory. In the story this song is written by Gladys, the chiX younger sister, and sung by Laura with backing vocals by Mandy and Sam. Save the song on your iPod – send it to all your friends ! Real life credits: Music (and musical direction): Gabriella Brunel Lead Vocals (and creative input): Eiriona Jackson Backing vocals: Natasha and Gabriella Band: Andre, Eric and David Engineer: Joe Davison Lyrics: Bertie You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I really laughed, you had broken my heart, You stood me quite still and you threw straight your knives And though you didn’t kill, you used eight of my lives, You rattled my cage and you cracked your whip And though I really raged, I only bit my lip. Chorus x 2 Our dream is A circus Run away Live for the day Our life’s A circus Ups and downs round and round You set up a hoop, and I jumped through the fire, And though you were cool, you lit up my desire You stretched a high wire, and you made me walk the walk, And though said you were a flyer, It was only ticks and talk. Chorus x 2 Our dream is A circus Run away Live for the day Our life is A circus Ups and downs round and round Bridge— We made a pact We’re a double act A high wire flier with a belly full of fire A big attraction with plenty of action A spectacular show With no net below [Guitar Solo] Our dream is a a circus Run away, live for the day Our life, is a circus ups and downs round and round Our dream is a a circus Run away, live for the day Our life, is a circus ups and downs round and round Our way is a circus Thrills and spills, looks that kill Our love is a circus yes we fight, but it’s right on the night Our way is a circus Thrills and spills, looks that kill Our love a is A circus yes we fight But it’s alright on the night Copyright: Storynory.com (Blog Relations Ltd) 2009 – but please feel free to spread the mp3 of the song around the internet and to all your friends so long as all rights to the music, lyrics and story remain with us at Storynory ! Download the audio (right click, save as) Here we have a double first. It’s the first “Single” by our fictional girl band the chiX… and it’s the first song by us at Storynory. In the story this song is written by Gladys, the chiX younger sister, and sung by Laura with backing vocals by Mandy and Sam. Save the song on your iPod – send it to all your friends ! Real life credits: Music (and musical direction): Gabriella Brunel Lead Vocals (and creative input): Eiriona Jackson Backing vocals: Natasha and Gabriella Band: Andre, Eric and David Engineer: Joe Davison Lyrics: Bertie You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I really laughed, you had broken my heart, You stood me quite still and you threw straight your knives And though you didn’t kill, you used eight of my lives, You rattled my cage and you cracked your whip And though I really raged, I only bit my lip. Chorus x 2 Our dream is A circus Run away Live for the day Our life’s A circus Ups and downs round and round You set up a hoop, and I jumped through the fire, And though you were cool, you lit up my desire You stretched a high wire, and you made me walk the walk, And though said you were a flyer, It was only ticks and talk. Chorus x 2 Our dream is A circus Run away Live for the day Our life is A circus Ups and downs round and round Bridge— We made a pact We’re a double act A high wire flier with a belly full of fire A big attraction with plenty of action A spectacular show With no net below [Guitar Solo] Our dream is a a circus Run away, live for the day Our life, is a circus ups and downs round and round Our dream is a a circus Run away, live for the day Our life, is a circus ups and downs round and round Our way is a circus Thrills and spills, looks that kill Our love is a circus yes we fight, but it’s right on the night Our way is a circus Thrills and spills, looks that kill Our love a is A circus yes we fight But it’s alright on the night Copyright: Storynory.com (Blog Relations Ltd) 2009 – but please feel free to spread the mp3 of the song around the internet and to all your friends so long as all rights to the music, lyrics and story remain with us at Storynory ! tag:odeo.com,2009-10-17,25304006 Sat, 17 Oct 2009 15:05:08 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, chiX http://odeo.com/episodes/25304007-Gladys-and-the-Eurovision-Song-Contest Download the audio (right click, save as) The chiX reach the final of the Eurovision Song Contest in Istanbul, and we approach the climax of our story about a girl band and their young sister, Gladys, who isn’t in the band, but who IS the brains behind it. We’ve specially recorded the chiX song, “Life is a Circus” for this story – and if you want an mp3 of The Single without the story around it, then you can find it here. Catch up with earlier episodes of Gladys and the chiX. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie. Duration 26. 40. TV Presenter’s voice : (soft Irish lilt) “Good evening and welcome to Istanbul, gateway to the East, or gateway to the West if you are coming from the other direction. if like me you are a fool for drum machines, wind-machines, clawing, pawing, glitz and glitter, crazy costumes and bizarre behaviour you’ve come to the right place, for this is the 76th run along that well worn race track, the Eurovision Song Contest... Download the audio (right click, save as) The chiX reach the final of the Eurovision Song Contest in Istanbul, and we approach the climax of our story about a girl band and their young sister, Gladys, who isn’t in the band, but who IS the brains behind it. We’ve specially recorded the chiX song, “Life is a Circus” for this story – and if you want an mp3 of The Single without the story around it, then you can find it here. Catch up with earlier episodes of Gladys and the chiX. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie. Duration 26. 40. TV Presenter’s voice : (soft Irish lilt) “Good evening and welcome to Istanbul, gateway to the East, or gateway to the West if you are coming from the other direction. if like me you are a fool for drum machines, wind-machines, clawing, pawing, glitz and glitter, crazy costumes and bizarre behaviour you’ve come to the right place, for this is the 76th run along that well worn race track, the Eurovision Song Contest !” —— As is the long tradition in Britain, the television commentary for the final of the Eurovision song contest did not take the proceedings 100% seriously. But that didn’t mean to say that the millions of viewers at home weren’t rooting in their hearts for their country’s entry, Life is A Circus, sung by a young girl band called the chiX. The papers were saying it was the UK’s best shot at the Eurovision for for years, a song with real sincerity, or as one commentator put it, “Too Good to win the Eurovision.” The chiX had arrived in Istanbul almost a week beforehand. Their hotel overlooked a wide, grimy waterway, busy with boats and barges. “Istanbul’s not exactly what I expected, ” said Laura. “What did you expect?” asked her younger sister Gladys. “Well, more like, you know, Ibitha. But that doesn’t meant to say that it isn’t cool. Coz it’s amazing to be here.” Gladys explained the name of the straight was the Bosporus, and it divided Europe from Asia. But geography did not impress three older girls nearly so much as their hotel’s fat tapped bathrooms ands and field-sized beds. “I could live here, and never go out the front door again,” said Mandy as they ate ice cream and sipped soft drinks in a cafe on the 16th floor of the hotel. But there was work to do. A film crew followed the chiX around the great sites of Istanbul. They posed outside the Topkapi Palace, and the Blue Mosque with its six minarets. And then they went inside the ancient Basilica of Hagia Sophia, or holy wisdom. 1,500 years ago it had served as a cathedral of the Byzantine Empire, and then later as a mosque. Now it was a museum. The girls looked up into the enormous dome, radiant with gold mosaics and natural light, and at the black shields in the corners, bearing unfamiliar oriental letters “You know what, ” said Laura, “I really feel something in here. Something like, a mystical power. I would never have come here on my own, But thank you Gladdy for bringing us here. This is really cool. ” They wandered through the alleys the Grand Bazaar, the largest covered market in the world. The store holders charmed them into buying stuff they never knew they needed, including leather jackets, copper pots, fake designer shoes, strange lamps, and even a Turkish rug or two. But the girls always got good prices. As they bargained with the store holders they sang and danced and won the best discounts in the whole market. And of course there were rehearsals too. They sang their number on a vast stage set up in the middle of a sports stadium. The thousands of empty seats were kind of ghostly, more scary than if they were full of people. They felt tiny as they preformed their song in such a vast vacuum. Afterwards they went up to the control room while the TV producers from London played back video of their performance , and discussed camera angles with their Turkish colleagues. Some of the cameras, mounted on cranes, were swooping over the top of the stage while others were zooming in close up and focusing on their faces. Arny, their manager, was pressing for them to use the close ups. “Do you think we’ve got, like, enough stuff going off ?” asked Laura, “I mean, like the other acts have fireworks and lasers and armies of dancers. We’ve got, you know, just little old us.” “Yeah I do think we’ve got enough ‘ stuff going off’,” said Arny with a touch of tetchyness. “Our entry is about you lovely galls and the song, not about all that other razzmatazz.’ And Gladys thought she understood what Arny was doing. If the girls had lots of singers and performers all around them, they could sort of hide. This way, they were the frame, and they had to give it their all. And then there was a press conference. It was held in a meeting room of their hotel. Four chairs were set up for the chiX behind a table with lot of microphones on it. At first, Gladys assumed that the fourth place was for Arny, but then she noticed that there was a name card on the table saying, ‘Gladys’. Perhaps it was a mistake. There were only three sisters in the band. She was always working behind the scenes. But Mandy ushered Gladys to her place. She put her legs under the table, and blinked at the rows of journalists with notebooks on their laps, and the video cameras mounted on tripods. The first question from a journalist was: “Is it true that Gladys, aged 12, wrote this circus song all on her own?” “Absolutely,” said Mandy, and the other girls all nodded. “She’s ten times smarter than the rest of us put together,” agreed Laura. And the next question was: “Gladys. Can you tell us a little bit about how you write your songs?” And Gladys realised that for the first time she, and not just her sisters, was in the spotlight. Nobody had actually asked her before how she wrote her songs. She stumbled a bit: “Er well I think of a theme, like say a Circus, and then I think about some words that are about the circus but are really about, you know, relationships and that sort of stuff, because that’s what all pop songs are about really. You know, I have three older sisters so I kind of get ideas off them….” She felt herself going bright red. She wasn’t sure why really. But afterwards everyone said that she had answered all the questions brilliantly. “It’s a great story,” said Arny. “12 year old girl writes winning song in Eurovision….” And now, at last, after a week of hard work and living the high life, it was Saturday night and the start of the show. The next day they would be on the flights back to London Heathrow Airport. These few hours could be the chiX last taste of fame and success. In three and half hours time the winner or winners would sing their entry one more time, and there would be tears of joy and disappointment. The chiX sat at a table in the area cordoned off for all the singers and their entourages. They were wearing their circus costumes, ready for their performance. Sam was a clown, Mandy a ring master, and Laura a glitzy acrobat. Round their table with them sat their backing musicians, – four cool young boys who didn’t say that much – their manager, Arny, their mum and dad, and of course, Gladys. Arny was swapping statistics with Dad. Both of them seemed to know exactly which years the UK had won the contest, or come second, and which countries generally voted for their friends. In fact, Gladys was amazed that their Dad was such an expert. ‘1974, that was the year, I remember it well, when Abba won…” said Dad. ‘But my favourite was 1967 when Sandie Shaw topped it with Puppet on a String,” chipped in Arny. “Oh, I’m way too young to remember that,” claimed Dad. The girls were more fascinated by their fellow contestants. “It’s a freeking freek show,” said Mandy. “Yeah, have you seen the tooth fairy?” said Laura. And she was staring at a woman from iceland in an extremely flouncy dress. “Hey check out Eric the Viking, ” said Sam. She meant one of the contestants from Bosnia Hetzogovnia. Gladys knew that sneering at all the continental contestants wasn’t in the best of taste, and given the girls were wering circus costumes, perhaps they weren’t entirely immune from criticism themselves. But gentle sniping was their way of controlling their nerves. The show opened with Whirling Dervishes to set the Turkish context of the final. The hosts on stage were a young man and woman, one speaking French, the other English. When the contest proper started, the crowd whooped and cheered every performance, and seemed quite non-plussed by the grandiose over-the toppness of many of the acts: stomping glam-rockers, John Travolta-sytle disco-dancers, women with 1980s big hair dos, various types of gypsies and folk dancers, half dressed gladiators, men in white cat suits, numerous navels, Napoleonic soldiers playing electric guitars, leaping cossacks, accompanied by plenty of pyrotechnics, and gales of confetti and CO2 blown by wind machines. Only a few acts were quite restrained. The entry from France was tres francais, but sounded just like the song they did the previous year, and the year before that. A boy from Denmark strummed a guitar a sang a bouncing happy-go-lucky folk song. And and homely girl sung a pretty ballad in Serbo-Croat. According to the draw, the United Kingdom was due on stage third from the end, just after Azerbaijan. Several songs beforehand, a producer came to fetch them. Gladys stayed seated at the table while her sisters were given their last brush of face powder and the radio microphones were clipped to their costumes, before they worked out onto the stage in the arena packed with 30,000 spectators and the cameras broadcasting their images to 100 million or more viewers around the world. [ play in sound of applause] [PLAY IN SONG] End with applause Even the other acts were clapping wildly. “You were fantastic, ” said Arny as the girls came back to the table, positively glowing with excitement. “You were easily the best act, ” he added. And the girls were hopping up and down and kissing each other. “But don’t get exited. my bet is that you’ll come second. Denmark’s the only one with the exact Eurovision formula. Gladys could see the taken aback look on her sister’s faces. “Well I think the chiX will win,” she said,” Because the chiX were the best. ” “Well maybe you are right, and maybe you aren’t” said Arny. “At any rate, we’ll soon find out.” But it didn’t seem at all soon. After the last act had played out its umpa, umpa tune, there was a long wait while the various juries around Europe and a bit beyond deliberated and voted. The audience was treated to more folk dancing during the interval. Eventually the hosts appeared back on stage, and the giant screen projected the score board. Each country in turn presented its results. Latvia gave the maximum 12 points to Estonia. Russia gave 12 points to Ukraine. Ukraine returned the compliment. Cyprus voted for Greece and vice versa. But not all the voting was quite so neighbourly and predictable, and by half way through, the UK and Denmark were neck and neck in the lead. Sometimes the chiX slipped ahead, and sometime Denmark held first place. The camera crews were collecting around the chiX table. When Romania gave 12 points to the United Kingdom, the TV viewers saw the chiX hugging and kissing each other, when Belgium gave them “null points”, you could see them shrugging their shoulders and looking like, hey, whatever. Towards the end, when it became clear that it was going to be a cliff hanger, the chiX were biting their nails and looking white and serious. The last country to vote was Slovakia. There were only two points between Britain and Denmark. This was the last and deciding vote. “Hello Bratislava” called the Eurovision-presenters on stage. “Good Evening Istanbul !” responded the Slovakian lady who held the results in her hand. She spoke quite mater of fact-ly. ” Here are the decisions of the Slovakian jury. “Our eight points go to, United Kingdom… ” The presenter on stage translated this result into French. It could have been worse , but it could have been better. Eight points meant that the chiX were still in the running. – just. Gladys was not sure whether to be relieved or nervous. “Our ten points go to Holland” This result made no difference. Holland was no longer in the running to win the contest. And now, this was the deciding moment. If Slovakia gave its 12 points to Denmark then its happy go lucky folk song would win the whole contest, but if it gave its 12 points to any other country, then the chiX song would be the winner. Gladys felt her heart sink. She knew it was highly unlikely that Denmark would not get any points at all from Slovakia. The odds were that Denmark was about to take the last 12 points and win the contest outright. “And finally,” said the Slavakian lady, before pausing to savour the suspense, our 12 points go to……. DENMARK! The audience erupted into cheers and applause. Denmark had won the Eurovision. The chiX entry for the United Kingdom had come second. The girls were trying to smile for the cameras, but there were tears in their eyes. Mum hugged each of her daughters in turn. The cameras were only interested the runners up for a minute or two. Soon the girls were able to sit down and have a little more private commiseration. Sam was crying quite inconsolably. Laura was looking suddenly tiered and quite drained. She put her all into her performance. Dad said mournfully: “Now I know what it feels like to lose in the final of Wimbledon.” “But at least with tennis you get another chance next year,” said Gladys. “the chiX will never get another shot at the Eurovision”. “Yeah, sorry Arny,” said Mandy, “You backed a losing horse.” But Arny didn’t look at all disappointed. “Ah never mind all that,” he said. Everyone knows the Eurovision is a load of old cods-wallop anyway. You didn’t win, but, actually you did win. Your story has caught the public’s imagination. The press loves you, especially the angle about the school girl genius who writes the songs. I’ve got some little presents for you girls.” And he he took out some papers from his brief case. “This, he said, “is a draft recording contract with a top record company. They want you to do two albums. And this is a contract from another top record company. They want to sign you up for four. We’ll have to decide which one WE want to go with. Now this is from an American promoter who wants you to tour the USA. This is an invitation to appear on the Top talk show state side. This is from a publishing company that wants to ghost write your biography. And this is from a hollywood studio that wants an option on your life story. Oh, and this is lady wants a job as your twitter secretary, and to send out your tweets on the internet. Girls, forget Eurovision. the chiX are the biggest thing since slice bread, and you Gladys, have a massive career ahead of you in the music biz. ” And although Gladys was pleased with to hear Arny’s flattering prediction, she began to wonder if a career in the music business was really want she wanted form her life. Download the audio (right click, save as) The chiX reach the final of the Eurovision Song Contest in Istanbul, and we approach the climax of our story about a girl band and their young sister, Gladys, who isn’t in the band, but who IS the brains behind it. We’ve specially recorded the chiX song, “Life is a Circus” for this story – and if you want an mp3 of The Single without the story around it, then you can find it here. Catch up with earlier episodes of Gladys and the chiX. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie. Duration 26. 40. TV Presenter’s voice : (soft Irish lilt) “Good evening and welcome to Istanbul, gateway to the East, or gateway to the West if you are coming from the other direction. if like me you are a fool for drum machines, wind-machines, clawing, pawing, glitz and glitter, crazy costumes and bizarre behaviour you’ve come to the right place, for this is the 76th run along that well worn race track, the Eurovision Song Contest !” —— As is the long tradition in Britain, the television commentary for the final of the Eurovision song contest did not take the proceedings 100% seriously. But that didn’t mean to say that the millions of viewers at home weren’t rooting in their hearts for their country’s entry, Life is A Circus, sung by a young girl band called the chiX. The papers were saying it was the UK’s best shot at the Eurovision for for years, a song with real sincerity, or as one commentator put it, “Too Good to win the Eurovision.” The chiX had arrived in Istanbul almost a week beforehand. Their hotel overlooked a wide, grimy waterway, busy with boats and barges. “Istanbul’s not exactly what I expected, ” said Laura. “What did you expect?” asked her younger sister Gladys. “Well, more like, you know, Ibitha. But that doesn’t meant to say that it isn’t cool. Coz it’s amazing to be here.” Gladys explained the name of the straight was the Bosporus, and it divided Europe from Asia. But geography did not impress three older girls nearly so much as their hotel’s fat tapped bathrooms ands and field-sized beds. “I could live here, and never go out the front door again,” said Mandy as they ate ice cream and sipped soft drinks in a cafe on the 16th floor of the hotel. But there was work to do. A film crew followed the chiX around the great sites of Istanbul. They posed outside the Topkapi Palace, and the Blue Mosque with its six minarets. And then they went inside the ancient Basilica of Hagia Sophia, or holy wisdom. 1,500 years ago it had served as a cathedral of the Byzantine Empire, and then later as a mosque. Now it was a museum. The girls looked up into the enormous dome, radiant with gold mosaics and natural light, and at the black shields in the corners, bearing unfamiliar oriental letters “You know what, ” said Laura, “I really feel something in here. Something like, a mystical power. I would never have come here on my own, But thank you Gladdy for bringing us here. This is really cool. ” They wandered through the alleys the Grand Bazaar, the largest covered market in the world. The store holders charmed them into buying stuff they never knew they needed, including leather jackets, copper pots, fake designer shoes, strange lamps, and even a Turkish rug or two. But the girls always got good prices. As they bargained with the store holders they sang and danced and won the best discounts in the whole market. And of course there were rehearsals too. They sang their number on a vast stage set up in the middle of a sports stadium. The thousands of empty seats were kind of ghostly, more scary than if they were full of people. They felt tiny as they preformed their song in such a vast vacuum. Afterwards they went up to the control room while the TV producers from London played back video of their performance , and discussed camera angles with their Turkish colleagues. Some of the cameras, mounted on cranes, were swooping over the top of the stage while others were zooming in close up and focusing on their faces. Arny, their manager, was pressing for them to use the close ups. “Do you think we’ve got, like, enough stuff going off ?” asked Laura, “I mean, like the other acts have fireworks and lasers and armies of dancers. We’ve got, you know, just little old us.” “Yeah I do think we’ve got enough ‘ stuff going off’,” said Arny with a touch of tetchyness. “Our entry is about you lovely galls and the song, not about all that other razzmatazz.’ And Gladys thought she understood what Arny was doing. If the girls had lots of singers and performers all around them, they could sort of hide. This way, they were the frame, and they had to give it their all. And then there was a press conference. It was held in a meeting room of their hotel. Four chairs were set up for the chiX behind a table with lot of microphones on it. At first, Gladys assumed that the fourth place was for Arny, but then she noticed that there was a name card on the table saying, ‘Gladys’. Perhaps it was a mistake. There were only three sisters in the band. She was always working behind the scenes. But Mandy ushered Gladys to her place. She put her legs under the table, and blinked at the rows of journalists with notebooks on their laps, and the video cameras mounted on tripods. The first question from a journalist was: “Is it true that Gladys, aged 12, wrote this circus song all on her own?” “Absolutely,” said Mandy, and the other girls all nodded. “She’s ten times smarter than the rest of us put together,” agreed Laura. And the next question was: “Gladys. Can you tell us a little bit about how you write your songs?” And Gladys realised that for the first time she, and not just her sisters, was in the spotlight. Nobody had actually asked her before how she wrote her songs. She stumbled a bit: “Er well I think of a theme, like say a Circus, and then I think about some words that are about the circus but are really about, you know, relationships and that sort of stuff, because that’s what all pop songs are about really. You know, I have three older sisters so I kind of get ideas off them….” She felt herself going bright red. She wasn’t sure why really. But afterwards everyone said that she had answered all the questions brilliantly. “It’s a great story,” said Arny. “12 year old girl writes winning song in Eurovision….” And now, at last, after a week of hard work and living the high life, it was Saturday night and the start of the show. The next day they would be on the flights back to London Heathrow Airport. These few hours could be the chiX last taste of fame and success. In three and half hours time the winner or winners would sing their entry one more time, and there would be tears of joy and disappointment. The chiX sat at a table in the area cordoned off for all the singers and their entourages. They were wearing their circus costumes, ready for their performance. Sam was a clown, Mandy a ring master, and Laura a glitzy acrobat. Round their table with them sat their backing musicians, – four cool young boys who didn’t say that much – their manager, Arny, their mum and dad, and of course, Gladys. Arny was swapping statistics with Dad. Both of them seemed to know exactly which years the UK had won the contest, or come second, and which countries generally voted for their friends. In fact, Gladys was amazed that their Dad was such an expert. ‘1974, that was the year, I remember it well, when Abba won…” said Dad. ‘But my favourite was 1967 when Sandie Shaw topped it with Puppet on a String,” chipped in Arny. “Oh, I’m way too young to remember that,” claimed Dad. The girls were more fascinated by their fellow contestants. “It’s a freeking freek show,” said Mandy. “Yeah, have you seen the tooth fairy?” said Laura. And she was staring at a woman from iceland in an extremely flouncy dress. “Hey check out Eric the Viking, ” said Sam. She meant one of the contestants from Bosnia Hetzogovnia. Gladys knew that sneering at all the continental contestants wasn’t in the best of taste, and given the girls were wering circus costumes, perhaps they weren’t entirely immune from criticism themselves. But gentle sniping was their way of controlling their nerves. The show opened with Whirling Dervishes to set the Turkish context of the final. The hosts on stage were a young man and woman, one speaking French, the other English. When the contest proper started, the crowd whooped and cheered every performance, and seemed quite non-plussed by the grandiose over-the toppness of many of the acts: stomping glam-rockers, John Travolta-sytle disco-dancers, women with 1980s big hair dos, various types of gypsies and folk dancers, half dressed gladiators, men in white cat suits, numerous navels, Napoleonic soldiers playing electric guitars, leaping cossacks, accompanied by plenty of pyrotechnics, and gales of confetti and CO2 blown by wind machines. Only a few acts were quite restrained. The entry from France was tres francais, but sounded just like the song they did the previous year, and the year before that. A boy from Denmark strummed a guitar a sang a bouncing happy-go-lucky folk song. And and homely girl sung a pretty ballad in Serbo-Croat. According to the draw, the United Kingdom was due on stage third from the end, just after Azerbaijan. Several songs beforehand, a producer came to fetch them. Gladys stayed seated at the table while her sisters were given their last brush of face powder and the radio microphones were clipped to their costumes, before they worked out onto the stage in the arena packed with 30,000 spectators and the cameras broadcasting their images to 100 million or more viewers around the world. [ play in sound of applause] [PLAY IN SONG] End with applause Even the other acts were clapping wildly. “You were fantastic, ” said Arny as the girls came back to the table, positively glowing with excitement. “You were easily the best act, ” he added. And the girls were hopping up and down and kissing each other. “But don’t get exited. my bet is that you’ll come second. Denmark’s the only one with the exact Eurovision formula. Gladys could see the taken aback look on her sister’s faces. “Well I think the chiX will win,” she said,” Because the chiX were the best. ” “Well maybe you are right, and maybe you aren’t” said Arny. “At any rate, we’ll soon find out.” But it didn’t seem at all soon. After the last act had played out its umpa, umpa tune, there was a long wait while the various juries around Europe and a bit beyond deliberated and voted. The audience was treated to more folk dancing during the interval. Eventually the hosts appeared back on stage, and the giant screen projected the score board. Each country in turn presented its results. Latvia gave the maximum 12 points to Estonia. Russia gave 12 points to Ukraine. Ukraine returned the compliment. Cyprus voted for Greece and vice versa. But not all the voting was quite so neighbourly and predictable, and by half way through, the UK and Denmark were neck and neck in the lead. Sometimes the chiX slipped ahead, and sometime Denmark held first place. The camera crews were collecting around the chiX table. When Romania gave 12 points to the United Kingdom, the TV viewers saw the chiX hugging and kissing each other, when Belgium gave them “null points”, you could see them shrugging their shoulders and looking like, hey, whatever. Towards the end, when it became clear that it was going to be a cliff hanger, the chiX were biting their nails and looking white and serious. The last country to vote was Slovakia. There were only two points between Britain and Denmark. This was the last and deciding vote. “Hello Bratislava” called the Eurovision-presenters on stage. “Good Evening Istanbul !” responded the Slovakian lady who held the results in her hand. She spoke quite mater of fact-ly. ” Here are the decisions of the Slovakian jury. “Our eight points go to, United Kingdom… ” The presenter on stage translated this result into French. It could have been worse , but it could have been better. Eight points meant that the chiX were still in the running. – just. Gladys was not sure whether to be relieved or nervous. “Our ten points go to Holland” This result made no difference. Holland was no longer in the running to win the contest. And now, this was the deciding moment. If Slovakia gave its 12 points to Denmark then its happy go lucky folk song would win the whole contest, but if it gave its 12 points to any other country, then the chiX song would be the winner. Gladys felt her heart sink. She knew it was highly unlikely that Denmark would not get any points at all from Slovakia. The odds were that Denmark was about to take the last 12 points and win the contest outright. “And finally,” said the Slavakian lady, before pausing to savour the suspense, our 12 points go to……. DENMARK! The audience erupted into cheers and applause. Denmark had won the Eurovision. The chiX entry for the United Kingdom had come second. The girls were trying to smile for the cameras, but there were tears in their eyes. Mum hugged each of her daughters in turn. The cameras were only interested the runners up for a minute or two. Soon the girls were able to sit down and have a little more private commiseration. Sam was crying quite inconsolably. Laura was looking suddenly tiered and quite drained. She put her all into her performance. Dad said mournfully: “Now I know what it feels like to lose in the final of Wimbledon.” “But at least with tennis you get another chance next year,” said Gladys. “the chiX will never get another shot at the Eurovision”. “Yeah, sorry Arny,” said Mandy, “You backed a losing horse.” But Arny didn’t look at all disappointed. “Ah never mind all that,” he said. Everyone knows the Eurovision is a load of old cods-wallop anyway. You didn’t win, but, actually you did win. Your story has caught the public’s imagination. The press loves you, especially the angle about the school girl genius who writes the songs. I’ve got some little presents for you girls.” And he he took out some papers from his brief case. “This, he said, “is a draft recording contract with a top record company. They want you to do two albums. And this is a contract from another top record company. They want to sign you up for four. We’ll have to decide which one WE want to go with. Now this is from an American promoter who wants you to tour the USA. This is an invitation to appear on the Top talk show state side. This is from a publishing company that wants to ghost write your biography. And this is from a hollywood studio that wants an option on your life story. Oh, and this is lady wants a job as your twitter secretary, and to send out your tweets on the internet. Girls, forget Eurovision. the chiX are the biggest thing since slice bread, and you Gladys, have a massive career ahead of you in the music biz. ” And although Gladys was pleased with to hear Arny’s flattering prediction, she began to wonder if a career in the music business was really want she wanted form her life. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-17,25304007 Sat, 17 Oct 2009 15:03:27 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, chiX http://odeo.com/episodes/25273457-The-Wicked-Witch-of-the-West Download the audio (right click, save as). We bring you a single chapter from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by y L. Frank Baum. This quintessentially American fairy tale was first published in 1900. Perhaps you have seen the extremely famous musical film staring Judy Garland (made in 1939). We chose this chapter in the spirit of Halloween – so expect a few scary moments when with wolves, bees, crows, and winged monkeys. As we are starting in the middle, we had better tell you the story so far. Dorothy is an orphan who lives on a farm in the America, in the sate of Kansas. One day the farm house, with Dorothy and her little dog (Toto) inside, is picked up by a giant wind called a cyclone and she is swept away to the land of Oz. She walks down a yellow brick road and meets a scare crow, a tin woodman, and a cowardly lion. They are all on their way to the Emerald City seek help from the Wonderful wizard of Ox. The Wizard agrees to help them, but firs they must kill the Wicked Witch ... Download the audio (right click, save as). We bring you a single chapter from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by y L. Frank Baum. This quintessentially American fairy tale was first published in 1900. Perhaps you have seen the extremely famous musical film staring Judy Garland (made in 1939). We chose this chapter in the spirit of Halloween – so expect a few scary moments when with wolves, bees, crows, and winged monkeys. As we are starting in the middle, we had better tell you the story so far. Dorothy is an orphan who lives on a farm in the America, in the sate of Kansas. One day the farm house, with Dorothy and her little dog (Toto) inside, is picked up by a giant wind called a cyclone and she is swept away to the land of Oz. She walks down a yellow brick road and meets a scare crow, a tin woodman, and a cowardly lion. They are all on their way to the Emerald City seek help from the Wonderful wizard of Ox. The Wizard agrees to help them, but firs they must kill the Wicked Witch of the West. And this is the story of how they set out to do just that. Read by Natasha. Duration 28.37. (And before any one asks, the next episode of Gladys and the chiX is on its way. We are waiting for the recording studio to send the master copy of their song which will feature in the story). The soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets of the Emerald City until they reached the room where the Guardian of the Gates lived. This officer unlocked their spectacles to put them back in his great box, and then he politely opened the gate for our friends. “Which road leads to the Wicked Witch of the West?” asked Dorothy. “There is no road,” answered the Guardian of the Gates. “No one ever wishes to go that way.” “How, then, are we to find her?” inquired the girl. “That will be easy,” replied the man, “for when she knows you are in the country of the Winkies she will find you, and make you all her slaves.” “Perhaps not,” said the Scarecrow, “for we mean to destroy her.” “Oh, that is different,” said the Guardian of the Gates. “No one has ever destroyed her before, so I naturally thought she would make slaves of you, as she has of the rest. But take care; for she is wicked and fierce, and may not allow you to destroy her. Keep to the West, where the sun sets, and you cannot fail to find her.” They thanked him and bade him good-bye, and turned toward the West, walking over fields of soft grass dotted here and there with daisies and buttercups. Dorothy still wore the pretty silk dress she had put on in the palace, but now, to her surprise, she found it was no longer green, but pure white. The ribbon around Toto’s neck had also lost its green color and was as white as Dorothy’s dress. The Emerald City was soon left far behind. As they advanced the ground became rougher and hillier, for there were no farms nor houses in this country of the West, and the ground was untilled. In the afternoon the sun shone hot in their faces, for there were no trees to offer them shade; so that before night Dorothy and Toto and the Lion were tired, and lay down upon the grass and fell asleep, with the Woodman and the Scarecrow keeping watch. Now the Wicked Witch of the West had but one eye, yet that was as powerful as a telescope, and could see everywhere. So, as she sat in the door of her castle, she happened to look around and saw Dorothy lying asleep, with her friends all about her. They were a long distance off, but the Wicked Witch was angry to find them in her country; so she blew upon a silver whistle that hung around her neck. At once there came running to her from all directions a pack of great wolves. They had long legs and fierce eyes and sharp teeth. “Go to those people,” said the Witch, “and tear them to pieces.” “Are you not going to make them your slaves?” asked the leader of the wolves. “No,” she answered, “one is of tin, and one of straw; one is a girl and another a Lion. None of them is fit to work, so you may tear them into small pieces.” “Very well,” said the wolf, and he dashed away at full speed, followed by the others. It was lucky the Scarecrow and the Woodman were wide awake and heard the wolves coming. “This is my fight,” said the Woodman, “so get behind me and I will meet them as they come.” He seized his axe, which he had made very sharp, and as the leader of the wolves came on the Tin Woodman swung his arm and chopped the wolf’s head from its body, so that it immediately died. As soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also fell under the sharp edge of the Tin Woodman’s weapon. There were forty wolves, and forty times a wolf was killed, so that at last they all lay dead in a heap before the Woodman. Then he put down his axe and sat beside the Scarecrow, who said, “It was a good fight, friend.” They waited until Dorothy awoke the next morning. The little girl was quite frightened when she saw the great pile of shaggy wolves, but the Tin Woodman told her all. She thanked him for saving them and sat down to breakfast, after which they started again upon their journey. Now this same morning the Wicked Witch came to the door of her castle and looked out with her one eye that could see far off. She saw all her wolves lying dead, and the strangers still traveling through her country. This made her angrier than before, and she blew her silver whistle twice. Straightway a great flock of wild crows came flying toward her, enough to darken the sky. And the Wicked Witch said to the King Crow, “Fly at once to the strangers; peck out their eyes and tear them to pieces.” The wild crows flew in one great flock toward Dorothy and her companions. When the little girl saw them coming she was afraid. But the Scarecrow said, “This is my battle, so lie down beside me and you will not be harmed.” So they all lay upon the ground except the Scarecrow, and he stood up and stretched out his arms. And when the crows saw him they were frightened, as these birds always are by scarecrows, and did not dare to come any nearer. But the King Crow said: “It is only a stuffed man. I will peck his eyes out.” The King Crow flew at the Scarecrow, who caught it by the head and twisted its neck until it died. And then another crow flew at him, and the Scarecrow twisted its neck also. There were forty crows, and forty times the Scarecrow twisted a neck, until at last all were lying dead beside him. Then he called to his companions to rise, and again they went upon their journey. When the Wicked Witch looked out again and saw all her crows lying in a heap, she got into a terrible rage, and blew three times upon her silver whistle. Forthwith there was heard a great buzzing in the air, and a swarm of black bees came flying toward her. “Go to the strangers and sting them to death!” commanded the Witch, and the bees turned and flew rapidly until they came to where Dorothy and her friends were walking. But the Woodman had seen them coming, and the Scarecrow had decided what to do. “Take out my straw and scatter it over the little girl and the dog and the Lion,” he said to the Woodman, “and the bees cannot sting them.” This the Woodman did, and as Dorothy lay close beside the Lion and held Toto in her arms, the straw covered them entirely. The bees came and found no one but the Woodman to sting, so they flew at him and broke off all their stings against the tin, without hurting the Woodman at all. And as bees cannot live when their stings are broken that was the end of the black bees, and they lay scattered thick about the Woodman, like little heaps of fine coal. Then Dorothy and the Lion got up, and the girl helped the Tin Woodman put the straw back into the Scarecrow again, until he was as good as ever. So they started upon their journey once more. The Wicked Witch was so angry when she saw her black bees in little heaps like fine coal that she stamped her foot and tore her hair and gnashed her teeth. And then she called a dozen of her slaves, who were the Winkies, and gave them sharp spears, telling them to go to the strangers and destroy them. The Winkies were not a brave people, but they had to do as they were told. So they marched away until they came near to Dorothy. Then the Lion gave a great roar and sprang towards them, and the poor Winkies were so frightened that they ran back as fast as they could. When they returned to the castle the Wicked Witch beat them well with a strap, and sent them back to their work, after which she sat down to think what she should do next. She could not understand how all her plans to destroy these strangers had failed; but she was a powerful Witch, as well as a wicked one, and she soon made up her mind how to act. There was, in her cupboard, a Golden Cap, with a circle of diamonds and rubies running round it. This Golden Cap had a charm. Whoever owned it could call three times upon the Winged Monkeys, who would obey any order they were given. But no person could command these strange creatures more than three times. Twice already the Wicked Witch had used the charm of the Cap. Once was when she had made the Winkies her slaves, and set herself to rule over their country. The Winged Monkeys had helped her do this. The second time was when she had fought against the Great Oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the West. The Winged Monkeys had also helped her in doing this. Only once more could she use this Golden Cap, for which reason she did not like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. But now that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the Cowardly Lion, she saw there was only one way left to destroy Dorothy and her friends. So the Wicked Witch took the Golden Cap from her cupboard and placed it upon her head. Then she stood upon her left foot and said slowly: “Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!” Next she stood upon her right foot and said: “Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!” After this she stood upon both feet and cried in a loud voice: “Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!” Now the charm began to work. The sky was darkened, and a low rumbling sound was heard in the air. There was a rushing of many wings, a great chattering and laughing, and the sun came out of the dark sky to show the Wicked Witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys, each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders. One, much bigger than the others, seemed to be their leader. He flew close to the Witch and said, “You have called us for the third and last time. What do you command?” “Go to the strangers who are within my land and destroy them all except the Lion,” said the Wicked Witch. “Bring that beast to me, for I have a mind to harness him like a horse, and make him work.” “Your commands shall be obeyed,” said the leader. Then, with a great deal of chattering and noise, the Winged Monkeys flew away to the place where Dorothy and her friends were walking. Some of the Monkeys seized the Tin Woodman and carried him through the air until they were over a country thickly covered with sharp rocks. Here they dropped the poor Woodman, who fell a great distance to the rocks, where he lay so battered and dented that he could neither move nor groan. Others of the Monkeys caught the Scarecrow, and with their long fingers pulled all of the straw out of his clothes and head. They made his hat and boots and clothes into a small bundle and threw it into the top branches of a tall tree. The remaining Monkeys threw pieces of stout rope around the Lion and wound many coils about his body and head and legs, until he was unable to bite or scratch or struggle in any way. Then they lifted him up and flew away with him to the Witch’s castle, where he was placed in a small yard with a high iron fence around it, so that he could not escape. But Dorothy they did not harm at all. She stood, with Toto in her arms, watching the sad fate of her comrades and thinking it would soon be her turn. The leader of the Winged Monkeys flew up to her, his long, hairy arms stretched out and his ugly face grinning terribly; but he saw the mark of the Good Witch’s kiss upon her forehead and stopped short, motioning the others not to touch her. “We dare not harm this little girl,” he said to them, “for she is protected by the Power of Good, and that is greater than the Power of Evil. All we can do is to carry her to the castle of the Wicked Witch and leave her there.” So, carefully and gently, they lifted Dorothy in their arms and carried her swiftly through the air until they came to the castle, where they set her down upon the front doorstep. Then the leader said to the Witch: “We have obeyed you as far as we were able. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are destroyed, and the Lion is tied up in your yard. The little girl we dare not harm, nor the dog she carries in her arms. Your power over our band is now ended, and you will never see us again.” Then all the Winged Monkeys, with much laughing and chattering and noise, flew into the air and were soon out of sight. The Wicked Witch was both surprised and worried when she saw the mark on Dorothy’s forehead, for she knew well that neither the Winged Monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt the girl in any way. She looked down at Dorothy’s feet, and seeing the Silver Shoes, began to tremble with fear, for she knew what a powerful charm belonged to them. At first the Witch was tempted to run away from Dorothy; but she happened to look into the child’s eyes and saw how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did not know of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. So the Wicked Witch laughed to herself, and thought, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” Then she said to Dorothy, harshly and severely: “Come with me; and see that you mind everything I tell you, for if you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow.” Dorothy followed her through many of the beautiful rooms in her castle until they came to the kitchen, where the Witch bade her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the fire fed with wood. Dorothy went to work meekly, with her mind made up to work as hard as she could; for she was glad the Wicked Witch had decided not to kill her. With Dorothy hard at work, the Witch thought she would go into the courtyard and harness the Cowardly Lion like a horse; it would amuse her, she was sure, to make him draw her chariot whenever she wished to go to drive. But as she opened the gate the Lion gave a loud roar and bounded at her so fiercely that the Witch was afraid, and ran out and shut the gate again. “If I cannot harness you,” said the Witch to the Lion, speaking through the bars of the gate, “I can starve you. You shall have nothing to eat until you do as I wish.” So after that she took no food to the imprisoned Lion; but every day she came to the gate at noon and asked, “Are you ready to be harnessed like a horse?” And the Lion would answer, “No. If you come in this yard, I will bite you.” The reason the Lion did not have to do as the Witch wished was that every night, while the woman was asleep, Dorothy carried him food from the cupboard. After he had eaten he would lie down on his bed of straw, and Dorothy would lie beside him and put her head on his soft, shaggy mane, while they talked of their troubles and tried to plan some way to escape. But they could find no way to get out of the castle, for it was constantly guarded by the yellow Winkies, who were the slaves of the Wicked Witch and too afraid of her not to do as she told them. The girl had to work hard during the day, and often the Witch threatened to beat her with the same old umbrella she always carried in her hand. But, in truth, she did not dare to strike Dorothy, because of the mark upon her forehead. The child did not know this, and was full of fear for herself and Toto. Once the Witch struck Toto a blow with her umbrella and the brave little dog flew at her and bit her leg in return. The Witch did not bleed where she was bitten, for she was so wicked that the blood in her had dried up many years before. Dorothy’s life became very sad as she grew to understand that it would be harder than ever to get back to Kansas and Aunt Em again. Sometimes she would cry bitterly for hours, with Toto sitting at her feet and looking into her face, whining dismally to show how sorry he was for his little mistress. Toto did not really care whether he was in Kansas or the Land of Oz so long as Dorothy was with him; but he knew the little girl was unhappy, and that made him unhappy too. Now the Wicked Witch had a great longing to have for her own the Silver Shoes which the girl always wore. Her bees and her crows and her wolves were lying in heaps and drying up, and she had used up all the power of the Golden Cap; but if she could only get hold of the Silver Shoes, they would give her more power than all the other things she had lost. She watched Dorothy carefully, to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them. But the child was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took them off except at night and when she took her bath. The Witch was too much afraid of the dark to dare go in Dorothy’s room at night to take the shoes, and her dread of water was greater than her fear of the dark, so she never came near when Dorothy was bathing. Indeed, the old Witch never touched water, nor ever let water touch her in any way. But the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of a trick that would give her what she wanted. She placed a bar of iron in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then by her magic arts made the iron invisible to human eyes. So that when Dorothy walked across the floor she stumbled over the bar, not being able to see it, and fell at full length. She was not much hurt, but in her fall one of the Silver Shoes came off; and before she could reach it, the Witch had snatched it away and put it on her own skinny foot. The wicked woman was greatly pleased with the success of her trick, for as long as she had one of the shoes she owned half the power of their charm, and Dorothy could not use it against her, even had she known how to do so. The little girl, seeing she had lost one of her pretty shoes, grew angry, and said to the Witch, “Give me back my shoe!” “I will not,” retorted the Witch, “for it is now my shoe, and not yours.” “You are a wicked creature!” cried Dorothy. “You have no right to take my shoe from me.” “I shall keep it, just the same,” said the Witch, laughing at her, “and someday I shall get the other one from you, too.” This made Dorothy so very angry that she picked up the bucket of water that stood near and dashed it over the Witch, wetting her from head to foot. Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and then, as Dorothy looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to shrink and fall away. “See what you have done!” she screamed. “In a minute I shall melt away.” “I’m very sorry, indeed,” said Dorothy, who was truly frightened to see the Witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her very eyes. “Didn’t you know water would be the end of me?” asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice. “Of course not,” answered Dorothy. “How should I?” “Well, in a few minutes I shall be all melted, and you will have the castle to yourself. I have been wicked in my day, but I never thought a little girl like you would ever be able to melt me and end my wicked deeds. Look out–here I go!” With these words the Witch fell down in a brown, melted, shapeless mass and began to spread over the clean boards of the kitchen floor. Seeing that she had really melted away to nothing, Dorothy drew another bucket of water and threw it over the mess. She then swept it all out the door. After picking out the silver shoe, which was all that was left of the old woman, she cleaned and dried it with a cloth, and put it on her foot again. Then, being at last free to do as she chose, she ran out to the courtyard to tell the Lion that the Wicked Witch of the West had come to an end, and that they were no longer prisoners in a strange land. Download the audio (right click, save as). We bring you a single chapter from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by y L. Frank Baum. This quintessentially American fairy tale was first published in 1900. Perhaps you have seen the extremely famous musical film staring Judy Garland (made in 1939). We chose this chapter in the spirit of Halloween – so expect a few scary moments when with wolves, bees, crows, and winged monkeys. As we are starting in the middle, we had better tell you the story so far. Dorothy is an orphan who lives on a farm in the America, in the sate of Kansas. One day the farm house, with Dorothy and her little dog (Toto) inside, is picked up by a giant wind called a cyclone and she is swept away to the land of Oz. She walks down a yellow brick road and meets a scare crow, a tin woodman, and a cowardly lion. They are all on their way to the Emerald City seek help from the Wonderful wizard of Ox. The Wizard agrees to help them, but firs they must kill the Wicked Witch of the West. And this is the story of how they set out to do just that. Read by Natasha. Duration 28.37. (And before any one asks, the next episode of Gladys and the chiX is on its way. We are waiting for the recording studio to send the master copy of their song which will feature in the story). The soldier with the green whiskers led them through the streets of the Emerald City until they reached the room where the Guardian of the Gates lived. This officer unlocked their spectacles to put them back in his great box, and then he politely opened the gate for our friends. “Which road leads to the Wicked Witch of the West?” asked Dorothy. “There is no road,” answered the Guardian of the Gates. “No one ever wishes to go that way.” “How, then, are we to find her?” inquired the girl. “That will be easy,” replied the man, “for when she knows you are in the country of the Winkies she will find you, and make you all her slaves.” “Perhaps not,” said the Scarecrow, “for we mean to destroy her.” “Oh, that is different,” said the Guardian of the Gates. “No one has ever destroyed her before, so I naturally thought she would make slaves of you, as she has of the rest. But take care; for she is wicked and fierce, and may not allow you to destroy her. Keep to the West, where the sun sets, and you cannot fail to find her.” They thanked him and bade him good-bye, and turned toward the West, walking over fields of soft grass dotted here and there with daisies and buttercups. Dorothy still wore the pretty silk dress she had put on in the palace, but now, to her surprise, she found it was no longer green, but pure white. The ribbon around Toto’s neck had also lost its green color and was as white as Dorothy’s dress. The Emerald City was soon left far behind. As they advanced the ground became rougher and hillier, for there were no farms nor houses in this country of the West, and the ground was untilled. In the afternoon the sun shone hot in their faces, for there were no trees to offer them shade; so that before night Dorothy and Toto and the Lion were tired, and lay down upon the grass and fell asleep, with the Woodman and the Scarecrow keeping watch. Now the Wicked Witch of the West had but one eye, yet that was as powerful as a telescope, and could see everywhere. So, as she sat in the door of her castle, she happened to look around and saw Dorothy lying asleep, with her friends all about her. They were a long distance off, but the Wicked Witch was angry to find them in her country; so she blew upon a silver whistle that hung around her neck. At once there came running to her from all directions a pack of great wolves. They had long legs and fierce eyes and sharp teeth. “Go to those people,” said the Witch, “and tear them to pieces.” “Are you not going to make them your slaves?” asked the leader of the wolves. “No,” she answered, “one is of tin, and one of straw; one is a girl and another a Lion. None of them is fit to work, so you may tear them into small pieces.” “Very well,” said the wolf, and he dashed away at full speed, followed by the others. It was lucky the Scarecrow and the Woodman were wide awake and heard the wolves coming. “This is my fight,” said the Woodman, “so get behind me and I will meet them as they come.” He seized his axe, which he had made very sharp, and as the leader of the wolves came on the Tin Woodman swung his arm and chopped the wolf’s head from its body, so that it immediately died. As soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also fell under the sharp edge of the Tin Woodman’s weapon. There were forty wolves, and forty times a wolf was killed, so that at last they all lay dead in a heap before the Woodman. Then he put down his axe and sat beside the Scarecrow, who said, “It was a good fight, friend.” They waited until Dorothy awoke the next morning. The little girl was quite frightened when she saw the great pile of shaggy wolves, but the Tin Woodman told her all. She thanked him for saving them and sat down to breakfast, after which they started again upon their journey. Now this same morning the Wicked Witch came to the door of her castle and looked out with her one eye that could see far off. She saw all her wolves lying dead, and the strangers still traveling through her country. This made her angrier than before, and she blew her silver whistle twice. Straightway a great flock of wild crows came flying toward her, enough to darken the sky. And the Wicked Witch said to the King Crow, “Fly at once to the strangers; peck out their eyes and tear them to pieces.” The wild crows flew in one great flock toward Dorothy and her companions. When the little girl saw them coming she was afraid. But the Scarecrow said, “This is my battle, so lie down beside me and you will not be harmed.” So they all lay upon the ground except the Scarecrow, and he stood up and stretched out his arms. And when the crows saw him they were frightened, as these birds always are by scarecrows, and did not dare to come any nearer. But the King Crow said: “It is only a stuffed man. I will peck his eyes out.” The King Crow flew at the Scarecrow, who caught it by the head and twisted its neck until it died. And then another crow flew at him, and the Scarecrow twisted its neck also. There were forty crows, and forty times the Scarecrow twisted a neck, until at last all were lying dead beside him. Then he called to his companions to rise, and again they went upon their journey. When the Wicked Witch looked out again and saw all her crows lying in a heap, she got into a terrible rage, and blew three times upon her silver whistle. Forthwith there was heard a great buzzing in the air, and a swarm of black bees came flying toward her. “Go to the strangers and sting them to death!” commanded the Witch, and the bees turned and flew rapidly until they came to where Dorothy and her friends were walking. But the Woodman had seen them coming, and the Scarecrow had decided what to do. “Take out my straw and scatter it over the little girl and the dog and the Lion,” he said to the Woodman, “and the bees cannot sting them.” This the Woodman did, and as Dorothy lay close beside the Lion and held Toto in her arms, the straw covered them entirely. The bees came and found no one but the Woodman to sting, so they flew at him and broke off all their stings against the tin, without hurting the Woodman at all. And as bees cannot live when their stings are broken that was the end of the black bees, and they lay scattered thick about the Woodman, like little heaps of fine coal. Then Dorothy and the Lion got up, and the girl helped the Tin Woodman put the straw back into the Scarecrow again, until he was as good as ever. So they started upon their journey once more. The Wicked Witch was so angry when she saw her black bees in little heaps like fine coal that she stamped her foot and tore her hair and gnashed her teeth. And then she called a dozen of her slaves, who were the Winkies, and gave them sharp spears, telling them to go to the strangers and destroy them. The Winkies were not a brave people, but they had to do as they were told. So they marched away until they came near to Dorothy. Then the Lion gave a great roar and sprang towards them, and the poor Winkies were so frightened that they ran back as fast as they could. When they returned to the castle the Wicked Witch beat them well with a strap, and sent them back to their work, after which she sat down to think what she should do next. She could not understand how all her plans to destroy these strangers had failed; but she was a powerful Witch, as well as a wicked one, and she soon made up her mind how to act. There was, in her cupboard, a Golden Cap, with a circle of diamonds and rubies running round it. This Golden Cap had a charm. Whoever owned it could call three times upon the Winged Monkeys, who would obey any order they were given. But no person could command these strange creatures more than three times. Twice already the Wicked Witch had used the charm of the Cap. Once was when she had made the Winkies her slaves, and set herself to rule over their country. The Winged Monkeys had helped her do this. The second time was when she had fought against the Great Oz himself, and driven him out of the land of the West. The Winged Monkeys had also helped her in doing this. Only once more could she use this Golden Cap, for which reason she did not like to do so until all her other powers were exhausted. But now that her fierce wolves and her wild crows and her stinging bees were gone, and her slaves had been scared away by the Cowardly Lion, she saw there was only one way left to destroy Dorothy and her friends. So the Wicked Witch took the Golden Cap from her cupboard and placed it upon her head. Then she stood upon her left foot and said slowly: “Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!” Next she stood upon her right foot and said: “Hil-lo, hol-lo, hel-lo!” After this she stood upon both feet and cried in a loud voice: “Ziz-zy, zuz-zy, zik!” Now the charm began to work. The sky was darkened, and a low rumbling sound was heard in the air. There was a rushing of many wings, a great chattering and laughing, and the sun came out of the dark sky to show the Wicked Witch surrounded by a crowd of monkeys, each with a pair of immense and powerful wings on his shoulders. One, much bigger than the others, seemed to be their leader. He flew close to the Witch and said, “You have called us for the third and last time. What do you command?” “Go to the strangers who are within my land and destroy them all except the Lion,” said the Wicked Witch. “Bring that beast to me, for I have a mind to harness him like a horse, and make him work.” “Your commands shall be obeyed,” said the leader. Then, with a great deal of chattering and noise, the Winged Monkeys flew away to the place where Dorothy and her friends were walking. Some of the Monkeys seized the Tin Woodman and carried him through the air until they were over a country thickly covered with sharp rocks. Here they dropped the poor Woodman, who fell a great distance to the rocks, where he lay so battered and dented that he could neither move nor groan. Others of the Monkeys caught the Scarecrow, and with their long fingers pulled all of the straw out of his clothes and head. They made his hat and boots and clothes into a small bundle and threw it into the top branches of a tall tree. The remaining Monkeys threw pieces of stout rope around the Lion and wound many coils about his body and head and legs, until he was unable to bite or scratch or struggle in any way. Then they lifted him up and flew away with him to the Witch’s castle, where he was placed in a small yard with a high iron fence around it, so that he could not escape. But Dorothy they did not harm at all. She stood, with Toto in her arms, watching the sad fate of her comrades and thinking it would soon be her turn. The leader of the Winged Monkeys flew up to her, his long, hairy arms stretched out and his ugly face grinning terribly; but he saw the mark of the Good Witch’s kiss upon her forehead and stopped short, motioning the others not to touch her. “We dare not harm this little girl,” he said to them, “for she is protected by the Power of Good, and that is greater than the Power of Evil. All we can do is to carry her to the castle of the Wicked Witch and leave her there.” So, carefully and gently, they lifted Dorothy in their arms and carried her swiftly through the air until they came to the castle, where they set her down upon the front doorstep. Then the leader said to the Witch: “We have obeyed you as far as we were able. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are destroyed, and the Lion is tied up in your yard. The little girl we dare not harm, nor the dog she carries in her arms. Your power over our band is now ended, and you will never see us again.” Then all the Winged Monkeys, with much laughing and chattering and noise, flew into the air and were soon out of sight. The Wicked Witch was both surprised and worried when she saw the mark on Dorothy’s forehead, for she knew well that neither the Winged Monkeys nor she, herself, dare hurt the girl in any way. She looked down at Dorothy’s feet, and seeing the Silver Shoes, began to tremble with fear, for she knew what a powerful charm belonged to them. At first the Witch was tempted to run away from Dorothy; but she happened to look into the child’s eyes and saw how simple the soul behind them was, and that the little girl did not know of the wonderful power the Silver Shoes gave her. So the Wicked Witch laughed to herself, and thought, “I can still make her my slave, for she does not know how to use her power.” Then she said to Dorothy, harshly and severely: “Come with me; and see that you mind everything I tell you, for if you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow.” Dorothy followed her through many of the beautiful rooms in her castle until they came to the kitchen, where the Witch bade her clean the pots and kettles and sweep the floor and keep the fire fed with wood. Dorothy went to work meekly, with her mind made up to work as hard as she could; for she was glad the Wicked Witch had decided not to kill her. With Dorothy hard at work, the Witch thought she would go into the courtyard and harness the Cowardly Lion like a horse; it would amuse her, she was sure, to make him draw her chariot whenever she wished to go to drive. But as she opened the gate the Lion gave a loud roar and bounded at her so fiercely that the Witch was afraid, and ran out and shut the gate again. “If I cannot harness you,” said the Witch to the Lion, speaking through the bars of the gate, “I can starve you. You shall have nothing to eat until you do as I wish.” So after that she took no food to the imprisoned Lion; but every day she came to the gate at noon and asked, “Are you ready to be harnessed like a horse?” And the Lion would answer, “No. If you come in this yard, I will bite you.” The reason the Lion did not have to do as the Witch wished was that every night, while the woman was asleep, Dorothy carried him food from the cupboard. After he had eaten he would lie down on his bed of straw, and Dorothy would lie beside him and put her head on his soft, shaggy mane, while they talked of their troubles and tried to plan some way to escape. But they could find no way to get out of the castle, for it was constantly guarded by the yellow Winkies, who were the slaves of the Wicked Witch and too afraid of her not to do as she told them. The girl had to work hard during the day, and often the Witch threatened to beat her with the same old umbrella she always carried in her hand. But, in truth, she did not dare to strike Dorothy, because of the mark upon her forehead. The child did not know this, and was full of fear for herself and Toto. Once the Witch struck Toto a blow with her umbrella and the brave little dog flew at her and bit her leg in return. The Witch did not bleed where she was bitten, for she was so wicked that the blood in her had dried up many years before. Dorothy’s life became very sad as she grew to understand that it would be harder than ever to get back to Kansas and Aunt Em again. Sometimes she would cry bitterly for hours, with Toto sitting at her feet and looking into her face, whining dismally to show how sorry he was for his little mistress. Toto did not really care whether he was in Kansas or the Land of Oz so long as Dorothy was with him; but he knew the little girl was unhappy, and that made him unhappy too. Now the Wicked Witch had a great longing to have for her own the Silver Shoes which the girl always wore. Her bees and her crows and her wolves were lying in heaps and drying up, and she had used up all the power of the Golden Cap; but if she could only get hold of the Silver Shoes, they would give her more power than all the other things she had lost. She watched Dorothy carefully, to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them. But the child was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took them off except at night and when she took her bath. The Witch was too much afraid of the dark to dare go in Dorothy’s room at night to take the shoes, and her dread of water was greater than her fear of the dark, so she never came near when Dorothy was bathing. Indeed, the old Witch never touched water, nor ever let water touch her in any way. But the wicked creature was very cunning, and she finally thought of a trick that would give her what she wanted. She placed a bar of iron in the middle of the kitchen floor, and then by her magic arts made the iron invisible to human eyes. So that when Dorothy walked across the floor she stumbled over the bar, not being able to see it, and fell at full length. She was not much hurt, but in her fall one of the Silver Shoes came off; and before she could reach it, the Witch had snatched it away and put it on her own skinny foot. The wicked woman was greatly pleased with the success of her trick, for as long as she had one of the shoes she owned half the power of their charm, and Dorothy could not use it against her, even had she known how to do so. The little girl, seeing she had lost one of her pretty shoes, grew angry, and said to the Witch, “Give me back my shoe!” “I will not,” retorted the Witch, “for it is now my shoe, and not yours.” “You are a wicked creature!” cried Dorothy. “You have no right to take my shoe from me.” “I shall keep it, just the same,” said the Witch, laughing at her, “and someday I shall get the other one from you, too.” This made Dorothy so very angry that she picked up the bucket of water that stood near and dashed it over the Witch, wetting her from head to foot. Instantly the wicked woman gave a loud cry of fear, and then, as Dorothy looked at her in wonder, the Witch began to shrink and fall away. “See what you have done!” she screamed. “In a minute I shall melt away.” “I’m very sorry, indeed,” said Dorothy, who was truly frightened to see the Witch actually melting away like brown sugar before her very eyes. “Didn’t you know water would be the end of me?” asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice. “Of course not,” answered Dorothy. “How should I?” “Well, in a few minutes I shall be all melted, and you will have the castle to yourself. I have been wicked in my day, but I never thought a little girl like you would ever be able to melt me and end my wicked deeds. Look out–here I go!” With these words the Witch fell down in a brown, melted, shapeless mass and began to spread over the clean boards of the kitchen floor. Seeing that she had really melted away to nothing, Dorothy drew another bucket of water and threw it over the mess. She then swept it all out the door. After picking out the silver shoe, which was all that was left of the old woman, she cleaned and dried it with a cloth, and put it on her foot again. Then, being at last free to do as she chose, she ran out to the courtyard to tell the Lion that the Wicked Witch of the West had come to an end, and that they were no longer prisoners in a strange land. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-12,25273457 Mon, 12 Oct 2009 08:46:24 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Various Fairy Tales http://odeo.com/episodes/25240732-The-Raven Download the audio Around about Halloween, you might like to sit by the fire and listen to a spooky, supernatural poem by Edgar Allan Poe. A student sits reading and thinking about his dead girlfriend, Lenore. He hears a tap-tap-tapping at his window, and he sees a jet black bird – a raven. The raven comes into his room at sits on top of a statue of Pallas Athene (the goddess of wisdom) and speaks one word – Nevermore ! The word reminds the student that never more will he see his long lost love, Lenore. Then the air seems to thicken with incense swung by supernatural creatures ( Seraphims), and the student starts to cry out that the Raven should stop reminding him of Lenore … he asks if there is any relief from this torment in heaven – and the bird replies – Nevermore ! At last the raven turns into a statue and remains in the room for ever more. Read by Natasha. Duration 11.22. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a qu... Download the audio Around about Halloween, you might like to sit by the fire and listen to a spooky, supernatural poem by Edgar Allan Poe. A student sits reading and thinking about his dead girlfriend, Lenore. He hears a tap-tap-tapping at his window, and he sees a jet black bird – a raven. The raven comes into his room at sits on top of a statue of Pallas Athene (the goddess of wisdom) and speaks one word – Nevermore ! The word reminds the student that never more will he see his long lost love, Lenore. Then the air seems to thicken with incense swung by supernatural creatures ( Seraphims), and the student starts to cry out that the Raven should stop reminding him of Lenore … he asks if there is any relief from this torment in heaven – and the bird replies – Nevermore ! At last the raven turns into a statue and remains in the room for ever more. Read by Natasha. Duration 11.22. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.’ Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,’ Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’ This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’ Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’ Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.’ But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’ Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of “Never-nevermore.”‘ But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’ This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore - Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted – nevermore! Download the audio Around about Halloween, you might like to sit by the fire and listen to a spooky, supernatural poem by Edgar Allan Poe. A student sits reading and thinking about his dead girlfriend, Lenore. He hears a tap-tap-tapping at his window, and he sees a jet black bird – a raven. The raven comes into his room at sits on top of a statue of Pallas Athene (the goddess of wisdom) and speaks one word – Nevermore ! The word reminds the student that never more will he see his long lost love, Lenore. Then the air seems to thicken with incense swung by supernatural creatures ( Seraphims), and the student starts to cry out that the Raven should stop reminding him of Lenore … he asks if there is any relief from this torment in heaven – and the bird replies – Nevermore ! At last the raven turns into a statue and remains in the room for ever more. Read by Natasha. Duration 11.22. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.’ Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,’ Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’ This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’ Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’ Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.’ But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’ Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of “Never-nevermore.”‘ But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’ This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore - Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted – nevermore! tag:odeo.com,2009-10-06,25240732 Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:08:11 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Poems, Latest Stories, All Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25200676-The-Wicked-Prince Download the audio A prince becomes all powerful, but still his priests fear God more than they do him. There is only one being left for the prince to conquer – God himself. And sohe declares war on God. Hans Christian Andersen’s moral and dramatic warns against the hubris of power. It has some things in common with our story about the Angel of Death. Read by Natasha. Duration 10.08. THERE lived once upon a time a wicked prince whose heart and mind were set upon conquering all the countries of the world, and on frightening the people; he devastated their countries with fire and sword, and his soldiers trod down the crops in the fields and destroyed the peasants’ huts by fire, so that the flames licked the green leaves off the branches, and the fruit hung dried up on the singed black trees. Many a poor mother fled, her naked baby in her arms, behind the still smoking walls of her cottage; but also there the soldiers followed her, and when they found her, she served as new... Download the audio A prince becomes all powerful, but still his priests fear God more than they do him. There is only one being left for the prince to conquer – God himself. And sohe declares war on God. Hans Christian Andersen’s moral and dramatic warns against the hubris of power. It has some things in common with our story about the Angel of Death. Read by Natasha. Duration 10.08. THERE lived once upon a time a wicked prince whose heart and mind were set upon conquering all the countries of the world, and on frightening the people; he devastated their countries with fire and sword, and his soldiers trod down the crops in the fields and destroyed the peasants’ huts by fire, so that the flames licked the green leaves off the branches, and the fruit hung dried up on the singed black trees. Many a poor mother fled, her naked baby in her arms, behind the still smoking walls of her cottage; but also there the soldiers followed her, and when they found her, she served as new nourishment to their diabolical enjoyments; demons could not possibly have done worse things than these soldiers! The prince was of opinion that all this was right, and that it was only the natural course which things ought to take. His power increased day by day, his name was feared by all, and fortune favoured his deeds. He brought enormous wealth home from the conquered towns, and gradually accumulated in his residence riches which could nowhere be equalled. He erected magnificent palaces, churches, and halls, and all who saw these splendid buildings and great treasures exclaimed admiringly: “What a mighty prince!” But they did not know what endless misery he had brought upon other countries, nor did they hear the sighs and lamentations which rose up from the débris of the destroyed cities. The prince often looked with delight upon his gold and his magnificent buildings, and thought, like the crowd: “What a mighty prince! But I must have more—much more. No power on earth must equal mine, far less exceed it.” He made war with all his neighbours, and defeated them. The conquered kings were chained up with golden fetters to his chariot when he drove through the streets of his city. These kings had to kneel at his and his courtiers’ feet when they sat at table, and live on the morsels which they left. At last the prince had his own statue erected on the public places and fixed on the royal palaces; nay, he even wished it to be placed in the churches, on the altars, but in this the priests opposed him, saying: “Prince, you are mighty indeed, but God’s power is much greater than yours; we dare not obey your orders.” “Well,” said the prince. “Then I will conquer God too.” And in his haughtiness and foolish presumption he ordered a magnificent ship to be constructed, with which he could sail through the air; it was gorgeously fitted out and of many colours; like the tail of a peacock, it was covered with thousands of eyes, but each eye was the barrel of a gun. The prince sat in the centre of the ship, and had only to touch a spring in order to make thousands of bullets fly out in all directions, while the guns were at once loaded again. Hundreds of eagles were attached to this ship, and it rose with the swiftness of an arrow up towards the sun. The earth was soon left far below, and looked, with its mountains and woods, like a cornfield where the plough had made furrows which separated green meadows; soon it looked only like a map with indistinct lines upon it; and at last it entirely disappeared in mist and clouds. Higher and higher rose the eagles up into the air; then God sent one of his numberless angels against the ship. The wicked prince showered thousands of bullets upon him, but they rebounded from his shining wings and fell down like ordinary hailstones. One drop of blood, one single drop, came out of the white feathers of the angel’s wings and fell upon the ship in which the prince sat, burnt into it, and weighed upon it like thousands of hundredweights, dragging it rapidly down to the earth again; the strong wings of the eagles gave way, the wind roared round the prince’s head, and the clouds around—were they formed by the smoke rising up from the burnt cities?—took strange shapes, like crabs many, many miles long, which stretched their claws out after him, and rose up like enormous rocks, from which rolling masses dashed down, and became fire-spitting dragons. The prince was lying half-dead in his ship, when it sank at last with a terrible shock into the branches of a large tree in the wood. “I will conquer God!” said the prince. “I have sworn it: my will must be done!” And he spent seven years in the construction of wonderful ships to sail through the air, and had darts cast from the hardest steel to break the walls of heaven with. He gathered warriors from all countries, so many that when they were placed side by side they covered the space of several miles. They entered the ships and the prince was approaching his own, when God sent a swarm of gnats—one swarm of little gnats. They buzzed round the prince and stung his face and hands; angrily he drew his sword and brandished it, but he only touched the air and did not hit the gnats. Then he ordered his servants to bring costly coverings and wrap him in them, that the gnats might no longer be able to reach him. The servants carried out his orders, but one single gnat had placed itself inside one of the coverings, crept into the prince’s ear and stung him. The place burnt like fire, and the poison entered into his blood. Mad with pain, he tore off the coverings and his clothes too, flinging them far away, and danced about before the eyes of his ferocious soldiers, who now mocked at him, the mad prince, who wished to make war with God, and was overcome by a single little gnat. Download the audio A prince becomes all powerful, but still his priests fear God more than they do him. There is only one being left for the prince to conquer – God himself. And sohe declares war on God. Hans Christian Andersen’s moral and dramatic warns against the hubris of power. It has some things in common with our story about the Angel of Death. Read by Natasha. Duration 10.08. THERE lived once upon a time a wicked prince whose heart and mind were set upon conquering all the countries of the world, and on frightening the people; he devastated their countries with fire and sword, and his soldiers trod down the crops in the fields and destroyed the peasants’ huts by fire, so that the flames licked the green leaves off the branches, and the fruit hung dried up on the singed black trees. Many a poor mother fled, her naked baby in her arms, behind the still smoking walls of her cottage; but also there the soldiers followed her, and when they found her, she served as new nourishment to their diabolical enjoyments; demons could not possibly have done worse things than these soldiers! The prince was of opinion that all this was right, and that it was only the natural course which things ought to take. His power increased day by day, his name was feared by all, and fortune favoured his deeds. He brought enormous wealth home from the conquered towns, and gradually accumulated in his residence riches which could nowhere be equalled. He erected magnificent palaces, churches, and halls, and all who saw these splendid buildings and great treasures exclaimed admiringly: “What a mighty prince!” But they did not know what endless misery he had brought upon other countries, nor did they hear the sighs and lamentations which rose up from the débris of the destroyed cities. The prince often looked with delight upon his gold and his magnificent buildings, and thought, like the crowd: “What a mighty prince! But I must have more—much more. No power on earth must equal mine, far less exceed it.” He made war with all his neighbours, and defeated them. The conquered kings were chained up with golden fetters to his chariot when he drove through the streets of his city. These kings had to kneel at his and his courtiers’ feet when they sat at table, and live on the morsels which they left. At last the prince had his own statue erected on the public places and fixed on the royal palaces; nay, he even wished it to be placed in the churches, on the altars, but in this the priests opposed him, saying: “Prince, you are mighty indeed, but God’s power is much greater than yours; we dare not obey your orders.” “Well,” said the prince. “Then I will conquer God too.” And in his haughtiness and foolish presumption he ordered a magnificent ship to be constructed, with which he could sail through the air; it was gorgeously fitted out and of many colours; like the tail of a peacock, it was covered with thousands of eyes, but each eye was the barrel of a gun. The prince sat in the centre of the ship, and had only to touch a spring in order to make thousands of bullets fly out in all directions, while the guns were at once loaded again. Hundreds of eagles were attached to this ship, and it rose with the swiftness of an arrow up towards the sun. The earth was soon left far below, and looked, with its mountains and woods, like a cornfield where the plough had made furrows which separated green meadows; soon it looked only like a map with indistinct lines upon it; and at last it entirely disappeared in mist and clouds. Higher and higher rose the eagles up into the air; then God sent one of his numberless angels against the ship. The wicked prince showered thousands of bullets upon him, but they rebounded from his shining wings and fell down like ordinary hailstones. One drop of blood, one single drop, came out of the white feathers of the angel’s wings and fell upon the ship in which the prince sat, burnt into it, and weighed upon it like thousands of hundredweights, dragging it rapidly down to the earth again; the strong wings of the eagles gave way, the wind roared round the prince’s head, and the clouds around—were they formed by the smoke rising up from the burnt cities?—took strange shapes, like crabs many, many miles long, which stretched their claws out after him, and rose up like enormous rocks, from which rolling masses dashed down, and became fire-spitting dragons. The prince was lying half-dead in his ship, when it sank at last with a terrible shock into the branches of a large tree in the wood. “I will conquer God!” said the prince. “I have sworn it: my will must be done!” And he spent seven years in the construction of wonderful ships to sail through the air, and had darts cast from the hardest steel to break the walls of heaven with. He gathered warriors from all countries, so many that when they were placed side by side they covered the space of several miles. They entered the ships and the prince was approaching his own, when God sent a swarm of gnats—one swarm of little gnats. They buzzed round the prince and stung his face and hands; angrily he drew his sword and brandished it, but he only touched the air and did not hit the gnats. Then he ordered his servants to bring costly coverings and wrap him in them, that the gnats might no longer be able to reach him. The servants carried out his orders, but one single gnat had placed itself inside one of the coverings, crept into the prince’s ear and stung him. The place burnt like fire, and the poison entered into his blood. Mad with pain, he tore off the coverings and his clothes too, flinging them far away, and danced about before the eyes of his ferocious soldiers, who now mocked at him, the mad prince, who wished to make war with God, and was overcome by a single little gnat. tag:odeo.com,2009-09-28,25200676 Mon, 28 Sep 2009 10:36:00 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Hans Christian Andersen http://odeo.com/episodes/25161148-Tim-The-Tadpole%E2%80%99s-Exams Download the audio Prince Bertie the Frog’s friend, Tim the Tadpole, is extremely upset because a certain person on the pond has called him “stupid” for not doing well at school. No prizes for guessing that the name of that person is Colin the Carp. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.02 It was end of term at the Tadpole School, and all the tadpoles had to do exams. When Tim came home for the holidays, he was terribly excited about his results. He was turning in cartwheels and calling out “Mummy Mummy, Can you guess where I came in class?” Tim’s mum – who is of course a frog – saw that her youngest tadpole seemed ecstatically pleased and proud with himself, and she thought he must have done very well indeed. “Er, did you come first?” she ventured. “No -oh ! – you’ll never guess” said Tim as he stopped to catch his breath. “Er did you come first equal” “No-ooooo” &#82... Download the audio Prince Bertie the Frog’s friend, Tim the Tadpole, is extremely upset because a certain person on the pond has called him “stupid” for not doing well at school. No prizes for guessing that the name of that person is Colin the Carp. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.02 It was end of term at the Tadpole School, and all the tadpoles had to do exams. When Tim came home for the holidays, he was terribly excited about his results. He was turning in cartwheels and calling out “Mummy Mummy, Can you guess where I came in class?” Tim’s mum – who is of course a frog – saw that her youngest tadpole seemed ecstatically pleased and proud with himself, and she thought he must have done very well indeed. “Er, did you come first?” she ventured. “No -oh ! – you’ll never guess” said Tim as he stopped to catch his breath. “Er did you come first equal” “No-ooooo” “Well then did you come second?” And Tim gave his mother a little tadpole kiss. “Oh Mummy. You’re taking simply ages to guess the right answer, and I can’t wait to tell you. I won a really really big number. The teacher told me that I cam 2974th in my class. Isn’t that fantastic?” But Tim’s mother found it hard to smile sweetly, and her expression looked just a bit, well, weak. She didn’t want her little Tadpole to feel bad about himself, but at the same time she really would have preferred him to come first or first equal, or even second – or even third come to that. She tried to think of something nice to say – which normally she was very good at – but this time it was quite hard. Eventually she said softly to Tim. “Oh well darling. I suppose somebody’s got to come 2974th.” Tim was very pleased, and he swam off to tell Colin the Carp – which wasn’t a good idea, because Colin isn’t quite as nice as Tim’s mummy. Colin would say that he’s a harbinger of the truth. But most people would say he’s just plain old rude, which only goes to show that everything depends on your point of view. Tim found him lurking around the east end of the pond looking sinister, which is what carps are good at. When Tim told him about his exam result, Colin replied. “I suppose you could say that’s a unique achievement.” “Oh thank you Colin, you always say the nicest things,” said Tim with a happy smile on his face. And then Colin couldn’t quite help himself. He just had add what is called the “sting in the tale” because that’s what Colin does. And so me muttered: “Uniquely stupid”. And although Colin said this quietly, Tim heard it. And when he thought about what Colin had said, all his excitement suddenly turned to sadness. He was so sad that he swam away crying. “Oh No. Am I really really truly stupid? Oh it’s not good to be stupid, is it? Oh dear. Colin thinks I’m stupid… I feel really bad about myself now now.” And to tell you the truth, Colin felt rather guilty. It was an unusual feeling for Colin, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Eventually, he decided to go and tell Bertie the frog that Tim was a bit upset. When Bertie what had happened, he searched and searched the pond for his little friend. Finally he found him in the water under the overhang of the weeping willow tree. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. “What are you doing here, all on your own little Tim?” asked Bertie. “Counting green Algae” Green Algae are tiny little plants – so tiny that they are even smaller than tadpoles – and very hard to see. But lots of water creatures eat them because they are extremely nutritious. “And how many algae have you counted?” asked Bertie. “Well I started at a million and I’m counting backwards. But now I’ve forgotten where I got to. Oh dear. Am I really really stupid Bertie?” But Bertie assured him that he wasn’t at all stupid. He was just original. “Is that just a big word for stupid?” asked Tim. And he started to cry. Nothing Bertie could say would cheer him up. All Bertie could do was to lead him home, and when they got there Tim had cried so much that he was really quite exhausted. His mother tucked him up under a leaf, kissed him, and soon he was asleep. She whispered to Bertie. “Oh dear. I know he’s never going to be the brightest tadpole in the pond, but I just want him to be happy.” “Well I don’t accept that Tim’s stupid,” said Bertie. “He’s just silly, which is another way of saying he gets over excited sometimes. Don’t worry. We’ll teach him to pass his exams. There’s just a knack to them, that’s all. If you have the knack, and you work hard, you can’t fail. But if you start to think that you can’t do them, then you’ll get into a state and do worse and worse. We’ll work up a plan for him. A plan for success !” And Tim’s mother thought that Bertie was being really nice – but she wasn’t quite sure that he or anybody else could help Tim do better at school. The next day Bertie took Tim for a swim around the pond, and while they swam he asked him all about his exams. First, he asked him how the geography exam was. And Tim said he didn’t know, because he got the time wrong, and he turned up just as it was finishing. “I see,” said Bertie. “Rule number one. Ninety percent of success is just turning up. Always arrive at an exam half an hour early – and check and double check the time table beforehand.” And Tim thought that Bertie’s advice was jolly interesting, because he hadn’t thought of that before. And then Bertie asked him how the story-composition went. “Oh I did really well in Storytelling. ” Bertie was pleased, because he kind of hoped that a little of his own story-telling skill would have rubbed off on Tim. But then Tim went on: “I finished first by a mile. I just wrote, ‘Once upon a time. The end.’ Everyone else took ages to catch up. ” “Right,” said Bertie. “Rule number two. Slow and steady wins the race. Use all the time available.”. And then he asked him how he did in mathematics. “On not not too bad,” said Tim. “The questions were really hard but guessed all the answers.” “Ah-ha. Rule number three,” said Bertie. “No guessing. And never panic, no matter how hard the questions seem at first. Keep a cool head head and work your way steadily through them.” And they swim on, while thought about that one. “Now finally, how was history?” asked Bertie. “Well I thought I did really well,” said Tim. “Because I wrote done some really funny answers.” “Okay,” said Bertie. “Rule number four. Exams are no joking matter”. And then Bertie gave Tim some more rules for exams. Before you do anything else, read through all the questions. Make a plan for how much time you need on each answer. Leave some time at the end to read through for mistakes. And they swam round the pond three more times and made sure that Tim knew and understood all Bertie’s tips. “So you see,” said Bertie. “Exams aren’t really about being clever. They are about having the right knack. Oh, and there’s hard work too. That’s the downside. But we can make learning fun. ” And Bertie and the pondlife helped Tim with his lessons. Bertie taught Tim story composition – because making up stories is what Bertie does best – Harry the centipede helped Tim with mathematics, because he can count to a hundred on his feet, Colin helped Tim with History, because Colin is old and remembers a lot of it himself, and the the swallows helped Tim with Geography because they fly long distance every year and the see how all the land lies, as well as the seas. By the end of the holidays, Tim had learned more things than you would have ever thought possible for one Tadpole to hold in his tiny pin head at one time. And then Tim went back to school and learned even more interesting things. When the exams came, he followed Bertie’s rules – and do you know what ? He scored better marks than anyone else in his whole class. And it was a very big class indeed, because there are thousands of tadpoles in the pond. But even though he scored top marks, he only came 2869th in class. When Bertie understood that Tim had scored top marks, but was still 2869th in his class, he went to see the teacher to ask how this could be. The teacher told him that the school had a rule that you could only improve by five places in each exam, because to improve by more than that was impossible. Bertie said that was jolly unfair and the school should do more to encourage improvement. Tim swam around hanging his head low and saying that there was no point in working hard and doing well, because your efforts weren’t recognised. But the next week Tim started at the Big School. And everything was new. There was no unfair rule about how much anyone could improve and Tim already knew lots of interesting things, and he also had the knack of doing exams. From then on, Tim did rather well at school. And although some people still call him silly every now and then, because he gets really excited and asks lots and lots of questions – nobody calls him stupid any more. Well Colin does sometimes. But that’s just Colin – and you shouldn’t take too much notice of what he says because he’s a grumpy old carp. Download the audio Prince Bertie the Frog’s friend, Tim the Tadpole, is extremely upset because a certain person on the pond has called him “stupid” for not doing well at school. No prizes for guessing that the name of that person is Colin the Carp. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 15.02 It was end of term at the Tadpole School, and all the tadpoles had to do exams. When Tim came home for the holidays, he was terribly excited about his results. He was turning in cartwheels and calling out “Mummy Mummy, Can you guess where I came in class?” Tim’s mum – who is of course a frog – saw that her youngest tadpole seemed ecstatically pleased and proud with himself, and she thought he must have done very well indeed. “Er, did you come first?” she ventured. “No -oh ! – you’ll never guess” said Tim as he stopped to catch his breath. “Er did you come first equal” “No-ooooo” “Well then did you come second?” And Tim gave his mother a little tadpole kiss. “Oh Mummy. You’re taking simply ages to guess the right answer, and I can’t wait to tell you. I won a really really big number. The teacher told me that I cam 2974th in my class. Isn’t that fantastic?” But Tim’s mother found it hard to smile sweetly, and her expression looked just a bit, well, weak. She didn’t want her little Tadpole to feel bad about himself, but at the same time she really would have preferred him to come first or first equal, or even second – or even third come to that. She tried to think of something nice to say – which normally she was very good at – but this time it was quite hard. Eventually she said softly to Tim. “Oh well darling. I suppose somebody’s got to come 2974th.” Tim was very pleased, and he swam off to tell Colin the Carp – which wasn’t a good idea, because Colin isn’t quite as nice as Tim’s mummy. Colin would say that he’s a harbinger of the truth. But most people would say he’s just plain old rude, which only goes to show that everything depends on your point of view. Tim found him lurking around the east end of the pond looking sinister, which is what carps are good at. When Tim told him about his exam result, Colin replied. “I suppose you could say that’s a unique achievement.” “Oh thank you Colin, you always say the nicest things,” said Tim with a happy smile on his face. And then Colin couldn’t quite help himself. He just had add what is called the “sting in the tale” because that’s what Colin does. And so me muttered: “Uniquely stupid”. And although Colin said this quietly, Tim heard it. And when he thought about what Colin had said, all his excitement suddenly turned to sadness. He was so sad that he swam away crying. “Oh No. Am I really really truly stupid? Oh it’s not good to be stupid, is it? Oh dear. Colin thinks I’m stupid… I feel really bad about myself now now.” And to tell you the truth, Colin felt rather guilty. It was an unusual feeling for Colin, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. Eventually, he decided to go and tell Bertie the frog that Tim was a bit upset. When Bertie what had happened, he searched and searched the pond for his little friend. Finally he found him in the water under the overhang of the weeping willow tree. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on something. “What are you doing here, all on your own little Tim?” asked Bertie. “Counting green Algae” Green Algae are tiny little plants – so tiny that they are even smaller than tadpoles – and very hard to see. But lots of water creatures eat them because they are extremely nutritious. “And how many algae have you counted?” asked Bertie. “Well I started at a million and I’m counting backwards. But now I’ve forgotten where I got to. Oh dear. Am I really really stupid Bertie?” But Bertie assured him that he wasn’t at all stupid. He was just original. “Is that just a big word for stupid?” asked Tim. And he started to cry. Nothing Bertie could say would cheer him up. All Bertie could do was to lead him home, and when they got there Tim had cried so much that he was really quite exhausted. His mother tucked him up under a leaf, kissed him, and soon he was asleep. She whispered to Bertie. “Oh dear. I know he’s never going to be the brightest tadpole in the pond, but I just want him to be happy.” “Well I don’t accept that Tim’s stupid,” said Bertie. “He’s just silly, which is another way of saying he gets over excited sometimes. Don’t worry. We’ll teach him to pass his exams. There’s just a knack to them, that’s all. If you have the knack, and you work hard, you can’t fail. But if you start to think that you can’t do them, then you’ll get into a state and do worse and worse. We’ll work up a plan for him. A plan for success !” And Tim’s mother thought that Bertie was being really nice – but she wasn’t quite sure that he or anybody else could help Tim do better at school. The next day Bertie took Tim for a swim around the pond, and while they swam he asked him all about his exams. First, he asked him how the geography exam was. And Tim said he didn’t know, because he got the time wrong, and he turned up just as it was finishing. “I see,” said Bertie. “Rule number one. Ninety percent of success is just turning up. Always arrive at an exam half an hour early – and check and double check the time table beforehand.” And Tim thought that Bertie’s advice was jolly interesting, because he hadn’t thought of that before. And then Bertie asked him how the story-composition went. “Oh I did really well in Storytelling. ” Bertie was pleased, because he kind of hoped that a little of his own story-telling skill would have rubbed off on Tim. But then Tim went on: “I finished first by a mile. I just wrote, ‘Once upon a time. The end.’ Everyone else took ages to catch up. ” “Right,” said Bertie. “Rule number two. Slow and steady wins the race. Use all the time available.”. And then he asked him how he did in mathematics. “On not not too bad,” said Tim. “The questions were really hard but guessed all the answers.” “Ah-ha. Rule number three,” said Bertie. “No guessing. And never panic, no matter how hard the questions seem at first. Keep a cool head head and work your way steadily through them.” And they swim on, while thought about that one. “Now finally, how was history?” asked Bertie. “Well I thought I did really well,” said Tim. “Because I wrote done some really funny answers.” “Okay,” said Bertie. “Rule number four. Exams are no joking matter”. And then Bertie gave Tim some more rules for exams. Before you do anything else, read through all the questions. Make a plan for how much time you need on each answer. Leave some time at the end to read through for mistakes. And they swam round the pond three more times and made sure that Tim knew and understood all Bertie’s tips. “So you see,” said Bertie. “Exams aren’t really about being clever. They are about having the right knack. Oh, and there’s hard work too. That’s the downside. But we can make learning fun. ” And Bertie and the pondlife helped Tim with his lessons. Bertie taught Tim story composition – because making up stories is what Bertie does best – Harry the centipede helped Tim with mathematics, because he can count to a hundred on his feet, Colin helped Tim with History, because Colin is old and remembers a lot of it himself, and the the swallows helped Tim with Geography because they fly long distance every year and the see how all the land lies, as well as the seas. By the end of the holidays, Tim had learned more things than you would have ever thought possible for one Tadpole to hold in his tiny pin head at one time. And then Tim went back to school and learned even more interesting things. When the exams came, he followed Bertie’s rules – and do you know what ? He scored better marks than anyone else in his whole class. And it was a very big class indeed, because there are thousands of tadpoles in the pond. But even though he scored top marks, he only came 2869th in class. When Bertie understood that Tim had scored top marks, but was still 2869th in his class, he went to see the teacher to ask how this could be. The teacher told him that the school had a rule that you could only improve by five places in each exam, because to improve by more than that was impossible. Bertie said that was jolly unfair and the school should do more to encourage improvement. Tim swam around hanging his head low and saying that there was no point in working hard and doing well, because your efforts weren’t recognised. But the next week Tim started at the Big School. And everything was new. There was no unfair rule about how much anyone could improve and Tim already knew lots of interesting things, and he also had the knack of doing exams. From then on, Tim did rather well at school. And although some people still call him silly every now and then, because he gets really excited and asks lots and lots of questions – nobody calls him stupid any more. Well Colin does sometimes. But that’s just Colin – and you shouldn’t take too much notice of what he says because he’s a grumpy old carp. tag:odeo.com,2009-09-21,25161148 Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:56:25 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Bertie Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25125019-The-Lioness-and-Small-Respect Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) A very queenly lioness meets first a mosquito and then a mouse. Both these tiny creatures teach her something about respect for small things. This is story is based on two of Aesop’s famous fables and we’ve rolled them into one. As with all our Aesop tales, it is told in the voice of one of the characters, in this case, the lioness. Read by Natasha. Adaptation by Bertie. Duration 6.59. Sponsored by Audible. Respect. I expect nothing less. All respect the queen of the African planes. If the zebara or the antelope catch sight of me crouching in the bush, they do not forget to gallop. The elephant and the rhino respect me, and they mind not to tread on my children with their big clumsy feet. Even the snappy crocodile stays clear of me, when I come down to drink at the water. Yes, respect is good. And that is why I was so angry when a pesky little fellow failed to show me respect. Buzzzzzzzzzz ! The mosquito buzzed a... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) A very queenly lioness meets first a mosquito and then a mouse. Both these tiny creatures teach her something about respect for small things. This is story is based on two of Aesop’s famous fables and we’ve rolled them into one. As with all our Aesop tales, it is told in the voice of one of the characters, in this case, the lioness. Read by Natasha. Adaptation by Bertie. Duration 6.59. Sponsored by Audible. Respect. I expect nothing less. All respect the queen of the African planes. If the zebara or the antelope catch sight of me crouching in the bush, they do not forget to gallop. The elephant and the rhino respect me, and they mind not to tread on my children with their big clumsy feet. Even the snappy crocodile stays clear of me, when I come down to drink at the water. Yes, respect is good. And that is why I was so angry when a pesky little fellow failed to show me respect. Buzzzzzzzzzz ! The mosquito buzzed around my ears and even stung me on the nose. I snapped at the horrid little traitor, and I bit my tongue. Oh, how that hurt ! Then I struck at him with my paw, such a blow that would fell a buffalo, but he slipped through my claws and was laughing at me. The he bit me on the bottom ! The cheek of it ! “Oh great queen”, said the Mosquito. “Bow your head before your master, I the Mosquito, have drunk your blood and defeated you in combat.” I roared an almighty roar that sent the wildebeest and the giraffe scattering across the savanna. “Ha ha ha, ” laughed the mosquito. And he flew backwards into a spider’s web. And the spider showed respect to his queen by eating the wretched insect. A little while after this, I was lying asleep under a tree when I felt something tickling my nose. I opened one eye and saw that a mouse had scampered onto my face! “How dare you ! ” I roared. And was about to swipe him a deadly blow with my paw when the mouse begged: “Oh mighty queen, forgive me! I was running through the long grass, and did not mean to run onto your nose or to disturb your sleep .” And I laughed at this furry creature and said. “Little fellow. I was about to kill you but you have shown wisdom and respect for your queen. I pardon your sin.” “Oh, thank you thank you,” said the mouse. “I only hope that One day I may be of service to your majesty. ” And I laughed again, for how could a little mouse help a mighty queen? The weeks went by, and I was out for a midnight stroll when all of a sudden, there was no ground beneath my paws. Thump. I fell to the bottom a pit I tried to spring out, but I was tangled in a net. The more my limbs struggled, the more I became entangled. A hyena came by and saw me in this sorry trap. He cackled with his ugly voice and taunted me; “In the morning the men shall come and throw their spears into your side. And then we shall have to find a new queen.” I snarled with fury and swore to tear him apart when I was free from the snare. But he just laughed his silly laugh. Towards morning, I had almost given up hope when I heard a little voice. “My queen,” it said. “At last I may be of service to you.” I saw the pink nose of the mouse. “My loyal subject. It does my proud heart good to hear your well meaning words. But I am afraid you must now pay your last respects to your queen, for my limbs are caught in this net, and very soon the sun will rise and the men shall come to kill me.” “You underestimate the might of a mouse,” said my loyal subject. And he called his wife and children, and together they gnawed through the net. I was free within the hour, just in time to spring out of the pit and give the men who had come to kill me a nasty surprise. And so that is the story of how I, the queen of the jungle, came to respect those who respect me, no matter how small they might be, because sometimes the smallest of those among us, have the advantage over the mighty and the strong. Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) A very queenly lioness meets first a mosquito and then a mouse. Both these tiny creatures teach her something about respect for small things. This is story is based on two of Aesop’s famous fables and we’ve rolled them into one. As with all our Aesop tales, it is told in the voice of one of the characters, in this case, the lioness. Read by Natasha. Adaptation by Bertie. Duration 6.59. Sponsored by Audible. Respect. I expect nothing less. All respect the queen of the African planes. If the zebara or the antelope catch sight of me crouching in the bush, they do not forget to gallop. The elephant and the rhino respect me, and they mind not to tread on my children with their big clumsy feet. Even the snappy crocodile stays clear of me, when I come down to drink at the water. Yes, respect is good. And that is why I was so angry when a pesky little fellow failed to show me respect. Buzzzzzzzzzz ! The mosquito buzzed around my ears and even stung me on the nose. I snapped at the horrid little traitor, and I bit my tongue. Oh, how that hurt ! Then I struck at him with my paw, such a blow that would fell a buffalo, but he slipped through my claws and was laughing at me. The he bit me on the bottom ! The cheek of it ! “Oh great queen”, said the Mosquito. “Bow your head before your master, I the Mosquito, have drunk your blood and defeated you in combat.” I roared an almighty roar that sent the wildebeest and the giraffe scattering across the savanna. “Ha ha ha, ” laughed the mosquito. And he flew backwards into a spider’s web. And the spider showed respect to his queen by eating the wretched insect. A little while after this, I was lying asleep under a tree when I felt something tickling my nose. I opened one eye and saw that a mouse had scampered onto my face! “How dare you ! ” I roared. And was about to swipe him a deadly blow with my paw when the mouse begged: “Oh mighty queen, forgive me! I was running through the long grass, and did not mean to run onto your nose or to disturb your sleep .” And I laughed at this furry creature and said. “Little fellow. I was about to kill you but you have shown wisdom and respect for your queen. I pardon your sin.” “Oh, thank you thank you,” said the mouse. “I only hope that One day I may be of service to your majesty. ” And I laughed again, for how could a little mouse help a mighty queen? The weeks went by, and I was out for a midnight stroll when all of a sudden, there was no ground beneath my paws. Thump. I fell to the bottom a pit I tried to spring out, but I was tangled in a net. The more my limbs struggled, the more I became entangled. A hyena came by and saw me in this sorry trap. He cackled with his ugly voice and taunted me; “In the morning the men shall come and throw their spears into your side. And then we shall have to find a new queen.” I snarled with fury and swore to tear him apart when I was free from the snare. But he just laughed his silly laugh. Towards morning, I had almost given up hope when I heard a little voice. “My queen,” it said. “At last I may be of service to you.” I saw the pink nose of the mouse. “My loyal subject. It does my proud heart good to hear your well meaning words. But I am afraid you must now pay your last respects to your queen, for my limbs are caught in this net, and very soon the sun will rise and the men shall come to kill me.” “You underestimate the might of a mouse,” said my loyal subject. And he called his wife and children, and together they gnawed through the net. I was free within the hour, just in time to spring out of the pit and give the men who had come to kill me a nasty surprise. And so that is the story of how I, the queen of the jungle, came to respect those who respect me, no matter how small they might be, because sometimes the smallest of those among us, have the advantage over the mighty and the strong. tag:odeo.com,2009-09-14,25125019 Mon, 14 Sep 2009 15:44:06 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Aesop http://odeo.com/episodes/25085547-The-chiX-First-Round Download the audio to your computer, (Right Click, Save As). Our girl band, the chiX, perform live on TV in the first round of the Eurovision song contest. At the end, they find out if they are going to be representing Great Britain in the final in Istanbul. And a little chiX news – we are recording their Circus Song, but you’ll have to wait for the next episode to hear it with the full music. Read by Natasha. Duration 15.20. Text by Bertie. The chiX walked out onto the darkened stage. They took their places, and the music began to play – a sort of circus beat. Still in the semi-darkness, Laura began to sing the first few words into her radio microphone that was clipped to her costume. She was looking almost straight into a TV camera. You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; Then the full backing music kicked in and the lights went up at the same time. You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I reall... Download the audio to your computer, (Right Click, Save As). Our girl band, the chiX, perform live on TV in the first round of the Eurovision song contest. At the end, they find out if they are going to be representing Great Britain in the final in Istanbul. And a little chiX news – we are recording their Circus Song, but you’ll have to wait for the next episode to hear it with the full music. Read by Natasha. Duration 15.20. Text by Bertie. The chiX walked out onto the darkened stage. They took their places, and the music began to play – a sort of circus beat. Still in the semi-darkness, Laura began to sing the first few words into her radio microphone that was clipped to her costume. She was looking almost straight into a TV camera. You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; Then the full backing music kicked in and the lights went up at the same time. You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I really laughed, you had broken my heart, The girls started to do their moves -all based on a circus act. Mandy lashed her ring-master’s whip and Sam, who was quite athletic, did some impressive tumbles and turns, as well as a funny clown walk in time to the music. Laura acted out the words while she sang. She walked an imaginary tight rope, rattled the bars bars of an invisible cage, and she pretended to eat fire. The studio audience whooped and cheered, but Gladys knew that what really counted as the votes of the viewers with the red buttons on their remotes. For now the girls had to stand on stage and face the verdict of the three studio judges. The first to speak was a woman who had produced West End Musicals. She must have been quite mature in years, but she had blond hair and make-up that would have suited a much younger woman. “I liked the words,’ she said. ‘And there’s no denying, it’s a catchy tune.’ Gladys closed her eyes and savored the first impartial praise she had received for her composition. “And Laura my girl – you’ve got a great voice” she said. The audience cheered. Then the woman through her hands up in the air melodramatically. “But oh my, the costumes, and the dance ! Sorry girls. A circus act doesn’t cut it for me. It’s just too corny. ” This was a bit of a let down. The second to speak was man who was known for being gentlemanly in his views. He wore a silk neck scarf and looked like an arty type. “I liked it,” he said. “And I think it will go down well in Europe. There’s a big tradition of the circus all over the continent. It’s a clever idea.” “Yes”, thought Gladys, “He gets it. That was just what I was calculating when I wrote the song.” The third to speak was a multi-millionaire record producer who reveled in being Mr. Mean. All the contestants feared his cruel tongue, but Gladys had told the girls that they shouldn’t care what he said, because they had to learn to take criticism, and anyway, it was what people at home thought that really counted. Mr. Mean paused before he spoke. It was a deliberate trick to build up tension. Somebody in the audience coughed. “Well the circus is a good idea, ” he said, “But hey, come on girls. Stop clowning around ! You want to represent your country ? By jumping around on stage like a troop of performing flees. Worse, if you dance like that in the final, they’ll think you’ve got flees in your pants. Sorry girls.” There were tears in Sam’s painted clown eyes as the girls walked off stage. Gladys met them and they all hugged her and said how everyone agreed that her song was brilliant – though actually only two of the three judges had praised it. The girls went back to their dressing room . Laura said: “We’ll never live this down. I mean, to come last in the first round of the Eurovision – how painful is that? “The dream is over,” said Mandy. “Hold on, hold on,” said Gladys. “You said it was cool to get no points, didn’t you Laura?” Laura shook her head. “I meant in the real thing. Like on the Big Eurovision when everyone knows that Ireland and France never vote for the UK because they hate our guts. It’s cool to come nowhere then. Everyone expects it to happen – like everyone knows that the English football time always go down on penalties in the World Cup. To get no points in this tiddlywinks contest is just like – gruesome. I mean, if you can’t win this, you’re nowhere. Mandy’s right, It’s all over. Perhaps that’s a good thing. We can all get on with our lives now . It’s been nice while it lasted. Now welcome to reality girls.” And Mandy, who hadn’t said anything yet, asked: “Did you see any of our mates in the audience?” The three sisters had been performing with the studio lights in their eyes, but Gladys said she had spotted two whole rows of supporters from their school. “Oh Pooh !” said Sam. “They’ll be laughing at us tomorrow.” They washed their faces and got changed in a glum silence. Then a knock on the door, was followed by the producer saying : “Mum and dad are here girls.” Mum and Dad. Gladys could’t actually remember a time when she had heard those words. If any parent ever got a mention in the girls lives, it was Dad, and even he was only semi on this planet. Mum lived on the other side of the river now, and if they were lucky they got a card from her at Christmas and birthdays. But in came both parents. Like a normal couple. Mum had been crying, and her mascara was all smudged. Did she too think that they were rubbish? “I’m so proud of my girls !” she said, overcome with emotion. And she was hugging and kissing them. Dad just hung there, as he normally did, not quite sure what to do. “But didn’t you hear what they said, ” protested Sam, “The judges were so mean.’ “Who cares about those old has-beens,” said Dad. “It’s the people at home who count.” And Gladys was quite surprised that he was so switched on about the situation. But Mum. It was amazing to see her. She was all glammed up in a low cut black evening dress and pearls around her neck and loads and loads of bangles on her wrists. Laura said: “Well fancy you turning up.” Mum took no notice and kissed her all the same. Mandy was shaking her head. But Gladys. She was happy. If nothing else, the chiX few minutes of fame had brought the family back together again. It was good to be, well, sort of normal – even if it was just for such a short time. “And Gladdy. Aren’t you proud of how well your sisters have done?” said Mum. “Yes, I’m very proud,” said Gladys. “And how are you getting on at school? Straight As. I know. Well, You have turned to be the brainy one. We can’t all be musical.” “I’m doing fine thank you mum.” And then Arny the producer joined them and said: “Come on girls. Get yourselves into the Green room. We can watch the results on the monitor there…. hey you can’t go like that. You’ve got to look your most gorgeous because you’re going to be back on stage to accept the big prize. The girls had to change again into their best clothes before they trooped, a little more hopeful now, back into the green room where all the other acts – some with friends and family – were waiting to hear the results too. You could smell the tension. The main programme was over, and the viewers had an hour to vote from home. After the news , the live coverage returned to the TV studio for the results. Everyone in the green room was looking up at the monitors as the Eurovision fanfare played. The smooth TV presenter was on stage delaying the big moment with some half funny jokes, like pretending his fingers were trembling with too much excitement to open the envelope. People were laughing, but only because of the excitement. Some of the kids from the chiX school were shouting “Chix, chix chix chix,’ “hush now please,” said the compere, “ooh, the excitement is killing me. Now, in reverse order, in the last, but honourable place, with 11,000 votes is….” “Please, don’t let it be the chiX” thought Gladys “…. the Hopping Jays….” In the green room two girls and two boys were patting each other’s backs in commiseration. They must be the Hopping Jays. Their song played briefly over the programme – a last taste of a tune that would be instantly forgot for all eternity. “And in 9th place, with 15,202 votes, but also with honor – Jimmy Jam! ” Gladys looked around the Green room. Jimmy Jam it seemed, was not a band, but a tall young man who was smiling sheepishly as the recording of his song played back again for a few moments. “8th with just over 130,000 votes, is The Woopies ! – The Woopies were a boy band wearing kilts and tartan scarves – presumably from Scotland – who just shrugged the shoulders. Gladys heard one of them say, clearly in an London Accent, “Let’s get out’a here,’ just as the bagpipe chorus of their tune started to play. Among the crowd of Eurovision hopefuls in the greenroom there was only one act that Gladys recognised: they were the Throbinsons, a boy band who had played at the chiX first gig. Mandy was exchanging a few words with their lead singer. She was saying … “I know it’s going to be us who are out next…” But it wasn’t. It was a slightly older, but rather glamorous female singer called Shelly Simpson. She had over 500,000 votes. And the next band to go out had almost a million. And still neither the chiX nor the Throbinson’s name had been called. And then during the next few minutes some more acts were eliminated, but with respectable quantities of votes well over a million each. “I can’t believe this, we’re still in,” said Sam. “Oh my daughters. I’m so proud of you,” said Mum. Even Dad looked gripped by the tension. He was starting at the monitor with his mouth open. “I’m sure we’re out next,” said Laura. But it was the Throbinsons whose name was called – with over 2 million votes. Their lead singer kissed Laura on the cheek as their song played for the last time, and they walked out into obscurity. “And now,” said the compere, “We have two tip-top-class acts left. Both are lovely girl bands. But sadly, only one of them can go to Istanbul to represent GB in the final of the Eurovision Song Contest. So who is it going to be? Will it be the lovely Dragonesses from Wales…. or will it be the gorgeous chiX from London. Which band did you bless at home viewers…. ? And the runner up, is…… The Drangonesses…….” Even Gladys shrieked with delight. Laura was jumping up and down, but she didn’t forget to commiserate with the Drogoness girls for coming second. Mum was kissing her daughters. Dad kissed Mum. And in the excitement, that was what pleased Gladys most – seeing Dad with mum. The producer came into break up the family celebration and hurried the girls out to the stage door. The lights dipped, and then came up again, and they sang the encore of their circus song. Gladys knew that the would be singing this tune over and over and over again during the coming weeks. The chiX were on their way to final of the Eurovision Song Contest – in Istanbul. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 Download the audio to your computer, (Right Click, Save As). Our girl band, the chiX, perform live on TV in the first round of the Eurovision song contest. At the end, they find out if they are going to be representing Great Britain in the final in Istanbul. And a little chiX news – we are recording their Circus Song, but you’ll have to wait for the next episode to hear it with the full music. Read by Natasha. Duration 15.20. Text by Bertie. The chiX walked out onto the darkened stage. They took their places, and the music began to play – a sort of circus beat. Still in the semi-darkness, Laura began to sing the first few words into her radio microphone that was clipped to her costume. She was looking almost straight into a TV camera. You taught me to fly and to swoop to your arms; And though I soared high I came to no harm; Then the full backing music kicked in and the lights went up at the same time. You sawed me in half and you pulled me apart And though I really laughed, you had broken my heart, The girls started to do their moves -all based on a circus act. Mandy lashed her ring-master’s whip and Sam, who was quite athletic, did some impressive tumbles and turns, as well as a funny clown walk in time to the music. Laura acted out the words while she sang. She walked an imaginary tight rope, rattled the bars bars of an invisible cage, and she pretended to eat fire. The studio audience whooped and cheered, but Gladys knew that what really counted as the votes of the viewers with the red buttons on their remotes. For now the girls had to stand on stage and face the verdict of the three studio judges. The first to speak was a woman who had produced West End Musicals. She must have been quite mature in years, but she had blond hair and make-up that would have suited a much younger woman. “I liked the words,’ she said. ‘And there’s no denying, it’s a catchy tune.’ Gladys closed her eyes and savored the first impartial praise she had received for her composition. “And Laura my girl – you’ve got a great voice” she said. The audience cheered. Then the woman through her hands up in the air melodramatically. “But oh my, the costumes, and the dance ! Sorry girls. A circus act doesn’t cut it for me. It’s just too corny. ” This was a bit of a let down. The second to speak was man who was known for being gentlemanly in his views. He wore a silk neck scarf and looked like an arty type. “I liked it,” he said. “And I think it will go down well in Europe. There’s a big tradition of the circus all over the continent. It’s a clever idea.” “Yes”, thought Gladys, “He gets it. That was just what I was calculating when I wrote the song.” The third to speak was a multi-millionaire record producer who reveled in being Mr. Mean. All the contestants feared his cruel tongue, but Gladys had told the girls that they shouldn’t care what he said, because they had to learn to take criticism, and anyway, it was what people at home thought that really counted. Mr. Mean paused before he spoke. It was a deliberate trick to build up tension. Somebody in the audience coughed. “Well the circus is a good idea, ” he said, “But hey, come on girls. Stop clowning around ! You want to represent your country ? By jumping around on stage like a troop of performing flees. Worse, if you dance like that in the final, they’ll think you’ve got flees in your pants. Sorry girls.” There were tears in Sam’s painted clown eyes as the girls walked off stage. Gladys met them and they all hugged her and said how everyone agreed that her song was brilliant – though actually only two of the three judges had praised it. The girls went back to their dressing room . Laura said: “We’ll never live this down. I mean, to come last in the first round of the Eurovision – how painful is that? “The dream is over,” said Mandy. “Hold on, hold on,” said Gladys. “You said it was cool to get no points, didn’t you Laura?” Laura shook her head. “I meant in the real thing. Like on the Big Eurovision when everyone knows that Ireland and France never vote for the UK because they hate our guts. It’s cool to come nowhere then. Everyone expects it to happen – like everyone knows that the English football time always go down on penalties in the World Cup. To get no points in this tiddlywinks contest is just like – gruesome. I mean, if you can’t win this, you’re nowhere. Mandy’s right, It’s all over. Perhaps that’s a good thing. We can all get on with our lives now . It’s been nice while it lasted. Now welcome to reality girls.” And Mandy, who hadn’t said anything yet, asked: “Did you see any of our mates in the audience?” The three sisters had been performing with the studio lights in their eyes, but Gladys said she had spotted two whole rows of supporters from their school. “Oh Pooh !” said Sam. “They’ll be laughing at us tomorrow.” They washed their faces and got changed in a glum silence. Then a knock on the door, was followed by the producer saying : “Mum and dad are here girls.” Mum and Dad. Gladys could’t actually remember a time when she had heard those words. If any parent ever got a mention in the girls lives, it was Dad, and even he was only semi on this planet. Mum lived on the other side of the river now, and if they were lucky they got a card from her at Christmas and birthdays. But in came both parents. Like a normal couple. Mum had been crying, and her mascara was all smudged. Did she too think that they were rubbish? “I’m so proud of my girls !” she said, overcome with emotion. And she was hugging and kissing them. Dad just hung there, as he normally did, not quite sure what to do. “But didn’t you hear what they said, ” protested Sam, “The judges were so mean.’ “Who cares about those old has-beens,” said Dad. “It’s the people at home who count.” And Gladys was quite surprised that he was so switched on about the situation. But Mum. It was amazing to see her. She was all glammed up in a low cut black evening dress and pearls around her neck and loads and loads of bangles on her wrists. Laura said: “Well fancy you turning up.” Mum took no notice and kissed her all the same. Mandy was shaking her head. But Gladys. She was happy. If nothing else, the chiX few minutes of fame had brought the family back together again. It was good to be, well, sort of normal – even if it was just for such a short time. “And Gladdy. Aren’t you proud of how well your sisters have done?” said Mum. “Yes, I’m very proud,” said Gladys. “And how are you getting on at school? Straight As. I know. Well, You have turned to be the brainy one. We can’t all be musical.” “I’m doing fine thank you mum.” And then Arny the producer joined them and said: “Come on girls. Get yourselves into the Green room. We can watch the results on the monitor there…. hey you can’t go like that. You’ve got to look your most gorgeous because you’re going to be back on stage to accept the big prize. The girls had to change again into their best clothes before they trooped, a little more hopeful now, back into the green room where all the other acts – some with friends and family – were waiting to hear the results too. You could smell the tension. The main programme was over, and the viewers had an hour to vote from home. After the news , the live coverage returned to the TV studio for the results. Everyone in the green room was looking up at the monitors as the Eurovision fanfare played. The smooth TV presenter was on stage delaying the big moment with some half funny jokes, like pretending his fingers were trembling with too much excitement to open the envelope. People were laughing, but only because of the excitement. Some of the kids from the chiX school were shouting “Chix, chix chix chix,’ “hush now please,” said the compere, “ooh, the excitement is killing me. Now, in reverse order, in the last, but honourable place, with 11,000 votes is….” “Please, don’t let it be the chiX” thought Gladys “…. the Hopping Jays….” In the green room two girls and two boys were patting each other’s backs in commiseration. They must be the Hopping Jays. Their song played briefly over the programme – a last taste of a tune that would be instantly forgot for all eternity. “And in 9th place, with 15,202 votes, but also with honor – Jimmy Jam! ” Gladys looked around the Green room. Jimmy Jam it seemed, was not a band, but a tall young man who was smiling sheepishly as the recording of his song played back again for a few moments. “8th with just over 130,000 votes, is The Woopies ! – The Woopies were a boy band wearing kilts and tartan scarves – presumably from Scotland – who just shrugged the shoulders. Gladys heard one of them say, clearly in an London Accent, “Let’s get out’a here,’ just as the bagpipe chorus of their tune started to play. Among the crowd of Eurovision hopefuls in the greenroom there was only one act that Gladys recognised: they were the Throbinsons, a boy band who had played at the chiX first gig. Mandy was exchanging a few words with their lead singer. She was saying … “I know it’s going to be us who are out next…” But it wasn’t. It was a slightly older, but rather glamorous female singer called Shelly Simpson. She had over 500,000 votes. And the next band to go out had almost a million. And still neither the chiX nor the Throbinson’s name had been called. And then during the next few minutes some more acts were eliminated, but with respectable quantities of votes well over a million each. “I can’t believe this, we’re still in,” said Sam. “Oh my daughters. I’m so proud of you,” said Mum. Even Dad looked gripped by the tension. He was starting at the monitor with his mouth open. “I’m sure we’re out next,” said Laura. But it was the Throbinsons whose name was called – with over 2 million votes. Their lead singer kissed Laura on the cheek as their song played for the last time, and they walked out into obscurity. “And now,” said the compere, “We have two tip-top-class acts left. Both are lovely girl bands. But sadly, only one of them can go to Istanbul to represent GB in the final of the Eurovision Song Contest. So who is it going to be? Will it be the lovely Dragonesses from Wales…. or will it be the gorgeous chiX from London. Which band did you bless at home viewers…. ? And the runner up, is…… The Drangonesses…….” Even Gladys shrieked with delight. Laura was jumping up and down, but she didn’t forget to commiserate with the Drogoness girls for coming second. Mum was kissing her daughters. Dad kissed Mum. And in the excitement, that was what pleased Gladys most – seeing Dad with mum. The producer came into break up the family celebration and hurried the girls out to the stage door. The lights dipped, and then came up again, and they sang the encore of their circus song. Gladys knew that the would be singing this tune over and over and over again during the coming weeks. The chiX were on their way to final of the Eurovision Song Contest – in Istanbul. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 tag:odeo.com,2009-09-07,25085547 Mon, 07 Sep 2009 07:21:05 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, chiX http://odeo.com/episodes/25051315-The-Wizard-Who-Stole-Katie%E2%80%99s-Spells Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) In our last Katie story, somebody stole her spell book and started doing bad spells all over school. Naturally most people assumed that it was Katie who was to blame. The head teacher has discovered who the real culprit is – and it’s not Katie. But Katie still does not know the identity of the thief. In this story, we will find out who stole Katie’s spell book. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie for Storynory. Duration 16 min. Katie was in the clear. The head teacher knew for a fact that it was somebody else who had been doing all the bad spells around school. But not everybody knew that she was innocent. In fact, as far as most people were concerned, Katie was still the Number One Suspect. This unpleasant state of affairs became home to Katie when somebody stuck a horrid poster about her on the classroom pin board. It showed a picture of a witch with a pointed hat and a broom, and beneath the picture was writ... Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) In our last Katie story, somebody stole her spell book and started doing bad spells all over school. Naturally most people assumed that it was Katie who was to blame. The head teacher has discovered who the real culprit is – and it’s not Katie. But Katie still does not know the identity of the thief. In this story, we will find out who stole Katie’s spell book. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie for Storynory. Duration 16 min. Katie was in the clear. The head teacher knew for a fact that it was somebody else who had been doing all the bad spells around school. But not everybody knew that she was innocent. In fact, as far as most people were concerned, Katie was still the Number One Suspect. This unpleasant state of affairs became home to Katie when somebody stuck a horrid poster about her on the classroom pin board. It showed a picture of a witch with a pointed hat and a broom, and beneath the picture was written WANTED Dead or Alive For Black Magic Katie The Witch ! Katie did not notice the poster at first, but then Isabelle said: “Hey Katie, you’re notorious.” Katie wasn’t quite sure if notorious was a good or a bad word, but when she saw the poster she realised that it was definitely bad. She ripped the poster off the wall and tore it up. Then she saw that Isabelle, Mandy and Judy were smirking at her. Mandy said: “Ooh Katie. I put up the poster. Are going to turn me into a toad?” And Katie felt ever so tempted to do just that. But she held back because that would be doing Black Magic. And that really would be bad. Katie knew that almost all the girls in her class were gossiping about her. Isis remained her only loyal and true friend. The boys didn’t seem to care if she was a witch or not, but the boys didn’t talk about anything much anyway, apart from football and action movies. Except for one. And that was Paul. You might think that Paul would be more wary of Katie than most. He had been acting the lead role in the school play that had gone embarrassingly wrong when somebody put a spell on it. He was good looking, and clever – so Katie thought – and the school play was the first time he had ever been in trouble. But Paul didn’t seem at all cross with Katie. In fact, he was really nice to her. For example, on Friday afternoon in the art class, when Katie was painting a black cat, Mandy whispered that it was a witch’s cat. But Paul said that the eyes in Katie’s painting were just like his own cat’s. And that he really liked his cat because she was mysterious and did her own thing. “Well Paul likes weird things,” said Mandy. “In fact, he likes Katie.” And Judy asked “Hey Paul, why do you talk to Katie? She put a jinx your bid for stardom.” And the girls sniggered. And Jemma, who had also been in the play with Paul, and who was still crushingly embarrassed about saying all the wrong line in front of all the parents and governors – not just any old wrong lines – but really stupid ones – she was furious with Katie and she said: “Look Paul, don’t you ever learn? Stay away from Katie. Witches are bad news.” And Paul got really furious and said: “All you girls ever do is gossip and whisper nasty things. You don’t know everything. You just think you do. It wasn’t Katie who did those spells. Somebody stole her magic book.” “Oh yeah, if you believe that you’ll believe anything”, said Jemma. And then they all had to be quite because Miss. Stripes the art teacher was looking at them. And for the first time in a week, Katie felt really happy. In fact, she felt especially happy because Paul was sticking up for her. She knew that Jemma was particularly peeved because she really liked Paul. And that made her feel even more pleased, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. In fact, if there was any boy in the class who was ok, it was Paul. He was so nice that he was almost like a girl, only he was a boy. In fact, he was perfect. But perhaps Paul wasn’t quite as perfect as he used to be. The next week he was late for school on Monday, and then on Tuesday, and then if he was late on Wednesday he would be in serious trouble. It was 9.30 on Wednesday morning. Miss Vile was taking the register. And Paul’s chair was empty. Miss Vile said: “Imran – “Yes Miss Vile”, “Jemma” – “Yes Miss Vile” , “Katie” – “Yes, Miss Vile,” And Katie thought: “Shall I, just this once, do just a little spell to help Paul out? ” Miss Vile had reached Mathew. Next it would be Nathan and then it would be Paul. Katie wasn’t supposed to do spells at school, and but then on the other hand, she really did owe Paul a favour, and she really didn’t want him to be in trouble, because that wouldn’t be fair, because normally he was so good. “Paul,” said Miss Vile. And before the teacher could look up at Paul’s empty chair, Katie quickly said a spell and made it look like he was sitting there and saying: “Yes Miss Vile,” in a voice that sounded almost like his real one. But just as the magic Paul was answering the register, the real Paul walked into the room. So if anyone else looked up, the would see two Pauls. And that really could cause double trouble and confusion. Katie quickly said another spell to make the real Paul disappear for a moment while sorted out the mess. Fortunately everyone was quite sleepy because it was first thing in the morning, and nobody seemed to notice the strange comings and goings of Paul’s likeness. Katie was pleased because she had helped Paul, even though he didn’t know that she had – or so she thought. Just before the first lesson, Paul said: “Thanks for helping me out Katie. But there was no need. I don’t want you to get into trouble for doing magic.” And Katie was surprised, because she didn’t think he could see through her magic. “Oh really it was nothing, she said. “I owed you” But Paul kept on getting into more trouble at school, and Katie wasn’t always there to help him. He forgot his homework, he lost his text books, and pretended to be feeling poorly when the class had to go on a long run around the playing fields even though it was raining. Mr. Sadie, the games teacher didn’t believe him and made him run twice as far as everyone else. On that occasion, Katie gave Paul just a little help, and said a spell to make him run faster. “Thanks once again,” said Paul later on. “Thanks for what?” asked Katie. “Thanks for making me run faster.” And this time Katie asked him how he knew that she had done some magic, because most people wouldn’t have noticed. And Paul let her into a secret. He told her that his grandfather had been a wizard. But his family were really embarrassed about it, and they hushed up this chapter in the family history and made Paul swear never to do any magic. His mum and dad thought that magic was something you should be ashamed of. “That’s ridiculous,” said Katie. “But then, they aren’t the only ones who think like that. There’s a lot of prejudice against witches. People are afraid of us because they don’t understand us. That’s why it’s supposed to be a secret that I’m a witch.’ “It’s not a very good secret,” said Paul. “Everyone knows it.” “And everyone blames me when it goes wrong.” “Yes, I’ve noticed” said Paul. Although what Paul had told Katie was a secret, she shared it with Isis because she was her best friend. And when Isis heard she said. “Now it all makes perfect sense. It was Paul who stole your book. That’s why he’s sticking up for you. He feels guilty that everyone is blaming you for his naughty spells.” And at first Katie couldn’t believe that Paul would do something bad like stealing her book. But then she thought some more, and she had to admit that whoever stole her book seemed to have a talent for magic. Because it was one thing to read the spells in a book, and it was another to actually do them. In fact it was really only supposed to be witches and wizards who could do them. “It’s obvious, ” said Isis. “You can’t see it because you’ve got a pang for Paul. ” “I have not.” “Yes you have.” “Well perhaps just a bit, ” admitted Katie. The next week Paul did something really, really bad. He sneaked out of school at lunchtime and went for a walk around town on his own. And then some rough boys started picking on him. A police car was going by and saw that there was a fight about happen. They stopped to help Paul and that was how they found out that he was playing truant from school. Now he was in big trouble. Like getting excluded from School kind of trouble. Miss Hepworth the head teacher called his mother in for a chat. The word was out that Paul was going to get the Big Push. Paul wasn’t in school, but Katie really wanted to talk to him. She had never been to Paul’s house, and she didn’t have his phone number or email address. But that didn’t stop her. Her mum had a magic phone that knew everyone’s number in the entire world, even the numbers of people like the Queen, or the President of the United States, or Sir Paul Mccartney Mum never used it to call be like that, because she said they were busy and in any case, they didn’t need any help or advice from a witch because they had their own kind of magic. But the phone was incredibly useful when you lost a friend’s number, or didn’t have it in the first place. Katie picked it up and just said: “I’d like to call Paul please,” And the phone understood which Paul she meant and it called him right away. Pual’s mum answered and she heard her call up the stares “Paul. There’s a “Katie” on the phone for you.” And a bit later Paul Picked up the receiver and said, “Hello Katie. Or perhaps I should say goodbye. You know they’re going to kick me out of school.” “I’m so cross with you,” said Katie. “Why have you been acting so bad recently. You’ve always been so well behaved. In fact, up until recently you were Mr. Perfect.” “Well I suppose I got bored with being Mr. Perfect,” said Paul. “Being bad seems like more fun. And besides. I’ve got something to confess. It was me who stole your spell book. ” “I figured that out for myself already,” said Katie. “But now I’m going to save you one last time. I’ll do a mind wipe on Mrs. Hepworth so that she forgets all the bad things you’ve done.” And Paul said something that really surprised Katie. “No don’t do that,” he said. “I forbid you. I don’t want to be saved by your magic. I’ve got to face this myself.” And although Katie argued with him, and she meant to ignore what he said and do the spell anyway, later that evening she decided to call Isis and ask her advice. And Isis said that yes, Paul had to take his lesson. It would be good for him. And so Paul was expelled from school. And before he left, Paul told his friends that it was he who had stolen Katie’s spell book, and people understood at last that Katie really was innocent of doing all the bad spells around school. Katie was really sad that she wouldn’t be seeing Paul at school anymore. But she had one compensation. She did have his telephone number. And now all she had to do was think of a reason to invite him round in the holidays so that her mother could explain to him the difference between good and bad magic. And that was the story of Katie’s Who Done It. I do hope you thought it was worth the wait to find out who stole Katie’s spells. And don’t forget there are loads more Katie stories on Storynory.com. So drop by soon and listen to some. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye. Text Copyright, Hugh Fraser 2009 Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) In our last Katie story, somebody stole her spell book and started doing bad spells all over school. Naturally most people assumed that it was Katie who was to blame. The head teacher has discovered who the real culprit is – and it’s not Katie. But Katie still does not know the identity of the thief. In this story, we will find out who stole Katie’s spell book. Read by Natasha. Text by Bertie for Storynory. Duration 16 min. Katie was in the clear. The head teacher knew for a fact that it was somebody else who had been doing all the bad spells around school. But not everybody knew that she was innocent. In fact, as far as most people were concerned, Katie was still the Number One Suspect. This unpleasant state of affairs became home to Katie when somebody stuck a horrid poster about her on the classroom pin board. It showed a picture of a witch with a pointed hat and a broom, and beneath the picture was written WANTED Dead or Alive For Black Magic Katie The Witch ! Katie did not notice the poster at first, but then Isabelle said: “Hey Katie, you’re notorious.” Katie wasn’t quite sure if notorious was a good or a bad word, but when she saw the poster she realised that it was definitely bad. She ripped the poster off the wall and tore it up. Then she saw that Isabelle, Mandy and Judy were smirking at her. Mandy said: “Ooh Katie. I put up the poster. Are going to turn me into a toad?” And Katie felt ever so tempted to do just that. But she held back because that would be doing Black Magic. And that really would be bad. Katie knew that almost all the girls in her class were gossiping about her. Isis remained her only loyal and true friend. The boys didn’t seem to care if she was a witch or not, but the boys didn’t talk about anything much anyway, apart from football and action movies. Except for one. And that was Paul. You might think that Paul would be more wary of Katie than most. He had been acting the lead role in the school play that had gone embarrassingly wrong when somebody put a spell on it. He was good looking, and clever – so Katie thought – and the school play was the first time he had ever been in trouble. But Paul didn’t seem at all cross with Katie. In fact, he was really nice to her. For example, on Friday afternoon in the art class, when Katie was painting a black cat, Mandy whispered that it was a witch’s cat. But Paul said that the eyes in Katie’s painting were just like his own cat’s. And that he really liked his cat because she was mysterious and did her own thing. “Well Paul likes weird things,” said Mandy. “In fact, he likes Katie.” And Judy asked “Hey Paul, why do you talk to Katie? She put a jinx your bid for stardom.” And the girls sniggered. And Jemma, who had also been in the play with Paul, and who was still crushingly embarrassed about saying all the wrong line in front of all the parents and governors – not just any old wrong lines – but really stupid ones – she was furious with Katie and she said: “Look Paul, don’t you ever learn? Stay away from Katie. Witches are bad news.” And Paul got really furious and said: “All you girls ever do is gossip and whisper nasty things. You don’t know everything. You just think you do. It wasn’t Katie who did those spells. Somebody stole her magic book.” “Oh yeah, if you believe that you’ll believe anything”, said Jemma. And then they all had to be quite because Miss. Stripes the art teacher was looking at them. And for the first time in a week, Katie felt really happy. In fact, she felt especially happy because Paul was sticking up for her. She knew that Jemma was particularly peeved because she really liked Paul. And that made her feel even more pleased, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. In fact, if there was any boy in the class who was ok, it was Paul. He was so nice that he was almost like a girl, only he was a boy. In fact, he was perfect. But perhaps Paul wasn’t quite as perfect as he used to be. The next week he was late for school on Monday, and then on Tuesday, and then if he was late on Wednesday he would be in serious trouble. It was 9.30 on Wednesday morning. Miss Vile was taking the register. And Paul’s chair was empty. Miss Vile said: “Imran – “Yes Miss Vile”, “Jemma” – “Yes Miss Vile” , “Katie” – “Yes, Miss Vile,” And Katie thought: “Shall I, just this once, do just a little spell to help Paul out? ” Miss Vile had reached Mathew. Next it would be Nathan and then it would be Paul. Katie wasn’t supposed to do spells at school, and but then on the other hand, she really did owe Paul a favour, and she really didn’t want him to be in trouble, because that wouldn’t be fair, because normally he was so good. “Paul,” said Miss Vile. And before the teacher could look up at Paul’s empty chair, Katie quickly said a spell and made it look like he was sitting there and saying: “Yes Miss Vile,” in a voice that sounded almost like his real one. But just as the magic Paul was answering the register, the real Paul walked into the room. So if anyone else looked up, the would see two Pauls. And that really could cause double trouble and confusion. Katie quickly said another spell to make the real Paul disappear for a moment while sorted out the mess. Fortunately everyone was quite sleepy because it was first thing in the morning, and nobody seemed to notice the strange comings and goings of Paul’s likeness. Katie was pleased because she had helped Paul, even though he didn’t know that she had – or so she thought. Just before the first lesson, Paul said: “Thanks for helping me out Katie. But there was no need. I don’t want you to get into trouble for doing magic.” And Katie was surprised, because she didn’t think he could see through her magic. “Oh really it was nothing, she said. “I owed you” But Paul kept on getting into more trouble at school, and Katie wasn’t always there to help him. He forgot his homework, he lost his text books, and pretended to be feeling poorly when the class had to go on a long run around the playing fields even though it was raining. Mr. Sadie, the games teacher didn’t believe him and made him run twice as far as everyone else. On that occasion, Katie gave Paul just a little help, and said a spell to make him run faster. “Thanks once again,” said Paul later on. “Thanks for what?” asked Katie. “Thanks for making me run faster.” And this time Katie asked him how he knew that she had done some magic, because most people wouldn’t have noticed. And Paul let her into a secret. He told her that his grandfather had been a wizard. But his family were really embarrassed about it, and they hushed up this chapter in the family history and made Paul swear never to do any magic. His mum and dad thought that magic was something you should be ashamed of. “That’s ridiculous,” said Katie. “But then, they aren’t the only ones who think like that. There’s a lot of prejudice against witches. People are afraid of us because they don’t understand us. That’s why it’s supposed to be a secret that I’m a witch.’ “It’s not a very good secret,” said Paul. “Everyone knows it.” “And everyone blames me when it goes wrong.” “Yes, I’ve noticed” said Paul. Although what Paul had told Katie was a secret, she shared it with Isis because she was her best friend. And when Isis heard she said. “Now it all makes perfect sense. It was Paul who stole your book. That’s why he’s sticking up for you. He feels guilty that everyone is blaming you for his naughty spells.” And at first Katie couldn’t believe that Paul would do something bad like stealing her book. But then she thought some more, and she had to admit that whoever stole her book seemed to have a talent for magic. Because it was one thing to read the spells in a book, and it was another to actually do them. In fact it was really only supposed to be witches and wizards who could do them. “It’s obvious, ” said Isis. “You can’t see it because you’ve got a pang for Paul. ” “I have not.” “Yes you have.” “Well perhaps just a bit, ” admitted Katie. The next week Paul did something really, really bad. He sneaked out of school at lunchtime and went for a walk around town on his own. And then some rough boys started picking on him. A police car was going by and saw that there was a fight about happen. They stopped to help Paul and that was how they found out that he was playing truant from school. Now he was in big trouble. Like getting excluded from School kind of trouble. Miss Hepworth the head teacher called his mother in for a chat. The word was out that Paul was going to get the Big Push. Paul wasn’t in school, but Katie really wanted to talk to him. She had never been to Paul’s house, and she didn’t have his phone number or email address. But that didn’t stop her. Her mum had a magic phone that knew everyone’s number in the entire world, even the numbers of people like the Queen, or the President of the United States, or Sir Paul Mccartney Mum never used it to call be like that, because she said they were busy and in any case, they didn’t need any help or advice from a witch because they had their own kind of magic. But the phone was incredibly useful when you lost a friend’s number, or didn’t have it in the first place. Katie picked it up and just said: “I’d like to call Paul please,” And the phone understood which Paul she meant and it called him right away. Pual’s mum answered and she heard her call up the stares “Paul. There’s a “Katie” on the phone for you.” And a bit later Paul Picked up the receiver and said, “Hello Katie. Or perhaps I should say goodbye. You know they’re going to kick me out of school.” “I’m so cross with you,” said Katie. “Why have you been acting so bad recently. You’ve always been so well behaved. In fact, up until recently you were Mr. Perfect.” “Well I suppose I got bored with being Mr. Perfect,” said Paul. “Being bad seems like more fun. And besides. I’ve got something to confess. It was me who stole your spell book. ” “I figured that out for myself already,” said Katie. “But now I’m going to save you one last time. I’ll do a mind wipe on Mrs. Hepworth so that she forgets all the bad things you’ve done.” And Paul said something that really surprised Katie. “No don’t do that,” he said. “I forbid you. I don’t want to be saved by your magic. I’ve got to face this myself.” And although Katie argued with him, and she meant to ignore what he said and do the spell anyway, later that evening she decided to call Isis and ask her advice. And Isis said that yes, Paul had to take his lesson. It would be good for him. And so Paul was expelled from school. And before he left, Paul told his friends that it was he who had stolen Katie’s spell book, and people understood at last that Katie really was innocent of doing all the bad spells around school. Katie was really sad that she wouldn’t be seeing Paul at school anymore. But she had one compensation. She did have his telephone number. And now all she had to do was think of a reason to invite him round in the holidays so that her mother could explain to him the difference between good and bad magic. And that was the story of Katie’s Who Done It. I do hope you thought it was worth the wait to find out who stole Katie’s spells. And don’t forget there are loads more Katie stories on Storynory.com. So drop by soon and listen to some. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye. Text Copyright, Hugh Fraser 2009 tag:odeo.com,2009-08-31,25051315 Mon, 31 Aug 2009 13:51:13 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, The Ordinary Witch http://odeo.com/episodes/25014590-The-Brave-Little-Tailor Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) The brave little tailor kills seven flies with one blow, and manages to convince both giants and kings that he is indeed a force to be reckoned with. The hero in this story by the Brothers Grimm is armed with whit, cunning and a sense of humour. He conquers all before him, including a giant, a unicorn, and a princess. Read by Natasha. Story by the Brothers Grimm. Duration 16.48. One summer’s morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then came a peasant woman down the street crying: ‘Good jams, cheap! Good jams, cheap!’ This rang pleasantly in the tailor’s ears; he stretched his delicate head out of the window, and called: ‘Come up here, dear woman; here you will get rid of your goods.’ The woman came up the three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack all the pots for him. He inspected ea... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) The brave little tailor kills seven flies with one blow, and manages to convince both giants and kings that he is indeed a force to be reckoned with. The hero in this story by the Brothers Grimm is armed with whit, cunning and a sense of humour. He conquers all before him, including a giant, a unicorn, and a princess. Read by Natasha. Story by the Brothers Grimm. Duration 16.48. One summer’s morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then came a peasant woman down the street crying: ‘Good jams, cheap! Good jams, cheap!’ This rang pleasantly in the tailor’s ears; he stretched his delicate head out of the window, and called: ‘Come up here, dear woman; here you will get rid of your goods.’ The woman came up the three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack all the pots for him. He inspected each one, lifted it up, put his nose to it, and at length said: ‘The jam seems to me to be good. I’ll buy a jar.” The women, who had hoped to sell far more jam, gave him what he wanted but went away grumbling. ‘Now, this jam shall be blessed by God,’ cried the little tailor, ‘and give me health and strength’; so he brought the bread out of the cupboard, cut himself a piece right across the loaf and spread the jam over it. ‘This won’t taste bitter,’ said he, ‘but I will just finish the jacket before I take a bite.’ He laid the bread near him, sewed on, and in his joy, made bigger and bigger stitches. In the meantime the smell of the sweet jam rose to where the flies were sitting in great numbers, and they were attracted and descended on it in hosts. ‘Hey! who invited you?’ said the little tailor, and drove the unbidden guests away. The flies, however, understood no German, and came back again in ever-increasing companies. The little tailor at last lost all patience, and drew a piece of cloth from the hole under his work-table, and saying: ‘Wait, and I will give it to you,’ struck it mercilessly on them. When he drew it away and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven flies, dead and with legs stretched out. The taylor looked at the flies that he had killed, and could not help admiring his own bravery. ‘The whole town shall know of this!’ he said. And the little tailor hastened to cut himself a belt, stitched it, and embroidered on it in large letters: ‘Seven dead at one stroke!’ ‘What, the town, the whole world shall hear of it!’ he exclaimed. and his heart wagged with joy like a lamb’s tail. The tailor put on the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world, because he thought his workshop was too small for his valour. Before he went away, he looked around the house to see if there was anything which he could take with him; however, he found nothing but an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front of the door he observed a bird which had caught itself in the thicket. It had to go into his pocket with the cheese. Now he took to the road boldly, and as he was light and nimble, he felt no tiredness. The road led him up a mountain, and when he had reached the highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant looking peacefully about him. The little tailor went bravely up, spoke to him, and said: ‘Good day, comrade, so you are sitting there overlooking the wide-spread world! I am just on my way there, and want to try my luck. How about you come with me?’ The giant looked contemptuously at the tailor, and said: ‘You wretch! You miserable creature!’ ‘Oh, indeed?’ answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat, and showed the giant the belt, ‘there may you read what kind of a man I am!’ The giant read: ‘Seven dead at one stroke,’ and thought that they had been men whom the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little respect for the tiny fellow. Nevertheless, he wished to try him first, and took a stone in his hand and squeezed it together so that water dropped out of it. ‘Do that,’ said the giant, ‘if you have strength.’ ‘Is that all?’ said the tailor, ‘that is child’s play !’ and put his hand into his pocket, brought out the soft cheese, and pressed it until the liquid ran out of it. The giant did not know what to say, and could not believe it of the little man. Then the giant picked up a stone and threw it so high that the eye could scarcely follow it. ‘Now, little mite of a man, do that,’ ‘Well thrown,’ said the tailor, ‘but after all the stone came down to earth again; I will throw you one which shall never come back at all,’ and he put his hand into his pocket, took out the bird, and threw it into the air. The bird, delighted with its liberty, rose, flew away and did not come back. ‘How does that shot please you, comrade?’ asked the tailor. ‘You can certainly throw,’ said the giant, ‘but now we will see if you are able to carry anything properly.’ He took the little tailor to a mighty oak tree which lay there felled on the ground, and said: ‘If you are strong enough, help me to carry the tree out of the forest.’ ‘Readily,’ answered the little man; ‘take you the trunk on your shoulders, and I will raise up the branches and twigs; after all, they are the heaviest.’ The giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the tailor seated himself on a branch, and the giant, who could not look round, had to carry away the whole tree, and the little tailor into the bargain: he behind, was quite merry and happy, and whistled the song: ‘Three tailors rode forth from the gate,’ as if carrying the tree were child’s play. The giant, after he had dragged the heavy burden part of the way, could go no further, and cried: ‘Now I shall have to let the tree fall!’ The tailor sprang nimbly down, seized the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it, and said to the giant: ‘You are such a great fellow, and yet cannot even carry the tree!’ The giant said: ‘If you are such a brave fellow, come with me into our cave and spend the night with us.’ The little tailor was willing, and followed him. When they went into the cave, other giants were sitting there by the fire, and each of them had a roasted sheep in his hand and was eating it. The little tailor looked round and thought: ‘It is much more spacious here than in my workshop.’ The giant showed him a bed, and said he was to lie down in it and sleep. The bed, however, was too big for the little tailor; he did not lie down in it, but crept into a corner. When it was midnight, and the giant thought that the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep, he got up, took a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow, and thought he had finished off the grasshopper of a man for good. With the earliest dawn the giants went into the forest, and had quite forgotten the little tailor, when all at once he walked up to them quite merrily and boldly. The giants were terrified, they were afraid that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hurry. The little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed nose. After he had walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard of a royal palace, and as he felt weary, he lay down on the grass and fell asleep. Whilst he lay there, the people came and inspected him on all sides, and read on his belt: ‘Seven dead with one stroke.’ ‘Ah!’ said they, ‘what does the great warrior want here in the midst of peace? He must be a mighty lord.’ Soon the Taylor was brought before the king how had a request to make of him. “In the forest roams a magical horse with one horn – a unicorn which does great harm attacking people all around. If you can can rid me of this unicorn, you shall have the hand of my daughter in marriage and half my kingdom.” And the Taylor thought to himself, “It is not every day that I receive an offer such as that” and he replied. I do not fear one unicorn. Seven at one blow, is my kind of affair.’ He took a rope and an axe with him, went forth into the forest. The unicorn soon came towards him, and rushed directly on the tailor, as if it would gore him with its horn without more ado. ‘Softly, softly; it can’t be done as quickly as that,’ said he, and stood still and waited until the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the tree. The unicorn ran against the tree with all its strength, and stuck its horn so fast in the trunk that it had not the strength enough to draw it out again, and thus it was caught. ‘Now, I have got it,’ said the tailor, and came out from behind the tree and put the rope round its neck, and then with his axe he hewed the horn out of the tree, and when all was ready he led the beast away and took it to the king. But the kind was sorry that he had promised his daughter to the little man, and and made another demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild boar that made great havoc in the forest. And so the taylor went into the forrest where the boar was roaming. When the boar saw the tailor, it ran on him with foaming mouth and sharp tusks, and was about to throw him to the ground, but the hero fled and sprang into a chapel which was near and up to the window at once, and in one bound out again. The boar ran after him, but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind it, and then the raging beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to leap out of the window, was caught. The hero, went to the king, who was now, whether he liked it or not, obliged to keep his promise, and gave his daughter and the half of his kingdom. The wedding was held with great magnificence and small joy, and out of a tailor a king was made. After some time the young queen heard her husband say in his dreams at night: ‘Boy, make me the jacket , and patch the trousers”. The next morning complained of her wrongs to her father, and begged him to help her to get rid of her husband, who was nothing else but a tailor. The king comforted her and said: ‘Leave your bedroom door open this night, and my servants shall stand outside, and when he has fallen asleep shall go in, bind him, and take him on board a ship which shall carry him into the wide world.’ The woman was satisfied with this; but the king’s armour-bearer, who had heard all, was friendly with the young lord, and informed him of the whole plot. ‘I’ll put a screw into that business,’ said the little tailor. At night he went to bed with his wife at the usual time, and when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she got up, opened the door, and then lay down again. The little tailor, who was only pretending to be asleep, began to cry out in a clear voice: ‘Boy, make me the jacket , and patch the trousers”.. I smote seven at one blow. I killed two giants, I brought away one unicorn, and caught a wild boar, and am I to fear those who are standing outside the room.’ When these men heard the tailor speaking thus, they were overcome by a great fear, and ran as if the wild huntsman were behind them, and none of them would venture anything further against him. So the little tailor remained a king to the end of his life. And that was the tale of the Brave Little Taylor by the Brothers Grimm. I do hope that you enjoyed it. And don’t forget, there are loads more stories at Storynory.com. Until next time, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye. Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) The brave little tailor kills seven flies with one blow, and manages to convince both giants and kings that he is indeed a force to be reckoned with. The hero in this story by the Brothers Grimm is armed with whit, cunning and a sense of humour. He conquers all before him, including a giant, a unicorn, and a princess. Read by Natasha. Story by the Brothers Grimm. Duration 16.48. One summer’s morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then came a peasant woman down the street crying: ‘Good jams, cheap! Good jams, cheap!’ This rang pleasantly in the tailor’s ears; he stretched his delicate head out of the window, and called: ‘Come up here, dear woman; here you will get rid of your goods.’ The woman came up the three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack all the pots for him. He inspected each one, lifted it up, put his nose to it, and at length said: ‘The jam seems to me to be good. I’ll buy a jar.” The women, who had hoped to sell far more jam, gave him what he wanted but went away grumbling. ‘Now, this jam shall be blessed by God,’ cried the little tailor, ‘and give me health and strength’; so he brought the bread out of the cupboard, cut himself a piece right across the loaf and spread the jam over it. ‘This won’t taste bitter,’ said he, ‘but I will just finish the jacket before I take a bite.’ He laid the bread near him, sewed on, and in his joy, made bigger and bigger stitches. In the meantime the smell of the sweet jam rose to where the flies were sitting in great numbers, and they were attracted and descended on it in hosts. ‘Hey! who invited you?’ said the little tailor, and drove the unbidden guests away. The flies, however, understood no German, and came back again in ever-increasing companies. The little tailor at last lost all patience, and drew a piece of cloth from the hole under his work-table, and saying: ‘Wait, and I will give it to you,’ struck it mercilessly on them. When he drew it away and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven flies, dead and with legs stretched out. The taylor looked at the flies that he had killed, and could not help admiring his own bravery. ‘The whole town shall know of this!’ he said. And the little tailor hastened to cut himself a belt, stitched it, and embroidered on it in large letters: ‘Seven dead at one stroke!’ ‘What, the town, the whole world shall hear of it!’ he exclaimed. and his heart wagged with joy like a lamb’s tail. The tailor put on the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world, because he thought his workshop was too small for his valour. Before he went away, he looked around the house to see if there was anything which he could take with him; however, he found nothing but an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front of the door he observed a bird which had caught itself in the thicket. It had to go into his pocket with the cheese. Now he took to the road boldly, and as he was light and nimble, he felt no tiredness. The road led him up a mountain, and when he had reached the highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant looking peacefully about him. The little tailor went bravely up, spoke to him, and said: ‘Good day, comrade, so you are sitting there overlooking the wide-spread world! I am just on my way there, and want to try my luck. How about you come with me?’ The giant looked contemptuously at the tailor, and said: ‘You wretch! You miserable creature!’ ‘Oh, indeed?’ answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat, and showed the giant the belt, ‘there may you read what kind of a man I am!’ The giant read: ‘Seven dead at one stroke,’ and thought that they had been men whom the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little respect for the tiny fellow. Nevertheless, he wished to try him first, and took a stone in his hand and squeezed it together so that water dropped out of it. ‘Do that,’ said the giant, ‘if you have strength.’ ‘Is that all?’ said the tailor, ‘that is child’s play !’ and put his hand into his pocket, brought out the soft cheese, and pressed it until the liquid ran out of it. The giant did not know what to say, and could not believe it of the little man. Then the giant picked up a stone and threw it so high that the eye could scarcely follow it. ‘Now, little mite of a man, do that,’ ‘Well thrown,’ said the tailor, ‘but after all the stone came down to earth again; I will throw you one which shall never come back at all,’ and he put his hand into his pocket, took out the bird, and threw it into the air. The bird, delighted with its liberty, rose, flew away and did not come back. ‘How does that shot please you, comrade?’ asked the tailor. ‘You can certainly throw,’ said the giant, ‘but now we will see if you are able to carry anything properly.’ He took the little tailor to a mighty oak tree which lay there felled on the ground, and said: ‘If you are strong enough, help me to carry the tree out of the forest.’ ‘Readily,’ answered the little man; ‘take you the trunk on your shoulders, and I will raise up the branches and twigs; after all, they are the heaviest.’ The giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the tailor seated himself on a branch, and the giant, who could not look round, had to carry away the whole tree, and the little tailor into the bargain: he behind, was quite merry and happy, and whistled the song: ‘Three tailors rode forth from the gate,’ as if carrying the tree were child’s play. The giant, after he had dragged the heavy burden part of the way, could go no further, and cried: ‘Now I shall have to let the tree fall!’ The tailor sprang nimbly down, seized the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it, and said to the giant: ‘You are such a great fellow, and yet cannot even carry the tree!’ The giant said: ‘If you are such a brave fellow, come with me into our cave and spend the night with us.’ The little tailor was willing, and followed him. When they went into the cave, other giants were sitting there by the fire, and each of them had a roasted sheep in his hand and was eating it. The little tailor looked round and thought: ‘It is much more spacious here than in my workshop.’ The giant showed him a bed, and said he was to lie down in it and sleep. The bed, however, was too big for the little tailor; he did not lie down in it, but crept into a corner. When it was midnight, and the giant thought that the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep, he got up, took a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow, and thought he had finished off the grasshopper of a man for good. With the earliest dawn the giants went into the forest, and had quite forgotten the little tailor, when all at once he walked up to them quite merrily and boldly. The giants were terrified, they were afraid that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hurry. The little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed nose. After he had walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard of a royal palace, and as he felt weary, he lay down on the grass and fell asleep. Whilst he lay there, the people came and inspected him on all sides, and read on his belt: ‘Seven dead with one stroke.’ ‘Ah!’ said they, ‘what does the great warrior want here in the midst of peace? He must be a mighty lord.’ Soon the Taylor was brought before the king how had a request to make of him. “In the forest roams a magical horse with one horn – a unicorn which does great harm attacking people all around. If you can can rid me of this unicorn, you shall have the hand of my daughter in marriage and half my kingdom.” And the Taylor thought to himself, “It is not every day that I receive an offer such as that” and he replied. I do not fear one unicorn. Seven at one blow, is my kind of affair.’ He took a rope and an axe with him, went forth into the forest. The unicorn soon came towards him, and rushed directly on the tailor, as if it would gore him with its horn without more ado. ‘Softly, softly; it can’t be done as quickly as that,’ said he, and stood still and waited until the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the tree. The unicorn ran against the tree with all its strength, and stuck its horn so fast in the trunk that it had not the strength enough to draw it out again, and thus it was caught. ‘Now, I have got it,’ said the tailor, and came out from behind the tree and put the rope round its neck, and then with his axe he hewed the horn out of the tree, and when all was ready he led the beast away and took it to the king. But the kind was sorry that he had promised his daughter to the little man, and and made another demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild boar that made great havoc in the forest. And so the taylor went into the forrest where the boar was roaming. When the boar saw the tailor, it ran on him with foaming mouth and sharp tusks, and was about to throw him to the ground, but the hero fled and sprang into a chapel which was near and up to the window at once, and in one bound out again. The boar ran after him, but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind it, and then the raging beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to leap out of the window, was caught. The hero, went to the king, who was now, whether he liked it or not, obliged to keep his promise, and gave his daughter and the half of his kingdom. The wedding was held with great magnificence and small joy, and out of a tailor a king was made. After some time the young queen heard her husband say in his dreams at night: ‘Boy, make me the jacket , and patch the trousers”. The next morning complained of her wrongs to her father, and begged him to help her to get rid of her husband, who was nothing else but a tailor. The king comforted her and said: ‘Leave your bedroom door open this night, and my servants shall stand outside, and when he has fallen asleep shall go in, bind him, and take him on board a ship which shall carry him into the wide world.’ The woman was satisfied with this; but the king’s armour-bearer, who had heard all, was friendly with the young lord, and informed him of the whole plot. ‘I’ll put a screw into that business,’ said the little tailor. At night he went to bed with his wife at the usual time, and when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she got up, opened the door, and then lay down again. The little tailor, who was only pretending to be asleep, began to cry out in a clear voice: ‘Boy, make me the jacket , and patch the trousers”.. I smote seven at one blow. I killed two giants, I brought away one unicorn, and caught a wild boar, and am I to fear those who are standing outside the room.’ When these men heard the tailor speaking thus, they were overcome by a great fear, and ran as if the wild huntsman were behind them, and none of them would venture anything further against him. So the little tailor remained a king to the end of his life. And that was the tale of the Brave Little Taylor by the Brothers Grimm. I do hope that you enjoyed it. And don’t forget, there are loads more stories at Storynory.com. Until next time, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye. tag:odeo.com,2009-08-24,25014590 Mon, 24 Aug 2009 13:29:38 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Brothers Grimm http://odeo.com/episodes/24974566-The-Nightingale Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This story by Hans Christian Andersen is about one of the most beautiful sounds in the world – the voice of nightingale. But some people who ought to know better prefer the music of a clockwork bird. The setting is Ancient China and the pompous court of the Emperor. As in many stories by Andersen, the humble people have more taste and judgment than the courtiers (See the Emperor’s New Clothes) Sit back and enjoy this longish story with sound effects. The music is the Dance of the Hours by Ponchielli. Read by Natasha. Story by Hans Christian Andersen. Duration 32.20. THE NIGHTINGALE by Hans Christian Andersen The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago in China, so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor’s palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged t... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This story by Hans Christian Andersen is about one of the most beautiful sounds in the world – the voice of nightingale. But some people who ought to know better prefer the music of a clockwork bird. The setting is Ancient China and the pompous court of the Emperor. As in many stories by Andersen, the humble people have more taste and judgment than the courtiers (See the Emperor’s New Clothes) Sit back and enjoy this longish story with sound effects. The music is the Dance of the Hours by Ponchielli. Read by Natasha. Story by Hans Christian Andersen. Duration 32.20. THE NIGHTINGALE by Hans Christian Andersen The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago in China, so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor’s palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers, with pretty silver bells tied to them, which tinkled so that every one who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the emperor’s garden was remarkable, and it extended so far that the gardener himself did not know where it ended. Those who traveled beyond its limits knew that there was a noble forest, with lofty trees, sloping down to the deep blue sea, and the great ships sailed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully that even the poor fishermen, who had so many other things to do, would stop and listen. Sometimes, when they went at night to spread their nets, they would hear her sing, and say, “Oh, is not that beautiful?” But when they returned to their fishing, they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again, and exclaim “Oh, how beautiful is the nightingale’s song!” Travellers from every country in the world came to the city of the emperor, which they admired very much, as well as the palace and gardens; but when they heard the nightingale, they all declared it to be the best of all. And the travelers, on their return home, related what they had seen; and learned men wrote books, containing descriptions of the town, the palace, and the gardens; but they did not forget the nightingale, which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the nightingale, who lived in a forest near the deep sea. The books traveled all over the world, and some of them came into the hands of the emperor; and he sat in his golden chair, and, as he read, he nodded his approval every moment, for it pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city, his palace, and his gardens. But when he came to the words, “the nightingale is the most beautiful of all,” he exclaimed, “What is this? I know nothing of any nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire? and even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something, it appears, may be learnt from books.” Then he called one of his lords-in-waiting, who was so high-bred, that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him, or asked him a question, he would answer, “Pooh,” which means nothing. “There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here, called a nightingale,” said the emperor; “they say it is the best thing in my large kingdom. Why have I not been told of it?” “I have never heard the name,” replied the cavalier; “she has not been presented at court.” “It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening.” said the emperor; “the whole world knows what I possess better than I do myself.” “I have never heard of her,” said the cavalier; “yet I will endeavor to find her.” But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went up stairs and down, through halls and passages; yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the emperor, and said that it must be a fable, invented by those who had written the book. “Your imperial majesty,” said he, “cannot believe everything contained in books; sometimes they are only fiction, or what is called the black art.” “But the book in which I have read this account,” said the emperor, “was sent to me by the great and mighty emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the nightingale, she must be here this evening; she has my highest favor; and if she does not come, the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended.” “Tsing-pe!” cried the lord-in-waiting, and again he ran up and down stairs, through all the halls and corridors; and half the court ran with him, for they did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful nightingale, whom all the world knew, but who was unknown to the court. At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, “Oh, yes, I know the nightingale quite well; indeed, she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table; she lives down by the sea-shore, and as I come back I feel tired, and I sit down in the wood to rest, and listen to the nightingale’s song. Then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me.” “Little maiden,” said the lord-in-waiting, “I will obtain for you constant employment in the kitchen, and you shall have permission to see the emperor dine, if you will lead us to the nightingale; for she is invited for this evening to the palace.” So she went into the wood where the nightingale sang, and half the court followed her. As they went along, a cow began lowing. “Oh,” said a young courtier, “now we have found her; what wonderful power for such a small creature; I have certainly heard it before.” “No, that is only a cow lowing,” said the little girl; “we are a long way from the place yet.” Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh. “Beautiful,” said the young courtier again. “Now I hear it, tinkling like little church bells.” “No, those are frogs,” said the little maiden; “but I think we shall soon hear her now:” and presently the nightingale began to sing. “Hark, hark! there she is,” said the girl, “and there she sits,” she added, pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a bough. “Is it possible?” said the lord-in-waiting, “I never imagined it would be a little, plain, simple thing like that. She has certainly changed color at seeing so many grand people around her.” “Little nightingale,” cried the girl, raising her voice, “our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him.” “With the greatest pleasure,” said the nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully. “It sounds like tiny glass bells,” said the lord-in-waiting, “and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that we have never heard this before; she will be a great success at court.” “Shall I sing once more before the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought he was present. “My excellent little nightingale,” said the courtier, “I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening, where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song.” “My song sounds best in the green wood,” said the bird; but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor’s wish. The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers, round which little bells were tied, stood in the corridors: what with the running to and fro and the draught, these bells tinkled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the centre of the great hall, a golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present, and the little kitchen-maid had received permission to stand by the door. She was not installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress, and every eye was turned to the little gray bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came into the emperor’s eyes, and then rolled down his cheeks, as her song became still more touching and went to every one’s heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round her neck, but she declined the honor with thanks: she had been sufficiently rewarded already. “I have seen tears in an emperor’s eyes,” she said, “that is my richest reward. An emperor’s tears have wonderful power, and are quite sufficient honor for me;” and then she sang again more enchantingly than ever. “That singing is a lovely gift;” said the ladies of the court to each other; and then they took water in their mouths to make them utter the gurgling sounds of the nightingale when they spoke to any one, so that they might fancy themselves nightingales. And the footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction, which is saying a great deal, for they are very difficult to please. In fact the nightingale’s visit was most successful. She was now to remain at court, to have her own cage, with liberty to go out twice a day, and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions, who each held her by a silken string fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying. The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one said “nightin,” and the other said “gale,” and they understood what was meant, for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers’ children were named after her, but not of them could sing a note. One day the emperor received a large packet on which was written “The Nightingale.” “Here is no doubt a new book about our celebrated bird,” said the emperor. But instead of a book, it was a work of art contained in a casket, an artificial nightingale made to look like a living one, and covered all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up, it could sing like the real one, and could move its tail up and down, which sparkled with silver and gold. Round its neck hung a piece of ribbon, on which was written “The Emperor of China’s nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of Japan’s.” “This is very beautiful,” exclaimed all who saw it, and he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of “Imperial nightingale-bringer-in-chief.” “Now they must sing together,” said the court, “and what a duet it will be.” But they did not get on well, for the real nightingale sang in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only waltzes. “That is not a fault,” said the music-master, “it is quite perfect to my taste,” so then it had to sing alone, and was as successful as the real bird; besides, it was so much prettier to look at, for it sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly have heard it again, but the emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out at the open window, back to her own green woods. “What strange conduct,” said the emperor, when her flight had been discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a very ungrateful creature. “But we have the best bird after all,” said one, and then they would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-fourth time they had listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learnt it, for it was rather difficult. But the music-master praised the bird in the highest degree, and even asserted that it was better than a real nightingale, not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds, but also in its musical power. “For you must perceive, my chief lord and emperor, that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained, so that people may understand how the waltzes are formed, and why one note follows upon another.” “This is exactly what we think,” they all replied, and then the music-master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday, and the emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it they were like people intoxicated; however it must have been with drinking tea, which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said “Oh!” and held up their forefingers and nodded, but a poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, “it sounds prettily enough, and the melodies are all alike; yet there seems something wanting, I cannot exactly tell what.” And after this the real nightingale was banished from the empire, and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the emperor’s bed. The presents of gold and precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird, and it was now advanced to the title of “Little Imperial Toilet Singer,” and to the rank of No. 1 on the left hand; for the emperor considered the left side, on which the heart lies, as the most noble, and the heart of an emperor is in the same place as that of other people. The music-master wrote a work, in twenty-five volumes, about the artificial bird, which was very learned and very long, and full of the most difficult Chinese words; yet all the people said they had read it, and understood it, for fear of being thought stupid and having their bodies trampled upon. So a year passed, and the emperor, the court, and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird’s song; and for that same reason it pleased them better. They could sing with the bird, which they often did. The street-boys sang, “Zi-zi-zi, cluck, cluck, cluck,” and the emperor himself could sing it also. It was really most amusing. One evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird sounded “whizz.” Then a spring cracked. “Whir-r-r-r” went all the wheels, running round, and then the music stopped. The emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and called for his physician; but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker; and, after a great deal of talking and examination, the bird was put into something like order; but he said that it must be used very carefully, as the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to put in new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow, as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year; and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music-master made a little speech, full of hard words, and declared that the bird was as good as ever; and, of course no one contradicted him. Five years passed, and then a real grief came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of their emperor, and he now lay so ill that he was not expected to live. Already a new emperor had been chosen and the people who stood in the street asked the lord-in-waiting how the old emperor was; but he only said, “Pooh!” and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the emperor in his royal bed; the whole court thought he was dead, and every one ran away to pay homage to his successor. The chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter, and the ladies’-maids invited company to take coffee. Cloth had been laid down on the halls and passages, so that not a footstep should be heard, and all was silent and still. But the emperor was not yet dead, although he lay white and stiff on his gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels. A window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird. The poor emperor, finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eyes, and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor’s golden crown, and held in one hand his sword of state, and in the other his beautiful banner. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains, were a number of strange heads, some very ugly, and others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the emperor’s good and bad deeds, which stared him in the face now Death sat at his heart. “Do you remember this?” “Do you recollect that?” they asked one after another, thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances that made the perspiration stand on his brow. “I know nothing about it,” said the emperor. “Music! music!” he cried; “the large Chinese drum! that I may not hear what they say.” But they still went on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. “Music! music!” shouted the emperor. “You little precious golden bird, sing, pray sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing! sing!” But the bird remained silent. There was no one to wind it up, and therefore it could not sing a note. Death continued to stare at the emperor with his cold, hollow eyes, and the room was fearfully still. Suddenly there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside, on the bough of a tree, sat the living nightingale. She had heard of the emperor’s illness, and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sung, the shadows grew paler and paler; the blood in the emperor’s veins flowed more rapidly, and gave life to his weak limbs; and even Death himself listened, and said, “Go on, little nightingale, go on.” “Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and that rich banner? and will you give me the emperor’s crown?” said the bird. So Death gave up each of these treasures for a song; and the nightingale continued her singing. She sung of the quiet churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the elder-tree wafts its perfume on the breeze, and the fresh, sweet grass is moistened by the mourners’ tears. Then Death longed to go and see his garden, and floated out through the window in the form of a cold, white mist. “Thanks, thanks, you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed, and banished Death from my heart, with your sweet song. How can I reward you?” “You have already rewarded me,” said the nightingale. “I shall never forget that I drew tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep, and grow strong and well again. I will sing to you again.” And as she sung, the emperor fell into a sweet sleep; and how mild and refreshing that slumber was! When he awoke, strengthened and restored, the sun shone brightly through the window; but not one of his servants had returned—they all believed he was dead; only the nightingale still sat beside him, and sang. “You must always remain with me,” said the emperor. “You shall sing only when it pleases you; and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.” “No; do not do that,” replied the nightingale; “the bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace, and build my nest; but let me come when I like. I will sit on a bough outside your window, in the evening, and sing to you, so that you may be happy, and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy, and those who suffer; of the good and the evil, who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and your court to the home of the fisherman and the peasant’s cot. I love your heart better than your crown; and yet something holy lingers round that also. I will come, I will sing to you; but you must promise me one thing.” “Everything,” said the emperor, who, having dressed himself in his imperial robes, stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart. “I only ask one thing,” she replied; “let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be best to conceal it.” So saying, the nightingale flew away. The servants now came in to look after the dead emperor; when, lo! there he stood, and, to their astonishment, said, “Good morning.” Story by Hans Christian Andersen Animal FX recorded by Reinsamba Orchestral Music by Partners in Rhyme Drums by Garage Band Other FX by Storynory Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) This story by Hans Christian Andersen is about one of the most beautiful sounds in the world – the voice of nightingale. But some people who ought to know better prefer the music of a clockwork bird. The setting is Ancient China and the pompous court of the Emperor. As in many stories by Andersen, the humble people have more taste and judgment than the courtiers (See the Emperor’s New Clothes) Sit back and enjoy this longish story with sound effects. The music is the Dance of the Hours by Ponchielli. Read by Natasha. Story by Hans Christian Andersen. Duration 32.20. THE NIGHTINGALE by Hans Christian Andersen The story I am going to tell you happened a great many years ago in China, so it is well to hear it now before it is forgotten. The emperor’s palace was the most beautiful in the world. It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicate and brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. In the garden could be seen the most singular flowers, with pretty silver bells tied to them, which tinkled so that every one who passed could not help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the emperor’s garden was remarkable, and it extended so far that the gardener himself did not know where it ended. Those who traveled beyond its limits knew that there was a noble forest, with lofty trees, sloping down to the deep blue sea, and the great ships sailed under the shadow of its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully that even the poor fishermen, who had so many other things to do, would stop and listen. Sometimes, when they went at night to spread their nets, they would hear her sing, and say, “Oh, is not that beautiful?” But when they returned to their fishing, they forgot the bird until the next night. Then they would hear it again, and exclaim “Oh, how beautiful is the nightingale’s song!” Travellers from every country in the world came to the city of the emperor, which they admired very much, as well as the palace and gardens; but when they heard the nightingale, they all declared it to be the best of all. And the travelers, on their return home, related what they had seen; and learned men wrote books, containing descriptions of the town, the palace, and the gardens; but they did not forget the nightingale, which was really the greatest wonder. And those who could write poetry composed beautiful verses about the nightingale, who lived in a forest near the deep sea. The books traveled all over the world, and some of them came into the hands of the emperor; and he sat in his golden chair, and, as he read, he nodded his approval every moment, for it pleased him to find such a beautiful description of his city, his palace, and his gardens. But when he came to the words, “the nightingale is the most beautiful of all,” he exclaimed, “What is this? I know nothing of any nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire? and even in my garden? I have never heard of it. Something, it appears, may be learnt from books.” Then he called one of his lords-in-waiting, who was so high-bred, that when any in an inferior rank to himself spoke to him, or asked him a question, he would answer, “Pooh,” which means nothing. “There is a very wonderful bird mentioned here, called a nightingale,” said the emperor; “they say it is the best thing in my large kingdom. Why have I not been told of it?” “I have never heard the name,” replied the cavalier; “she has not been presented at court.” “It is my pleasure that she shall appear this evening.” said the emperor; “the whole world knows what I possess better than I do myself.” “I have never heard of her,” said the cavalier; “yet I will endeavor to find her.” But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went up stairs and down, through halls and passages; yet none of those whom he met had heard of the bird. So he returned to the emperor, and said that it must be a fable, invented by those who had written the book. “Your imperial majesty,” said he, “cannot believe everything contained in books; sometimes they are only fiction, or what is called the black art.” “But the book in which I have read this account,” said the emperor, “was sent to me by the great and mighty emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot contain a falsehood. I will hear the nightingale, she must be here this evening; she has my highest favor; and if she does not come, the whole court shall be trampled upon after supper is ended.” “Tsing-pe!” cried the lord-in-waiting, and again he ran up and down stairs, through all the halls and corridors; and half the court ran with him, for they did not like the idea of being trampled upon. There was a great inquiry about this wonderful nightingale, whom all the world knew, but who was unknown to the court. At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, “Oh, yes, I know the nightingale quite well; indeed, she can sing. Every evening I have permission to take home to my poor sick mother the scraps from the table; she lives down by the sea-shore, and as I come back I feel tired, and I sit down in the wood to rest, and listen to the nightingale’s song. Then the tears come into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me.” “Little maiden,” said the lord-in-waiting, “I will obtain for you constant employment in the kitchen, and you shall have permission to see the emperor dine, if you will lead us to the nightingale; for she is invited for this evening to the palace.” So she went into the wood where the nightingale sang, and half the court followed her. As they went along, a cow began lowing. “Oh,” said a young courtier, “now we have found her; what wonderful power for such a small creature; I have certainly heard it before.” “No, that is only a cow lowing,” said the little girl; “we are a long way from the place yet.” Then some frogs began to croak in the marsh. “Beautiful,” said the young courtier again. “Now I hear it, tinkling like little church bells.” “No, those are frogs,” said the little maiden; “but I think we shall soon hear her now:” and presently the nightingale began to sing. “Hark, hark! there she is,” said the girl, “and there she sits,” she added, pointing to a little gray bird who was perched on a bough. “Is it possible?” said the lord-in-waiting, “I never imagined it would be a little, plain, simple thing like that. She has certainly changed color at seeing so many grand people around her.” “Little nightingale,” cried the girl, raising her voice, “our most gracious emperor wishes you to sing before him.” “With the greatest pleasure,” said the nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully. “It sounds like tiny glass bells,” said the lord-in-waiting, “and see how her little throat works. It is surprising that we have never heard this before; she will be a great success at court.” “Shall I sing once more before the emperor?” asked the nightingale, who thought he was present. “My excellent little nightingale,” said the courtier, “I have the great pleasure of inviting you to a court festival this evening, where you will gain imperial favor by your charming song.” “My song sounds best in the green wood,” said the bird; but still she came willingly when she heard the emperor’s wish. The palace was elegantly decorated for the occasion. The walls and floors of porcelain glittered in the light of a thousand lamps. Beautiful flowers, round which little bells were tied, stood in the corridors: what with the running to and fro and the draught, these bells tinkled so loudly that no one could speak to be heard. In the centre of the great hall, a golden perch had been fixed for the nightingale to sit on. The whole court was present, and the little kitchen-maid had received permission to stand by the door. She was not installed as a real court cook. All were in full dress, and every eye was turned to the little gray bird when the emperor nodded to her to begin. The nightingale sang so sweetly that the tears came into the emperor’s eyes, and then rolled down his cheeks, as her song became still more touching and went to every one’s heart. The emperor was so delighted that he declared the nightingale should have his gold slipper to wear round her neck, but she declined the honor with thanks: she had been sufficiently rewarded already. “I have seen tears in an emperor’s eyes,” she said, “that is my richest reward. An emperor’s tears have wonderful power, and are quite sufficient honor for me;” and then she sang again more enchantingly than ever. “That singing is a lovely gift;” said the ladies of the court to each other; and then they took water in their mouths to make them utter the gurgling sounds of the nightingale when they spoke to any one, so that they might fancy themselves nightingales. And the footmen and chambermaids also expressed their satisfaction, which is saying a great deal, for they are very difficult to please. In fact the nightingale’s visit was most successful. She was now to remain at court, to have her own cage, with liberty to go out twice a day, and once during the night. Twelve servants were appointed to attend her on these occasions, who each held her by a silken string fastened to her leg. There was certainly not much pleasure in this kind of flying. The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one said “nightin,” and the other said “gale,” and they understood what was meant, for nothing else was talked of. Eleven peddlers’ children were named after her, but not of them could sing a note. One day the emperor received a large packet on which was written “The Nightingale.” “Here is no doubt a new book about our celebrated bird,” said the emperor. But instead of a book, it was a work of art contained in a casket, an artificial nightingale made to look like a living one, and covered all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. As soon as the artificial bird was wound up, it could sing like the real one, and could move its tail up and down, which sparkled with silver and gold. Round its neck hung a piece of ribbon, on which was written “The Emperor of China’s nightingale is poor compared with that of the Emperor of Japan’s.” “This is very beautiful,” exclaimed all who saw it, and he who had brought the artificial bird received the title of “Imperial nightingale-bringer-in-chief.” “Now they must sing together,” said the court, “and what a duet it will be.” But they did not get on well, for the real nightingale sang in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only waltzes. “That is not a fault,” said the music-master, “it is quite perfect to my taste,” so then it had to sing alone, and was as successful as the real bird; besides, it was so much prettier to look at, for it sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly have heard it again, but the emperor said the living nightingale ought to sing something. But where was she? No one had noticed her when she flew out at the open window, back to her own green woods. “What strange conduct,” said the emperor, when her flight had been discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a very ungrateful creature. “But we have the best bird after all,” said one, and then they would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-fourth time they had listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learnt it, for it was rather difficult. But the music-master praised the bird in the highest degree, and even asserted that it was better than a real nightingale, not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds, but also in its musical power. “For you must perceive, my chief lord and emperor, that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can be opened and explained, so that people may understand how the waltzes are formed, and why one note follows upon another.” “This is exactly what we think,” they all replied, and then the music-master received permission to exhibit the bird to the people on the following Sunday, and the emperor commanded that they should be present to hear it sing. When they heard it they were like people intoxicated; however it must have been with drinking tea, which is quite a Chinese custom. They all said “Oh!” and held up their forefingers and nodded, but a poor fisherman, who had heard the real nightingale, said, “it sounds prettily enough, and the melodies are all alike; yet there seems something wanting, I cannot exactly tell what.” And after this the real nightingale was banished from the empire, and the artificial bird placed on a silk cushion close to the emperor’s bed. The presents of gold and precious stones which had been received with it were round the bird, and it was now advanced to the title of “Little Imperial Toilet Singer,” and to the rank of No. 1 on the left hand; for the emperor considered the left side, on which the heart lies, as the most noble, and the heart of an emperor is in the same place as that of other people. The music-master wrote a work, in twenty-five volumes, about the artificial bird, which was very learned and very long, and full of the most difficult Chinese words; yet all the people said they had read it, and understood it, for fear of being thought stupid and having their bodies trampled upon. So a year passed, and the emperor, the court, and all the other Chinese knew every little turn in the artificial bird’s song; and for that same reason it pleased them better. They could sing with the bird, which they often did. The street-boys sang, “Zi-zi-zi, cluck, cluck, cluck,” and the emperor himself could sing it also. It was really most amusing. One evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird sounded “whizz.” Then a spring cracked. “Whir-r-r-r” went all the wheels, running round, and then the music stopped. The emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and called for his physician; but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker; and, after a great deal of talking and examination, the bird was put into something like order; but he said that it must be used very carefully, as the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to put in new ones without injuring the music. Now there was great sorrow, as the bird could only be allowed to play once a year; and even that was dangerous for the works inside it. Then the music-master made a little speech, full of hard words, and declared that the bird was as good as ever; and, of course no one contradicted him. Five years passed, and then a real grief came upon the land. The Chinese really were fond of their emperor, and he now lay so ill that he was not expected to live. Already a new emperor had been chosen and the people who stood in the street asked the lord-in-waiting how the old emperor was; but he only said, “Pooh!” and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the emperor in his royal bed; the whole court thought he was dead, and every one ran away to pay homage to his successor. The chamberlains went out to have a talk on the matter, and the ladies’-maids invited company to take coffee. Cloth had been laid down on the halls and passages, so that not a footstep should be heard, and all was silent and still. But the emperor was not yet dead, although he lay white and stiff on his gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and heavy gold tassels. A window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the emperor and the artificial bird. The poor emperor, finding he could scarcely breathe with a strange weight on his chest, opened his eyes, and saw Death sitting there. He had put on the emperor’s golden crown, and held in one hand his sword of state, and in the other his beautiful banner. All around the bed and peeping through the long velvet curtains, were a number of strange heads, some very ugly, and others lovely and gentle-looking. These were the emperor’s good and bad deeds, which stared him in the face now Death sat at his heart. “Do you remember this?” “Do you recollect that?” they asked one after another, thus bringing to his remembrance circumstances that made the perspiration stand on his brow. “I know nothing about it,” said the emperor. “Music! music!” he cried; “the large Chinese drum! that I may not hear what they say.” But they still went on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. “Music! music!” shouted the emperor. “You little precious golden bird, sing, pray sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung my golden slipper round your neck. Sing! sing!” But the bird remained silent. There was no one to wind it up, and therefore it could not sing a note. Death continued to stare at the emperor with his cold, hollow eyes, and the room was fearfully still. Suddenly there came through the open window the sound of sweet music. Outside, on the bough of a tree, sat the living nightingale. She had heard of the emperor’s illness, and was therefore come to sing to him of hope and trust. And as she sung, the shadows grew paler and paler; the blood in the emperor’s veins flowed more rapidly, and gave life to his weak limbs; and even Death himself listened, and said, “Go on, little nightingale, go on.” “Then will you give me the beautiful golden sword and that rich banner? and will you give me the emperor’s crown?” said the bird. So Death gave up each of these treasures for a song; and the nightingale continued her singing. She sung of the quiet churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the elder-tree wafts its perfume on the breeze, and the fresh, sweet grass is moistened by the mourners’ tears. Then Death longed to go and see his garden, and floated out through the window in the form of a cold, white mist. “Thanks, thanks, you heavenly little bird. I know you well. I banished you from my kingdom once, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my bed, and banished Death from my heart, with your sweet song. How can I reward you?” “You have already rewarded me,” said the nightingale. “I shall never forget that I drew tears from your eyes the first time I sang to you. These are the jewels that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep, and grow strong and well again. I will sing to you again.” And as she sung, the emperor fell into a sweet sleep; and how mild and refreshing that slumber was! When he awoke, strengthened and restored, the sun shone brightly through the window; but not one of his servants had returned—they all believed he was dead; only the nightingale still sat beside him, and sang. “You must always remain with me,” said the emperor. “You shall sing only when it pleases you; and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.” “No; do not do that,” replied the nightingale; “the bird did very well as long as it could. Keep it here still. I cannot live in the palace, and build my nest; but let me come when I like. I will sit on a bough outside your window, in the evening, and sing to you, so that you may be happy, and have thoughts full of joy. I will sing to you of those who are happy, and those who suffer; of the good and the evil, who are hidden around you. The little singing bird flies far from you and your court to the home of the fisherman and the peasant’s cot. I love your heart better than your crown; and yet something holy lingers round that also. I will come, I will sing to you; but you must promise me one thing.” “Everything,” said the emperor, who, having dressed himself in his imperial robes, stood with the hand that held the heavy golden sword pressed to his heart. “I only ask one thing,” she replied; “let no one know that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be best to conceal it.” So saying, the nightingale flew away. The servants now came in to look after the dead emperor; when, lo! there he stood, and, to their astonishment, said, “Good morning.” Story by Hans Christian Andersen Animal FX recorded by Reinsamba Orchestral Music by Partners in Rhyme Drums by Garage Band Other FX by Storynory tag:odeo.com,2009-08-17,24974566 Mon, 17 Aug 2009 07:08:06 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Hans Christian Andersen http://odeo.com/episodes/24938033-The-Witch-Who-Lost-Her-Spells Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Katie, the ordinary witch, loses her spell book at school. This is bad enough, but then somebody starts using her spells to play tricks. Of course when magic happens at school, it’s only natural that people blame Katie. She must become a detective and discover who the theif is before things go too far. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.47. Katie had loads and loads of books. Books about stories, books about interesting places, books about famous people in history, books about weird but true facts, books about – just about anything you can think of. But the most important one of all was a special secret book that she had written herself. It was her spell book. And every time she learned a new piece of magic, that was where she wrote it down. Normally, Katie kept her spell book at home and that was it stayed. But just once, she took it to school to show it to her friend Isis. She let Isis have a very qu... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Katie, the ordinary witch, loses her spell book at school. This is bad enough, but then somebody starts using her spells to play tricks. Of course when magic happens at school, it’s only natural that people blame Katie. She must become a detective and discover who the theif is before things go too far. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.47. Katie had loads and loads of books. Books about stories, books about interesting places, books about famous people in history, books about weird but true facts, books about – just about anything you can think of. But the most important one of all was a special secret book that she had written herself. It was her spell book. And every time she learned a new piece of magic, that was where she wrote it down. Normally, Katie kept her spell book at home and that was it stayed. But just once, she took it to school to show it to her friend Isis. She let Isis have a very quick look, so that she could see how all her spells were written in beautiful letters, and how she drew pictures to explain the difficult parts. And then, as the geography class was about to begin, she quickly slipped the book into her bag with her other books. Normally she would have made all the writing inside it invisible, but it was against the rules to do magic at school, and she didn’t want anyone to hear her saying the invisible spell. At exactly 12 o clock, the school bell rang six times. That meant it was a fire drill , and everyone had to go outside into the playground with running or panicking, and line up in their classes. Katie took her bag and started to walk quickly to the door. Her teacher, Miss Vile, said: “Katie. Don’t run and leave your bag. It is not the procedure to take anything with you.” And as Katie really, really didn’t want to leave the bag behind, she pleaded, “But Please Miss Vile..” “Katie. Answering back is holding everyone up and putting them in danger. Just put the bag back and follow the procedure.” And although Katie thought it was a waste of time to put her bag back on the desk, she did as she was told. There wasn’t really a fire. It was just a practice. And soon everyone allowed back inside to continue their lessons. It was only later that evening, when Katie got home and took out all her books, that she realised that the most important one of all was missing. At first she couldn’t quite believe it. She looked through all her books again and again. But no. The spell book wasn’t among them. And then she thought back through he day. “The Fire Drill!” she said out aloud to herself. “That was the only time the bag was out of my sight. Somebody must have stolen my book !” And although she was very worried, she didn’t tell her mother because she knew she would be cross. Instead she said to hesself. “I’ll just have to be a detective and discover who took it !” Later that day, the whole class had to do a spelling test. Not a magic spelling test, but the ordinary sort where you have to write down tricky words. At the end, the children had to swap books with their neighbour and mark each others’ tests. Katie marked Isis’s book. And do you know what? She scored 10 out of 10. And Katie thought: “Nobody could know how to spell all of those horrible words. She must have cheated with magic. Isis must have stolen my spell book !” And as soon as the bell rang for the end of class she turned to Isis and demanded: “Alright. Hand it over!” “Hand over what?” “You know perfectly well what. My spell book. You stole it yesterday during the fire drill !” And Isis looked like she was going to cry. “katie. How could you say such a nasty thing. I”m your friend. And besides, I left for the drill before you and came back after you. So if anyone stole your book. It wasn’t me.” And Katie remembered that it was true. Isis had left before her, and come back after her, so it couldn’t have been her that stole her book. “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I’m sorry I accused you. But who could have taken my book?” “I know who,” said Isis. “It was Isabelle. When you were showing me your book, she was kind of hovering around, pretending not to be interested. But she’s a nosy parker and she was listening in. She’s the one who took your book. I bet.” Katie and Isis decided not to accuse Isabelle right away, because then she would be on her guard. Instead they watched her closely, to see if she gave herself away. The very next day, Isis came into class very excitedly and whispered into Katie’s ear. “Have you seen Isabelle yet? She’s smiling all over her criminal little face. Mrs. Hepworth has said that she can go on holiday two weeks during term time. Her Dad is going to California for his work, and he’s going to take the family with him to see Disney Land. Mrs. Hepworth never lets anyone take time off school. Isabelle must have put a spell on her.” And Katie was sure that her friend was right. But then it turned out that it was all a mistake. Isabelle’s Dad had promised to take her to Disneland, but he hadn’t asked Mrs. Hepworth, who was the head teacher. And when he did ask her, she said “No. Not under any circumstances can Mickey Mouse be more important than Mathematics.” And Isabelle didn’t go to Disney land with her family. So it couldn’t have been Isabelle who stole the spell book. And then some strange things started to happen around school. Mr. Cotton liked to put his gloves on the table. One time when he turned his back to write on the WhiteBoard, the glove stared to walk across the table on two fingers. When he turned round it flopped down again. The whole class started laughing, and Mr. Cotten said: “All right. Will somebody let me in on the big joke?” And Moyra said: “Katie did a spell!” And Katie would have been in big trouble. Only Mr. Cotton was nice and didn’t tell Mrs. Hepworth. And another time, when Mr. Corneau was teaching French, a marker pen drew funny faces on the white board behind his back. Everyone laughed again. But fortunately he was too confused to understand what had happened, because he didn’t speak very much English, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have believed it. Somebody was using Katie’s spells to play pranks. And Katie was extremely cross about it. For a while she suspected Jemma, because she won a poetry competition and was invited onto TV to read her poem. But then it turned out that she had written her winning verse long before the spell book was went missing, and Katie understood that she hadn’t composed it by magic, but by skill. And then Isis Suspected Paul because he suddenly grew taller and became quite good looking. But Katie thought it couldn’t be him, because he was too nice. And then something serious happened. It was the evening of the school play, and the children, parents and school governors packed into the hall to watch it. Mr Appleton had been rehearsing with the drama society for weeks and weeks. Some of the teachers said it was the best thing the school had ever done. It was called Romeo and Juliet. And when they got to the famous part where Juliet stands on a balcony – in this case a stepladder – and says: O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Romeo replied: “I’m here you silly bat. Have you gone blind or what? That wasn’t anything like the right line. But Juliet carried on: ‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy: What’s in a name? That which we call a sock By any other word would pong like your feet And Romeo said What’s up Juliet? You weren’t supposed to say that. And Mr. Appleton had to jump up on stage. And Juliet fell off her stepladder. And generally the evening was the biggest disaster in the whole history of the school. Romeo and Juliet were played by Paul and Jemma. And normally they would have been in big big trouble. Like expelled from school type of trouble. But both of them swore that they didn’t mean to say those words. And Mrs. Hepworth believed them because they were both star pupils and always very well behaved. She thought that somebody had put a spell on them. And she suspected that that person was Katie. Because, you see, Katie was the only witch in school that she knew about. Of course Katie understood right away that she was the prime suspect. She worked up all her courage and went to see Mrs. Hepworth in her study. The headmistress said: “So. You have come to confess.” And she said it with such certainty that for a moment Katie felt guilty even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. “No,” she said. “Truly, Honestly, I’m totally innocent. Somebody has stolen my spell book and is using it ! ” Mrs. Hepworth did know whether or not to believe her pleas. “Well Katie. I hope you are not telling lies,” she said. ” Because I shall find out the truth.” And this is how she got to the bottom of the matter. Katie’s class was looking forward to a special treat at school. The Animal Man was coming with his traveling zoo. He was bringing rabbits, and guinea pigs, harmless snakes, big spiders, and colorful birds, and the children would be allowed to touch them and pick them up. Unexpectedly, Mrs. Hepworth turned up in place of their usual teacher. Under her arm she held a file on which was written. “Questions and Answers.” She told the class: “We are going to do a test. And if anyone gets less than seven out of ten they won’t go be seeing the animal man tomorrow. Instead they will stay in with me and do mathematical problems.” And the whole class felt gloomy, because this was a nasty surprise. Things got worse. The questions were really hard and quite random. Like, “What is the capital of Mongolia?” And “Let ABC and DEF be two triangles in which angles B and C are equal respectively to angles E and F; If AB is not equal to DE, then one of them is greater?” And “Who was the seventh president of the United States of America?” Katie did not know the answer to a single question. She looked at Isis. She could see her pen hovering above the paper. “Katie,” said Mrs. Hepworth. “Stop copying your friend.” And Katie thought: “What’s the use copying Isis? She’s as stumped as I am.” At the end of the text, Mrs. Hepworth collected all the papers and made everyone read quietly while she did the marking. At the end of the lesson, Isis asked. “Please Mrs. Hepworth. Did anyone past the test?” And Mrs. Hepworth gave a reply that nobody understood. She said: “Which is the wicked witch that wished the wicked wish? Soon we shall find out.” When she was gone, Isabelle was saying to her friends: “It’s all Katie’s fault. We’re being punished because she put a spell on the school play.” And several people said. “Yeah. Katie, you should stop doing spells.” As Katie was about to go home later that day, Mrs. Hepworth caught up with her in the corridor and asked her to step into her study. “I’ve got something for you,” she said as she closed the door behind her. And Katie saw that on the head teacher’s desk was something very precious. It was her book of spells. “I promise I haven’t looked at any of your spells,” said Mrs. Hepworth. and then she looked a bit guilty because head teachers aren’t supposed to tell fibs. “well just a little peak,” she admitted. She handed the book to Katie. “Thank you, Mrs. Hepworth,” said Katie. But how….?” And Mrs. Hepworth explained. “The test I set today wasn’t an ordinary one. It was a witch test. A certain somebody answered all the questions. And that certain somebody used magic spells: your magic spells which he or she stole.” “But isn’t that unfair?” asked Katie. “What if that person was just brilliant and knew all the answers?” The headmistress tapped her nose and her lips formed a smug smile: “You see they didn’t give the right answers. They gave the wrong answers. But not just any old wrong answers. They wrote down the very same wrong answers that were in my file. And the only way they could have seen what I had in my file was by magic.” And Katie understood that `Mrs. Hepworth had played a very clever trick. Although she wouldn’t say who the “certain somebody” was, Katie waited to see who got expelled. But in fact, nobody did. Because Mrs. Hepworth thought that if the school governors learned about her special test, they might accuse her of going on a witch hunt, and witch hunts are supposed to be wrong in this day and age. And so the certain somebody went unpunished. But Mrs. Hepworth knew who that person was, and she was watching them. And that’s the story of the Witch Who Lost her Spells. And Bertie says he hopes that you never lose anything important. And if you do, he hopes you find it again with out any resort to magic. And there are loads more stories about Katie at Storynory.com. Stories like: The Witch Who Got into Trouble at School and The Valentine Witch. And of course we have stories on just about every subject. So until next time…. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Katie, the ordinary witch, loses her spell book at school. This is bad enough, but then somebody starts using her spells to play tricks. Of course when magic happens at school, it’s only natural that people blame Katie. She must become a detective and discover who the theif is before things go too far. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.47. Katie had loads and loads of books. Books about stories, books about interesting places, books about famous people in history, books about weird but true facts, books about – just about anything you can think of. But the most important one of all was a special secret book that she had written herself. It was her spell book. And every time she learned a new piece of magic, that was where she wrote it down. Normally, Katie kept her spell book at home and that was it stayed. But just once, she took it to school to show it to her friend Isis. She let Isis have a very quick look, so that she could see how all her spells were written in beautiful letters, and how she drew pictures to explain the difficult parts. And then, as the geography class was about to begin, she quickly slipped the book into her bag with her other books. Normally she would have made all the writing inside it invisible, but it was against the rules to do magic at school, and she didn’t want anyone to hear her saying the invisible spell. At exactly 12 o clock, the school bell rang six times. That meant it was a fire drill , and everyone had to go outside into the playground with running or panicking, and line up in their classes. Katie took her bag and started to walk quickly to the door. Her teacher, Miss Vile, said: “Katie. Don’t run and leave your bag. It is not the procedure to take anything with you.” And as Katie really, really didn’t want to leave the bag behind, she pleaded, “But Please Miss Vile..” “Katie. Answering back is holding everyone up and putting them in danger. Just put the bag back and follow the procedure.” And although Katie thought it was a waste of time to put her bag back on the desk, she did as she was told. There wasn’t really a fire. It was just a practice. And soon everyone allowed back inside to continue their lessons. It was only later that evening, when Katie got home and took out all her books, that she realised that the most important one of all was missing. At first she couldn’t quite believe it. She looked through all her books again and again. But no. The spell book wasn’t among them. And then she thought back through he day. “The Fire Drill!” she said out aloud to herself. “That was the only time the bag was out of my sight. Somebody must have stolen my book !” And although she was very worried, she didn’t tell her mother because she knew she would be cross. Instead she said to hesself. “I’ll just have to be a detective and discover who took it !” Later that day, the whole class had to do a spelling test. Not a magic spelling test, but the ordinary sort where you have to write down tricky words. At the end, the children had to swap books with their neighbour and mark each others’ tests. Katie marked Isis’s book. And do you know what? She scored 10 out of 10. And Katie thought: “Nobody could know how to spell all of those horrible words. She must have cheated with magic. Isis must have stolen my spell book !” And as soon as the bell rang for the end of class she turned to Isis and demanded: “Alright. Hand it over!” “Hand over what?” “You know perfectly well what. My spell book. You stole it yesterday during the fire drill !” And Isis looked like she was going to cry. “katie. How could you say such a nasty thing. I”m your friend. And besides, I left for the drill before you and came back after you. So if anyone stole your book. It wasn’t me.” And Katie remembered that it was true. Isis had left before her, and come back after her, so it couldn’t have been her that stole her book. “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I’m sorry I accused you. But who could have taken my book?” “I know who,” said Isis. “It was Isabelle. When you were showing me your book, she was kind of hovering around, pretending not to be interested. But she’s a nosy parker and she was listening in. She’s the one who took your book. I bet.” Katie and Isis decided not to accuse Isabelle right away, because then she would be on her guard. Instead they watched her closely, to see if she gave herself away. The very next day, Isis came into class very excitedly and whispered into Katie’s ear. “Have you seen Isabelle yet? She’s smiling all over her criminal little face. Mrs. Hepworth has said that she can go on holiday two weeks during term time. Her Dad is going to California for his work, and he’s going to take the family with him to see Disney Land. Mrs. Hepworth never lets anyone take time off school. Isabelle must have put a spell on her.” And Katie was sure that her friend was right. But then it turned out that it was all a mistake. Isabelle’s Dad had promised to take her to Disneland, but he hadn’t asked Mrs. Hepworth, who was the head teacher. And when he did ask her, she said “No. Not under any circumstances can Mickey Mouse be more important than Mathematics.” And Isabelle didn’t go to Disney land with her family. So it couldn’t have been Isabelle who stole the spell book. And then some strange things started to happen around school. Mr. Cotton liked to put his gloves on the table. One time when he turned his back to write on the WhiteBoard, the glove stared to walk across the table on two fingers. When he turned round it flopped down again. The whole class started laughing, and Mr. Cotten said: “All right. Will somebody let me in on the big joke?” And Moyra said: “Katie did a spell!” And Katie would have been in big trouble. Only Mr. Cotton was nice and didn’t tell Mrs. Hepworth. And another time, when Mr. Corneau was teaching French, a marker pen drew funny faces on the white board behind his back. Everyone laughed again. But fortunately he was too confused to understand what had happened, because he didn’t speak very much English, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have believed it. Somebody was using Katie’s spells to play pranks. And Katie was extremely cross about it. For a while she suspected Jemma, because she won a poetry competition and was invited onto TV to read her poem. But then it turned out that she had written her winning verse long before the spell book was went missing, and Katie understood that she hadn’t composed it by magic, but by skill. And then Isis Suspected Paul because he suddenly grew taller and became quite good looking. But Katie thought it couldn’t be him, because he was too nice. And then something serious happened. It was the evening of the school play, and the children, parents and school governors packed into the hall to watch it. Mr Appleton had been rehearsing with the drama society for weeks and weeks. Some of the teachers said it was the best thing the school had ever done. It was called Romeo and Juliet. And when they got to the famous part where Juliet stands on a balcony – in this case a stepladder – and says: O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Romeo replied: “I’m here you silly bat. Have you gone blind or what? That wasn’t anything like the right line. But Juliet carried on: ‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy: What’s in a name? That which we call a sock By any other word would pong like your feet And Romeo said What’s up Juliet? You weren’t supposed to say that. And Mr. Appleton had to jump up on stage. And Juliet fell off her stepladder. And generally the evening was the biggest disaster in the whole history of the school. Romeo and Juliet were played by Paul and Jemma. And normally they would have been in big big trouble. Like expelled from school type of trouble. But both of them swore that they didn’t mean to say those words. And Mrs. Hepworth believed them because they were both star pupils and always very well behaved. She thought that somebody had put a spell on them. And she suspected that that person was Katie. Because, you see, Katie was the only witch in school that she knew about. Of course Katie understood right away that she was the prime suspect. She worked up all her courage and went to see Mrs. Hepworth in her study. The headmistress said: “So. You have come to confess.” And she said it with such certainty that for a moment Katie felt guilty even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. “No,” she said. “Truly, Honestly, I’m totally innocent. Somebody has stolen my spell book and is using it ! ” Mrs. Hepworth did know whether or not to believe her pleas. “Well Katie. I hope you are not telling lies,” she said. ” Because I shall find out the truth.” And this is how she got to the bottom of the matter. Katie’s class was looking forward to a special treat at school. The Animal Man was coming with his traveling zoo. He was bringing rabbits, and guinea pigs, harmless snakes, big spiders, and colorful birds, and the children would be allowed to touch them and pick them up. Unexpectedly, Mrs. Hepworth turned up in place of their usual teacher. Under her arm she held a file on which was written. “Questions and Answers.” She told the class: “We are going to do a test. And if anyone gets less than seven out of ten they won’t go be seeing the animal man tomorrow. Instead they will stay in with me and do mathematical problems.” And the whole class felt gloomy, because this was a nasty surprise. Things got worse. The questions were really hard and quite random. Like, “What is the capital of Mongolia?” And “Let ABC and DEF be two triangles in which angles B and C are equal respectively to angles E and F; If AB is not equal to DE, then one of them is greater?” And “Who was the seventh president of the United States of America?” Katie did not know the answer to a single question. She looked at Isis. She could see her pen hovering above the paper. “Katie,” said Mrs. Hepworth. “Stop copying your friend.” And Katie thought: “What’s the use copying Isis? She’s as stumped as I am.” At the end of the text, Mrs. Hepworth collected all the papers and made everyone read quietly while she did the marking. At the end of the lesson, Isis asked. “Please Mrs. Hepworth. Did anyone past the test?” And Mrs. Hepworth gave a reply that nobody understood. She said: “Which is the wicked witch that wished the wicked wish? Soon we shall find out.” When she was gone, Isabelle was saying to her friends: “It’s all Katie’s fault. We’re being punished because she put a spell on the school play.” And several people said. “Yeah. Katie, you should stop doing spells.” As Katie was about to go home later that day, Mrs. Hepworth caught up with her in the corridor and asked her to step into her study. “I’ve got something for you,” she said as she closed the door behind her. And Katie saw that on the head teacher’s desk was something very precious. It was her book of spells. “I promise I haven’t looked at any of your spells,” said Mrs. Hepworth. and then she looked a bit guilty because head teachers aren’t supposed to tell fibs. “well just a little peak,” she admitted. She handed the book to Katie. “Thank you, Mrs. Hepworth,” said Katie. But how….?” And Mrs. Hepworth explained. “The test I set today wasn’t an ordinary one. It was a witch test. A certain somebody answered all the questions. And that certain somebody used magic spells: your magic spells which he or she stole.” “But isn’t that unfair?” asked Katie. “What if that person was just brilliant and knew all the answers?” The headmistress tapped her nose and her lips formed a smug smile: “You see they didn’t give the right answers. They gave the wrong answers. But not just any old wrong answers. They wrote down the very same wrong answers that were in my file. And the only way they could have seen what I had in my file was by magic.” And Katie understood that `Mrs. Hepworth had played a very clever trick. Although she wouldn’t say who the “certain somebody” was, Katie waited to see who got expelled. But in fact, nobody did. Because Mrs. Hepworth thought that if the school governors learned about her special test, they might accuse her of going on a witch hunt, and witch hunts are supposed to be wrong in this day and age. And so the certain somebody went unpunished. But Mrs. Hepworth knew who that person was, and she was watching them. And that’s the story of the Witch Who Lost her Spells. And Bertie says he hopes that you never lose anything important. And if you do, he hopes you find it again with out any resort to magic. And there are loads more stories about Katie at Storynory.com. Stories like: The Witch Who Got into Trouble at School and The Valentine Witch. And of course we have stories on just about every subject. So until next time…. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 tag:odeo.com,2009-08-10,24938033 Mon, 10 Aug 2009 11:02:18 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, The Ordinary Witch http://odeo.com/episodes/24901318-The-Midas-Touch Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) Not all stories have a moral, but this one from ancient Greece certainly does. Midas has a gift – everything he touches turns to gold. But he soon learns that an excessive love of riches squeezes the truly valuable things out of life. The story begins with Silenus, a satyr, half man, half goat, who follows Dionysus the god of Wine. Read by Natasha. Version for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 9.42 There was once a dreadfully ugly beast called Silenus. He pranced over the mountains on a pair of hairy goat’s legs. A long tail swished behind him. But from the waste up, he was a man, more or less. His big belly bounced up and down as he ran along. A pair of horns sprouted out of his bald and shiny head. Quite often, slobber dribbled from his thick and purple lips. In short, this delightful creature was a satyr. Silenus was a friend of Dionysus, the God of Wine. Dionysus often used to gather his wild band of followers in... Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) Not all stories have a moral, but this one from ancient Greece certainly does. Midas has a gift – everything he touches turns to gold. But he soon learns that an excessive love of riches squeezes the truly valuable things out of life. The story begins with Silenus, a satyr, half man, half goat, who follows Dionysus the god of Wine. Read by Natasha. Version for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 9.42 There was once a dreadfully ugly beast called Silenus. He pranced over the mountains on a pair of hairy goat’s legs. A long tail swished behind him. But from the waste up, he was a man, more or less. His big belly bounced up and down as he ran along. A pair of horns sprouted out of his bald and shiny head. Quite often, slobber dribbled from his thick and purple lips. In short, this delightful creature was a satyr. Silenus was a friend of Dionysus, the God of Wine. Dionysus often used to gather his wild band of followers in the woods for a noisy, riotous party. They included satyrs as well as Maenids, who were wild women of the woods. They would bang drums, blow pipes and horns, and crash cymbals and they danced themselves into a mad frenzy. But above all, they liked to drink wine. One time after Silenus had been partying all night, he staggered out of the woods, and into the palace grounds of Midas, king of Phrygia. He lay down between the rose bushes and fell into a deep sleep. Around mid-morning Princess Zoe was walking through the gardens collecting rose blossoms. She saw the hairy hoof of Silenus sticking out from among the bushes, and she thought that a poor sick goat had come into the garden to lie down. As he was dirty and smelled not very nice, she called the gardener. When he came, he pulled on the leg and found, not a goat, but a satyr. “Ugh, he’s horrible,” exclaimed Zoe. “Throw him on the compost heap.” “Ah, I’d better ask the king before I do that,” said the Gardener. “After all, a satyr can bring good fortune.” When King Midas learned that there was a satyr sleeping in the rose garden, he ordered that he be given a bed in the palace until he felt better. The servants carried him on a stretcher to the best guest room. And there he remained, snoring loudly and smelling like – well, a goat – for almost another day. When finally he arose, he staggered into the palace kitchen and noisily demanded cheese, eggs, and wine. The cook wanted to chase him out with a meat cleaver, but steward held him back saying that the satyr was a guest of the king. Selenus took the wine and went wandering around the palace leaving dirty hoof prints as he went. When the queen saw him, she was horrified: “Who or what is this vile creature that’s come to stay with us?” she asked the king. Midas replied that he was a friend of Dionysus, and everyone must treat him great courtesy. Although Princess Zoe and the Queen did their best to stay out of the way of the satyr, King Midas entertained his guest, eating and drinking with him until late at night, and playing music on the pan pipes. All in all, Selinus stayed with Midas for a week. And no one was more pleased about this show of hospitality than Dionysus, because in his eyes, anyone who honoured Selinus, honoured Dionysus. A few days after Selinus had left, Midas was walking in his rose garden when he heard some strange but lovely music. He followed the sound and discovered a perfectly beautiful man sitting on the grass and playing a pipe. He knew right away that the stranger was one of the gods and he fell down on one knee. The god said: “Get up man. I’m not one for ceremonies. I wish to reward you. What gift would you like more than any other in the world? Power isn’t really my thing, but I can offer you wine, women or song.” “I need money’, said Midas. “Money. What good comes of money?” asked the god. “Well of course a god like you has no use for money,” said Midas, “But we mortals can never have enough of it. I wish that everything I touched turned to gold.” And although Dionysus thought it was a foolish wish, he granted it with the words: “Midas, all that you touch shall turn to gold.” The god disappeared, and King Midas rejoiced in his curse. He reached out and touched a rose blossom and it turned to gold. He picked up a stone, and that too became golden. Even a clod of earth became gold. He plucked an apple from a low branch, and it immediately became cold and shiny. He held it in his hand and said: “Oh, how pure and perfect it is.” And then he tossed the golden apple over his shoulder, and hurried into the palace to try his touch on random objects: columns, statues, furniture, doorknobs. The servants heard his voice laughing and shouting : “Gold, Glorious Gold!” And they wondered what had got into the king. Princess Zoe heard him too. She found him turning peas into little golden nuggets. “Father. What has happened?” she asked. “The most wonderful thing,” he replied. And he hugged her. But this was not what he had expected. He was holding not his daughter in his arms, but a cold, still statue. Distraught, he went to the fountain to wash his hot tears from his face. But as he scooped up the water in his hands, it turned into liquid gold. Now he realised the cruelty of his gift. He called out: “Lord Dionysus. Save me from this cursed metal!’ And Dionysus heard him and took pity on the foolish king. He appeared sitting on the edge of the fountain and said: “Go to the river that flows by the great city of Sardis. make your way up stream until you come to the source. Plunge your head and body at the same moment into the foaming fountain, where it gushes out, and wash away your foolishness.” Midas did as he was told. And when he plunged into the stream, the banks and the flowers that grew on them became yellow and golden. But Midas emerged from the waters free of his wish for riches and gold. And as long as he lived, he rejoiced in all that was simple and natural. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 – Download the audio to your computer (Right Click, Save As) Not all stories have a moral, but this one from ancient Greece certainly does. Midas has a gift – everything he touches turns to gold. But he soon learns that an excessive love of riches squeezes the truly valuable things out of life. The story begins with Silenus, a satyr, half man, half goat, who follows Dionysus the god of Wine. Read by Natasha. Version for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 9.42 There was once a dreadfully ugly beast called Silenus. He pranced over the mountains on a pair of hairy goat’s legs. A long tail swished behind him. But from the waste up, he was a man, more or less. His big belly bounced up and down as he ran along. A pair of horns sprouted out of his bald and shiny head. Quite often, slobber dribbled from his thick and purple lips. In short, this delightful creature was a satyr. Silenus was a friend of Dionysus, the God of Wine. Dionysus often used to gather his wild band of followers in the woods for a noisy, riotous party. They included satyrs as well as Maenids, who were wild women of the woods. They would bang drums, blow pipes and horns, and crash cymbals and they danced themselves into a mad frenzy. But above all, they liked to drink wine. One time after Silenus had been partying all night, he staggered out of the woods, and into the palace grounds of Midas, king of Phrygia. He lay down between the rose bushes and fell into a deep sleep. Around mid-morning Princess Zoe was walking through the gardens collecting rose blossoms. She saw the hairy hoof of Silenus sticking out from among the bushes, and she thought that a poor sick goat had come into the garden to lie down. As he was dirty and smelled not very nice, she called the gardener. When he came, he pulled on the leg and found, not a goat, but a satyr. “Ugh, he’s horrible,” exclaimed Zoe. “Throw him on the compost heap.” “Ah, I’d better ask the king before I do that,” said the Gardener. “After all, a satyr can bring good fortune.” When King Midas learned that there was a satyr sleeping in the rose garden, he ordered that he be given a bed in the palace until he felt better. The servants carried him on a stretcher to the best guest room. And there he remained, snoring loudly and smelling like – well, a goat – for almost another day. When finally he arose, he staggered into the palace kitchen and noisily demanded cheese, eggs, and wine. The cook wanted to chase him out with a meat cleaver, but steward held him back saying that the satyr was a guest of the king. Selenus took the wine and went wandering around the palace leaving dirty hoof prints as he went. When the queen saw him, she was horrified: “Who or what is this vile creature that’s come to stay with us?” she asked the king. Midas replied that he was a friend of Dionysus, and everyone must treat him great courtesy. Although Princess Zoe and the Queen did their best to stay out of the way of the satyr, King Midas entertained his guest, eating and drinking with him until late at night, and playing music on the pan pipes. All in all, Selinus stayed with Midas for a week. And no one was more pleased about this show of hospitality than Dionysus, because in his eyes, anyone who honoured Selinus, honoured Dionysus. A few days after Selinus had left, Midas was walking in his rose garden when he heard some strange but lovely music. He followed the sound and discovered a perfectly beautiful man sitting on the grass and playing a pipe. He knew right away that the stranger was one of the gods and he fell down on one knee. The god said: “Get up man. I’m not one for ceremonies. I wish to reward you. What gift would you like more than any other in the world? Power isn’t really my thing, but I can offer you wine, women or song.” “I need money’, said Midas. “Money. What good comes of money?” asked the god. “Well of course a god like you has no use for money,” said Midas, “But we mortals can never have enough of it. I wish that everything I touched turned to gold.” And although Dionysus thought it was a foolish wish, he granted it with the words: “Midas, all that you touch shall turn to gold.” The god disappeared, and King Midas rejoiced in his curse. He reached out and touched a rose blossom and it turned to gold. He picked up a stone, and that too became golden. Even a clod of earth became gold. He plucked an apple from a low branch, and it immediately became cold and shiny. He held it in his hand and said: “Oh, how pure and perfect it is.” And then he tossed the golden apple over his shoulder, and hurried into the palace to try his touch on random objects: columns, statues, furniture, doorknobs. The servants heard his voice laughing and shouting : “Gold, Glorious Gold!” And they wondered what had got into the king. Princess Zoe heard him too. She found him turning peas into little golden nuggets. “Father. What has happened?” she asked. “The most wonderful thing,” he replied. And he hugged her. But this was not what he had expected. He was holding not his daughter in his arms, but a cold, still statue. Distraught, he went to the fountain to wash his hot tears from his face. But as he scooped up the water in his hands, it turned into liquid gold. Now he realised the cruelty of his gift. He called out: “Lord Dionysus. Save me from this cursed metal!’ And Dionysus heard him and took pity on the foolish king. He appeared sitting on the edge of the fountain and said: “Go to the river that flows by the great city of Sardis. make your way up stream until you come to the source. Plunge your head and body at the same moment into the foaming fountain, where it gushes out, and wash away your foolishness.” Midas did as he was told. And when he plunged into the stream, the banks and the flowers that grew on them became yellow and golden. But Midas emerged from the waters free of his wish for riches and gold. And as long as he lived, he rejoiced in all that was simple and natural. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009 – tag:odeo.com,2009-08-02,24901318 Sun, 02 Aug 2009 16:39:20 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, Greek Myths http://odeo.com/episodes/24870410-The-Selfish-Giant Download the audio to your computer, Right Click, Save As. This classic story by Oscar Wilde is set in a garden that is not unlike paradise. Children play freely among the trees and flowers. And then the owner, The Selfish Giant, returns from a long holiday and drives out the children. But all is not lost, for the giant finds redemption through a child. If you like this story, you might also enjoy The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. Read by Natasha. Duration 14.12. Text by Oscar Wilde. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other. One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the... Download the audio to your computer, Right Click, Save As. This classic story by Oscar Wilde is set in a garden that is not unlike paradise. Children play freely among the trees and flowers. And then the owner, The Selfish Giant, returns from a long holiday and drives out the children. But all is not lost, for the giant finds redemption through a child. If you like this story, you might also enjoy The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. Read by Natasha. Duration 14.12. Text by Oscar Wilde. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other. One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden. “What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away. “My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED He was a very selfish Giant. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other. Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice. “I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.” But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees. One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out. What did he see? He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny. And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done. So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye. “But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” “We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.” “You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad. Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say. Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.” One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved. Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet. “Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.” “Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.” “Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child. And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.” And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. Download the audio to your computer, Right Click, Save As. This classic story by Oscar Wilde is set in a garden that is not unlike paradise. Children play freely among the trees and flowers. And then the owner, The Selfish Giant, returns from a long holiday and drives out the children. But all is not lost, for the giant finds redemption through a child. If you like this story, you might also enjoy The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. Read by Natasha. Duration 14.12. Text by Oscar Wilde. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other. One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden. “What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away. “My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED He was a very selfish Giant. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other. Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice. “I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.” But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees. One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out. What did he see? He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny. And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done. So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye. “But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” “We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.” “You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad. Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say. Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.” One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved. Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet. “Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.” “Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.” “Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child. And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.” And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms. tag:odeo.com,2009-07-27,24870410 Mon, 27 Jul 2009 11:24:55 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, oscar wilde http://odeo.com/episodes/24837814-Gladys-and-the-chiX-Reunited Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Gladys has been the brains and the driving force behind the girl band, the chiX which features her three older sisters. Laura, the lead singer, has walked out, but she’s finding that her solo career is not going well. The chiX have entered for the first round of the Eurovision Song Contest, to see if they can be chosen to represent Britain. But can Gladys persuade Laura to rejoin the band? Catch up with earlier episodes. Gladys and the chiX Gladys the Music Maker Gladys and the Ghost Girl Gladys and the Big Gig The chiX Split Gladys and the Solo Sister Read by Natasha. Story for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 13.53 Gladys and the chiX Reunited After Laura walked out of the band, it was almost as if she had left the family too. She still lived with her sisters and their dad in the same house, but she came in out very quickly and spent a lot of time on her own in her room. Music that was louder and stranger than before bl... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Gladys has been the brains and the driving force behind the girl band, the chiX which features her three older sisters. Laura, the lead singer, has walked out, but she’s finding that her solo career is not going well. The chiX have entered for the first round of the Eurovision Song Contest, to see if they can be chosen to represent Britain. But can Gladys persuade Laura to rejoin the band? Catch up with earlier episodes. Gladys and the chiX Gladys the Music Maker Gladys and the Ghost Girl Gladys and the Big Gig The chiX Split Gladys and the Solo Sister Read by Natasha. Story for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 13.53 Gladys and the chiX Reunited After Laura walked out of the band, it was almost as if she had left the family too. She still lived with her sisters and their dad in the same house, but she came in out very quickly and spent a lot of time on her own in her room. Music that was louder and stranger than before blared out from under her door. Ever since she had met Ming, her new boyfriend, her taste had changed a good deal. She listened to what she called “real” music. Many of bands she liked were “unsigned”, which meant they didn’t yet have contracts with recording companies and you could download their music off the web for free. Often they sounded like they were playing in an echoing garage, and in some cases, they probably were. Her favourite came from Newcastle and was called The Droopies. Their lead singer was a girl, and Gladys had to admit that she had a beautiful voice that soared over the thrashing guitar cords – but she couldn’t catch more than an odd word from the lyrics. Laura was plugged into her iPod while she ate her breakfast standing up by the toaster. Although she still travelled to school with the others, she didn’t join in their conversations. Often she would strut out in front of her sisters as they walked along the pavement. She wore a look of strong concentration on her face. Gladys thought she looked to old and too beautiful to be wearing school uniform, and no doubt Laura thought so too. In a way, it was a relief for Gladys to put the chiX’s ambitions on hold. She no longer felt tired, because they didn’t have to to get up at 6 Am for rehearsals. She had time to catch up on her school project. She started reading books again. Her sisters were less weary and less grumpy too. Even Sam started being quite nice to her. But it also seemed that everything was a little bit, well, hanging in the air. The chiX had split, but Gladys had promised Arny their manager that they would soon be back together again. Whenever she thought about Arny, she felt guilty, because he had believed in Gladys and the chiX and she didn’t want to let him down. One Friday evening she went to see Laura in her room to talk to her about it: “Look Laura, don’t you see? we owe it to Arny to get back together.” Laura was busy looking in the mirror and applying her smudgy eye shadow before going out with Ming. She said: “Don’t bother about Arny. He’s a businessman. He was planning to rip us off one day anyway.” Gladys thought that was unfair, because Arny had only helped them. But she knew her sister, and understood that there was no point in trying to persuade her to do anything. She thought that she ought to ring Arny and say that she was sorry, there was no chance of the chiX getting back together – but some how she couldn’t quite bring herself to make the call. On Saturday evening, Gladys, Mandy and Sam watched a talent contest on Television. It seemed like the biggest show on TV at the moment – but the girls thought that most of the acts weren’t bad – they were just boring. When a singer came on, Sam commented: “Core, she hasn’t even shaved her armpits”. and Mandy said: “I really think the chiX could have made it.” “Sure” said Sam, “We were much better than anyone on this show.” “No we weren’t,” said Gladys. “Because we didn’t stick at it.” And they turned off the television because it was all too depressing. Gladys and Sam went to bed early. Only Mandy stayed up until Laura got home. On Sunday morning, when Gladys was doing her homework, Mandy knocked on her door softly and came in. “Guess what,” she whispered. “Laura came home in a right temper last night. She was banging around the kitchen. I think she’s split up with Ming.’ And Gladys said: “Well he lasted longer than most. They’ve been going out for almost five weeks.” And although Laura didn’t say anything about it, they could tell from her mood than Ming hand dumped her, because when she dumped her boyfriends she was usually in the best of tempers, but now she looked not sad, but furious, and she even shouted at Dad, which nobody ever did, because Dad was one of easiest-going Dads that you could imagine. The next weekend Laura went out on her own, and when she came back she plugged her iPod onto Dad’s stereo in the living room so that her sisters could hear it play. This was quite unusual, because normally she listened to music on her own. It was a very thin sound: mostly drums and base with the occasional guitar cord. Then a girl’s voice sang: “I’m me, I got to be, oh so free, because you see, I’m only me, so don’t go telling nothing to me. Occasionally her voice was turned into a chorus so it sounded like several people singing at once, but the lyrics repeated over and over again. The girls recognised the voice. It was Laura’s. When the track finished the girls were silent. Eventually Laura said: “Alright, I know it’s pants. Don’t tell me what I know. I’m not stupid.” And she went up to her room. On Monday, when Gladys came out of School, Arnold Lane was waiting for her in his limousine. He opened the door and said, “Hop in Gladdy. I’ll give you a lift home: Gladys asked him to wait. She rang her Dad to say that Arnie was giving her a lift – only her dad didn’t answer, so she called Mandy instead because she understood that was really important that somebody always knew what she was doing and who she was with. When she had told Mandy that she was getting a lift with Arny, she got into his car. It was huge in the back – almost like a living room. He had a opened a little fridge and said, “Well girl, what can I offer you ? Something Fizzy? Cola? Tropical Smoothie more your style? “Yes please,” said Gladys. “How’s Sister Solo getting on?” he asked. Gladys was used to his strange way of talking. She understood that he meant Laura. “Terrible,” she said. “Thought so. Well see if this gets her running and skipping back. I’ve entered the chiX for the first round of the Eurovision song contest. You girls are going to be on TV in six week’s time. So you’d better get practicing.” “Oh dear,” said Gladys. “I don’t think Laura will like that. She’s into indie music these days.” Arny chuckled. “No body’s acutely into Euro pop. Well perhaps they are in Bratislava, I don’t know because I’ve not been there. But no body’s into it here. But everyone loves it all the same. Tell her it’s all in the spirit of Post Modern Irony.” “Post what did you ma call it?” “Ok. Well don’t tell her that. Tell her it’s so un-cool that it’s super, ultra cool. She’ll get it. ” And Gladys thought that Laura probably wouldn’t get it, but she promised Arny that she would tell her that all the same.” And that’s the story of Gladys and the Solo Sister. I’m wondering if Laura will come back – or will the chiX manage without her somehow. And will they really enter the Eurovision song contest. If you’d like to find out these things too – keep listening at Storynory.com. For now, form me, Natasha, Bye Bye. Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) Gladys has been the brains and the driving force behind the girl band, the chiX which features her three older sisters. Laura, the lead singer, has walked out, but she’s finding that her solo career is not going well. The chiX have entered for the first round of the Eurovision Song Contest, to see if they can be chosen to represent Britain. But can Gladys persuade Laura to rejoin the band? Catch up with earlier episodes. Gladys and the chiX Gladys the Music Maker Gladys and the Ghost Girl Gladys and the Big Gig The chiX Split Gladys and the Solo Sister Read by Natasha. Story for Storynory by Bertie. Duration 13.53 Gladys and the chiX Reunited After Laura walked out of the band, it was almost as if she had left the family too. She still lived with her sisters and their dad in the same house, but she came in out very quickly and spent a lot of time on her own in her room. Music that was louder and stranger than before blared out from under her door. Ever since she had met Ming, her new boyfriend, her taste had changed a good deal. She listened to what she called “real” music. Many of bands she liked were “unsigned”, which meant they didn’t yet have contracts with recording companies and you could download their music off the web for free. Often they sounded like they were playing in an echoing garage, and in some cases, they probably were. Her favourite came from Newcastle and was called The Droopies. Their lead singer was a girl, and Gladys had to admit that she had a beautiful voice that soared over the thrashing guitar cords – but she couldn’t catch more than an odd word from the lyrics. Laura was plugged into her iPod while she ate her breakfast standing up by the toaster. Although she still travelled to school with the others, she didn’t join in their conversations. Often she would strut out in front of her sisters as they walked along the pavement. She wore a look of strong concentration on her face. Gladys thought she looked to old and too beautiful to be wearing school uniform, and no doubt Laura thought so too. In a way, it was a relief for Gladys to put the chiX’s ambitions on hold. She no longer felt tired, because they didn’t have to to get up at 6 Am for rehearsals. She had time to catch up on her school project. She started reading books again. Her sisters were less weary and less grumpy too. Even Sam started being quite nice to her. But it also seemed that everything was a little bit, well, hanging in the air. The chiX had split, but Gladys had promised Arny their manager that they would soon be back together again. Whenever she thought about Arny, she felt guilty, because he had believed in Gladys and the chiX and she didn’t want to let him down. One Friday evening she went to see Laura in her room to talk to her about it: “Look Laura, don’t you see? we owe it to Arny to get back together.” Laura was busy looking in the mirror and applying her smudgy eye shadow before going out with Ming. She said: “Don’t bother about Arny. He’s a businessman. He was planning to rip us off one day anyway.” Gladys thought that was unfair, because Arny had only helped them. But she knew her sister, and understood that there was no point in trying to persuade her to do anything. She thought that she ought to ring Arny and say that she was sorry, there was no chance of the chiX getting back together – but some how she couldn’t quite bring herself to make the call. On Saturday evening, Gladys, Mandy and Sam watched a talent contest on Television. It seemed like the biggest show on TV at the moment – but the girls thought that most of the acts weren’t bad – they were just boring. When a singer came on, Sam commented: “Core, she hasn’t even shaved her armpits”. and Mandy said: “I really think the chiX could have made it.” “Sure” said Sam, “We were much better than anyone on this show.” “No we weren’t,” said Gladys. “Because we didn’t stick at it.” And they turned off the television because it was all too depressing. Gladys and Sam went to bed early. Only Mandy stayed up until Laura got home. On Sunday morning, when Gladys was doing her homework, Mandy knocked on her door softly and came in. “Guess what,” she whispered. “Laura came home in a right temper last night. She was banging around the kitchen. I think she’s split up with Ming.’ And Gladys said: “Well he lasted longer than most. They’ve been going out for almost five weeks.” And although Laura didn’t say anything about it, they could tell from her mood than Ming hand dumped her, because when she dumped her boyfriends she was usually in the best of tempers, but now she looked not sad, but furious, and she even shouted at Dad, which nobody ever did, because Dad was one of easiest-going Dads that you could imagine. The next weekend Laura went out on her own, and when she came back she plugged her iPod onto Dad’s stereo in the living room so that her sisters could hear it play. This was quite unusual, because normally she listened to music on her own. It was a very thin sound: mostly drums and base with the occasional guitar cord. Then a girl’s voice sang: “I’m me, I got to be, oh so free, because you see, I’m only me, so don’t go telling nothing to me. Occasionally her voice was turned into a chorus so it sounded like several people singing at once, but the lyrics repeated over and over again. The girls recognised the voice. It was Laura’s. When the track finished the girls were silent. Eventually Laura said: “Alright, I know it’s pants. Don’t tell me what I know. I’m not stupid.” And she went up to her room. On Monday, when Gladys came out of School, Arnold Lane was waiting for her in his limousine. He opened the door and said, “Hop in Gladdy. I’ll give you a lift home: Gladys asked him to wait. She rang her Dad to say that Arnie was giving her a lift – only her dad didn’t answer, so she called Mandy instead because she understood that was really important that somebody always knew what she was doing and who she was with. When she had told Mandy that she was getting a lift with Arny, she got into his car. It was huge in the back – almost like a living room. He had a opened a little fridge and said, “Well girl, what can I offer you ? Something Fizzy? Cola? Tropical Smoothie more your style? “Yes please,” said Gladys. “How’s Sister Solo getting on?” he asked. Gladys was used to his strange way of talking. She understood that he meant Laura. “Terrible,” she said. “Thought so. Well see if this gets her running and skipping back. I’ve entered the chiX for the first round of the Eurovision song contest. You girls are going to be on TV in six week’s time. So you’d better get practicing.” “Oh dear,” said Gladys. “I don’t think Laura will like that. She’s into indie music these days.” Arny chuckled. “No body’s acutely into Euro pop. Well perhaps they are in Bratislava, I don’t know because I’ve not been there. But no body’s into it here. But everyone loves it all the same. Tell her it’s all in the spirit of Post Modern Irony.” “Post what did you ma call it?” “Ok. Well don’t tell her that. Tell her it’s so un-cool that it’s super, ultra cool. She’ll get it. ” And Gladys thought that Laura probably wouldn’t get it, but she promised Arny that she would tell her that all the same.” And that’s the story of Gladys and the Solo Sister. I’m wondering if Laura will come back – or will the chiX manage without her somehow. And will they really enter the Eurovision song contest. If you’d like to find out these things too – keep listening at Storynory.com. For now, form me, Natasha, Bye Bye. tag:odeo.com,2009-07-20,24837814 Mon, 20 Jul 2009 23:19:22 -0700 no Storynory - Stories For Kids Latest Stories, All Stories, chiX http://odeo.com/episodes/24805869-Bertie%E2%80%99s-Car Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) When Bertie was a prince, he won a prize for being the Kingdom’s Most Courteous Driver. The Wicked Queen thought that he looked ridiculous waiting at the lights in his ordinary car. She was more furious than ever that her daughter wanted to marry such a pathetic prince. She thought that the best way to un-impress Princess Beatrice with Bertie was to arranged a driving holiday. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.01a Bertie’s Car As you probably know, there is a tadpole who lives in the palace pond with Bertie, and his name is Tim. All day long, he likes to swim around asking no end of questions. And if nobody answers his question, he asks it again, and again, and again. He’s always got some question on his mind. For example, this morning, when Bertie was sitting on a stone, Tim popped his pin-sized head out of the water and asked: “Bertie, can you drive a car?” As sometimes happens, Co... Download the audio to your computer (right click, save as) When Bertie was a prince, he won a prize for being the Kingdom’s Most Courteous Driver. The Wicked Queen thought that he looked ridiculous waiting at the lights in his ordinary car. She was more furious than ever that her daughter wanted to marry such a pathetic prince. She thought that the best way to un-impress Princess Beatrice with Bertie was to arranged a driving holiday. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 19.01a Bertie’s Car As you probably know, there is a tadpole who lives in the palace pond with Bertie, and his name is Tim. All day long, he likes to swim around asking no end of questions. And if nobody answers his question, he asks it again, and again, and again. He’s always got some question on his mind. For example, this morning, when Bertie was sitting on a stone, Tim popped his pin-sized head out of the water and asked: “Bertie, can you drive a car?” As sometimes happens, Colin the Carp was eavesdropping, and he could not resist butting in with: “Oh yes, little Tim, it’s every frog that can drive a car. In fact, some frogs are taxi drivers. In fact, before tadpoles can grow up to be frogs, they have to pass a driving test, in fact….” But Colin couldn’t think of another ‘”in fact” so Tim said: “Oh really. That’s jolly interesting…” Then he thought for a bit while he swam once around the pond. Nobody was surprised when his swam back with another question: “Bertie, when you were a prince, what sort of car did you drive?” And this time Bertie answered for himself saying: “I bet that you can’t guess.” “Oh oh, I like the Guessing Game. Um Um, a red Ferrari…?” “No.” “Ah, I know a really good car. Ah Ah a Porche.” “No.” “Oh, Oh, Don’t tell me yes, Ah Ah…” But Tim had to give up, because he couldn’t remember the names of any more cars. And so Bertie told him that that the car he used to drive when he was a prince was a …. Ford. And Tim was awfully impressed. But nobody else was. Because although Fords are fine cars in many ways, they are cars that, well, ordinary people drive, not princes. Not usually anyway. But Tim could hardly contain himself with excitement now that he had learned the name of a new car. The only way that Bertie could stop his flood of questions was to tell a story. And this what he told. As soon as Prince Bertie was old enough to drive, he asked his father, the King, for a car. The King did not really approve of cars, or any type of machine really, apart from Steam Trains, which he liked a lot. But Bertie kept on asking and asking until eventually the King agreed that he could have one of the cars that were parked in the palace garage. He didn’t really mind which car Bertie took. But the Wicked Queen did. Because, you see, she loved cars, and the faster and the more expensive, the better. And so she told the garage man to give Bertie the slowest and the oldest. Now Bertie and the Garage man had known each other for a long, long time. When Bertie was just a small princeling, he often used to come down to the garage to watch his friend mend the cars. When the Bertie came to collect his car, the Garage man scratched his head and said: “It doesn’t really seem right that a royal prince should have an old car like this. I’ll tell you what. I’ll soop it up a bit. ” And over the next month, whenever the he had a little spare time, he worked on Bertie’s car and added some special features – like an extra super fast engine, and a frame to make it stronger in case it rolled over in a rally race, and bullet proof glass just in a case anybody tried to assassinate Prince Bertie. “Wow,” thought Bertie as he drove without an instructor for first time. He pushed his foot down on the accelerator pedal, “This car doesn’t look like much on the outside, but inside there’s a lean,mea racing machine trying to get out.” And VROOOMMM ! he went speeding down the road, weaving in and out of traffic, and jumping through lights just as they turned red. “This is terr—if- ific,” he said. But that was just before a dog ran across the road in front of him. Bertie liked dogs, and certainly did not want to run it over, but there was no time to break and so he swerved to the left. The tyre hit the curb and he went bouncing back out into the road, and only just missed the dog. He had totally lost control now, and the car was just driving itself. A mother was pushing her pram along the other side of the pavement towards him. The car was skidding diagonally towards them. It mounted the pavement, and just went past the pram. It carried on ploughing through two or three front gardens and ended up in a hedge. As the car crashed to a halt, Bertie lurched forward but his seatbelt stopped him going too far. An airbag blew up in front of his nose. The fist thing he heard was the mother of the baby that he had almost killed saying, “Are you alright? Shall I call an ambulance?’ Bertie managed to get out of the car and stand up, but his legs were so wobbly he he had to sit on the grass for a few minutes. Then he said to the mother: “Madam, I promise you, that from now on I am always going to be a good driver.” And Prince Bertie kept his promise. He even won an award for being the Kingdom’s most courteous driver. But the wicked queen was anything but a courteous driver. If anyone dared to cut in front of her, or worse, give her a speeding ticket or a parking fine, she turned them into a beetle. As she sped through the red traffic lights, she thought that Prince Bertie looked quite silly as he waited at the white line. She hated the fact that her daughter, the Lovely Princess Beatrice, wanted to marry such a namby-pamby, handbreak-on, geer-in-neutral, nincompoop. And so she decided that the best way to un-impress Beatrice with Bertie was to go on a driving holiday. At the start of summer the The Wicked Queen sat at the wheel of her low slung, pointy-nosed, sleek black speed machine. Bertie opened the door of his Ford and helped Princess Beatrice with her seat belt. They took the road to the next-door kingdom, and once they were across the border, they headed for the mountains. The queen had arranged for them to stop for the night with her cousin who lived in a castle on a high mountain pass. She would have a arrived hours before Bertie and Beatrice, only the police pulled her over her for speeding. “Do you want me to turn you into a cockroach?” she asked the police officer. But she was in a foreign land now, and the officials were not afraid of her. She thought she had better not do anything too wicked, incase she started a war between the two countries. They arrived at the castle towards nightfall. Its white towers and pointy red roofs guarded the valley from the top of a wall of rock. Prince Dracula would not have been ashamed to live there. But its current owner, Prince Vlad, did not look at all like a vampire. He was a small man with a little blond mustache. It was hard to see any family resemblance to his cousin the Wicked Queen. And Bertie thought: “He’s obviously sweet like Beatrice, and not at all wicked like her mother.” As it was late, they soon sat down to dinner in the great hall of the castle. The first course was wild boar pate. Unfortunately, Beatrice could not eat it because was a vegetarian. “Oh dear, I’m so hungry” she whispered to Bertie. The second course was a fondue. A fondue is a mountain dish which you cook yourself at the table. Beatrice was pleased because when she saw the servant set up the fondue set and light the flame below it. She loved fondus. At home, they would prong bits of bread with a skewer, and dip them in a cheese sauce which was melted over the heat. If you lost your bread, you had to do a forfeit – like sing a song or say something silly about yourself. “This will be fun,” she said to Bertie. The servant lifted the lid of the silver serving dish. But oh no. This wasn’t a cheese fondue. It was raw meat. The queen quickly pronged a piece with her skewer and popped it into her mouth without cooking it. Beatrice was so disappointed. “Excuse me,” she said to Prince Vlad. “Could you ask them to bring me some cheese and perhaps some celery? You see, I’m a vegetarian. ” Prince Vlad looked quite astonished. He clearly did not expect to entertain a vegetarian in his castle. “I know,” said th